“Oh, no, you won’t!” said Peggy, putting her arms as far round one of his ankles as they would go, and hugging it. (The chocolate cream had been delicious, and she was in very good spirits.) “I’d have hated you to disappear without me just now! Nannie would have been angry anyhow at my dress—and you managed beautifully after! But you shall practise disappearing now if you want to. We’ve lots of time, haven’t we? Go on. Try.”
So the Giant tried and tried—and then he rested—and then he tried and tried again, but it wasn’t the slightest good; he remained just as big and brown and there as ever. At last, with a stupendous effort, he almost succeeded, though he still showed a bit where the sun shone down against the trunk, whilst one of his huge boots remained quite visible, standing forlornly on the grass beside Peggy.
“It’s no good,” he remarked, reappearing again with startling suddenness. “There, I’m back again, you see, and I didn’t mean to be. Do use one of your wishes on it! Perhaps if I’d only disappeared once in the proper way, I should get into the hang of it all again. You’d better turn the Ring besides wishing, to make it more certain.”
Peggy did so, giving the Ring an extra turn in her zeal, and the Giant rolled completely up, and disappeared in a twinkling, to her great satisfaction. “That was splendid!” she cried. “You see it was quite easy! Now come back and do it again by yourself”—but the Giant didn’t answer at all.
A little cold wind blew right through the wood and rustled all the chocolate oak leaves above Peggy’s head, and a squirrel up in the branches threw a chocolate cream down on her, and then another, and they both squashed on her striped silk dress. Peggy was not easily frightened, but it all felt very lonely and queer, particularly as she didn’t know in the least where she was. She jumped to her feet and began running about the wood, shouting for the Giant as loudly as she could.
It was only when she had been doing this for quite a long time, and getting no answer at all, that she remembered that she had not wished or turned the Ring. She at once did both, and, “Don’t tread on me for goodness’ sake!” said a squeaky voice near her foot.
Peggy looked down, and there amongst the leaves stood a tiny little figure reaching no higher than her instep. It was only when she had picked him up and peered closely into his face that she recognised the features of the Giant, distorted with rage.
“Oh dear,” she cried, “what has happened?”
“You should learn to manage your Ring better, before you treat me like this!” said the tiny Giant in an exceedingly cross voice. “Put me on a blade of grass at once, please,—thank you. I don’t like being held round the middle like that. Why did you turn the Ring more than once? I’ve never disappeared so uncomfortably fast before. And now look at the size I am! This is all I can manage after such a shock!”
“Well, it’s not my fault,” said Peggy with some spirit. “You ought to know the Ring better than I do. I only did what you told me!”