A few minutes later he put his head in at the door and said in a forgiving tone, “There are your fractions,” and shut the door again. Wendell felt much aggrieved. He knew that the Pixie had treated him badly, and was now trying to make it appear that _he_ was at fault, and he resolved that he would really go all alone for the Cap of Thought and rely entirely upon the Cloak of Darkness for his success. So after school the next day, he rolled the Cloak of Darkness under his arm, made sure that he had enough money for carfare in his pockets this time, and took the car at Park Street for Brookline. After he got off the car, Wendell adjusted the Cloak of Darkness, and walked on with entire assurance and a high spirit of adventure to the Giant’s house. He went up the neat brick steps and tried the front door with great caution. But it did not yield. Then he went around to the back door, and that was much better, for the door was open, and he walked straight in and found the Cruel Stepmother and the Ugly Stepsister getting dinner in the kitchen. “These grapes aren’t very good, Mummer,” remarked the young lady, “not nearly so good as the ones last week.” “Naturally,” returned the witch, somewhat grimly. “I had to pay for these.” “Oh, of course,” said her daughter. “You didn’t have your Cloak of Darkness when you went marketing to-day.” “And the High Cost of Living is something awful when the market-man can see you every minute, and you can’t take a thing without paying for it,” complained her mother. “If I don’t find that Cloak soon, I just hope the government will get after those dishonest profiteers.” “Mummer,” said her daughter, thoughtfully, after a moment. “Well?” “Wasn’t your Cloak in the bathroom closet?” “Yes, but I’ve hunted all through and I’m sure it isn’t there.” “But, Mummer,--I hate to think of it--but those plumbers yesterday--” The witch gasped and sat down heavily. “My word! You’re right! That’s just where it’s gone!” “And the Cap of Thought--was that with it?” “No, I’m glad to say. That’s in my bottom bureau drawer.” Wendell waited for no more. He tiptoed out and ran lightly upstairs. Now, which room was it? This front one, of course. He opened the lowest drawer of the bureau. Yes, there it lay, a little filmy cap of indescribable color. The front door banged suddenly. Wendell picked up the cap and tiptoed into the hall and looked over the banisters. Ah! but he was thankful then for the Cloak of Darkness. For there stood the Giant. And while Wendell watched him, fascinated and secure, the Giant’s huge nose began to twitch like a rabbit’s, he sniffed, and then roared out, “Fee, fi, fo, fum! I smell the blood--no, I _won’t_ be quiet!--of an Englishman. Be he alive--well, your cook’s _gone_, isn’t she? she can’t be any _goner_!--or be he dead, I’ll grind his bones--hold on! it smells just like that boy that was here yesterday. Where is he?” He bellowed out the question.