All day long they played, and in the
evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye.
'But where is your little companion?' he
said: 'the boy I put into the tree.' The Giant loved him the best because he
had kissed him.
'We don't know,' answered the children;
'he has gone away.'
'You must tell him to be sure and come
here to-morrow,' said the Giant. But the children said that they did not know
where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.
Every afternoon, when school was over,
the children came and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant
loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he
longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of him. 'How I would like
to see him!' he used to say.
Years went over, and the Giant grew very
old and feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair,
and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. 'I have many
beautiful flowers,' he said; 'but the children are the most beautiful flowers
of all.'
One winter morning he looked out of his
window as he was dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it
was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting.
Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder,
and looked and looked. It certainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest
corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its
branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath
it stood the little boy he had loved.
Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy,
and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to the
child. And when he came quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said,
'Who hath dared to wound thee?' For on the palms of the child's hands were the
prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.
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