‘But aren’t we doing a lot of damage?’ asked David.
‘Quantities,’ said the giraffe. ‘Thump! There goes the staircase. I knew it would.’
They revolved faster and faster, and the stars spun round them. Far below was the village street, down which David could see all the animals scampering as hard as they could go from the ruined remains of the bank.
‘Who’ll pay for it?’ asked David breathlessly.
‘Why, you, of course, dear!’ said the giraffe. ‘How much money have you got?’
‘Four pounds,’ gasped David.
‘That’s plenty, I should think, though I’ve no head for figures,’ said the giraffe. ‘And you might give me the remainder for a surprise. It would keep me in hoofs and hoof-laces for weeks.’
‘I’ll give it you all, if we may only stop growing and dancing,’ said David. ‘And please don’t tickle my ear so when you whisper.’
‘I can’t help your tickling,’ whispered the giraffe. ‘Just as you couldn’t help mine if I began to tickle. Now I’ll give you a surprise. If I began tickling, we should both begin littling. But as long as I don’t tickle, we shan’t little. There!’
David could bear it no longer, and he instantly thrust his fingers into the giraffe’s ribs, and began tickling her. She gave a loud silly cackle, and he felt, to his intense joy, that they were getting littler.