“HELLO, old sport!” said Wendell; “I didn’t expect you till Monday.”

“Oh, I just dropped in,” said the Pixie. “Great book, isn’t it? But, go easy, son, go easy. Danger, you know.”

“Yes, I am going easy,” said Wendell. “I haven’t read one word out loud. It’s some book, though!”

“Let’s read that thing about giants,” suggested the Pixie. “That ought to just suit your case.”

“I suppose there’s no harm in reading this aloud,” said Wendell, hesitatingly. “Just sort of directions, you see.”

“Go slowly,” commanded the Pixie. “And if you see any charm coming to meet you, stop short.”

Wendell read:—

“‘Method ye first:—To kill a giant—’”

“Put salt on his tail,” interpolated the Pixie.

“Please listen,” said Wendell, and went on,—

“‘Dig a hole deeper than his height a few steps from his door. Cover it with branches of trees. Standing on the further side, away from his house, taunt him in a loud voice. When he rushes out, he will fall into the hole, and can be easily despatched.’”

“By whom?” inquired the Pixie, after deep thought. “I vote, not by me.”

“Well, here’s another,” said Wendell. “‘Method ye second:—Assume the disguise of a wayworn traveler. Knock at the giant’s door and ask for a night’s lodging.’—I can’t do that,” said Wendell. “He knows me by smell.”

“Never mind. Read it through,” said the Pixie.

“‘He will tell you that he has no extra bed, but that you are welcome to share his son’s.’—Yes, but he hasn’t a son,” said Wendell.

“Never mind. It’s interesting. Go on,” said the Pixie.

“‘When you go to bed, he will put a gold chain around his son’s neck and a hempen rope round your neck. As soon as he has left you, put the hempen rope round his son’s neck and the gold chain round your own neck, and then feign sleep. After a time, the giant will return. He will feel for the gold chain, and finding it on your neck, and the hempen rope on his son’s neck, he will cut off his son’s head with his sword. You must then wait until you hear the giant’s snores, and rising quickly’—”

“Taking care,” suggested the Pixie, “not to step on a tack.”

“‘—make your way to his bedside, and lop off his head with his own sword.’”

“Too much shortening in that recipe,” said the Pixie. “Try another.”

“‘Giant-killing as recommended by Puss-in-Boots,’” read Wendell. “‘Invite the giant to a feast at your castle, and after he is in a good humor, make a wager that you can change yourself into an animal more quickly than he can. Change yourself into a cat; and whatever form the giant assumes, whether that of lion, tiger, leopard, or what-not, let the onlookers declare that the contest is a draw and that the trial must be made again. Convince the giant that in order to insure a perfectly fair trial, both contestants should change to the same shape, and choose that of a mouse. At the word, allow the giant to take the shape of a mouse, while you retain that of a cat, and immediately devour him.’”

“That sounds rather good,” said the Pixie approvingly. “You’d have to practice your transformations at home, first, of course, and be sure you have the charm down pat.”

Wendell did not answer immediately. “Say, that gives me an idea,” he finally declared. “Why kill the Giant, anyway?”

“To please the Beauteous Maiden, of course,” said the Pixie.

“Yes, but why kill him?” questioned Wendell. “Why not just change him into something good and harmless and useful. The Beauteous Maiden would like that just as well, wouldn’t she?”

“Well, you can ask her,” said the Pixie. “This is the age of labor-saving. Only, killing seems more definite, somehow, more final. But you can ask her.”

“I’ll try to get her on the ’phone, now,” said Wendell, “and you be thinking up something to change him to. And say, look in the Book and find the charm for it.”

Wendell was gone for some time. “I couldn’t get her,” he said when he returned. “But I’m sure she’ll be willing. We’ll go ahead and plan something anyway. Did you find a charm?”

“Oh, yes, loads of them,” said the Pixie. “Just listen to these:—

“Hold on,” said Wendell. “We don’t want any of those. Find a general one, to change him into any old thing. We can decide what afterwards.”

“All right,” said the Pixie. “I’ll keep on looking, and you keep on thinking.”

“We might change him into a janitor,” suggested Wendell, who had been looking idly out of the window until his eye fell on the janitor of Sammy’s apartment house. “He’s useful, you know. He puts out ashes and runs the furnace.”

“Oh, that would never do,” cried the Pixie. “That Giant has shown he can’t be trusted in any position of absolute authority and unlimited despotism. You must curtail his powers instead of enlarging them.”

“A cook would be good,” said Wendell, who really had a very practical mind. “My mother and all her friends say there aren’t enough cooks to go ’round.”

“I told you,” said the Pixie wearily, “you must curtail his powers. Just use your brain a little. Isn’t the cook the greatest power in the household? Might as well leave him a giant and be done with it!”

“Well, I can’t think,” said Wendell. “I don’t know anything useful. A victrola, perhaps. I wonder if the Beauteous Maiden has a victrola. I’m sure she can think of something, anyhow.”

Sure enough, the Beauteous Maiden was resourceful enough to meet the situation. She called Wendell up herself, after school Monday, just as he was going to the telephone to try to get her.

Of course, Wendell had not been idle over Sunday. He had made himself thoroughly familiar with all the various charms for transforming people that he could find in the Book. There was one first-class charm that suited him to perfection, because it was adaptable. With this charm, you could change anything to anything else, anywhere, at any time. Wendell practiced with it, in a harmless sort of way, quite a little, to be sure he could work it. He changed his eraser to a bean-shooter, first, and shot beans at some cats on the back fence. Then he changed a very handsome and unread copy of Macaulay’s History of England that his aunt had given him into a gold watch, which, however, he was careful to keep out of sight of the family, especially Cousin Virginia. He changed an old pen-wiper into a box of caramels. That was an inspiration. And in Sunday school he changed a hymnal into a mouse that ran across the Sunday school room and made quite a diversion. That was one of his successes. He did another interesting thing. He changed Sammy’s janitor into a crab just as he was crossing the street. That was an easy change, because Sammy’s janitor was something of a crab, anyway. He changed him back again, though, because a street on Beacon Hill is no place for a crab. By the time he heard from the Beauteous Maiden, he felt quite ready to carry out any suggestions she might offer.