The other children sat on a bench and watched and waited, and were very bored indeed. It seemed to them that this was the hardest way of earning money that could have been invented. And only fifteen shillings! Bill had taken four times that already, for the news of the giant had spread, and trades-people in carts, and gentlepeople in carriages, came from far and near. One gentleman with an eyeglass, and a very large yellow rose in his buttonhole, offered Robert, in an obliging whisper, ten pounds a week to appear at the Crystal Palace. Robert had to say "No." "I can't," he said regretfully. "It's no use promising what you can't do." "Ah, poor fellow, bound for a term of years, I suppose! Well, here's my card; when your time's up come to me." [Illustration: "When your time's up come to me"] "I will--if I'm the same size then," said Robert truthfully. "If you grow a bit, so much the better," said the gentleman. When he had gone, Robert beckoned Cyril and said-- "Tell them I must and will have a rest. And I want my tea." Tea was provided, and a paper hastily pinned on the tent. It said-- CLOSED FOR HALF AN HOUR WHILE THE GIANT GETS HIS TEA Then there was a hurried council. "How am I to get away?" said Robert. "I've been thinking about it all the afternoon." "Why, walk out when the sun sets and you're your right size. They can't do anything to us." Robert opened his eyes. "Why, they'd nearly kill us," he said, "when they saw me get my right size. No, we must think of some other way. We _must_ be alone when the sun sets." "I know," said Cyril briskly, and he went to the door, outside which Bill was smoking a clay pipe and talking in a low voice to 'Becca. 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 see he has to eat hearty, being the size he is." Inside the tent the four children breathlessly arranged a plan of retreat.