‘I don’t feel very comfortable,’ said David. ‘And I’m so afraid we’re treading on all the animals below.’ ‘I shouldn’t be a bit surprised,’ said the giraffe. ‘Don’t they crowd up one’s ankles, the rude things. We might stand straight up, I think now. Butt the roof with your head; that will give us more room.’ David did as he was told, and a shower of tiles fell round them. Some dropped down his jersey, and he could hear others clattering downstairs. ‘But aren’t we doing a lot of damage?’ asked David. ‘Quantities,’ said the giraffe. ‘Thump! There goes the staircase. I knew it would.’ They revolved faster and faster, and the stars spun round them. Far below was the village street, down which David could see all the animals scampering as hard as they could go from the ruined remains of the bank. ‘Who’ll pay for it?’ asked David breathlessly. ‘Why, you, of course, dear!’ said the giraffe. ‘How much money have you got?’ ‘Four pounds,’ gasped David. ‘That’s plenty, I should think, though I’ve no head for figures,’ said the giraffe. ‘And you might give me the remainder for a surprise. It would keep me in hoofs and hoof-laces for weeks.’ ‘I’ll give it you all, if we may only stop growing and dancing,’ said David. ‘And please don’t tickle my ear so when you whisper.’ ‘I can’t help _your_ tickling,’ whispered the giraffe. ‘Just as you couldn’t help _mine_ if I began to tickle. Now I’ll give you a surprise. If I began tickling, we should both begin littling. But as long as I don’t tickle, we shan’t little. There!’ David could bear it no longer, and he instantly thrust his fingers into the giraffe’s ribs, and began tickling her. She gave a loud silly cackle, and he felt, to his intense joy, that they were getting littler. ‘Stop, stop!’ she whispered, but she couldn’t say much because she was laughing so, and presently David found himself sliding down the remains of the staircase, and back into the ballroom. His hands slipped down and down her foreleg, and soon he was his own size again, with those four great legs standing among the ruins. But even as he looked at them, still panting with the exertion of growing and ungrowing again, he saw that they were not legs any more, but the four pillars of the porch of the house next door, which had been the girls’ school and was now the Happy Families’ Institute. As he stood there, the door was opened a foot or two, and a large mutton bone flew past his head. Before it closed again, a hoarse voice from inside said: ‘I’ll just have time to have my second helping before the concert. That sirloin will do. Chuck it over here, you greedy!’