XII
The Giant who Came Back
An hour’s chat
For several years after the giants moved into a country of their own, they came back sometimes to walk among the tiny towns of men. For they still had a few old acquaintances there to take up in their big hands for an hour’s chat. But as time went on, the old friends, one by one, went away, until there was nobody to give the giants a genial hail, or so much as notice them when they passed. For every man and woman and child was so busy looking after his own little affairs near the ground that they did not even see the giants at all.
So the giants, feeling quite lonesome and neglected, stayed in their own country. And so it happened that the young giants grew up without ever seeing the tiny creatures called men.
It was a warm spring for frosty Giantland. As early as May crocuses as big as lilac bushes came pushing up at the edge of the snow. Benevaldo, coming down to breakfast, leaped three stairs at a time.
“Father! Mother!” he called, bursting in on them, “I’m going on a journey.”
His mother took a second helping of walruses. “I was just saying to your father,” she remarked in her big, placid way, “that it was time we were starting north for the summer.”
“But,” said Benevaldo, beaming all over his wide, eager face, “I’m going south!”
“South!” cried his mother. “At this time of year!”