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TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE
AFTER THE STORY
‘Cousin Eustace,’ demanded Sweet Fern, who had been sitting at the story-teller’s feet with his mouth wide open, ‘exactly how tall was this giant?’
‘O Sweet Fern, Sweet Fern!’ cried the student, ‘do you think I was there, to measure him with a yard-stick? Well, if you must know to a hair’s-breadth, I suppose he might be from three to fifteen miles straight upward, and that he might have seated himself on Taconic, and had Monument Mountain for a footstool.’
‘Dear me!’ ejaculated the good little boy, with a contented sort of a grunt, ‘that was a giant sure enough! And how long was his little finger?’
‘As long as from Tanglewood to the lake,’ said Eustace.
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