"Go, Everychild!"
Still he hung back. "But not that way!" he repeated. "The wide world lies that way, and I should be afraid."
"I know," said Father Time, "that the Giant Fear lives outside that door. But him you shall slay, and then the way will be clear."
"I shall slay him?" exclaimed Everychild wonderingly. "How shall I slay him?"
"Do not doubt, and a way shall be found."
It was just at this moment that something very terrifying occurred. There was a stealthy step outside the door—the sort of step you hear when it is dark and you are alone. And Everychild could not help shrinking back as he stood with his fascinated eyes held on the door. He was staring at the door, yet he knew that the Masked Lady and Father Time were listening to that stealthy step too. The Masked Lady had put aside her spinning wheel, and Father Time had become very grave.
There was a brief interval of suspense and then the door began to open, inch by inch, very slowly. Two terrible eyes became visible.
Everychild knew immediately that it was the Giant Fear, though for a moment he could see nothing but the peeping eyes which leered horribly. And when the Giant Fear perceived that Everychild was terrified, he thrust the door open wide and stood on the threshold.
He was, I may tell you at once, the most hideous creature in the world. His cruel grin was too evil a thing to be described. He carried a great bludgeon. From his lower jaw a yellow tusk arose at either corner of his mouth and projected beyond his upper lip. His ears covered the whole sides of his head. His jaws were as large around as a bushel basket.
At first, after he had entered the room, he did not perceive either Father Time or the Masked Lady. He dropped one end of his bludgeon to the floor with a thump, and there he stood leering at Everychild with a sinister and triumphant expression.