The Giant Hands

Poor little Willie returned from the forest laden with as much wood as his feeble strength could bear. He was hungry and weary, and had a great sorrow at his heart, for he had lost his father in the early spring, leaving his mother to toil for a scant livelihood to support herself and him. He threw the wood upon the cinders on the hearth, and quickly raised a cheerful blaze, at which he warmed his naked, swollen feet, as he watched the smoke making its fantastic eddies up the wide chimney, and amidst the rafters of the low roof. He heaved a deep sigh; for he saw no pot up-on the fire, which ought to have been bubbling up with their frugal dinner: but, alas! they had none.