The giant jumped to his feet, and catching up all the children, thrust some into his waistcoat pockets, some into his breast pocket, put two or three into his hat, and took a bundle of them under each arm. Then he staggered to the door. All this time poor Doodlem was sitting in her arm-chair, crying, and mending a white stocking. The giant led the way to the borders. He could not go so fast but that Buffy and Tricksey managed to keep up with him. When they reached the borders, they thought it would be safer to let the children find their own way home. So they told him to set them down. He obeyed. "Have you put them all down, Mr. Thunderthump?" asked Tricksey-Wee. "Yes," said the giant. "That's a lie!" squeaked a little voice; and out came a head from his waistcoat pocket. Tricksey-Wee pinched the heart till the giant roared with pain. "You're not a gentleman. You tell stories," she said. "He was the thinnest of the lot," said Thunderthump, crying. "Are you all there now, children?" asked Tricksey. "Yes, ma'am," returned they, after counting themselves very carefully, and with some difficulty; for they were all stupid children. "Now," said Tricksey-Wee to the giant, "will you promise to carry off no more children, and never to eat a child again all you life?" "Yes, yes! I promise," answered Thunderthump, sobbing. "And you will never cross the borders of Giantland?" "Never." "And you shall never again wear white stockings on a Sunday, all your life long.--Do you promise?" The giant hesitated at this, and began to expostulate; but Tricksey-Wee, believing it would be good for his morals, insisted; and the giant promised. Then she required of him, that, when she gave him back his heart, he should give it to his wife to take care of for him for ever after. The poor giant fell on his knees, and began again to beg. But Tricksey-Wee giving the heart a slight pinch, he bawled out,-- "Yes, yes! Doodlem shall have it, I swear. Only she must not put it in the flour-barrel, or in the dust-hole." "Certainly not. Make your own bargain with her.--And you promise not to interfere with my brother and me, or to take any revenge for what we have done?" "Yes, yes, my dear children; I promise everything. Do, pray, make haste and give me back my poor heart." "Wait there, then, till I bring it to you." "Yes, yes. Only make haste, for I feel very faint." Tricksey-Wee began to undo the mouth of the bag. But Buffy-Bob, who had got very knowing on his travels, took out his knife with the pretence of cutting the string; but, in reality, to be prepared for any emergency.