FIVE CHILDREN AND IT
Cyril heard him say—"Good as havin' a fortune left you."
"Look here," said Cyril, "you can let people come in again in a minute. He's nearly finished tea. But he must be left alone when the sun sets. He's very queer at that time of day, and if he's worried I won't answer for the consequences."
"Why—what comes over him?" asked Bill.
"I don't know; it's—it's sort of a change" said Cyril candidly. "He isn't at all like himself—you'd hardly know him. He's very queer indeed. Someone'll get hurt if he's not alone about sunset." This was true.
"He'll pull round for the evening, I s'pose?"
"Oh yes—half an hour after sunset he'll be quite himself again."
"Best humour him," said the woman.
And so, at what Cyril judged was about half an hour before sunset, the tent was again closed "whilst the giant gets his supper."
The crowd was very merry about the giant's meals and their coming so close together.
"Well, he can pick a bit," Bill owned. "You
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