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 approach with wide, frightened eyes, one hand at her heart. If, she thought, he came near she should scream! What was it he held in his hand? Not a pistol, not a knife; something small; pebbles, they seemed; half a dozen little pebbles. The scream was ready to come, but something in the expression of the big, homely face that smiled down on her held it back. The giant stretched one big hand toward her.

"Madame like the spruce perhaps? Ver' good spruce."

She looked at the little lumps of spruce glum and shook her head dumbly. Then her gaze, passing from the proffered gift to his face, saw a whitish blur at a window. Her hand dropped from her heart and a little laugh of relief escaped her. She held out her two hands and the giant poured the pebbles into the pink bowl of her palms. He laughed with pleasure.

"Aha! Madame like the spruce! All ladies like the spruce. Me, I know, how to please the ladies!" He drew back and