spiders, too," said an older girl.

"Well, let us have a game and forget it," I said.

"No; that we shan't, I am sure," said one.

"I will tell our Amy. Won't it be fun?"

"She'll scream," said another.

"I'll tell her all the more."

"No, no; you mustn't be unkind," said I; "else you will never help little
children against wicked giants. The giants will eat you too, then."

"Oh! I know what you mean. You can't frighten me."

This was said by one of the elder girls, who promised fair to reach before
long the summit of uncompromising womanhood. She made me feel very small
with my moralizing; so I dropt it. On the whole I was rather disappointed
with the effect of my story. Perhaps the disappointment was no more than I
deserved; but I did not like to think I had failed with children.

Nor did I think so any longer after a darling little blue-eyed girl, who
had sat next me at tea, came to me to say good night, and, reaching up,
put her arms round my neck and kissed me, and then whispered very gently:

"Thank you, dear Mr. Smith. I will be good. It was a very nice story. If I
was a man, I would kill all the wicked people in the world. But I am only
a little girl, you know; so I can only be good."