Benevaldo beamed. “Will I?” he boomed. Then he twisted his limp lunch bag around in front of him. “Would you mind riding in this?” he asked.
“Oh, no!” cried Luigi.
The giant considered. “I am afraid I can’t squeeze my hand through your window,” he said.
Luigi leaned over the sill, and the giant managed it with three fingers. He tucked Luigi safely into the bag, buttoned the bottom firmly inside his blouse, and drew up the strings close around Luigi’s neck.
“Now you’re quite safe and steady, little boy,” he said. “Don’t be afraid, but lean back against me, and look about.” And with that he took a high step over a whole block of houses into an open square beyond.
For a moment Luigi was dizzy, looking from his height on the jumbled roofs so far below. But as the giant stopped in the little park he got his balance again. He looked down without fear on the house-tops and the lighted streets that wound between.
“Where shall we go?” asked the giant good-naturedly.
Luigi hesitated. “Could we,” he asked, “could we go up the Avenue,—the wide, bare one over there, with the bright lights?”
So Benevaldo pranced over the long blocks in between and set his foot in the smooth street. From sidewalk to sidewalk it just fitted; and he walked, one foot ahead of the other, up by the little silent houses to a tiny park.
“Look here!” cried Benevaldo excitedly. “See the clock!” And he pointed to a great lighted face in the top of a tower as high as he was.