diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 778.txt | 6810 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 778.zip | bin | 0 -> 116896 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
5 files changed, 6826 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text @@ -0,0 +1,6810 @@ +*Project Gutenberg Etext of Five Children and It, by E. Nesbit* +#2 in our series by E. Nesbit + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +Five Children and It + +by E. Nesbit + +January, 1997 [Etext #778] + + +*Project Gutenberg Etext of Five Children and It, by E. Nesbit* +*****This file should be named 778.txt or 778.zip****** + +This etext was created by Jo Churcher, Scarborough, Ontario +(jchurche@io.org) + + +We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance +of the official release dates, for time for better editing. + +Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an +up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes +in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has +a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a +look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a +new copy has at least one byte more or less. + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-two text +files per month: or 400 more Etexts in 1996 for a total of 800. +If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the +total should reach 80 billion Etexts. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only 10% of the present number of computer users. 2001 +should have at least twice as many computer users as that, so it +will require us reaching less than 5% of the users in 2001. + + +We need your donations more than ever! + + +All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/BU": and are +tax deductible to the extent allowable by law. (BU = Benedictine +University). (Subscriptions to our paper newsletter go to BU.) + +For these and other matters, please mail to: + +Project Gutenberg +P. O. Box 2782 +Champaign, IL 61825 + +When all other email fails try our Executive Director: +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +We would prefer to send you this information by email +(Internet, Bitnet, Compuserve, ATTMAIL or MCImail). + +****** +If you have an FTP program (or emulator), please +FTP directly to the Project Gutenberg archives: +[Mac users, do NOT point and click. . .type] + +ftp uiarchive.cso.uiuc.edu +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd etext/etext90 through /etext96 +or cd etext/articles [get suggest gut for more information] +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET INDEX?00.GUT +for a list of books +and +GET NEW GUT for general information +and +MGET GUT* for newsletters. + +**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor** +(Three Pages) + + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG- +tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor +Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at +Benedictine University (the "Project"). Among other +things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this +etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors, +officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost +and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or +indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause: +[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification, +or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word pro- + cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the + net profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association / Benedictine + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Benedictine University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +FIVE CHILDREN AND IT + + + + +E. NESBIT + + + +TO JOHN BLAND + +My Lamb, you are so very small, +You have not learned to read at all. +Yet never a printed book withstands +The urgence of your dimpled hands. +So, though this book is for yourself, +Let mother keep it on the shelf +Till you can read. O days that Pass, +That day will come too soon, alas! + + + +CONTENTS + + +1. Beautiful As the Day +2. Golden Guineas +3. Being Wanted +4. Wings +5. No Wings +6. A Castle and No Dinner +7. A Siege and Bed +8. Bigger Than the Baker's Boy +9. Grown Up +10. Scalps +11. The Last Wish + + + + +CHAPTER 1 +BEAUTIFUL AS THE DAY + + +The house was three miles from the station, but before the dusty +hired fly had rattled along for five minutes the children began to +put their heads out of the carriage window and to say, 'Aren't we +nearly there?' And every time they passed a house, which was not +very often, they all said, 'Oh, is THIS it?' But it never was, +till they reached the very top of the hill, just past the +chalk-quarry and before you come to the gravel-pit. And then there +was a white house with a green garden and an orchard beyond, and +mother said, 'Here we are!' + +'How white the house is,' said Robert. + +'And look at the roses,' said Anthea. + +'And the plums,' said Jane. + +'It is rather decent,' Cyril admitted. + +The Baby said, 'Wanty go walky'; and the fly stopped with a last +rattle and jolt. + +Everyone got its legs kicked or its feet trodden on in the scramble +to get out of the carriage that very minute, but no one seemed to +mind. Mother, curiously enough, was in no hurry to get out; and +even when she had come down slowly and by the step, and with no +jump at all, she seemed to wish to see the boxes carried in, and +even to pay the driver, instead of joining in that first glorious +rush round the garden and the orchard and the thorny, thistly, +briery, brambly wilderness beyond the broken gate and the dry +fountain at the side of the house. But the children were wiser, +for once. It was not really a pretty house at all; it was quite +ordinary, and mother thought it was rather inconvenient, and was +quite annoyed at there being no shelves, to speak of, and hardly a +cupboard in the place. Father used to say that the ironwork on the +roof and coping was like an architect's nightmare. But the house +was deep in the country, with no other house in sight, and the +children had been in London for two years, without so much as once +going to the seaside even for a day by an excursion train, and so +the White House seemed to them a sort of Fairy Palace set down in +an Earthly Paradise. For London is like prison for children, +especially if their relations are not rich. + +Of course there are the shops and the theatres, and Maskelyne and +Cook's, and things, but if your people are rather poor you don't +get taken to the theatres, and you can't buy things out of the +shops; and London has none of those nice things that children may +play with without hurting the things or themselves - such as trees +and sand and woods and waters. And nearly everything in London is +the wrong sort of shape - all straight lines and flat streets, +instead of being all sorts of odd shapes, like things are in the +country. Trees are all different, as you know, and I am sure some +tiresome person must have told you that there are no two blades of +grass exactly alike. But in streets, where the blades of grass +don't grow, everything is like everything else. This is why so +many children who live in towns are so extremely naughty. They do +not know what is the matter with them, and no more do their fathers +and mothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, tutors, governesses, and +nurses; but I know. And so do you now. Children in the country +are naughty sometimes, too, but that is for quite different +reasons. + +The children had explored the gardens and the outhouses thoroughly +before they were caught and cleaned for tea, and they saw quite +well that they were certain to be happy at the White House. They +thought so from the first moment, but when they found the back of +the house covered with jasmine, and in white flower, and smelling +like a bottle of the most expensive scent that is ever given for a +birthday present; and when they had seen the lawn, all green and +smooth, and quite different from the brown grass in the gardens at +Camden Town; and when they had found the stable with a loft over it +and some old hay still left, they were almost certain; and when +Robert had found the broken swing and tumbled out of it and got a +lump on his head the size of an egg, and Cyril had nipped his +finger in the door of a hutch that seemed made to keep rabbits in, +if you ever had any, they had no longer any doubts whatever. + +The best part of it all was that there were no rules about not +going to places and not doing things. In London almost everything +is labelled 'You mustn't touch,' and though the label is invisible, +it's just as bad, because you know it's there, or if you don't you +jolly soon get told. + +The White House was on the edge of a hill, with a wood behind it - +and the chalk-quarry on one side and the gravel-pit on the other. +Down at the bottom of the hill was a level plain, with queer-shaped +white buildings where people burnt lime, and a big red brewery and +other houses; and when the big chimneys were smoking and the sun +was setting, the valley looked as if it was filled with golden +mist, and the limekilns and oast-houses glimmered and glittered +till they were like an enchanted city out of the Arabian Nights. + +Now that I have begun to tell you about the place, I feel that I +could go on and make this into a most interesting story about all +the ordinary things that the children did - just the kind of things +you do yourself, you know - and you would believe every word of it; +and when I told about the children's being tiresome, as you are +sometimes, your aunts would perhaps write in the margin of the +story with a pencil, 'How true!' or 'How like life!'and you would +see it and very likely be annoyed. So I will only tell you the +really astonishing things that happened, and you may leave the book +about quite safely, for no aunts and uncles either are likely to +write 'How true!' on the edge of the story. Grown-up people find +it very difficult to believe really wonderful things, unless they +have what they call proof. But children will believe almost +anything, and grown-ups know this. That is why they tell you that +the earth is round like an orange, when you can see perfectly well +that it is flat and lumpy; and why they say that the earth goes +round the sun, when you can see for yourself any day that the sun +gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night like a good sun as +it is, and the earth knows its place, and lies as still as a mouse. +Yet I daresay you believe all that about the earth and the sun, and +if so you will find it quite easy to believe that before Anthea and +Cyril and the others had been a week in the country they had found +a fairy. At least they called it that, because that was what it +called itself; and of course it knew best, but it was not at all +like any fairy you ever saw or heard of or read about. + +It was at the gravel-pits. Father had to go away suddenly on +business, and mother had gone away to stay with Granny, who was not +very well. They both went in a great hurry, and when they were +gone the house seemed dreadfully quiet and empty, and the children +wandered from one room to another and looked at the bits of paper +and string on the floors left over from the packing, and not yet +cleared up, and wished they had something to do. It was Cyril who +said: + +'I say, let's take our Margate spades and go and dig in the +gravel-pits. We can pretend it's seaside.' + +'Father said it was once,' Anthea said; 'he says there are shells +there thousands of years old.' + +So they went. Of course they had been to the edge of the +gravel-pit and looked over, but they had not gone down into it for +fear father should say they mustn't play there, and the same with +the chalk-quarry. The gravel-pit is not really dangerous if you +don't try to climb down the edges, but go the slow safe way round +by the road, as if you were a cart. + +Each of the children carried its own spade, and took it in turns to +carry the Lamb. He was the baby, and they called him that because +'Baa' was the first thing he ever said. They called Anthea +'Panther', which seems silly when you read it, but when you say it +it sounds a little like her name. + +The gravel-pit is very large and wide, with grass growing round the +edges at the top, and dry stringy wildflowers, purple and yellow. +It is like a giant's wash-hand basin. And there are mounds of +gravel, and holes in the sides of the basin where gravel has been +taken out, and high up in the steep sides there are the little +holes that are the little front doors of the little sand-martins' +little houses. + +The children built a castle, of course, but castle-building is +rather poor fun when you have no hope of the swishing tide ever +coming in to fill up the moat and wash away the drawbridge, and, at +the happy last, to wet everybody up to the waist at least. + +Cyril wanted to dig out a cave to play smugglers in, but the others +thought it might bury them alive, so it ended in all spades going +to work to dig a hole through the castle to Australia. These +children, you see, believed that the world was round, and that on +the other side the little Australian boys and girls were really +walking wrong way up, like flies on the ceiling, with their heads +hanging down into the air. + +The children dug and they dug and they dug, and their hands got +sandy and hot and red, and their faces got damp and shiny. The +Lamb had tried to eat the sand, and had cried so hard when he found +that it was not, as he had supposed, brown sugar, that he was now +tired out, and was lying asleep in a warm fat bunch in the middle +of the half-finished castle. This left his brothers and sisters +free to work really hard, and the hole that was to come out in +Australia soon grew so deep that Jane, who was called Pussy for +short, begged the others to Stop. + +'Suppose the bottom of the hole gave way suddenly,' she said, 'and +you tumbled out among the little Australians, all the sand would +get in their eyes.' + +'Yes,' said Robert; 'and they would hate us, and throw stones at +us, and not let us see the kangaroos, or opossums, or blue-gums, or +Emu Brand birds, or anything.' + +Cyril and Anthea knew that Australia was not quite so near as all +that, but they agreed to stop using the spades and go on with their +hands. This was quite easy, because the sand at the bottom of the +hole was very soft and fine and dry, like sea-sand. And there were +little shells in it. + +'Fancy it having been wet sea here once, all sloppy and shiny,' +said Jane, 'with fishes and conger-eels and coral and mermaids.' + +'And masts of ships and wrecked Spanish treasure. I wish we could +find a gold doubloon, or something,' Cyril said. + +'How did the sea get carried away?' Robert asked. + +'Not in a pail, silly,' said his brother. 'Father says the earth +got too hot underneath, like you do in bed sometimes, so it just +hunched up its shoulders, and the sea had to slip off, like the +blankets do off us, and the shoulder was left sticking out, and +turned into dry land. Let's go and look for shells; I think that +little cave looks likely, and I see something sticking out there +like a bit of wrecked ship's anchor, and it's beastly hot in the +Australian hole.' + +The others agreed, but Anthea went on digging. She always liked to +finish a thing when she had once begun it. She felt it would be a +disgrace to leave that hole without getting through to Australia. + +The cave was disappointing, because there were no shells, and the +wrecked ship's anchor turned out to be only the broken end of a +pickaxe handle, and the cave party were just making up their minds +that the sand makes you thirstier when it is not by the seaside, +and someone had suggested going home for lemonade, when Anthea +suddenly screamed: + +'Cyril! Come here! Oh, come quick! It's alive! It'll get away! +Quick!' + +They all hurried back. + +'It's a rat, I shouldn't wonder,' said Robert. 'Father says they +infest old places - and this must be pretty old if the sea was here +thousands of years ago.' + +'Perhaps it is a snake,' said Jane, shuddering. + +'Let's look,' said Cyril, jumping into the hole. 'I'm not afraid +of snakes. I like them. If it is a snake I'll tame it, and it +will follow me everywhere, and I'll let it sleep round my neck at +night.' + +'No, you won't,' said Robert firmly. He shared Cyril's bedroom. +'But you may if it's a rat.' + +'Oh, don't be silly!' said Anthea; 'it's not a rat, it's MUCH +bigger. And it's not a snake. It's got feet; I saw them; and fur! +No - not the spade. You'll hurt it! Dig with your hands.' + +'And let IT hurt ME instead! That's so likely, isn't it?' said +Cyril, seizing a spade. + +'Oh, don't!' said Anthea. 'Squirrel, DON'T. I - it sounds silly, +but it said something. It really and truly did.' + +'What?' + +'It said, "You let me alone".' + +But Cyril merely observed that his sister must have gone off her +nut, and he and Robert dug with spades while Anthea sat on the edge +of the hole, jumping up and down with hotness and anxiety. They +dug carefully, and presently everyone could see that there really +was something moving in the bottom of the Australian hole. + +Then Anthea cried out, 'I'M not afraid. Let me dig,' and fell on +her knees and began to scratch like a dog does when he has suddenly +remembered where it was that he buried his bone. + +'Oh, I felt fur,' she cried, half laughing and half crying. 'I did +indeed! I did!' when suddenly a dry husky voice in the sand made +them all jump back, and their hearts jumped nearly as fast as they +did. + +'Let me alone,' it said. And now everyone heard the voice and +looked at the others to see if they had too. + +'But we want to see you,' said Robert bravely. + +'I wish you'd come out,' said Anthea, also taking courage. + +'Oh, well - if that's your wish,' the voice said, and the sand +stirred and spun and scattered, and something brown and furry and +fat came rolling out into the hole and the sand fell off it, and it +sat there yawning and rubbing the ends of its eyes with its hands. + +'I believe I must have dropped asleep,' it said, stretching itself. + +The children stood round the hole in a ring, looking at the +creature they had found. It was worth looking at. Its eyes were +on long horns like a snail's eyes, and it could move them in and +out like telescopes; it had ears like a bat's ears, and its tubby +body was shaped like a spider's and covered with thick soft fur; +its legs and arms were furry too, and it had hands and feet like a +monkey's. + +'What on earth is it?' Jane said. 'Shall we take it home?' + +The thing turned its long eyes to look at her, and said: 'Does she +always talk nonsense, or is it only the rubbish on her head that +makes her silly?' + +It looked scornfully at Jane's hat as it spoke. + +'She doesn't mean to be silly,' Anthea said gently; we none of us +do, whatever you may think! Don't be frightened; we don't want to +hurt you, you know.' + +'Hurt ME!' it said. 'ME frightened? Upon my word! Why, you talk +as if I were nobody in particular.' All its fur stood out like a +cat's when it is going to fight. + +'Well,' said Anthea, still kindly, 'perhaps if we knew who you are +in particular we could think of something to say that wouldn't make +you cross. Everything we've said so far seems to have. Who are +you? And don't get angry! Because really we don't know.' + +'You don't know?' it said. 'Well, I knew the world had changed - +but - well, really - do you mean to tell me seriously you don't +know a Psammead when you see one?' + +'A Sammyadd? That's Greek to me.' + +'So it is to everyone,' said the creature sharply. 'Well, in plain +English, then, a SAND-FAIRY. Don't you know a Sand-fairy when you +see one?' + +It looked so grieved and hurt that Jane hastened to say, 'Of course +I see you are, now. It's quite plain now one comes to look at +you.' + +'You came to look at me, several sentences ago,' it said crossly, +beginning to curl up again in the sand. + +'Oh - don't go away again! Do talk some more,' Robert cried. 'I +didn't know you were a Sand-fairy, but I knew directly I saw you +that you were much the wonderfullest thing I'd ever seen.' + +The Sand-fairy seemed a shade less disagreeable after this. + +'It isn't talking I mind,' it said, 'as long as you're reasonably +civil. But I'm not going to make polite conversation for you. If +you talk nicely to me, perhaps I'll answer you, and perhaps I +won't. Now say something.' + +Of course no one could think of anything to say, but at last Robert +thought of 'How long have you lived here?' and he said it at once. + +'Oh, ages - several thousand years,' replied the Psammead. + +'Tell us all about it. Do.' + +'It's all in books.' + +'You aren't!' Jane said. 'Oh, tell us everything you can about +yourself! We don't know anything about you, and you are so nice.' + +The Sand-fairy smoothed his long rat-like whiskers and smiled +between them. + +'Do please tell!' said the children all together. + +It is wonderful how quickly you get used to things, even the most +astonishing. Five minutes before, the children had had no more +idea than you that there was such a thing as a sand-fairy in the +world, and now they were talking to it as though they had known it +all their lives. It drew its eyes in and said: + +'How very sunny it is - quite like old times. Where do you get +your Megatheriums from now?' + +'What?' said the children all at once. It is very difficult always +to remember that 'what' is not polite, especially in moments of +surprise or agitation. + +'Are Pterodactyls plentiful now?' the Sand-fairy went on. + +The children were unable to reply. + +'What do you have for breakfast?' the Fairy said impatiently, 'and +who gives it you?' + +'Eggs and bacon, and bread-and-milk, and porridge and things. +Mother gives it us. What are Mega-what's-its-names and +Ptero-what-do-you-call-thems? And does anyone have them for +breakfast?' + +'Why, almost everyone had Pterodactyl for breakfast in my time! +Pterodactyls were something like crocodiles and something like +birds - I believe they were very good grilled. You see it was like +this: of course there were heaps of sand-fairies then, and in the +morning early you went out and hunted for them, and when you'd +found one it gave you your wish. People used to send their little +boys down to the seashore early in the morning before breakfast to +get the day's wishes, and very often the eldest boy in the family +would be told to wish for a Megatherium, ready jointed for cooking. +It was as big as an elephant, you see, so there was a good deal of +meat on it. And if they wanted fish, the Ichthyosaurus was asked +for - he was twenty to forty feet long, so there was plenty of him. +And for poultry there was the Plesiosaurus; there were nice +pickings on that too. Then the other children could wish for other +things. But when people had dinner-parties it was nearly always +Megatheriums; and Ichthyosaurus, because his fins were a great +delicacy and his tail made soup.' + +'There must have been heaps and heaps of cold meat left over,' said +Anthea, who meant to be a good housekeeper some day. + +'Oh no,' said the Psammead, 'that would never have done. Why, of +course at sunset what was left over turned into stone. You find +the stone bones of the Megatherium and things all over the place +even now, they tell me.' + +'Who tell you?' asked Cyril; but the Sand-fairy frowned and began +to dig very fast with its furry hands. + +'Oh, don't go!' they all cried; 'tell us more about it when it was +Megatheriums for breakfast! Was the world like this then?' + +It stopped digging. + +'Not a bit,' it said; 'it was nearly all sand where I lived, and +coal grew on trees, and the periwinkles were as big as tea-trays - +you find them now; they're turned into stone. We sand-fairies used +to live on the seashore, and the children used to come with their +little flint-spades and flint-pails and make castles for us to live +in. That's thousands of years ago, but I hear that children still +build castles on the sand. It's difficult to break yourself of a +habit.' + +'But why did you stop living in the castles?' asked Robert. + +'It's a sad story,' said the Psammead gloomily. 'It was because +they WOULD build moats to the castles, and the nasty wet bubbling +sea used to come in, and of course as soon as a sand-fairy got wet +it caught cold, and generally died. And so there got to be fewer +and fewer, and, whenever you found a fairy and had a wish, you used +to wish for a Megatherium, and eat twice as much as you wanted, +because it might be weeks before you got another wish.' + +'And did YOU get wet?' Robert inquired. + +The Sand-fairy shuddered. 'Only once,' it said; 'the end of the +twelfth hair of my top left whisker - I feel the place still in +damp weather. It was only once, but it was quite enough for me. +I went away as soon as the sun had dried my poor dear whisker. I +scurried away to the back of the beach, and dug myself a house deep +in warm dry sand, and there I've been ever since. And the sea +changed its lodgings afterwards. And now I'm not going to tell you +another thing.' + +'Just one more, please,' said the children. 'Can you give wishes +now?' + +'Of course,' said it; 'didn't I give you yours a few minutes ago? +You said, "I wish you'd come out," and I did.' + +'Oh, please, mayn't we have another?' + +'Yes, but be quick about it. I'm tired of you.' + +I daresay you have often thought what you would do if you had three +wishes given you, and have despised the old man and his wife in the +black-pudding story, and felt certain that if you had the chance +you could think of three really useful wishes without a moment's +hesitation. These children had often talked this matter over, but, +now the chance had suddenly come to them, they could not make up +their minds. + +'Quick,' said the Sand-fairy crossly. No one could think of +anything, only Anthea did manage to remember a private wish of her +own and jane's which they had never told the boys. She knew the +boys would not care about it - but still it was better than +nothing. + +'I wish we were all as beautiful as the day,' she said in a great +hurry. + +The children looked at each other, but each could see that the +others were not any better-looking than usual. The Psammead pushed +out its long eyes, and seemed to be holding its breath and swelling +itself out till it was twice as fat and furry as before. Suddenly +it let its breath go in a long sigh. + +'I'm really afraid I can't manage it,' it said apologetically; 'I +must be out of practice.' + +The children were horribly disappointed. + +'Oh, DO try again!' they said. + +'Well,' said the Sand-fairy, 'the fact is, I was keeping back a +little strength to give the rest of you your wishes with. If +you'll be contented with one wish a day amongst the lot of you I +daresay I can screw myself up to it. Do you agree to that?' + +'Yes, oh yes!' said Jane and Anthea. The boys nodded. They did +not believe the Sand-fairy could do it. You can always make girls +believe things much easier than you can boys. + +It stretched out its eyes farther than ever, and swelled and +swelled and swelled. + +'I do hope it won't hurt itself,' said Anthea. + +'Or crack its skin,' Robert said anxiously. + +Everyone was very much relieved when the Sand-fairy, after getting +so big that it almost filled up the hole in the sand, suddenly let +out its breath and went back to its proper size. + +'That's all right,' it said, panting heavily. 'It'll come easier +to-morrow.' + +'Did it hurt much?' asked Anthea. + +'Only my poor whisker, thank you,' said he, 'but you're a kind and +thoughtful child. Good day.' + +It scratched suddenly and fiercely with its hands and feet, and +disappeared in the sand. Then the children looked at each other, +and each child suddenly found itself alone with three perfect +strangers, all radiantly beautiful. + +They stood for some moments in perfect silence. Each thought that +its brothers and sisters had wandered off, and that these strange +children had stolen up unnoticed while it was watching the swelling +form of the Sand-fairy. Anthea spoke first - + +'Excuse me,' she said very politely to Jane, who now had enormous +blue eyes and a cloud of russet hair, 'but have you seen two little +boys and a little girl anywhere about?' + +'I was just going to ask you that,' said Jane. And then Cyril +cried: + +'Why, it's YOU! I know the hole in your pinafore! You ARE Jane, +aren't you? And you're the Panther; I can see your dirty +handkerchief that you forgot to change after you'd cut your thumb! +Crikey! The wish has come off, after all. I say, am I as handsome +as you are?' + +'If you're Cyril, I liked you much better as you were before,' said +Anthea decidedly. 'You look like the picture of the young +chorister, with your golden hair; you'll die young, I shouldn't +wonder. And if that's Robert, he's like an Italian organ-grinder. +His hair's all black.' + +'You two girls are like Christmas cards, then - that's all - silly +Christmas cards,' said Robert angrily. 'And jane's hair is simply +carrots.' + +It was indeed of that Venetian tint so much admired by artists. + +'Well, it's no use finding fault with each other,' said Anthea; +'let's get the Lamb and lug it home to dinner. The servants will +admire us most awfully, you'll see.' + +Baby was just waking when they got to him, and not one of the +children but was relieved to find that he at least was not as +beautiful as the day, but just the same as usual. + +'I suppose he's too young to have wishes naturally,' said Jane. +'We shall have to mention him specially next time.' + +Anthea ran forward and held out her arms. + +'Come to own Panther, ducky,' she said. + +The Baby looked at her disapprovingly, and put a sandy pink thumb +in his mouth, Anthea was his favourite sister. + +'Come then,' she said. + +'G'way long!' said the Baby. + +'Come to own Pussy,' said Jane. + +'Wants my Panty,' said the Lamb dismally, and his lip trembled. + +'Here, come on, Veteran,' said Robert, 'come and have a yidey on +Yobby's back.' + +'Yah, narky narky boy,' howled the Baby, giving way altogether. +Then the children knew the worst. THE BABY DID NOT KNOW THEM! + +They looked at each other in despair, and it was terrible to each, +in this dire emergency, to meet only the beautiful eyes of perfect +strangers, instead of the merry, friendly, commonplace, twinkling, +jolly little eyes of its own brothers and sisters. + +'This is most truly awful,' said Cyril when he had tried to lift up +the Lamb, and the Lamb had scratched like a cat and bellowed like +a bull. 'We've got to MAKE FRIENDS with him! I can't carry him +home screaming like that. Fancy having to make friends with our +own baby! - it's too silly.' + +That, however, was exactly what they had to do. It took over an +hour, and the task was not rendered any easier by the fact that the +Lamb was by this time as hungry as a lion and as thirsty as a +desert. + +At last he consented to allow these strangers to carry him home by +turns, but as he refused to hold on to such new acquaintances he +was a dead weight and most exhausting. + +'Thank goodness, we're home!' said Jane, staggering through the +iron gate to where Martha, the nursemaid, stood at the front door +shading her eyes with her hand and looking out anxiously. 'Here! +Do take Baby!' + +Martha snatched the Baby from her arms. + +'Thanks be, HE'S safe back,' she said. 'Where are the others, and +whoever to goodness gracious are all of you?' + +'We're US, of course,' said Robert. + +'And who's US, when you're at home?' asked Martha scornfully. + +'I tell you it's US, only we're beautiful as the day,' said Cyril. +'I'm Cyril, and these are the others, and we're jolly hungry. Let +us in, and don't be a silly idiot.' + +Martha merely dratted Cyril's impudence and tried to shut the door +in his face. + +'I know we LOOK different, but I'm Anthea, and we're so tired, and +it's long past dinner-time.' + +'Then go home to your dinners, whoever you are; and if our children +put you up to this playacting you can tell them from me they'll +catch it, so they know what to expect!' With that she did bang the +door. Cyril rang the bell violently. No answer. Presently cook +put her head out of a bedroom window and said: + +'If you don't take yourselves off, and that precious sharp, I'll go +and fetch the police.' And she slammed down the window. + +'It's no good,' said Anthea. 'Oh, do, do come away before we get +sent to prison!' + +The boys said it was nonsense, and the law of England couldn't put +you in prison for just being as beautiful as the day, but all the +same they followed the others out into the lane. + +'We shall be our proper selves after sunset, I suppose,' said Jane. + +'I don't know,' Cyril said sadly; 'it mayn't be like that now - +things have changed a good deal since Megatherium times.' + +'Oh,' cried Anthea suddenly, 'perhaps we shall turn into stone at +sunset, like the Megatheriums did, so that there mayn't be any of +us left over for the next day.' + +She began to cry, so did Jane. Even the boys turned pale. No one +had the heart to say anything. + +It was a horrible afternoon. There was no house near where the +children could beg a crust of bread or even a glass of water. They +were afraid to go to the village, because they had seen Martha go +down there with a basket, and there was a local constable. True, +they were all as beautiful as the day, but that is a poor comfort +when you are as hungry as a hunter and as thirsty as a sponge. + +Three times they tried in vain to get the servants in the White +House to let them in and listen to their tale. And then Robert +went alone, hoping to be able to climb in at one of the back +windows and so open the door to the others. But all the windows +were out of reach, and Martha emptied a toilet-jug of cold water +over him from a top window, and said: + +'Go along with you, you nasty little Eyetalian monkey." + +It came at last to their sitting down in a row under the hedge, +with their feet in a dry ditch, waiting for sunset, and wondering +whether, when the sun did set, they would turn into stone, or only +into their own old natural selves; and each of them still felt +lonely and among strangers, and tried not to look at the others, +for, though their voices were their own, their faces were so +radiantly beautiful as to be quite irritating to look at. + +'I don't believe we SHALL turn to stone,' said Robert, breaking a +long miserable silence, 'because the Sand-fairy said he'd give us +another wish to-morrow, and he couldn't if we were stone, could +he?' + +The others said 'No,' but they weren't at all comforted. + +Another silence, longer and more miserable, was broken by Cyril's +suddenly saying, 'I don't want to frighten you girls, but I believe +it's beginning with me already. My foot's quite dead. I'm turning +to stone, I know I am, and so will you in a minute.' + +'Never mind,' said Robert kindly, 'perhaps you'll be the only stone +one, and the rest of us will be all right, and we'll cherish your +statue and hang garlands on it.' + +But when it turned out that Cyril's foot had only gone to sleep +through his sitting too long with it under him, and when it came to +life in an agony of pins and needles, the others were quite cross. + +'Giving us such a fright for nothing!' said Anthea. + +The third and miserablest silence of all was broken by Jane. She +said: 'If we DO come out of this all right, we'll ask the Sammyadd +to make it so that the servants don't notice anything different, no +matter what wishes we have.' + +The others only grunted. They were too wretched even to make good +resolutions. + +At last hunger and fright and crossness and tiredness - four very +nasty things - all joined together to bring one nice thing, and +that was sleep. The children lay asleep in a row, with their +beautiful eyes shut and their beautiful mouths open. Anthea woke +first. The sun had set, and the twilight was coming on. + +Anthea pinched herself very hard, to make sure, and when she found +she could still feel pinching she decided that she was not stone, +and then she pinched the others. They, also, were soft. + +'Wake up,' she said, almost in tears of joy; 'it's all right, we're +not stone. And oh, Cyril, how nice and ugly you do look, with your +old freckles and your brown hair and your little eyes. And so do +you all!' she added, so that they might not feel jealous. + +When they got home they were very much scolded by Martha, who told +them about the strange children. + +'A good-looking lot, I must say, but that impudent.' + +'I know,' said Robert, who knew by experience how hopeless it would +be to try to explain things to Martha. + +'And where on earth have you been all this time, you naughty little +things, you?' + +'In the lane.' + +'Why didn't you come home hours ago?' + +'We couldn't because of THEM,' said Anthea. + +'Who?' + +'The children who were as beautiful as the day. They kept us there +till after sunset. We couldn't come back till they'd gone. You +don't know how we hated them! Oh, do, do give us some supper - we +are so hungry.' + +'Hungry! I should think so,' said Martha angrily; 'out all day +like this. Well, I hope it'll be a lesson to you not to go picking +up with strange children - down here after measles, as likely as +not! Now mind, if you see them again, don't you speak to them - +not one word nor so much as a look - but come straight away and +tell me. I'll spoil their beauty for them!' + +'If ever we DO see them again we'll tell you,' Anthea said; and +Robert, fixing his eyes fondly on the cold beef that was being +brought in on a tray by cook, added in heartfelt undertones - + +'And we'll take jolly good care we never DO see them again.' + +And they never have. + + + +CHAPTER 2 +GOLDEN GUINEAS + + +Anthea woke in the morning from a very real sort of dream, in which +she was walking in the Zoological Gardens on a pouring wet day +without any umbrella. The animals seemed desperately unhappy +because of the rain, and were all growling gloomily. When she +awoke, both the growling and the rain went on just the same. The +growling was the heavy regular breathing of her sister Jane, who +had a slight cold and was still asleep. The rain fell in slow +drops on to Anthea's face from the wet corner of a bath-towel which +her brother Robert was gently squeezing the water out of, to wake +her up, as he now explained. + +'Oh, drop it!' she said rather crossly; so he did, for he was not +a brutal brother, though very ingenious in apple-pie beds, +booby-traps, original methods of awakening sleeping relatives, and +the other little accomplishments which make home happy. + +'I had such a funny dream,' Anthea began. + +'So did I,' said Jane, wakening suddenly and without warning. 'I +dreamed we found a Sand-fairy in the gravel-pits, and it said it +was a Sammyadd, and we might have a new wish every day, and -' + +'But that's what I dreamed,' said Robert. 'I was just going to +tell you - and we had the first wish directly it said so. And I +dreamed you girls were donkeys enough to ask for us all to be +beautiful as the day, and we jolly well were, and it was perfectly +beastly.' + +'But CAN different people all dream the same thing?' said Anthea, +sitting up in bed, 'because I dreamed all that as well as about the +Zoo and the rain; and Baby didn't know us in my dream, and the +servants shut us out of the house because the radiantness of our +beauty was such a complete disguise, and -' + +The voice of the eldest brother sounded from across the landing. + +'Come on, Robert,' it said, 'you'll be late for breakfast again - +unless you mean to shirk your bath like you did on Tuesday.' + +'I say, come here a sec,' Robert replied. 'I didn't shirk it; I +had it after brekker in father's dressing-room, because ours was +emptied away.' + +Cyril appeared in the doorway, partially clothed. + +'Look here,' said Anthea, 'we've all had such an odd dream. We've +all dreamed we found a Sand-fairy.' + +Her voice died away before Cyril's contemptuous glance. 'Dream?' +he said, 'you little sillies, it's TRUE. I tell you it all +happened. That's why I'm so keen on being down early. We'll go up +there directly after brekker, and have another wish. Only we'll +make up our minds, solid, before we go, what it is we do want, and +no one must ask for anything unless the others agree first. No +more peerless beauties for this child, thank you. Not if I know +it!' + +The other three dressed, with their mouths open. If all that dream +about the Sand-fairy was real, this real dressing seemed very like +a dream, the girls thought. Jane felt that Cyril was right, but +Anthea was not sure, till after they had seen Martha and heard her +full and plain reminders about their naughty conduct the day +before. Then Anthea was sure. 'Because,' said she, 'servants +never dream anything but the things in the Dream-book, like snakes +and oysters and going to a wedding - that means a funeral, and +snakes are a false female friend, and oysters are babies.' + +'Talking of babies,' said Cyril, 'where's the Lamb?' +'Martha's going to take him to Rochester to see her cousins. +Mother said she might. She's dressing him now,' said Jane, 'in his +very best coat and hat. Bread-and-butter, please.' + +'She seems to like taking him too,' said Robert in a tone of +wonder. + +'Servants do like taking babies to see their relations,' Cyril +said. 'I've noticed it before - especially in their best things.' + +'I expect they pretend they're their own babies, and that they're +not servants at all, but married to noble dukes of high degree, and +they say the babies are the little dukes and duchesses,' Jane +suggested dreamily, taking more marmalade. 'I expect that's what +Martha'll say to her cousin. She'll enjoy herself most +frightfully-' + +'She won't enjoy herself most frightfully carrying our infant duke +to Rochester,' said Robert, 'not if she's anything like me - she +won't.' + +'Fancy walking to Rochester with the Lamb on your back! Oh, +crikey!' said Cyril in full agreement. + +'She's going by carrier,' said Jane. 'Let's see them off, then we +shall have done a polite and kindly act, and we shall be quite sure +we've got rid of them for the day.' + +So they did. + +Martha wore her Sunday dress of two shades of purple, so tight in +the chest that it made her stoop, and her blue hat with the pink +cornflowers and white ribbon. She had a yellow-lace collar with a +green bow. And the Lamb had indeed his very best cream-coloured +silk coat and hat. It was a smart party that the carrier's cart +picked up at the Cross Roads. When its white tilt and red wheels +had slowly vanished in a swirl of chalk-dust - + +'And now for the Sammyadd!' said Cyril, and off they went. + +As they went they decided on the wish they would ask for. Although +they were all in a great hurry they did not try to climb down the +sides of the gravel-pit, but went round by the safe lower road, as +if they had been carts. They had made a ring of stones round the +place where the Sand-fairy had disappeared, so they easily found +the spot. The sun was burning and bright, and the sky was deep +blue - without a cloud. The sand was very hot to touch. + +'Oh - suppose it was only a dream, after all,' Robert said as the +boys uncovered their spades from the sand-heap where they had +buried them and began to dig. + +'Suppose you were a sensible chap,' said Cyril; 'one's quite as +likely as the other!' +'Suppose you kept a civil tongue in your head,' Robert snapped. + +'Suppose we girls take a turn,' said Jane, laughing. 'You boys +seem to be getting very warm.' + +'Suppose you don't come shoving your silly oar in,' said Robert, +who was now warm indeed. + +'We won't,' said Anthea quickly. 'Robert dear, don't be so grumpy +- we won't say a word, you shall be the one to speak to the Fairy +and tell him what we've decided to wish for. You'll say it much +better than we shall.' + +'Suppose you drop being a little humbug,' said Robert, but not +crossly. 'Look out - dig with your hands, now!' + +So they did, and presently uncovered the spider-shaped brown hairy +body, long arms and legs, bat's ears and snail's eyes of the +Sand-fairy himself. Everyone drew a deep breath of satisfaction, +for now of course it couldn't have been a dream. + +The Psammead sat up and shook the sand out of its fur. + +'How's your left whisker this morning?' said Anthea politely. + +'Nothing to boast of,' said it, 'it had rather a restless night. +But thank you for asking.' + +'I say,' said Robert, 'do you feel up to giving wishes to-day, +because we very much want an extra besides the regular one? The +extra's a very little one,' he added reassuringly. + +'Humph!' said the Sand-fairy. (If you read this story aloud, +please pronounce 'humph' exactly as it is spelt, for that is how he +said it.) 'Humph! Do you know, until I heard you being +disagreeable to each other just over my head, and so loud too, I +really quite thought I had dreamed you all. I do have very odd +dreams sometimes.' + +'Do you?'Jane hurried to say, so as to get away from the subject of +disagreeableness. 'I wish,' she added politely, 'you'd tell us +about your dreams - they must be awfully interesting.' + +'Is that the day's wish?' said the Sand-fairy, yawning. + +Cyril muttered something about 'just like a girl,' and the rest +stood silent. If they said 'Yes,' then good-bye to the other +wishes they had decided to ask for. If they said 'No,' it would be +very rude, and they had all been taught manners, and had learned a +little too, which is not at all the same thing. A sigh of relief +broke from all lips when the Sand-fairy said: + +'If I do I shan't have strength to give you a second wish; not even +good tempers, or common sense, or manners, or little things like +that.' + +'We don't want you to put yourself out at all about these things, +we can manage them quite well ourselves,' said Cyril eagerly; while +the others looked guiltily at each other, and wished the Fairy +would not keep all on about good tempers, but give them one good +rowing if it wanted to, and then have done with it. + +'Well,' said the Psammead, putting out his long snail's eyes so +suddenly that one of them nearly went into the round boy's eyes of +Robert, 'let's have the little wish first.' + +'We don't want the servants to notice the gifts you give us.' + +'Are kind enough to give us,' said Anthea in a whisper. + +'Are kind enough to give us, I mean,' said Robert. + +The Fairy swelled himself out a bit, let his breath go, and said - + +'I've done THAT for you - it was quite easy. People don't notice +things much, anyway. What's the next wish?' + +'We want,' said Robert slowly, 'to be rich beyond the dreams of +something or other.' + +'Avarice,' said Jane. + +'So it is,' said the Fairy unexpectedly. 'But it won't do you much +good, that's one comfort,' it muttered to itself. 'Come - I can't +go beyond dreams, you know! How much do you want, and will you +have it in gold or notes?' + +'Gold, please - and millions of it.' + +'This gravel-pit full be enough?' said the Fairy in an off-hand +manner. + +'Oh YES!' + +'Then get out before I begin, or you'll be buried alive in it.' + +It made its skinny arms so long, and waved them so frighteningly, +that the children ran as hard as they could towards the road by +which carts used to come to the gravel-pits. Only Anthea had +presence of mind enough to shout a timid 'Good-morning, I hope your +whisker will be better to-morrow,' as she ran. + + +On the road they turned and looked back, and they had to shut their +eyes, and open them very slowly, a little bit at a time, because +the sight was too dazzling for their eyes to be able to bear it. +It was something like trying to look at the sun at high noon on +Midsummer Day. For the whole of the sand-pit was full, right up to +the very top, with new shining gold pieces, and all the little +sand-martins' little front doors were covered out of sight. Where +the road for the carts wound into the gravel-pit the gold lay in +heaps like stones lie by the roadside, and a great bank of shining +gold shelved down from where it lay flat and smooth between the +tall sides of the gravel-pit. And all the gleaming heap was minted +gold. And on the sides and edges of these countless coins the +midday sun shone and sparkled, and glowed and gleamed till the +quarry looked like the mouth of a smelting furnace, or one of the +fairy halls that you see sometimes in the sky at sunset. + +The children stood with their mouths open, and no one said a word. + +At last Robert stopped and picked up one of the loose coins from +the edge of the heap by the cart-road, and looked at it. He looked +on both sides. Then he said in a low voice, quite different to his +own, 'It's not sovereigns.' + +'It's gold, anyway,' said Cyril. And now they all began to talk at +once. They all picked up the golden treasure by handfuls, and let +it run through their fingers like water, and the chink it made as +it fell was wonderful music. At first they quite forgot to think +of spending the money, it was so nice to play with. Jane sat down +between two heaps of gold and Robert began to bury her, as you bury +your father in sand when you are at the seaside and he has gone to +sleep on the beach with his newspaper over his face. But Jane was +not half buried before she cried out, 'Oh, stop, it's too heavy! +It hurts! + +Robert said 'Bosh!' and went on. + +'Let me out, I tell you,' cried Jane, and was taken out, very +white, and trembling a little. + +'You've no idea what it's like,' said she; 'it's like stones on you +- or like chains.' + +'Look here,' Cyril said, 'if this is to do us any good, it's no +good our staying gasping at it like this. Let's fill our pockets +and go and buy things. Don't you forget, it won't last after +sunset. I wish we'd asked the Sammyadd why things don't turn to +stone. Perhaps this will. I'll tell you what, there's a pony and +cart in the village.' + +'Do you want to buy that?' asked Jane. + +'No, silly - we'll HIRE it. And then we'll go to Rochester and buy +heaps and heaps of things. Look here, let's each take as much as +we can carry. But it's not sovereigns. They've got a man's head +on one side and a thing like the ace of spades on the other. Fill +your pockets with it, I tell you, and come along. You can jaw as +we go - if you must jaw.' + +Cyril sat down and began to fill his pockets. +'You made fun of me for getting father to have nine pockets in my +Norfolks,' said he, 'but now you see!' + +They did. For when Cyril had filled his nine pockets and his +handkerchief and the space between himself and his shirt front with +the gold coins, he had to stand up. But he staggered, and had to +sit down again in a hurry- + +'Throw out some of the cargo,' said Robert. 'You'll sink the ship, +old chap. That comes of nine pockets.' + +And Cyril had to. + +Then they set off to walk to the village. It was more than a mile, +and the road was very dusty indeed, and the sun seemed to get +hotter and hotter, and the gold in their pockets got heavier and +heavier. + +It was Jane who said, 'I don't see how we're to spend it all. +There must be thousands of pounds among the lot of us. I'm going +to leave some of mine behind this stump in the hedge. And directly +we get to the village we'll buy some biscuits; I know it's long +past dinner-time.' She took out a handful or two of gold and hid +it in the hollows of an old hornbeam. 'How round and yellow they +are,' she said. 'Don't you wish they were gingerbread nuts and we +were going to eat them?' + +'Well, they're not, and we're not,' said Cyril. 'Come on!' + +But they came on heavily and wearily. Before they reached the +village, more than one stump in the hedge concealed its little +hoard of hidden treasure. Yet they reached the village with about +twelve hundred guineas in their pockets. But in spite of this +inside wealth they looked quite ordinary outside, and no one would +have thought they could have more than a half-crown each at the +outside. The haze of heat, the blue of the wood smoke, made a sort +of dim misty cloud over the red roofs of the village. The four sat +down heavily on the first bench they came to- It happened to be +outside the Blue Boar Inn. + +It was decided that Cyril should go into the Blue Boar and ask for +ginger-beer, because, as Anthea said, 'It is not wrong for men to +go into public houses, only for children. And Cyril is nearer to +being a man than us, because he is the eldest.' So he went. The +others sat in the sun and waited. + +'Oh, hats, how hot it is!' said Robert. 'Dogs put their tongues +out when they're hot; I wonder if it would cool us at all to put +out ours?' + +'We might try,'Jane said; and they all put their tongues out as far +as ever they could go, so that it quite stretched their throats, +but it only seemed to make them thirstier than ever, besides +annoying everyone who went by. So they took their tongues in +again, just as Cyril came back with the ginger-beer. + +'I had to pay for it out of my own two-and-sevenpence, though, that +I was going to buy rabbits with,' he said. 'They wouldn't change +the gold. And when I pulled out a handful the man just laughed and +said it was card-counters. And I got some sponge-cakes too, out of +a glass jar on the bar-counter. And some biscuits with caraways +in.' + +The sponge-cakes were both soft and dry and the biscuits were dry +too, and yet soft, which biscuits ought not to be. But the +ginger-beer made up for everything. + +'It's my turn now to try to buy something with the money,' Anthea +said, 'I'm next eldest. Where is the pony-cart kept?' + +It was at The Chequers, and Anthea went in the back way to the +yard, because they all knew that little girls ought not to go into +the bars of public-houses. She came out, as she herself said, +'pleased but not proud'. + +'He'll be ready in a brace of shakes, he says,' she remarked, 'and +he's to have one sovereign - or whatever it is - to drive us in to +Rochester and back, besides waiting there till we've got everything +we want. I think I managed very well.' + +'You think yourself jolly clever, I daresay,' said Cyril moodily. +'How did you do it?' + +'I wasn't jolly clever enough to go taking handfuls of money out of +my pocket, to make it seem cheap, anyway,' she retorted. 'I just +found a young man doing something to a horse's leg with a sponge +and a pail. And I held out one sovereign, and I said, "Do you know +what this is?" He said, "No," and he'd call his father. And the +old man came, and he said it was a spade guinea; and he said was it +my own to do as I liked with, and I said "Yes"; and I asked about +the pony-cart, and I said he could have the guinea if he'd drive us +in to Rochester. And his name is S. Crispin. And he said, "Right +oh".' + +It was a new sensation to be driven in a smart pony-trap along +pretty country roads, it was very pleasant too (which is not always +the case with new sensations), quite apart from the beautiful plans +of spending the money which each child made as they went along, +silently of course and quite to itself, for they felt it would +never have done to let the old innkeeper hear them talk in the +affluent sort of way they were thinking. The old man put them down +by the bridge at their request. + +'If you were going to buy a carriage and horses, where would you +go?' asked Cyril, as if he were only asking for the sake of +something to say. + +'Billy Peasemarsh, at the Saracen's Head,' said the old man +promptly. 'Though all forbid I should recommend any man where it's +a question of horses, no more than I'd take anybody else's +recommending if I was a-buying one. But if your pa's thinking of +a turnout of any sort, there ain't a straighter man in Rochester, +nor a civiller spoken, than Billy, though I says it.' + +'Thank you,' said Cyril. 'The Saracen's Head.' + +And now the children began to see one of the laws of nature turn +upside down and stand on its head like an acrobat. Any grown-up +persons would tell you that money is hard to get and easy to spend. +But the fairy money had been easy to get, and spending it was not +only hard, it was almost impossible. The tradespeople of Rochester +seemed to shrink, to a trades-person, from the glittering fairy +gold ('furrin money' they called it, for the most part). To begin +with, Anthea, who had had the misfortune to sit on her hat earlier +in the day, wished to buy another. She chose a very beautiful one, +trimmed with pink roses and the blue breasts of peacocks. It was +marked in the window, 'Paris Model, three guineas'. + +'I'm glad,' she said, 'because, if it says guineas, it means +guineas, and not sovereigns, which we haven't got.' + +But when she took three of the spade guineas in her hand, which was +by this time rather dirty owing to her not having put on gloves +before going to the gravel-pit, the black-silk young lady in the +shop looked very hard at her, and went and whispered something to +an older and uglier lady, also in black silk, and then they gave +her back the money and said it was not current coin. + +'It's good money,' said Anthea, 'and it's my own.' + +'I daresay,' said the lady, 'but it's not the kind of money that's +fashionable now, and we don't care about taking it.' + +'I believe they think we've stolen it,' said Anthea, rejoining the +others in the street; 'if we had gloves they wouldn't think we were +so dishonest. It's my hands being so dirty fills their minds with +doubts.' + +So they chose a humble shop, and the girls bought cotton gloves, +the kind at sixpence three-farthings, but when they offered a +guinea the woman looked at it through her spectacles and said she +had no change; so the gloves had to be paid for out of Cyril's +two-and-sevenpence that he meant to buy rabbits with, and so had +the green imitation crocodile-skin purse at ninepence-halfpenny +which had been bought at the same time. They tried several more +shops, the kinds where you buy toys and scent, and silk +handkerchiefs and books, and fancy boxes of stationery, and +photographs of objects of interest in the vicinity. But nobody +cared to change a guinea that day in Rochester, and as they went +from shop to shop they got dirtier and dirtier, and their hair got +more and more untidy, and Jane slipped and fell down on a part of +the road where a water-cart had just gone by. Also they got very +hungry, but they found no one would give them anything to eat for +their guineas. After trying two pastrycooks in vain, they became +so hungry, perhaps from the smell of the cake in the shops, as +Cyril suggested, that they formed a plan of campaign in whispers +and carried it out in desperation. They marched into a third +pastrycook's - Beale his name was - and before the people behind +the counter could interfere each child had seized three new penny +buns, clapped the three together between its dirty hands, and taken +a big bite out of the triple sandwich. Then they stood at bay, +with the twelve buns in their hands and their mouths very full +indeed. The shocked pastrycook bounded round the corner. + +'Here,' said Cyril, speaking as distinctly as he could, and holding +out the guinea he got ready before entering the shop, 'pay yourself +out of that.' + +Mr Beale snatched the coin, bit it, and put it in his pocket. + +'Off you go,' he said, brief and stern like the man in the song. + +'But the change?' said Anthea, who had a saving mind. + +'Change!' said the man. 'I'll change you! Hout you goes; and you +may think yourselves lucky I don't send for the police to find out +where you got it!' + +In the Castle Gardens the millionaires finished the buns, and +though the curranty softness of these were delicious, and acted +like a charm in raising the spirits of the party, yet even the +stoutest heart quailed at the thought of venturing to sound Mr +Billy Peasemarsh at the Saracen's Head on the subject of a horse +and carriage. The boys would have given up the idea, but Jane was +always a hopeful child, and Anthea generally an obstinate one, and +their earnestness prevailed. + +The whole party, by this time indescribably dirty, therefore betook +itself to the Saracen's Head. The yard-method of attack having +been successful at The Chequers was tried again here. Mr +Peasemarsh was in the yard, and Robert opened the business in these +terms - + +'They tell me you have a lot of horses and carriages to sell.' It +had been agreed that Robert should be spokesman, because in books +it is always the gentlemen who buy horses, and not ladies, and +Cyril had had his go at the Blue Boar. + +'They tell you true, young man,' said Mr Peasemarsh. He was a long +lean man, with very blue eyes and a tight mouth and narrow lips. + +'We should like to buy some, please,' said Robert politely. + +'I daresay you would.' + +'Will you show us a few, please? To choose from.' +'Who are you a-kiddin of?' inquired Mr Billy Peasemarsh. 'Was you +sent here of a message?' + +'I tell you,' said Robert, 'we want to buy some horses and +carriages, and a man told us you were straight and civil spoken, +but I shouldn't wonder if he was mistaken.' + +'Upon my sacred!' said Mr Peasemarsh. 'Shall I trot the whole +stable out for your Honour's worship to see? Or shall I send round +to the Bishop's to see if he's a nag or two to dispose of?' + +'Please do,' said Robert, 'if it's not too much trouble. It would +be very kind of you.' + +Mr Peasemarsh put his hands in his pockets and laughed, and they +did not like the way he did it. Then he shouted 'Willum!' + +A stooping ostler appeared in a stable door. + +'Here, Willum, come and look at this 'ere young dook! Wants to buy +the whole stud, lock, stock, and bar'l. And ain't got tuppence in +his pocket to bless hisself with, I'll go bail!' + +Willum's eyes followed his master's pointing thumb with +contemptuous interest. + +'Do 'e, for sure?' he said. + +But Robert spoke, though both the girls were now pulling at his +jacket and begging him to 'come along'. He spoke, and he was very +angry; he said: + +'I'm not a young duke, and I never pretended to be. And as for +tuppence - what do you call this?' And before the others could +stop him he had pulled out two fat handfuls of shining guineas, and +held them out for Mr Peasemarsh to look at. He did look. He +snatched one up in his finger and thumb. He bit it, and Jane +expected him to say, 'The best horse in my stables is at your +service.' But the others knew better. Still it was a blow, even +to the most desponding, when he said shortly: + +'Willum, shut the yard doors,' and Willum grinned and went to shut +them. + +'Good-afternoon,' said Robert hastily; 'we shan't buy any of your +horses now, whatever you say, and I hope it'll be a lesson to you.' +He had seen a little side gate open, and was moving towards it as +he spoke. But Billy Peasemarsh put himself in the way. + +'Not so fast, you young off-scouring!' he said. 'Willum, fetch the +pleece.' + +Willum went. The children stood huddled together like frightened +sheep, and Mr Peasemarsh spoke to them till the pleece arrived. He +said many things. Among other things he said: + +'Nice lot you are, aren't you, coming tempting honest men with your +guineas!' + +'They ARE our guineas,' said Cyril boldly. + +'Oh, of course we don't know all about that, no more we don't - oh +no - course not! And dragging little gells into it, too. 'Ere - +I'll let the gells go if you'll come along to the pleece quiet.' + +'We won't be let go,' said Jane heroically; 'not without the boys. +It's our money just as much as theirs, you wicked old man.' + +'Where'd you get it, then?' said the man, softening slightly, which +was not at all what the boys expected when Jane began to call +names. + +Jane cast a silent glance of agony at the others. + +'Lost your tongue, eh? Got it fast enough when it's for calling +names with. Come, speak up! Where'd you get it?' + +'Out of the gravel-pit,' said truthful Jane. + +'Next article,' said the man. + +'I tell you we did,' Jane said. 'There's a fairy there - all over +brown fur - with ears like a bat's and eyes like a snail's, and he +gives you a wish a day, and they all come true.' + +'Touched in the head, eh?' said the man in a low voice, 'all the +more shame to you boys dragging the poor afflicted child into your +sinful burglaries.' + +'She's not mad; it's true,' said Anthea; 'there is a fairy. If I +ever see him again I'll wish for something for you; at least I +would if vengeance wasn't wicked - so there!' + +'Lor' lumme,' said Billy Peasemarsh, 'if there ain't another on +'em!' + +And now Willum came -back with a spiteful grin on his face, and at +his back a policeman, with whom Mr Peasemarsh spoke long in a +hoarse earnest whisper. + +'I daresay you're right,' said the policeman at last. 'Anyway, +I'll take 'em up on a charge of unlawful possession, pending +inquiries. And the magistrate will deal with the case. Send the +afflicted ones to a home, as likely as not, and the boys to a +reformatory. Now then, come along, youngsters! No use making a +fuss. You bring the gells along, Mr Peasemarsh, sir, and I'll +shepherd the boys.' + +Speechless with rage and horror, the four children were driven +along the streets of Rochester. Tears of anger and shame blinded +them, so that when Robert ran right into a passer-by he did not +recognize her till a well--known voice said, 'Well, if ever I did! +Oh, Master Robert, whatever have you been a doing of now?' And +another voice, quite as well known, said, 'Panty; want go own +Panty!' + +They had run into Martha and the baby! + +Martha behaved admirably. She refused to believe a word of the +policeman's story, or of Mr Peasemarsh's either, even when they +made Robert turn out his pockets in an archway and show the +guineas. + +'I don't see nothing,' she said. 'You've gone out of your senses, +you two! There ain't any gold there - only the poor child's hands, +all over crock and dirt, and like the very chimbley. Oh, that I +should ever see the day!' + +And the children thought this very noble of Martha, even if rather +wicked, till they remembered how the Fairy had promised that the +servants should never notice any of the fairy gifts. So of course +Martha couldn't see the gold, and so was only speaking the truth, +and that was quite right, of course, but not extra noble. + +It was getting dusk when they reached the police-station. The +policeman told his tale to an inspector, who sat in a large bare +room with a thing like a clumsy nursery-fender at one end to put +prisoners in. Robert wondered whether it was a cell or a dock. + +'Produce the coins, officer,' said the inspector. + +'Turn out your pockets,' said the constable. + +Cyril desperately plunged his hands in his pockets, stood still a +moment, and then began to laugh - an odd sort of laugh that hurt, +and that felt much more like crying. His pockets were empty. So +were the pockets of the others. For of course at sunset all the +fairy gold had vanished away. + +'Turn out your pockets, and stop that noise,' said the inspector. + +Cyril turned out his pockets, every one of the nine which enriched +his Norfolk suit. And every pocket was empty. + +'Well!' said the inspector. + +'I don't know how they done it - artful little beggars! They +walked in front of me the 'ole way, so as for me to keep my eye on +them and not to attract a crowd and obstruct the traffic.' + +'It's very remarkable,' said the inspector, frowning. + +'If you've quite done a-browbeating of the innocent children,' said +Martha, 'I'll hire a private carriage and we'll drive home to their +papa's mansion. You'll hear about this again, young man! - I told +you they hadn't got any gold, when you were pretending to see it in +their poor helpless hands. It's early in the day for a constable +on duty not to be able to trust his own eyes. As to the other one, +the less said the better; he keeps the Saracen's Head, and he knows +best what his liquor's like.' + +'Take them away, for goodness' sake,' said the inspector crossly. +But as they left the police-station he said, 'Now then!' to the +policeman and Mr Pease- marsh, and he said it twenty times as +crossly as he had spoken to Martha. + + +Martha was as good as her word. She took them home in a very grand +carriage, because the carrier's cart was gone, and, though she had +stood by them so nobly with the police, she was so angry with them +as soon as they were alone for 'trapseing into Rochester by +themselves', that none of them dared to mention the old man with +the pony-cart from the village who was waiting for them in +Rochester. And so, after one day of boundless wealth, the children +found themselves sent to bed in deep disgrace, and only enriched by +two pairs of cotton gloves, dirty inside because of the state of +the hands they had been put on to cover, an imitation +crocodile-skin purse, and twelve penny buns long since digested. + +The thing that troubled them most was the fear that the old +gentleman's guinea might have disappeared at sunset with all the +rest, so they went down to the village next day to apologize for +not meeting him in Rochester, and to see. They found him very +friendly. The guinea had NOT disappeared, and he had bored a hole +in it and hung it on his watch-chain. As for the guinea the baker +took, the children felt they could not care whether it had vanished +or not, which was not perhaps very honest, but on the other hand +was not wholly unnatural. But afterwards this preyed on Anthea's +mind, and at last she secretly sent twelve stamps by post to 'Mr +Beale, Baker, Rochester'. Inside she wrote, 'To pay for the buns.' +I hope the guinea did disappear, for that pastrycook was really not +at all a nice man, and, besides, penny buns are seven for sixpence +in all really respectable shops. + + + +CHAPTER 3 +BEING WANTED + + +The morning after the children had been the possessors of boundless +wealth, and had been unable to buy anything really useful or +enjoyable with it, except two pairs of cotton gloves, twelve penny +buns, an imitation crocodile-skin purse, and a ride in a pony-cart, +they awoke without any of the enthusiastic happiness which they had +felt on the previous day when they remembered how they had had the +luck to find a Psammead, or Sand-fairy; and to receive its promise +to grant them a new wish every day. For now they had had two +wishes, Beauty and Wealth, and neither had exactly made them happy. +But the happening of strange things, even if they are not +completely pleasant things, is more amusing than those times when +nothing happens but meals, and they are not always completely +pleasant, especially on the days when it is cold mutton or hash. + +There was no chance of talking things over before breakfast, +because everyone overslept itself, as it happened, and it needed a +vigorous and determined struggle to get dressed so as to be only +ten minutes late for breakfast. During this meal some efforts were +made to deal with the question of the Psammead in an impartial +spirit, but it is very difficult to discuss anything thoroughly and +at the same time to attend faithfully to your baby brother's +breakfast needs. The Baby was particularly lively that morning. +He not only wriggled his body through the bar of his high chair, +and hung by his head, choking and purple, but he collared a +tablespoon with desperate suddenness, hit Cyril heavily on the head +with it, and then cried because it was taken away from him. He put +his fat fist in his bread-and-milk, and demanded 'nam', which was +only allowed for tea. He sang, he put his feet on the table - he +clamoured to 'go walky'. The conversation was something like this: + + +'Look here - about that Sand-fairy - Look out! - he'll have the +milk over.' + +Milk removed to a safe distance. + +'Yes - about that Fairy - No, Lamb dear, give Panther the narky +poon.' + +Then Cyril tried. 'Nothing we've had yet has turned out - He +nearly had the mustard that time!' + +'I wonder whether we'd better wish - Hullo! you've done it now, my +boy!' And, in a flash of glass and pink baby-paws, the bowl of +golden carp in the middle of the table rolled on its side, and +poured a flood of mixed water and goldfish into the Baby's lap and +into the laps of the others. + +Everyone was almost as much upset as the goldfish: the Lamb only +remaining calm. When the pool on the floor had been mopped up, and +the leaping, gasping goldfish had been collected and put back in +the water, the Baby was taken away to be entirely redressed by +Martha, and most of the others had to change completely. The +pinafores and jackets that had been bathed in goldfish-and-water +were hung out to dry, and then it turned out that Jane must either +mend the dress she had torn the day before or appear all day in her +best petticoat. It was white and soft and frilly, and trimmed with +lace, and very, very pretty, quite as pretty as a frock, if not +more so. Only it was NOT a frock, and Martha's word was law. She +wouldn't let Jane wear her best frock, and she refused to listen +for a moment to Robert's suggestion that Jane should wear her best +petticoat and call it a dress. + +'It's not respectable,' she said. And when people say that, it's +no use anyone's saying anything. You will find this out for +yourselves some day. + +So there was nothing for it but for Jane to mend her frock. The +hole had been torn the day before when she happened to tumble down +in the High Street of Rochester, just where a water-cart had passed +on its silvery way. She had grazed her knee, and her stocking was +much more than grazed, and her dress was cut by the same stone +which had attended to the knee and the stocking. Of course the +others were not such sneaks as to abandon a comrade in misfortune, +so they all sat on the grass-plot round the sundial, and Jane +darned away for dear life. The Lamb was still in the hands of +Martha having its clothes changed, so conversation was possible. + +Anthea and Robert timidly tried to conceal their inmost thought, +which was that the Psammead was not to be trusted; but Cyril said: + +'Speak out - say what you've got to say - I hate hinting, and +"don't know", and sneakish ways like that.' + +So then Robert said, as in honour bound: 'Sneak yourself - Anthea +and me weren't so goldfishy as you two were, so we got changed +quicker, and we've had time to think it over, and if you ask me -' + +'I didn't ask you,' said Jane, biting off a needleful of thread as +she had always been strictly forbidden to do. + +'I don't care who asks or who doesn't,' said Robert, but Anthea and +I think the Sammyadd is a spiteful brute. If it can give us our +wishes I suppose it can give itself its own, and I feel almost sure +it wishes every time that our wishes shan't do us any good. Let's +let the tiresome beast alone, and just go and have a jolly good +game of forts, on our own, in the chalk-pit.' + +(You will remember that the happily situated house where these +children were spending their holidays lay between a chalk-quarry +and a gravel-pit.) + +Cyril and Jane were more hopeful - they generally were. + +'I don't think the Sammyadd does it on purpose,' Cyril said; 'and, +after all, it WAS silly to wish for boundless wealth. Fifty pounds +in two-shilling pieces would have been much more sensible. And +wishing to be beautiful as the day was simply donkeyish. I don't +want to be disagreeable, but it was. We must try to find a really +useful wish, and wish it.' + +Jane dropped her work and said: + +'I think so too, it's too silly to have a chance like this and not +use it. I never heard of anyone else outside a book who had such +a chance; there must be simply heaps of things we could wish for +that wouldn't turn out Dead Sea fish, like these two things have. +Do let's think hard, and wish something nice, so that we can have +a real jolly day - what there is left of it.' + +Jane darned away again like mad, for time was indeed getting on, +and everyone began to talk at once. If you had been there you +could not possibly have made head or tail of the talk, but these +children were used to talking 'by fours', as soldiers march, and +each of them could say what it had to say quite comfortably, and +listen to the agreeable sound of its own voice, and at the same +time have three-quarters of two sharp ears to spare for listening +to what the others said. That is an easy example in multiplication +of vulgar fractions, but, as I daresay you can't do even that, I +won't ask you to tell me whether 3/4 X 2 = 1 1/2, but I will ask +you to believe me that this was the amount of ear each child was +able to lend to the others. Lending ears was common in Roman +times, as we learn from Shakespeare; but I fear I am getting too +instructive. + +When the frock was darned, the start for the gravel-pit was delayed +by Martha's insisting on everybody's washing its hands - which was +nonsense, because nobody had been doing anything at all, except +Jane, and how can you get dirty doing nothing? That is a difficult +question, and I cannot answer it on paper. In real life I could +very soon show you - or you me, which is much more likely. + +During the conversation in which the six ears were lent (there were +four children, so THAT sum comes right), it had been decided that +fifty pounds in two-shilling pieces was the right wish to have. +And the lucky children, who could have anything in the wide world +by just wishing for it, hurriedly started for the gravel-pit to +express their wishes to the Psammead. Martha caught them at the +gate, and insisted on their taking the Baby with them. + +'Not want him indeed! Why, everybody 'ud want him, a duck! with +all their hearts they would; and you know you promised your ma to +take him out every blessed day,' said Martha. + +'I know we did,' said Robert in gloom, 'but I wish the Lamb wasn't +quite so young and small. It would be much better fun taking him +out.' + +'He'll mend of his youngness with time,' said Martha; 'and as for +his smallness, I don't think you'd fancy carrying of him any more, +however big he was. Besides he can walk a bit, bless his precious +fat legs, a ducky! He feels the benefit of the new-laid air, so he +does, a pet!' With this and a kiss, she plumped the Lamb into +Anthea's arms, and went back to make new pinafores on the +sewing-machine. She was a rapid performer on this instrument. + +The Lamb laughed with pleasure, and said, 'Walky wif Panty,' and +rode on Robert's back with yells of joy, and tried to feed Jane +with stones, and altogether made himself so agreeable that nobody +could long be sorry that he was of the party. + +The enthusiastic Jane even suggested that they should devote a +week's wishes to assuring the Baby's future, by asking such gifts +for him as the good fairies give to Infant Princes in proper +fairy-tales, but Anthea soberly reminded her that as the +Sand-fairy's wishes only lasted till sunset they could not ensure +any benefit to the Baby's later years; and Jane owned that it would +be better to wish for fifty pounds in two-shilling pieces, and buy +the Lamb a three-pound-fifteen rocking-horse, like those in the +Army and Navy Stores list, with part of the money. + +It was settled that, as soon as they had wished for the money and +got it, they would get Mr Crispin to drive them into Rochester +again, taking Martha with them, if they could not get out of taking +her. And they would make a list of the things they really wanted +before they started. Full of high hopes and excellent resolutions, +they went round the safe slow cart-road to the gravel-pits, and as +they went in between the mounds of gravel a sudden thought came to +them, and would have turned their ruddy cheeks pale if they had +been children in a book. Being real live children, it only made +them stop and look at each other with rather blank and silly +expressions. For now they remembered that yesterday, when they had +asked the Psammead for boundless wealth, and it was getting ready +to fill the quarry with the minted gold of bright guineas - +millions of them - it had told the children to run along outside +the quarry for fear they should be buried alive in the heavy +splendid treasure. And they had run. And so it happened that they +had not had time to mark the spot where the Psammead was, with a +ring of stones, as before. And it was this thought that put such +silly expressions on their faces. + +'Never mind,' said the hopeful Jane, 'we'll soon find him.' + +But this, though easily said, was hard in the doing. They looked +and they looked, and though they found their seaside spades, +nowhere could they find the Sand-fairy. + +At last they had to sit down and rest - not at all because they +were weary or disheartened, of course, but because the Lamb +insisted on being put down, and you cannot look very carefully +after anything you may have happened to lose in the sand if you +have an active baby to look after at the same time. Get someone to +drop your best knife in the sand next time you go to the seaside, +and then take your baby brother with you when you go to look for +it, and you will see that I am right. + +The Lamb, as Martha had said, was feeling the benefit of the +country air, and he was as frisky as a sandhopper. The elder ones +longed to go on talking about the new wishes they would have when +(or if) they found the Psammead again. But the Lamb wished to +enjoy himself. + +He watched his opportunity and threw a handful of sand into +Anthea's face, and then suddenly burrowed his own head in the sand +and waved his fat legs in the air. Then of course the sand got +into his eyes, as it had into Anthea's, and he howled. + +The thoughtful Robert had brought one solid brown bottle of +ginger-beer with him, relying on a thirst that had never yet failed +him. This had to be uncorked hurriedly - it was the only wet thing +within reach, and it was necessary to wash the sand out of the +Lamb's eyes somehow. Of course the ginger hurt horribly, and he +howled more than ever. And, amid his anguish of kicking, the +bottle was upset and the beautiful ginger-beer frothed out into the +sand and was lost for ever. + +It was then that Robert, usually a very patient brother, so far +forgot himself as to say: + +'Anybody would want him, indeed! Only they don't; Martha doesn't, +not really, or she'd jolly well keep him with her. He's a little +nuisance, that's what he is. It's too bad. I only wish everybody +DID want him with all their hearts; we might get some peace in our +lives.' + +The Lamb stopped howling now, because Jane had suddenly remembered +that there is only one safe way of taking things out of little +children's eyes, and that is with your own soft wet tongue. It is +quite easy if you love the Baby as much as you ought to. + +Then there was a little silence. Robert was not proud of himself +for having been so cross, and the others were not proud of him +either. You often notice that sort of silence when someone has +said something it ought not to - and everyone else holds its tongue +and waits for the one who oughtn't to have said it is sorry. + +The silence was broken by a sigh - a breath suddenly let out. The +children's heads turned as if there had been a string tied to each +nose, and someone had pulled all the strings at once. + +And everyone saw the Sand-fairy sitting quite close to them, with +the expression which it used as a smile on its hairy face. + +'Good-morning,' it said; 'I did that quite easily! Everyone wants +him now.' + +'It doesn't matter,' said Robert sulkily, because he knew he had +been behaving rather like a pig. 'No matter who wants him - +there's no one here to - anyhow.' + +'Ingratitude,' said the Psammead, 'is a dreadful vice.' + +'We're not ungrateful,'Jane made haste to say, 'but we didn't +REALLY want that wish. Robert only just said it. Can't you take +it back and give us a new one?' + +'No - I can't,' the Sand-fairy said shortly; 'chopping and changing +- it's not business. You ought to be careful what you do wish. +There was a little boy once, he'd wished for a Plesiosaurus instead +of an Ichthyosaurus, because he was too lazy to remember the easy +names of everyday things, and his father had been very vexed with +him, and had made him go to bed before tea-time, and wouldn't let +him go out in the nice flint boat along with the other children - +it was the annual school-treat next day - and he came and flung +himself down near me on the morning of the treat, and he kicked his +little prehistoric legs about and said he wished he was dead. And +of course then he was.' + +'How awful!' said the children all together. + +'Only till sunset, of course,' the Psammead said; 'still it was +quite enough for his father and mother. And he caught it when he +woke up - I can tell you. He didn't turn to stone - I forget why +- but there must have been some reason. They didn't know being +dead is only being asleep, and you're bound to wake up somewhere or +other, either where you go to sleep or in some better place. You +may be sure he caught it, giving them such a turn. Why, he wasn't +allowed to taste Megatherium for a month after that. Nothing but +oysters and periwinkles, and common things like that.' + +All the children were quite crushed by this terrible tale. They +looked at the Psammead in horror. Suddenly the Lamb perceived that +something brown and furry was near him. + +'Poof, poof, poofy,' he said, and made a grab. + +'It's not a pussy,' Anthea was beginning, when the Sand-fairy +leaped back. + +'Oh, my left whisker!' it said; 'don't let him touch me. He's +wet.' + +Its fur stood on end with horror - and indeed a good deal of the +ginger-beer had been spilt on the blue smock of the Lamb. + +The Psammead dug with its hands and feet, and vanished in an +instant and a whirl of sand. + +The children marked the spot with a ring of stones. + +'We may as well get along home,' said Robert. 'I'll say I'm sorry; +but anyway if it's no good it's no harm, and we know where the +sandy thing is for to-morrow.' + +The others were noble. No one reproached Robert at all. Cyril +picked up the Lamb, who was now quite himself again, and off they +went by the safe cart-road. + +The cart-road from the gravel-pits joins the road almost directly. + +At the gate into the road the party stopped to shift the Lamb from +Cyril's back to Robert's. And as they paused a very smart open +carriage came in sight, with a coachman and a groom on the box, and +inside the carriage a lady - very grand indeed, with a dress all +white lace and red ribbons and a parasol all red and white - and a +white fluffy dog on her lap with a red ribbon round its neck. She +looked at the children, and particularly at the Baby, and she +smiled at him. The children were used to this, for the Lamb was, +as all the servants said, a 'very taking child'. So they waved +their hands politely to the lady and expected her to drive on. But +she did not. Instead she made the coachman stop. And she beckoned +to Cyril, and when he went up to the carriage she said: + +'What a dear darling duck of a baby! Oh, I SHOULD so like to adopt +it! Do you think its mother would mind?' + +'She'd mind very much indeed,' said Anthea shortly. + +'Oh, but I should bring it up in luxury, you know. I am Lady +Chittenden. You must have seen my photograph in the illustrated +papers. They call me a beauty, you know, but of course that's all +nonsense. Anyway -' + +She opened the carriage door and jumped out. She had the +wonderfullest red high-heeled shoes with silver buckles. 'Let me +hold him a minute,' she said. And she took the Lamb and held him +very awkwardly, as if she was not used to babies. + +Then suddenly she jumped into the carriage with the Lamb in her +arms and slammed the door and said, 'Drive on!' + +The Lamb roared, the little white dog barked, and the coachman +hesitated. + +'Drive on, I tell you!' cried the lady; and the coachman did, for, +as he said afterwards, it was as much as his place was worth not +to. + +The four children looked at each other, and then with one accord +they rushed after the carriage and held on behind. Down the dusty +road went the smart carriage, and after it, at double-quick time, +ran the twinkling legs of the Lamb's brothers and sisters. + +The Lamb howled louder and louder, but presently his howls changed +by slow degree to hiccupy gurgles, and then all was still and they +knew he had gone to sleep. + +The carriage went on, and the eight feet that twinkled through the +dust were growing quite stiff and tired before the carriage stopped +at the lodge of a grand park. The children crouched down behind +the carriage, and the lady got out. She looked at the Baby as it +lay on the carriage seat, and hesitated. + +'The darling - I won't disturb it,' she said, and went into the +lodge to talk to the woman there about a setting of Buff Orpington +eggs that had not turned out well. + +The coachman and footman sprang from the box and bent over the +sleeping Lamb. + +'Fine boy - wish he was mine,' said the coachman. + +'He wouldn't favour YOU much,' said the groom sourly; 'too +'andsome.' + +The coachman pretended not to hear. He said: + +'Wonder at her now - I do really! Hates kids. Got none of her +own, and can't abide other folkses'.' + +The children, crouching in the white dust under the carriage, +exchanged uncomfortable glances. + +'Tell you what,' the coachman went on firmly, 'blowed if I don't +hide the little nipper in the hedge and tell her his brothers took +'im! Then I'll come back for him afterwards.' + +'No, you don't,' said the footman. 'I've took to that kid so as +never was. If anyone's to have him, it's me - so there!' + +'Stow your gab!' the coachman rejoined. 'You don't want no kids, +and, if you did, one kid's the same as another to you. But I'm a +married man and a judge of breed. I knows a first-rate yearling +when I sees him. I'm a-goin' to 'ave him, an' least said soonest +mended.' + +'I should 'a' thought,' said the footman sneeringly, you'd a'most +enough. What with Alfred, an' Albert, an' Louise, an' Victor +Stanley, and Helena Beatrice, and another -' + +The coachman hit the footman in the chin - the foot- man hit the +coachman in the waistcoat - the next minute the two were fighting +here and there, in and out, up and down, and all over everywhere, +and the little dog jumped on the box of the carriage and began +barking like mad. + +Cyril, still crouching in the dust, waddled on bent legs to the +side of the carriage farthest from the battlefield. He unfastened +the door of the carriage - the two men were far too much occupied +with their quarrel to notice anything - took the Lamb in his arms, +and, still stooping, carried the sleeping baby a dozen yards along +the road to where a stile led into a wood. The others followed, +and there among the hazels and young oaks and sweet chestnuts, +covered by high strong-scented bracken, they all lay hidden till +the angry voices of the men were hushed at the angry voice of the +red-and-white lady, and, after a long and anxious search, the +carriage at last drove away. + +'My only hat!' said Cyril, drawing a deep breath as the sound of +wheels at last died away. 'Everyone DOES want him now - and no +mistake! That Sammyadd has done us again! Tricky brute! For any +sake, let's get the kid safe home.' + +So they peeped out, and finding on the right hand only lonely white +road, and nothing but lonely white road on the left, they took +courage, and the road, Anthea carrying the sleeping Lamb. + +Adventures dogged their footsteps. A boy with a bundle of faggots +on his back dropped his bundle by the roadside and asked to look at +the Baby, and then offered to carry him; but Anthea was not to be +caught that way twice. They all walked on, but the boy followed, +and Cyril and Robert couldn't make him go away till they had more +than once invited him to smell their fists. Afterwards a little +girl in a blue-and-white checked pinafore actually followed them +for a quarter of a mile crying for 'the precious Baby', and then +she was only got rid of by threats of tying her to a tree in the +wood with all their pocket-handkerchiefs. 'So that the bears can +come and eat you as soon as it gets dark,' said Cyril severely. +Then she went off crying. It presently seemed wise, to the +brothers and sisters of the Baby, who was wanted by everyone, to +hide in the hedge whenever they saw anyone coming, and thus they +managed to prevent the Lamb from arousing the inconvenient +affection of a milkman, a stone-breaker, and a man who drove a cart +with a paraffin barrel at the back of it. They were nearly home +when the worst thing of all happened. Turning a corner suddenly +they came upon two vans, a tent, and a company of gipsies encamped +by the side of the road. The vans were hung all round with wicker +chairs and cradles, and flower-stands and feather brushes. A lot +of ragged children were industriously making dust-pies in the road, +two men lay on the grass smoking, and three women were doing the +family washing in an old red watering-can with the top broken off. + +In a moment all the gipsies, men, women, and children, surrounded +Anthea and the Baby. + +'Let me hold him, little lady,' said one of the gipsy women, who +had a mahogany-coloured face and dust-coloured hair; 'I won't hurt +a hair of his head, the little picture!' + +'I'd rather not,' said Anthea. + +'Let me have him,' said the other woman, whose face was also of the +hue of mahogany, and her hair jet-black, in greasy curls. 'I've +nineteen of my own, so I have.' + +'No,' said Anthea bravely, but her heart beat so that it nearly +choked her. + +Then one of the men pushed forward. + +'Swelp me if it ain't!' he cried, 'my own long-lost cheild! Have +he a strawberry mark on his left ear? No? Then he's my own babby, +stolen from me in hinnocent hinfancy. 'And 'im over - and we'll +not 'ave the law on yer this time.' + +He snatched the Baby from Anthea, who turned scarlet and burst into +tears of pure rage. + +The others were standing quite still; this was much the most +terrible thing that had ever happened to them. Even being taken up +by the police in Rochester was nothing to this. Cyril was quite +white, and his hands trembled a little, but he made a sign to the +others to shut up. He was silent a minute, thinking hard. Then he +said: + +'We don't want to keep him if he's yours. But you see he's used to +us. You shall have him if you want him.' + +'No, no!' cried Anthea - and Cyril glared at her. + +'Of course we want him,' said the women, trying to get the Baby out +of the man's arms. The Lamb howled loudly. + +'Oh, he's hurt!' shrieked Anthea; and Cyril, in a savage undertone, +bade her 'Stow it!' + +'You trust to me,' he whispered. 'Look here,' he went on, 'he's +awfully tiresome with people he doesn't know very well. Suppose we +stay here a bit till he gets used to you, and then when it's +bedtime I give you my word of honour we'll go away and let you keep +him if you want to. And then when we're gone you can decide which +of you is to have him, as you all want him so much.' + +'That's fair enough,' said the man who was holding the Baby, trying +to loosen the red neckerchief which the Lamb had caught hold of and +drawn round his mahogany throat so tight that he could hardly +breathe. The gipsies whispered together, and Cyril took the chance +to whisper too. He said, 'Sunset! we'll get away then.' + +And then his brothers and sisters were filled with wonder and +admiration at his having been so clever as to remember this. + +'Oh, do let him come to us!' said Jane. 'See we'll sit down here +and take care of him for you till he gets used to you.' + +'What about dinner?' said Robert suddenly. The others looked at +him with scorn. 'Fancy bothering about your beastly dinner when +your br - I mean when the Baby' - Jane whispered hotly. Robert +carefully winked at her and went on: + +'You won't mind my just running home to get our dinner?' he said to +the gipsy; 'I can bring it out here in a basket.' + +His brother and sisters felt themselves very noble, and despised +him. They did not know his thoughtful secret intention. But the +gipsies did in a minute. +'Oh yes!' they said; 'and then fetch the police with a pack of lies +about it being your baby instead of ours! D'jever catch a weasel +asleep?' they asked. + +'If you're hungry you can pick a bit along of us,' said the +light-haired gipsy woman, not unkindly. 'Here, Levi, that blessed +kid'll howl all his buttons off. Give him to the little lady, and +let's see if they can't get him used to us a bit.' + +So the Lamb was handed back; but the gipsies crowded so closely +that he could not possibly stop howling. Then the man with the red +handkerchief said: + +'Here, Pharaoh, make up the fire; and you girls see to the pot. +Give the kid a chanst.' So the gipsies, very much against their +will, went off to their work, and the children and the Lamb were +left sitting on the grass. + +'He'll be all right at sunset,'Jane whispered. 'But, oh, it is +awful! Suppose they are frightfully angry when they come to their +senses! They might beat us, or leave us tied to trees, or +something.' + +'No, they won't,' Anthea said. ('Oh, my Lamb, don't cry any more, +it's all right, Panty's got oo, duckie!) They aren't unkind people, +or they wouldn't be going to give us any dinner.' + +'Dinner?' said Robert. 'I won't touch their nasty dinner. It +would choke me!' + +The others thought so too then. But when the dinner was ready - it +turned out to be supper, and happened between four and five - they +were all glad enough to take what they could get. It was boiled +rabbit, with onions, and some bird rather like a chicken, but +stringier about its legs and with a stronger taste. The Lamb had +bread soaked in hot water and brown sugar sprinkled on the top. He +liked this very much, and consented to let the two gipsy women feed +him with it, as he sat on Anthea's lap. All that long hot +afternoon Robert and Cyril and Anthea and Jane had to keep the Lamb +amused and happy, while the gipsies looked eagerly on. By the time +the shadows grew long and black across the meadows he had really +'taken to' the woman with the light hair, and even consented to +kiss his hand to the children, and to stand up and bow, with his +hand on his chest - 'like a gentleman' - to the two men. The whole +gipsy camp was in raptures with him, and his brothers and sisters +could not help taking some pleasure in showing off his +accomplishments to an audience so interested and enthusiastic. But +they longed for sunset. + +'We're getting into the habit of longing for sunset,' Cyril +whispered. 'How I do wish we could wish something really sensible, +that would be of some use, so that we should be quite sorry when +sunset came.' + +The shadows got longer and longer, and at last there were no +separate shadows any more, but one soft glowing shadow over +everything; for the sun was out of sight - behind the hill - but he +had not really set yet. The people who make the laws about +lighting bicycle lamps are the people who decide when the sun sets; +he has to do it, too, to the minute, or they would know the reason +why! + +But the gipsies were getting impatient. + +'Now, young uns,' the red-handkerchief man said,'it's time you were +laying of your heads on your pillowses - so it is! The kid's all +right and friendly with us now - so you just hand him over and +sling that hook o' yours like you said.' + +The women and children came crowding round the Lamb, arms were held +out, fingers snapped invitingly, friendly faces beaming with +admiring smiles; but all failed to tempt the loyal Lamb. He clung +with arms and legs to Jane, who happened to be holding him, and +uttered the gloomiest roar of the whole day. + +'It's no good,' the woman said, 'hand the little poppet over, miss. +We'll soon quiet him.' + +And still the sun would not set. + +'Tell her about how to put him to bed,' whispered Cyril; 'anything +to gain time - and be ready to bolt when the sun really does make +up its silly old mind to set.' + +'Yes, I'll hand him over in just one minute,' Anthea began, talking +very fast - 'but do let me just tell you he has a warm bath every +night and cold in the morning, and he has a crockery rabbit to go +into the warm bath with him, and little Samuel saying his prayers +in white china on a red cushion for the cold bath; and if you let +the soap get into his eyes, the Lamb -' + +'Lamb kyes,' said he - he had stopped roaring to listen. + +The woman laughed. 'As if I hadn't never bath'd a babby!' she +said. 'Come - give us a hold of him. Come to 'Melia, my +precious.' + +'G'way, ugsie!' replied the Lamb at once. + +'Yes, but,' Anthea went on, 'about his meals; you really MUST let +me tell you he has an apple or a banana every morning, and +bread-and-milk for breakfast, and an egg for his tea sometimes, and +-' + +'I've brought up ten,' said the black-ringleted woman, 'besides the +others. Come, miss, 'and 'im over - I can't bear it no longer. I +just must give him a hug.' + +'We ain't settled yet whose he's to be, Esther,' said one of the +men. + +'It won't be you, Esther, with seven of 'em at your tail a'ready.' + +'I ain't so sure of that,' said Esther's husband. + +'And ain't I nobody, to have a say neither?' said the husband of +'Melia. + +Zillah, the girl, said, 'An' me? I'm a single girl - and no one +but 'im to look after - I ought to have him.' + +'Hold yer tongue!' + +'Shut your mouth!' + +'Don't you show me no more of your imperence!' + +Everyone was getting very angry. The dark gipsy faces were +frowning and anxious-looking. Suddenly a change swept over them, +as if some invisible sponge had wiped away these cross and anxious +expressions, and left only a blank. + +The children saw that the sun really HAD set. But they were afraid +to move. And the gipsies were feeling so muddled, because of the +invisible sponge that had washed all the feelings of the last few +hours out of their hearts, that they could not say a word. + +The children hardly dared to breathe. Suppose the gipsies, when +they recovered speech, should be furious to think how silly they +had been all day. + +It was an awkward moment. Suddenly Anthea, greatly daring, held +out the Lamb to the red-handkerchief man. + +'Here he is!' she said. + +The man drew back. 'I shouldn't like to deprive you, miss,' he +said hoarsely. + +'Anyone who likes can have my share of him,' said the other man. + +'After all, I've got enough of my own,' said Esther. + +'He's a nice little chap, though,' said Amelia. She was the only +one who now looked affectionately at the whimpering Lamb. + +Zillah said, 'If I don't think I must have had a touch of the sun. +I don't want him.' + +'Then shall we take him away?' said Anthea. + +'Well, suppose you do,' said Pharaoh heartily, 'and we'll say no +more about it!' + +And with great haste all the gipsies began to be busy about their +tents for the night. All but Amelia. She went with the children +as far as the bend in the road - and there she said: + +'Let me give him a kiss, miss - I don't know what made us go for to +behave so silly. Us gipsies don't steal babies, whatever they may +tell you when you're naughty. We've enough of our own, mostly. +But I've lost all mine.' + +She leaned towards the Lamb; and he, looking in her eyes, +unexpectedly put up a grubby soft paw and stroked her face. + +'Poor, poor!' said the Lamb. And he let the gipsy woman kiss him, +and, what is more, he kissed her brown cheek in return - a very +nice kiss, as all his kisses are, and not a wet one like some +babies give. The gipsy woman moved her finger about on his +forehead, as if she had been writing something there, and the same +with his chest and his hands and his feet; then she said: + +'May he be brave, and have the strong head to think with, and the +strong heart to love with, and the strong hands to work with, and +the strong feet to travel with, and always come safe home to his +own.' Then she said something in a strange language no one could +understand, and suddenly added: + +'Well, I must be saying "so long" - and glad to have made your +acquaintance.' And she turned and went back to her home - the tent +by the grassy roadside. + +The children looked after her till she was out of sight. Then +Robert said, 'How silly of her! Even sunset didn't put her right. +What rot she talked!' + +'Well,' said Cyril, 'if you ask me, I think it was rather decent of +her -' + +'Decent?' said Anthea; 'it was very nice indeed of her. I think +she's a dear.' + +'She's just too frightfully nice for anything,' said Jane. + +And they went home - very late for tea and unspeakably late for +dinner. Martha scolded, of course. But the Lamb was safe. + +'I say - it turned out we wanted the Lamb as much as anyone,' said +Robert, later. + +'Of course.' + +'But do you feel different about it now the sun's set?' + +'No,' said all the others together. +'Then it's lasted over sunset with us.' + +'No, it hasn't,' Cyril explained. 'The wish didn't do anything to +US. We always wanted him with all our hearts when we were our +proper selves, only we were all pigs this morning; especially you, +Robert.' Robert bore this much with a strange calm. + +'I certainly THOUGHT I didn't want him this morning,' said he. +'Perhaps I was a pig. But everything looked so different when we +thought we were going to lose him.' + + + +CHAPTER 4 +WINGS + + +The next day was very wet - too wet to go out, and far too wet to +think of disturbing a Sand-fairy so sensitive to water that he +still, after thousands of years, felt the pain of once having had +his left whisker wetted. It was a long day, and it was not till +the afternoon that all the children suddenly decided to write +letters to their mother. It was Robert who had the misfortune to +upset the ink-pot - an unusually deep and full one - straight into +that part of Anthea's desk where she had long pretended that an +arrangement of gum and cardboard painted with Indian ink was a +secret drawer. It was not exactly Robert's fault; it was only his +misfortune that he chanced to be lifting the ink across the desk +just at the moment when Anthea had got it open, and that that same +moment should have been the one chosen by the Lamb to get under the +table and break his squeaking bird. There was a sharp convenient +wire inside the bird, and of course the Lamb ran the wire into +Robert's leg at once; and so, without anyone's meaning to, the +secret drawer was flooded with ink. At the same time a stream was +poured over Anthea's half-finished letter. So that her letter was +something like this: + + +DARLING MOTHER, I hope you are quite well, and I hope Granny is +better. The other day we ... + + +Then came a flood of ink, and at the bottom these words in pencil +- + + +It was not me upset the ink, but it took such a time clearing up, +so no more as it is post-time. - From your loving daughter, + ANTHEA. + + +Robert's letter had not even been begun. He had been drawing a +ship on the blotting-paper while he was trying to think of what to +say. And of course after the ink was upset he had to help Anthea +to clean out her desk, and he promised to make her another secret +drawer, better than the other. And she said, 'Well, make it now.' +So it was post-time and his letter wasn't done. And the secret +drawer wasn't done either. + +Cyril wrote a long letter, very fast, and then went to set a trap +for slugs that he had read about in the Home-made Gardener, and +when it was post-time the letter could not be found, and it never +was found. Perhaps the slugs ate it. + +jane's letter was the only one that went. She meant to tell her +mother all about the Psammead - in fact -they had all meant to do +this - but she spent so long thinking how to spell the word that +there was no time to tell the story properly, and it is useless to +tell a story unless you do tell it properly, so she had to be +contented with this - + + +MY DEAR MOTHER DEAR, + +We are all as as good as we can, like you told us to, and the Lamb +has a little cold, but Martha says it is nothing, only he upset the +goldfish into himself yesterday morning. When we were up at the +sand-pit the other day we went round by the safe way where carts +go, and we found a -- + + +Half an hour went by before Jane felt quite sure that they could +none of them spell Psammead. And they could not find it in the +dictionary either, though they looked. Then Jane hastily finished +her letter. + + + +We found a strange thing, but it is nearly post-time, so no more at +present from your little girl, + JANE. + +Ps. - If you could have a wish come true, what would you have? + + +Then the postman was heard blowing his horn, and Robert rushed out +in the rain to stop his cart and give him the letter. And that was +how it happened that, though all the children meant to tell their +mother about the Sand-fairy, somehow or other she never got to +know. There were other reasons why she never got to know, but +these come later. + +The next day Uncle Richard came and took them all to Maidstone in +a wagonette - all except the Lamb. Uncle Richard was the very best +kind of uncle. He bought them toys at Maidstone. He took them +into a shop and let them choose exactly what they wanted, without +any restrictions about price, and no nonsense about things being +instructive. It is very wise to let children choose exactly what +they like, because they are very foolish and inexperienced, and +sometimes they will choose a really instructive thing without +meaning to. This happened to Robert, who chose, at the last +moment, and in a great hurry, a box with pictures on it of winged +bulls with men's heads and winged men with eagles' heads. He +thought there would be animals inside, the same as on the box. +When he got it home it was a Sunday puzzle about ancient Nineveh! +The others chose in haste, and were happy at leisure. Cyril had a +model engine, and the girls had two dolls, as well as a china +tea-set with forget-me-nots on it, to be 'between them'. The boys' +'between them' was bow and arrows. + +Then Uncle Richard took them on the beautiful Medway in a boat, and +then they all had tea at a beautiful pastrycook's, and when they +reached home it was far too late to have any wishes that day. + +They did not tell Uncle Richard anything about the Psammead. I do +not know why. And they do not know why. But I daresay you can +guess. + +The day after Uncle Richard had behaved so handsomely was a very +hot day indeed. The people who decide what the weather is to be, +and put its orders down for it in the newspapers every morning, +said afterwards that it was the hottest day there had been for +years. They had ordered it to be 'warmer - some showers', and +warmer it certainly was. In fact it was so busy being warmer that +it had no time to attend to the order about showers, so there +weren't any. + +Have you ever been up at five o'clock on a fine summer morning? It +is very beautiful. The sunlight is pinky and yellowy, and all the +grass and trees are covered with dew-diamonds. And all the shadows +go the opposite way to the way they do in the evening, which is +very interesting and makes you feel as though you were in a new +other world. + +Anthea awoke at five. She had made herself wake, and I must tell +you how it is done, even if it keeps you waiting for the story to +go on. + +You get into bed at night, and lie down quite flat on your little +back with your hands straight down by your sides. Then you say 'I +must wake up at five' (or six, or seven, or eight, or nine, or +whatever the time is that you want), and as you say it you push +your chin down on to your chest and then bang your head back on the +pillow. And you do this as many times as there are ones in the +time you want to wake up at. (It is quite an easy sum.) Of course +everything depends on your really wanting to get up at five (or +six, or seven, or eight, or nine); if you don't really want to, +it's all of no use. But if you do - well, try it and see. Of +course in this, as in doing Latin proses or getting into mischief, +practice makes perfect. Anthea was quite perfect. + +At the very moment when she opened her eyes she heard the +black-and-gold clock down in the dining-room strike eleven. So she +knew it was three minutes to five. The black-and-gold clock always +struck wrong, but it was all right when you knew what it meant. It +was like a person talking a foreign language. If you know the +language it is just as easy to understand as English. And Anthea +knew the clock language. She was very sleepy, but she jumped out +of bed and put her face and hands into a basin of cold water. This +is a fairy charm that prevents your wanting to get back into bed +again. Then she dressed, and folded up her nightgown. She did not +tumble it together by the sleeves, but folded it by the seams from +the hem, and that will show you the kind of well-brought-up little +girl she was. + +Then she took her shoes in her hand and crept softly down the +stairs. She opened the dining-room window and climbed out. It +would have been just as easy to go out by the door, but the window +was more romantic, and less likely to be noticed by Martha. + +'I will always get up at five,' she said to herself. 'It was quite +too awfully pretty for anything.' + +Her heart was beating very fast, for she was carrying out a plan +quite her own. She could not be sure that it was a good plan, but +she was quite sure that it would not be any better if she were to +tell the others about it. And she had a feeling that, right or +wrong, she would rather go through with it alone. She put on her +shoes under the iron veranda, on the red-and-yellow shining tiles, +and then she ran straight to the sand-pit, and found the Psammead's +place, and dug it out; it was very cross indeed. + +'It's too bad,' it said, fluffing up its fur like pigeons do their +feathers at Christmas time. 'The weather's arctic, and it's the +middle of the night.' + +'I'm so sorry,' said Anthea gently, and she took off her white +pinafore and covered the Sand-fairy up with it, all but its head, +its bat's ears, and its eyes that were like a snail's eyes. + +'Thank you,' it said, 'that's better. What's the wish this +morning?' + +'I don't know,' said she; 'that's just it. You see we've been very +unlucky, so far. I wanted to talk to you about it. But - would +you mind not giving me any wishes till after breakfast? It's so +hard to talk to anyone if they jump out at you with wishes you +don't really want!' + +'You shouldn't say you wish for things if you don't wish for them. +In the old days people almost always knew whether it was +Megatherium or Ichthyosaurus they really wanted for dinner.' + +'I'll try not,' said Anthea, 'but I do wish -' + +'Look out!' said the Psammead in a warning voice, and it began to +blow itself out. + +'Oh, this isn't a magic wish - it's just - I should be so glad if +you'd not swell yourself out and nearly burst to give me anything +just now. Wait till the others are here.' + +'Well, well,' it said indulgently, but it shivered. + +'Would you,' asked Anthea kindly - 'would you like to come and sit +on my lap? You'd be warmer, and I could turn the skirt of my frock +up round you. I'd be very careful.' + +Anthea had never expected that it would, but it did. + +'Thank you,' it said; 'you really are rather thoughtful.' It crept +on to her lap and snuggled down, and she put her arms round it with +a rather frightened gentleness. 'Now then!' it said. + +'Well then,' said Anthea, 'everything we have wished has turned out +rather horrid. I wish you would advise us. You are so old, you +must be very wise.' + +'I was always generous from a child,' said the Sand-fairy. 'I've +spent the whole of my waking hours in giving. But one thing I +won't give - that's advice.' + +'You see,' Anthea went on, it's such a wonderful thing - such a +splendid, glorious chance. It's so good and kind and dear of you +to give us our wishes, and it seems such a pity it should all be +wasted just because we are too silly to know what to wish for.' + +Anthea had meant to say that - and she had not wanted to say it +before the others. It's one thing to say you're silly, and quite +another to say that other people are. + +'Child,' said the Sand-fairy sleepily, 'I can only advise you to +think before you speak -' + +'But I thought you never gave advice.' + +'That piece doesn't count,' it said. 'You'll never take it! +Besides, it's not original. It's in all the copy-books.' + +'But won't you just say if you think wings would be a silly wish?' + +'Wings?' it said. 'I should think you might do worse. Only, take +care you aren't flying high at sunset. There was a little Ninevite +boy I heard of once. He was one of King Sennacherib's sons, and a +traveller brought him a Psammead. He used to keep it in a box of +sand on the palace terrace. It was a dreadful degradation for one +of us, of course; still the boy was the Assyrian King's son. And +one day he wished for wings and got them. But he forgot that they +would turn into stone at sunset, and when they did he fell slap on +to one of the winged lions at the top of his father's great +staircase; and what with HIS stone wings and the lions' stone wings +- well, it's not a pretty story! But I believe the boy enjoyed +himself very much till then.' + +'Tell me,' said Anthea, 'why don't our wishes turn into stone now? +Why do they just vanish?' + +'Autres temps, autres moeurs,' said the creature. + +'Is that the Ninevite language?' asked Anthea, who had learned no +foreign language at school except French. + +'What I mean is,' the Psammead went on, 'that in the old days +people wished for good solid everyday gifts - Mammoths and +Pterodactyls and things - and those could be turned into stone as +easy as not. But people wish such high-flying fanciful things +nowadays. How are you going to turn being beautiful as the day, or +being wanted by everybody, into stone? You see it can't be done. +And it would never do to have two rules, so they simply vanish. If +being beautiful as the day COULD be turned into stone it would last +an awfully long time, you know - much longer than you would. just +look at the Greek statues. It's just as well as it is. Good-bye. +I AM so sleepy.' + +It jumped off her lap - dug frantically, and vanished. + +Anthea was late for breakfast. It was Robert who quietly poured a +spoonful of treacle down the Lamb's frock, so that he had to be +taken away and washed thoroughly directly after breakfast. And it +was of course a very naughty thing to do; yet it served two +purposes - it delighted the Lamb, who loved above all things to be +completely sticky, and it engaged Martha's attention so that the +others could slip away to the sand-pit without the Lamb. + +They did it, and in the lane Anthea, breathless from the scurry of +that slipping, panted out - + +'I want to propose we take turns to wish. Only, nobody's to have +a wish if the others don't think it's a nice wish. Do you agree?' + +'Who's to have first wish?' asked Robert cautiously. + +'Me, if you don't mind,' said Anthea apologetically. 'And I've +thought about it - and it's wings.' + +There was a silence. The others rather wanted to find fault, but +it was hard, because the word 'wings' raised a flutter of joyous +excitement in every breast. + +'Not so dusty,' said Cyril generously; and Robert added, 'Really, +Panther, you're not quite such a fool as you look.' + +Jane said, 'I think it would be perfectly lovely. It's like a +bright dream of delirium.' +They found the Sand-fairy easily. Anthea said: + +'I wish we all had beautiful wings to fly with.' + +The Sand-fairy blew himself out, and next moment each child felt a +funny feeling, half heaviness and half lightness, on its shoulders. +The Psammead put its head on one side and turned its snail's eyes +from one to the other. + +'Not so dusty,' it said dreamily. 'But really, Robert, you're not +quite such an angel as you look.' Robert almost blushed. + +The wings were very big, and more beautiful than you can possibly +imagine - for they were soft and smooth, and every feather lay +neatly in its place. And the feathers were of the most lovely +mixed changing colours, like the rainbow, or iridescent glass, or +the beautiful scum that sometimes floats on water that is not at +all nice to drink. + +'Oh - but can we fly?'Jane said, standing anxiously first on one +foot and then on the other. + +'Look out!' said Cyril; 'you're treading on my wing.' + +'Does it hurt?' asked Anthea with interest; but no one answered, +for Robert had spread his wings and jumped up, and now he was +slowly rising in the air. He looked very awkward in his +knickerbocker suit - his boots in particular hung helplessly, and +seemed much larger than when he was standing in them. But the +others cared but little how he looked - or how they looked, for +that matter. For now they all spread out their wings and rose in +the air. Of course you all know what flying feels like, because +everyone has dreamed about flying, and it seems so beautifully easy +- only, you can never remember how you did it; and as a rule you +have to do it without wings, in your dreams, which is more clever +and uncommon, but not so easy to remember the rule for. Now the +four children rose flapping from the ground, and you can't think +how good the air felt running against their faces. Their wings +were tremendously wide when they were spread out, and they had to +fly quite a long way apart so as not to get in each other's way. +But little things like this are easily learned. + +All the words in the English Dictionary, and in the Greek Lexicon +as well, are, I find, of no use at all to tell you exactly what it +feels like to be flying, so I Will not try. But I will say that to +look DOWN on the fields and woods, instead of along at them, is +something like looking at a beautiful live map, where, instead of +silly colours on paper, you have real moving sunny woods and green +fields laid out one after the other. As Cyril said, and I can't +think where he got hold of such a strange expression, 'It does you +a fair treat!' It was most wonderful and more like real magic than +any wish the children had had yet. They flapped and flew and +sailed on their great rainbow wings, between green earth and blue +sky; and they flew right over Rochester and then swerved round +towards Maidstone, and presently they all began to feel extremely +hungry. Curiously enough, this happened when they were flying +rather low, and just as they were crossing an orchard where some +early plums shone red and ripe. + +They paused on their wings. I cannot explain to you how this is +done, but it is something like treading water when you are +swimming, and hawks do it extremely well. + +'Yes, I daresay,' said Cyril, though no one had spoken. 'But +stealing is stealing even if you've got wings.' + +'Do you really think so?' said Jane briskly. 'If you've got wings +you're a bird, and no one minds birds breaking the commandments. +At least, they MAY mind, but the birds always do it, and no one +scolds them or sends them to prison.' + +It was not so easy to perch on a plum-tree as you might think, +because the rainbow wings were so very large; but somehow they all +managed to do it, and the plums were certainly very sweet and +juicy. + +Fortunately, it was not till they had all had quite as many plums +as were good for them that they saw a stout man, who looked exactly +as though he owned the plum-trees, come hurrying through the +orchard gate with a thick stick, and with one accord they +disentangled their wings from the plum-laden branches and began to +fly. + +The man stopped short, with his mouth open. For he had seen the +boughs of his trees moving and twitching, and he had said to +himself, 'The young varmints - at it again!' And he had come out +at once, for the lads of the village had taught him in past seasons +that plums want looking after. But when he saw the rainbow wings +flutter up out of the plum-tree he felt that he must have gone +quite mad, and he did not like the feeling at all. And when Anthea +looked down and saw his mouth go slowly open, and stay so, and his +face become green and mauve in patches, she called out: + +'Don't be frightened,' and felt hastily in her pocket for a +threepenny-bit with a hole in it, which she had meant to hang on a +ribbon round her neck, for luck. She hovered round the unfortunate +plum-owner, and said, 'We have had some of your plums; we thought +it wasn't stealing, but now I am not so sure. So here's some money +to pay for them.' + +She swooped down towards the terror-stricken grower of plums, and +slipped the coin into the pocket of his jacket, and in a few flaps +she had rejoined the others. + +The farmer sat down on the grass, suddenly and heavily. + +'Well - I'm blessed!' he said. 'This here is what they call +delusions, I suppose. But this here threepenny' - he had pulled it +out and bitten it - 'THAT'S real enough. Well, from this day forth +I'll be a better man. It's the kind of thing to sober a chap for +life, this is. I'm glad it was only wings, though. I'd rather see +birds as aren't there, and couldn't be, even if they pretend to +talk, than some things as I could name.' + +He got up slowly and heavily, and went indoors, and he was so nice +to his wife that day that she felt quite happy, and said to +herself, 'Law, whatever have a-come to the man!' and smartened +herself up and put a blue ribbon bow at the place where her collar +fastened on, and looked so pretty that he was kinder than ever. So +perhaps the winged children really did do one good thing that day. +If so, it was the only one; for really there is nothing like wings +for getting you into trouble. But, on the other hand, if you arc +in trouble, there is nothing like wings for getting you out of it. + +This was the case in the matter of the fierce dog who sprang out at +them when they had folded up their wings as small as possible and +were going up to a farm door to ask for a crust of bread and +cheese, for in spite of the plums they were soon just as hungry as +ever again. + +Now there is no doubt whatever that, if the four had been ordinary +wingless children, that black and fierce dog would have had a good +bite out of the brown-stockinged leg of Robert, who was the +nearest. But at first growl there was a flutter of wings, and the +dog was left to strain at his chain and stand on his hind-legs as +if he were trying to fly too. + +They tried several other farms, but at those where there were no +dogs the people were far too frightened to do anything but scream; +and at last when it was nearly four o'clock, and their wings were +getting miserably stiff and tired, they alighted on a church-tower +and held a council of war. + +'We can't possibly fly all the way home without dinner or tea,' +said Robert with desperate decision. + +'And nobody will give us any dinner, or even lunch, let alone tea,' +said Cyril. + +'Perhaps the clergyman here might,' suggested Anthea. 'He must +know all about angels -' + +'Anybody could see we're not that,' said Jane. 'Look at Robert's +boots and Squirrel's plaid necktie.' + +'Well,' said Cyril firmly, 'if the country you're in won't SELL +provisions, you TAKE them. In wars I mean. I'm quite certain you +do. And even in other stories no good brother would allow his +little sisters to starve in the midst of plenty.' + +'Plenty?' repeated Robert hungrily; and the others looked vaguely +round the bare leads of the church- tower, and murmured, 'In the +midst of?' + +'Yes,' said Cyril impressively. 'There is a larder window at the +side of the clergyman's house, and I saw things to eat inside - +custard pudding and cold chicken and tongue - and pies - and jam. +It's rather a high window - but with wings -' + +'How clever of you!' said Jane. + +'Not at all,' said Cyril modestly; 'any born general - Napoleon or +the Duke of Marlborough - would have seen it just the same as I +did.' + +'It seems very wrong,' said Anthea. + +'Nonsense,' said Cyril. 'What was it Sir Philip Sidney said when +the soldier wouldn't stand him a drink? - "My necessity is greater +than his".' + +'We'll club our money, though, and leave it to pay for the things, +won't we?' Anthea was persuasive, and very nearly in tears, +because it is most trying to feel enormously hungry and unspeakably +sinful at one and the same time. + +'Some of it,' was the cautious reply. + +Everyone now turned out its pockets on the lead roof of the tower, +where visitors for the last hundred and fifty years had cut their +own and their sweethearts' initials with penknives in the soft +lead. There was five-and-sevenpence-halfpenny altogether, and even +the upright Anthea admitted that that was too much to pay for four +peoples dinners. Robert said he thought eighteen pence. + +And half-a-crown was finally agreed to be 'hand- some'. + +So Anthea wrote on the back of her last term's report, which +happened to be in her pocket, and from which she first tore her own +name and that of the school, the following letter: + + +DEAR REVEREND CLERGYMAN, + +We are very hungry indeed because of having to fly all day, and we +think it is not stealing when you are starving to death. We are +afraid to ask you for fear you should say 'No', because of course +you know about angels, but you would not think we were angels. We +will only take the nessessities of life, and no pudding or pie, to +show you it is not grediness but true starvation that makes us make +your larder stand and deliver. But we are not highwaymen by trade. + + +'Cut it short,' said the others with one accord. And Anthea +hastily added: + +Our intentions are quite honourable if you only knew. And here is +half-a-crown to show we are sinseer and grateful. Thank you for +your kind hospitality. + FROM Us FOUR. + + +The half-crown was wrapped in this letter, and all the children +felt that when the clergyman had read it he would understand +everything, as well as anyone could who had not seen the wings. + +'Now,' said Cyril,"of course there's some risk; we'd better fly +straight down the other side of the tower and then flutter low +across the churchyard and in through the shrubbery. There doesn't +seem to be anyone about. But you never know. The window looks out +into the shrubbery. It is embowered in foliage, like a window in +a story. I'll go in and get the things. Robert and Anthea can +take them as I hand them out through the window; and Jane can keep +watch - her eyes are sharp - and whistle if she sees anyone about. +Shut up, Robert! she can whistle quite well enough for that, +anyway. It ought not to be a very good whistle - it'll sound more +natural and birdlike. Now then - off we go!' + +I cannot pretend that stealing is right. I can only say that on +this occasion it did not look like stealing to the hungry four, but +appeared in the light of a fair and reasonable business +transaction. They had never happened to learn that a tongue - +hardly cut into - a chicken and a half, a loaf of bread, and a +syphon of soda-water cannot be bought in shops for half-a-crown. +These were the necessaries of life, which Cyril handed out of the +larder window when, quite unobserved and without hindrance or +adventure, he had led the others to that happy spot. He felt that +to refrain from jam, apple turnovers, cake, and mixed candied peel +was a really heroic act - and I agree with him. He was also proud +of not taking the custard pudding - and there I think he was wrong +- because if he had taken it there would have been a difficulty +about returning the dish; no one, however starving, has a right to +steal china pie-dishes with little pink flowers on them. The +soda-water syphon was different. They could not do without +something to drink, and as the maker's name was on it they felt +sure it would be returned to him wherever they might leave it. If +they had time they would take it back themselves. The man appeared +to live in Rochester, which would not be much out of their way +home. + +Everything was carried up to the top of the tower, and laid down on +a sheet of kitchen paper which Cyril had found on the top shelf of +the larder. As he unfolded it, Anthea said, 'I don't think THAT'S +a necessity of life.' + +'Yes, it is,' said he. 'We must put the things down somewhere to +cut them up; and I heard father say the other day people got +diseases from germans in rain-water. Now there must be lots of +rain-water here - and when it dries up the germans are left, and +they'd get into the things, and we should all die of scarlet +fever.' + +'What are germans?' + +'Little waggly things you see with microscopes,' said Cyril, with +a scientific air. 'They give you every illness you can think of! +I'm sure the paper was a necessary, just as much as the bread and +meat and water. Now then! Oh, my eyes, I am hungry!' + +I do not wish to describe the picnic party on the top of the tower. +You can imagine well enough what it is like to carve a chicken and +a tongue with a knife that has only one blade - and that snapped +off short about half-way down. But it was done. Eating with your +fingers is greasy and difficult - and paper dishes soon get to look +very spotty and horrid. But one thing you CAN'T imagine, and that +is how soda-water behaves when you try to drink it straight out of +a syphon - especially a quite full one. But if imagination will +not help you, experience will, and you can easily try it for +yourself if you can get a grown-up to give you the syphon. If you +want to have a really thorough experience, put the tube in your +mouth and press the handle very suddenly and very hard. You had +better do it when you are alone - and out of doors is best for this +experiment. + +However you eat them, tongue and chicken and new bread are very +good things, and no one minds being sprinkled a little with +soda-water on a really fine hot day. So that everyone enjoyed the +dinner very much indeed, and everyone ate as much as it possibly +could: first, because it was extremely hungry; and secondly, +because, as I said, tongue and chicken and new bread are very nice. + +Now, I daresay you will have noticed that if you have to wait for +your dinner till long after the proper time, and then eat a great +deal more dinner than usual, and sit in the hot sun on the top of +a church-tower - or even anywhere else - you become soon and +strangely sleepy. Now Anthea and Jane and Cyril and Robert were +very like you in many ways, and when they had eaten all they could, +and drunk all there was, they became sleepy, strangely and soon - +especially Anthea, because she had got up so early. + +One by one they left off talking and leaned back, and before it was +a quarter of an hour after dinner they had all curled round and +tucked themselves up under their large soft warm wings and were +fast asleep. And the sun was sinking slowly in the west. (I must +say it was in the west, because it is usual in books to say so, for +fear careless people should think it was setting in the east. In +point of fact, it was not exactly in the west either - but that's +near enough.) The sun, I repeat, was sinking slowly in the west, +and the children slept warmly and happily on - for wings are cosier +than eiderdown quilts to sleep under. The shadow of the +church-tower fell across the churchyard, and across the Vicarage, +and across the field beyond; and presently there were no more +shadows, and the sun had set, and the wings were gone. And still +the children slept. But not for long. Twilight is very beautiful, +but it is chilly; and you know, however sleepy you are, you wake up +soon enough if your brother or sister happens to be up first and +pulls your blankets off you. The four wingless children shivered +and woke. And there they were - on the top of a church-tower in +the dusky twilight, with blue stars coming out by ones and twos and +tens and twenties over their heads - miles away from home, with +three-and-three-halfpence in their pockets, and a doubtful act +about the necessities of life to be accounted for if anyone found +them with the soda-water syphon. + +They looked at each other. Cyril spoke first, picking up the +syphon: + +'We'd better get along down and get rid of this beastly thing. +It's dark enough to leave it on the clergyman's doorstep, I should +think. Come on.' + +There was a little turret at the corner of the tower, and the +little turret had a door in it. They had noticed this when they +were eating, but had not explored it, as you would have done in +their place. Because, of course, when you have wings, and can +explore the whole sky, doors seem hardly worth exploring. + +Now they turned towards it. + +'Of course,' said Cyril, 'this is the way down.' + +It was. But the door was locked on the inside! + +And the world was growing darker and darker. And they were miles +from home. And there was the soda-water syphon. + +I shall not tell you whether anyone cried, nor if so, how many +cried, nor who cried. You will be better employed in making up +your minds what you would have done if you had been in their place. + + + +CHAPTER 5 +NO WINGS + + +Whether anyone cried or not, there was certainly an interval during +which none of the party was quite itself. When they grew calmer, +Anthea put her handkerchief in her pocket and her arm round Jane, +and said: + +'It can't be for more than one night. We can signal with our +handkerchiefs in the morning. They'll be dry then. And someone +will come up and let us out -' + +'And find the syphon,' said Cyril gloomily; 'and we shall be sent +to prison for stealing -' + +'You said it wasn't stealing. You said you were sure it wasn't.' + +'I'm not sure NOW,' said Cyril shortly. + +'Let's throw the beastly thing slap away among the trees,' said +Robert, 'then no one can do anything to us.' + +'Oh yes' - Cyril's laugh was not a lighthearted one - 'and hit some +chap on the head, and be murderers as well as - as the other +thing.' + +'But we can't stay up here all night,' said Jane; 'and I want my +tea.' + +'You CAN'T want your tea,' said Robert; 'you've only just had your +dinner.' + +'But I do want it,' she said; 'especially when you begin talking +about stopping up here all night. Oh, Panther - I want to go home! +I want to go home!' + +'Hush, hush,' Anthea said. 'Don't, dear. It'll be all right, +somehow. Don't, don't -' + +'Let her cry,' said Robert desperately; 'if she howls loud enough, +someone may hear and come and let us out.' + +'And see the soda-water thing,' said Anthea swiftly. 'Robert, +don't be a brute. Oh, Jane, do try to be a man! It's just the +same for all of us.' + +Jane did try to 'be a man' - and reduced her howls to sniffs. + +There was a pause. Then Cyril said slowly, 'Look here. We must +risk that syphon. I'll button it up inside my jacket - perhaps no +one will notice it. You others keep well in front of me. There +are lights in the clergyman's house. They've not gone to bed yet. +We must just yell as loud as ever we can. Now all scream when I +say three. Robert, you do the yell like the railway engine, and +I'll do the coo-ee like father's. The girls can do as they please. +One, two, three!' + +A fourfold yell rent the silent peace of the evening, and a maid at +one of the Vicarage windows paused with her hand on the blind-cord. + +'One, two, three!' Another yell, piercing and complex, startled +the owls and starlings to a flutter of feathers in the belfry +below. The maid fled from the Vicarage window and ran down the +Vicarage stairs and into the Vicarage kitchen, and fainted as soon +as she had explained to the man-servant and the cook and the cook's +cousin that she had seen a ghost. It was quite untrue, of course, +but I suppose the girl's nerves were a little upset by the yelling. + +'One, two, three!' The Vicar was on his doorstep by this time, and +there was no mistaking the yell that greeted him. + +'Goodness me,' he said to his wife, 'my dear, someone's being +murdered in the church! Give me my hat and a thick stick, and tell +Andrew to come after me. I expect it's the lunatic who stole the +tongue.' + +The children had seen the flash of light when the Vicar opened his +front door. They had seen his dark form on the doorstep, and they +had paused for breath, and also to see what he would do. + +When he turned back for his hat, Cyril said hastily: + +'He thinks he only fancied he heard something. You don't half +yell! Now! One, two, three!' + +It was certainly a whole yell this time, and the Vicar's wife flung +her arms round her husband and screamed a feeble echo of it. + +'You shan't go!' she said, 'not alone. Jessie!' - the maid +unfainted and came out of the kitchen - 'send Andrew at once. +There's a dangerous lunatic in the church, and he must go +immediately and catch it.' + +'I expect he WILL catch it too,' said Jessie to herself as she went +through the kitchen door. 'Here, Andrew,' she said, there's +someone screaming like mad in the church, and the missus says +you're to go along and catch it.' + +'Not alone, I don't,' said Andrew in low firm tones. To his master +he merely said, 'Yes, sir.' + +'You heard those screams?' + +'I did think I noticed a sort of something,' said Andrew. + +'Well, come on, then,' said the Vicar. 'My dear, I MUST go!' He +pushed her gently into the sitting-room, banged the door, and +rushed out, dragging Andrew by the arm. + +A volley of yells greeted them. As it died into silence Andrew +shouted, 'Hullo, you there! Did you call?' + +'Yes,' shouted four far-away voices. + +'They seem to be in the air,' said the Vicar. 'Very remarkable.' + +'Where are you?' shouted Andrew: and Cyril replied in his deepest +voice, very slow and loud: + +'CHURCH! TOWER! TOP!' + +'Come down, then!' said Andrew; and the same voice replied: + +'CAN'T! DOOR LOCKED!' + +'My goodness!' said the Vicar. 'Andrew, fetch the stable lantern. +Perhaps it would be as well to fetch another man from the village.' + +'With the rest of the gang about, very likely. No, sir; if this +'ere ain't a trap - well, may I never! There's cook's cousin at +the back door now. He's a keeper, sir, and used to dealing with +vicious characters. And he's got his gun, sir.' + +'Hullo there!' shouted Cyril from the church-tower; 'come up and +let us out.' + +'We're a-coming,' said Andrew. 'I'm a-going to get a policeman and +a gun.' + +'Andrew, Andrew,' said the Vicar, 'that's not the truth.' + +'It's near enough, sir, for the likes of them.' + +So Andrew fetched the lantern and the cook's cousin; and the +Vicar's wife begged them all to be very careful. + +They went across the churchyard - it was quite dark now - and as +they went they talked. The Vicar was certain a lunatic was on the +church-tower - the one who had written the mad letter, and taken +the cold tongue and things. Andrew thought it was a 'trap'; the +cook's cousin alone was calm. 'Great cry, little wool,' said he; +'dangerous chaps is quieter.' He was not at all afraid. But then +he had a gun. That was why he was asked to lead the way up the +worn steep dark steps of the church-tower. He did lead the way, +with the lantern in one hand and the gun in the other. Andrew went +next. He pretended afterwards that this was because he was braver +than his master, but really it was because he thought of traps, and +he did not like the idea of being behind the others for fear +someone should come soffly up behind him and catch hold of his legs +in the dark. They went on and on, and round and round the little +corkscrew staircase - then through the bell-ringers' loft, where +the bell-ropes hung with soft furry ends like giant caterpillars - +then up another stair into the belfry, where the big quiet bells +are - and then on, up a ladder with broad steps - and then up a +little stone stair. And at the top of that there was a little +door. And the door was bolted on the stair side. + +The cook's cousin, who was a gamekeeper, kicked at the door, and +said: + +'Hullo, you there!' + +The children were holding on to each other on the other side of the +door, and trembling with anxiousness - and very hoarse with their +howls. They could hardly speak, but Cyril managed to reply +huskily: + +'Hullo, you there!' + +'How did you get up there?' + +It was no use saying 'We flew up', so Cyril said: + +'We got up - and then we found the door was locked and we couldn't +get down. Let us out - do.' + +'How many of you are there?' asked the keeper. + +'Only four,' said Cyril. + +'Are you armed?' + +'Are we what?' + +'I've got my gun handy - so you'd best not try any tricks,' said +the keeper. 'If we open the door, will you promise to come quietly +down, and no nonsense?' + +'Yes - oh YES!' said all the children together. + +'Bless me,' said the Vicar, 'surely that was a female voice?' + +'Shall I open the door, Sir?' said the keeper. Andrew went down a +few steps, 'to leave room for the others' he said afterwards. + +'Yes,' said the Vicar, 'open the door. Remember,' he said through +the keyhole, 'we have come to release you. You will keep your +promise to refrain from violence?' + +'How this bolt do stick,' said the keeper; 'anyone 'ud think it +hadn't been drawed for half a year.' As a matter of fact it +hadn't. + +When all the bolts were drawn, the keeper spoke deep-chested words +through the keyhole. + +'I don't open,' said he, 'till you've gone over to the other side +of the tower. And if one of you comes at me I fire. Now!' + +'We're all over on the other side,' said the voices. + +The keeper felt pleased with himself, and owned himself a bold man +when he threw open that door, and, stepping out into the leads, +flashed the full light of the stable lantern on to the group of +desperadoes standing against the parapet on the other side of the +tower. + +He lowered his gun, and he nearly dropped the lantern. + +'So help me,' he cried, 'if they ain't a pack of kiddies!' + +The Vicar now advanced. + +'How did you come here?' he asked severely. 'Tell me at once. ' + +'Oh, take us down,' said Jane, catching at his coat, 'and we'll +tell you anything you like. You won't believe us, but it doesn't +matter. Oh, take us down!' + +The others crowded round him, with the same entreaty. All but +Cyril. He had enough to do with the soda-water syphon, which would +keep slipping down under his jacket. It needed both hands to keep +it steady in its place. + +But he said, standing as far out of the lantern light as possible: + +'Please do take us down.' + +So they were taken down. It is no joke to go down a strange +church-tower in the dark, but the keeper helped them - only, Cyril +had to be independent because of the soda-water syphon. It would +keep trying to get away. Half-way down the ladder it all but +escaped. Cyril just caught it by its spout, and as nearly as +possible lost his footing. He was trembling and pale when at last +they reached the bottom of the winding stair and stepped out on to +the flags of the church-porch. + +Then suddenly the keeper caught Cyril and Robert each by an arm. + +'You bring along the gells, sir,' said he; 'you and Andrew can +manage them.' + +'Let go!' said Cyril; 'we aren't running away. We haven't hurt +your old church. Leave go!' + +'You just come along,' said the keeper; and Cyril dared not oppose +him with violence, because just then the syphon began to slip +again. + +So they were all marched into the Vicarage study, and the Vicar's +wife came rushing in. + +'Oh, William, are you safe?' she cried. + +Robert hastened to allay her anxiety. + +'Yes,' he said, 'he's quite safe. We haven't hurt him at all. And +please, we're very late, and they'll be anxious at home. Could you +send us home in your carriage?' + +'Or perhaps there's a hotel near where we could get a carriage +from,' said Anthea. 'Martha will be very anxious as it is.' + +The Vicar had sunk into a chair, overcome by emotion and amazement. + +Cyril had also sat down, and was leaning forward with his elbows on +his knees because of that soda-water syphon. + +'But how did you come to be locked up in the church-tower?' asked +the Vicar. + +'We went up,' said Robert slowly, 'and we were tired, and we all +went to sleep, and when we woke up we found the door was locked, so +we yelled.' + +'I should think you did!' said the Vicar's wife. 'Frightening +everybody out of their wits like this! You ought to be ashamed of +yourselves.' + +'We are,' said Jane gently. + +'But who locked the door?' asked the Vicar. + +'I don't know at all,' said Robert, with perfect truth. 'Do please +send us home.' + +'Well, really,' said the Vicar, 'I suppose we'd better. Andrew, +put the horse to, and you can take them home.' + +'Not alone, I don't,' said Andrew to himself. + +'And,' the Vicar went on, 'let this be a lesson to you ...' He +went on talking, and the children listened miserably. But the +keeper was not listening. He was looking at the unfortunate Cyril. +He knew all about poachers of course, so he knew how people look +when they're hiding something. The Vicar had just got to the part +about trying to grow up to be a blessing to your parents, and not +a trouble and a disgrace, when the keeper suddenly said: + +'Arst him what he's got there under his jacket'; and Cyril knew +that concealment was at an end. So he stood up, and squared his +shoulders and tried to look noble, like the boys in books that no +one can look in the face of and doubt that they come of brave and +noble families and will be faithful to the death, and he pulled out +the soda-water syphon and said: + +'Well, there you are, then.' + +There was a silence. Cyril went on - there was nothing else for +it: + +'Yes, we took this out of your larder, and some chicken and tongue +and bread. We were very hungry, and we didn't take the custard or +jam. We only took bread and meat and water - and we couldn't help +its being the soda kind -just the necessaries of life; and we left +half-a-crown to pay for it, and we left a letter. And we're very +sorry. And my father will pay a fine or anything you like, but +don't send us to prison. Mother would be so vexed. You know what +you said about not being a disgrace. Well, don't you go and do it +to us - that's all! We're as sorry as we can be. There!' + +'However did you get up to the larder window?' said Mrs Vicar. + +'I can't tell you that,' said Cyril firmly. + +'Is this the whole truth you've been telling me?' asked the +clergyman. + +'No,' answered Jane suddenly; 'it's all true, but it's not the +whole truth. We can't tell you that. It's no good asking. Oh, do +forgive us and take us home!' She ran to the Vicar's wife and +threw her arms round her. The Vicar's wife put her arms round +Jane, and the keeper whispered behind his hand to the Vicar: + +'They're all right, sir - I expect it's a pal they're standing by. +Someone put 'em up to it, and they won't peach. Game little kids.' + +'Tell me,' said the Vicar kindly, 'are you screening someone else? +Had anyone else anything to do with this?' + +'Yes,' said Anthea, thinking of the Psammead; 'but it wasn't their +fault.' + +'Very well, my dears,' said the Vicar, 'then let's say no more +about it. Only just tell us why you wrote such an odd letter.' + +'I don't know,' said Cyril. 'You see, Anthea wrote it in such a +hurry, and it really didn't seem like stealing then. But +afterwards, when we found we couldn't get down off the +church-tower, it seemed just exactly like it. We are all very +sorry -' + +'Say no more about it,' said the Vicar's wife; 'but another time +just think before you take other people's tongues. Now - some cake +and milk before you go home?' + +When Andrew came to say that the horse was put to, and was he +expected to be led alone into the trap that he had plainly seen +from the first, he found the children eating cake and drinking milk +and laughing at the Vicar's jokes. Jane was sitting on the Vicar's +wife's lap. + +So you see they got off better than they deserved. + +The gamekeeper, who was the cook's cousin, asked leave to drive +home with them, and Andrew was only too glad to have someone to +protect him from the trap he was so certain of. + +When the wagonette reached their own house, between the +chalk-quarry and the gravel-pit, the children were very sleepy, but +they felt that they and the keeper were friends for life. + +Andrew dumped the children down at the iron gate without a word. +'You get along home,' said the Vicarage cook's cousin, who was a +gamekeeper. 'I'll get me home on Shanks' mare.' + +So Andrew had to drive off alone, which he did not like at all, and +it was the keeper that was cousin to the Vicarage cook who went +with the children to the door, and, when they had been swept to bed +in a whirlwind of reproaches, remained to explain to Martha and the +cook and the housemaid exactly what had happened. He explained so +well that Martha was quite amiable the next morning. + +After that he often used to come over and see Martha; and in the +end - but that is another story, as dear Mr Kipling says. + +Martha was obliged to stick to what she had said the night before +about keeping the children indoors the next day for a punishment. +But she wasn't at all snarky about it, and agreed to let Robert go +out for half an hour to get something he particularly wanted. +This, of course, was the day's wish. + +Robert rushed to the gravel-pit, found the Psammead, and presently +wished for - But that, too, is another story. + + + +CHAPTER 6 +A CASTLE AND NO DINNER + + +The others were to be kept in as a punishment for the misfortunes +of the day before. Of course Martha thought it was naughtiness, +and not misfortune - so you must not blame her. She only thought +she was doing her duty. You know grown-up people often say they do +not like to punish you, and that they only do it for your own good, +and that it hurts them as much as it hurts you - and this is really +very often the truth. + +Martha certainly hated having to punish the children quite as much +as they hated to be punished. For one thing, she knew what a noise +there would be in the house all day. And she had other reasons. + +'I declare,' she said to the cook, 'it seems almost a shame keeping +of them indoors this lovely day; but they are that audacious, +they'll be walking in with their heads knocked off some of these +days, if I don't put my foot down. You make them a cake for tea +to-morrow, dear. And we'll have Baby along of us soon as we've got +a bit forrard with our work. Then they can have a good romp with +him out of the way. Now, Eliza, come, get on with them beds. +Here's ten o'clock nearly, and no rabbits caught!' + +People say that in Kent when they mean 'and no work done'. + +So all the others were kept in, but Robert, as I have said, was +allowed to go out for half an hour to get something they all +wanted. And that, of course, was the day's wish. +He had no difficulty in finding the Sand-fairy, for the day was +already so hot that it had actually, for the first time, come out +of its own accord, and it was sitting in a sort of pool of soft +sand, stretching itself, and trimming its whiskers, and turning its +snail's eyes round and round. + +'Ha!' it said when its left eye saw Robert; 'I've been looking out +for you. Where are the rest of you? Not smashed themselves up +with those wings, I hope?' + +'No,' said Robert; 'but the wings got us into a row, just like all +the wishes always do. So the others are kept indoors, and I was +only let out for half-an-hour - to get the wish. So please let me +wish as quickly as I can.' + +'Wish away,' said the Psammead, twisting itself round in the sand. +But Robert couldn't wish away. He forgot all the things he had +been thinking about, and nothing would come into his head but +little things for himself, like toffee, a foreign stamp album, or +a clasp- knife with three blades and a corkscrew. He sat down to +think better, but it was no use. He could only think of things the +others would not have cared for - such as a football, or a pair of +leg-guards, or to be able to lick Simpkins minor thoroughly when he +went back to school. + +'Well,' said the Psammead at last, 'you'd better hurry up with that +wish of yours. Time flies.' + +'I know it does,' said Robert. 'I can't think what to wish for. +I wish you could give one of the others their wish without their +having to come here to ask for it. Oh, DON'T!' + +But it was too late. The Psammead had blown itself out to about +three times its proper size, and now it collapsed like a pricked +bubble, and with a deep sigh leaned back against the edge of its +sand-pool, quite faint with the effort. + +'There!' it said in a weak voice; 'it was tremendously hard - but +I did it. Run along home, or they're sure to wish for something +silly before you get there.' + +They were - quite sure; Robert felt this, and as he ran home his +mind was deeply occupied with the sort of wishes he might find they +had wished in his absence. They might wish for rabbits, or white +mice, or chocolate, or a fine day to-morrow, or even - and that was +most likely - someone might have said, 'I do wish to goodness +Robert would hurry up.' Well, he WAS hurrying up, and so they +would have their wish, and the day would be wasted. Then he tried +to think what they could wish for - something that would be amusing +indoors. That had been his own difficulty from the beginning. So +few things are amusing indoors when the sun is shining outside and +you mayn't go out, however much you want to. Robert was running as +fast as he could, but when he turned the corner that ought to have +brought him within sight of the architect's nightmare - the +ornamental iron-work on the top of the house - he opened his eyes +so wide that he had to drop into a walk; for you cannot run with +your eyes wide open. Then suddenly he stopped short, for there was +no house to be seen. The front-garden railings were gone too, and +where the house had stood - Robert rubbed his eyes and looked +again. Yes, the others HAD wished - there was no doubt about that +- and they must have wished that they lived in a castle; for there +the castle stood black and stately, and very tall and broad, with +battlements and lancet windows, and eight great towers; and, where +the garden and the orchard had been, there were white things dotted +like mushrooms. Robert walked slowly on, and as he got nearer he +saw that these were tents) and men in armour were walking about +among the tents - crowds and crowds of them. + +'Oh, crikey!' said Robert fervently. 'They HAVE! They've wished +for a castle, and it's being besieged! It's just like that +Sand-fairy! I wish we'd never seen the beastly thing!' + +At the little window above the great gateway, across the moat that +now lay where the garden had been but half an hour ago, someone was +waving something pale dust-coloured. Robert thought it was one of +Cyril's handkerchiefs. They had never been white since the day +when he had upset the bottle of 'Combined Toning and Fixing +Solution' into the drawer where they were. Robert waved back, and +immediately felt that he had been unwise. For his signal had been +seen by the besieging force, and two men in steel-caps were coming +towards him. They had high brown boots on their long legs, and +they came towards him with such great strides that Robert +remembered the shortness of his own legs and did not run away. He +knew it would be useless to himself, and he feared it might be +irritating to the foe. So he stood still, and the two men seemed +quite pleased with him. + +'By my halidom,' said one, 'a brave varlet this!' + +Robert felt pleased at being CALLED brave, and somehow it made him +FEEL brave. He passed over the 'varlet'. It was the way people +talked in historical romances for the young, he knew, and it was +evidently not meant for rudeness. He only hoped he would be able +to understand what they said to him. He had not always been able +quite to follow the conversations in the historical romances for +the young. + +'His garb is strange,' said the other. 'Some outlandish treachery, +belike.' + +'Say, lad, what brings thee hither?' + +Robert knew this meant, 'Now then, youngster, what are you up to +here, eh?' - so he said: + +'If you please, I want to go home.' + +'Go, then!' said the man in the longest boots; 'none hindereth, and +nought lets us to follow. Zooks!' he added in a cautious +undertone, 'I misdoubt me but he beareth tidings to the besieged.' + +'Where dwellest thou, young knave?' inquired the man with the +largest steel-cap. + +'Over there,' said Robert; and directly he had said it he knew he +ought to have said 'Yonder!' + +'Ha - sayest so?' rejoined the longest boots. 'Come hither, boy. +This is a matter for our leader.' + +And to the leader Robert was dragged forthwith - by the reluctant +ear. + +The leader was the most glorious creature Robert had ever seen. He +was exactly like the pictures Robert had so often admired in the +historical romances. He had armour, and a helmet, and a horse, and +a crest, and feathers, and a shield, and a lance, and a sword. His +armour and his weapons were all, I am almost sure, of quite +different periods. The shield was thirteenth-century, while the +sword was of the pattern used in the Peninsular War. The cuirass +was of the time of Charles I, and the helmet dated from the Second +Crusade. The arms on the shield were very grand - three red +running lions on a blue ground. The tents were of the latest brand +and the whole appearance of camp, army, and leader might have been +a shock to some. But Robert was dumb with admiration, and it all +seemed to him perfectly correct, because he knew no more of +heraldry or archaeology than the gifted artists who usually drew +the pictures for the historical romances. The scene was indeed +'exactly like a picture'. He admired it all so much that he felt +braver than ever. + +'Come hither, lad,' said the glorious leader, when the men in +Cromwellian steel-caps had said a few low eager words. And he took +off his helmet, because he could not see properly with it on. He +had a kind face, and long fair hair. 'Have no fear; thou shalt +take no scathe,' he said. + +Robert was glad of that. He wondered what 'scathe' was, and if it +was nastier than the senna tea which he had to take sometimes. + +'Unfold thy tale without alarm,' said the leader kindly. 'Whence +comest thou, and what is thine intent?' + +'My what?' said Robert. + +'What seekest thou to accomplish? What is thine errand, that thou +wanderest here alone among these rough men-at-arms? Poor child, +thy mother's heart aches for thee e'en now, I'll warrant me.' + +'I don't think so,' said Robert; 'you see, she doesn't know I'm +out.' + +The leader wiped away a manly tear, exactly as a leader in a +historical romance would have done, and said: + +'Fear not to speak the truth, my child; thou hast nought to fear +from Wulfric de Talbot.' + +Robert had a wild feeling that this glorious leader of the +besieging party - being himself part of a wish - would be able to +understand better than Martha, or the gipsies, or the policeman in +Rochester, or the clergyman of yesterday, the true tale of the +wishes and the Psammead. The only difficulty was that he knew he +could never remember enough 'quothas' and 'beshrew me's', and +things like that, to make his talk sound like the talk of a boy in +a historical romance. However, he began boldly enough, with a +sentence straight out of Ralph de Courcy; or, The Boy Crusader. He +said: + +'Grammercy for thy courtesy, fair sir knight. The fact is, it's +like this - and I hope you're not in a hurry, because the story's +rather a breather. Father and mother are away, and when we were +down playing in the sand-pits we found a Psammead.' + +'I cry thee mercy! A Sammyadd?' said the knight. + +'Yes, a sort of - of fairy, or enchanter - yes, that's it, an +enchanter; and he said we could have a wish every day, and we +wished first to be beautiful.' + +'Thy wish was scarce granted,' muttered one of the men-at-arms, +looking at Robert, who went on as if he had not heard, though he +thought the remark very rude indeed. + +'And then we wished for money - treasure, you know; but we couldn't +spend it. And yesterday we wished for wings, and we got them, and +we had a ripping time to begin with -' + +'Thy speech is strange and uncouth,' said Sir Wulfric de Talbot. +'Repeat thy words - what hadst thou?' + +'A ripping - I mean a jolly - no - we were contented with our lot +- that's what I mean; only, after that we got into an awful fix.' + +'What is a fix? A fray, mayhap?' + +'No - not a fray. A - a - a tight place.' + +'A dungeon? Alas for thy youthful fettered limbs!' said the +knight, with polite sympathy. + +'It wasn't a dungeon. We just - just encountered undeserved +misfortunes,' Robert explained, 'and to-day we are punished by not +being allowed to go out. That's where I live,' - he pointed to the +castle. 'The others are in there, and they're not allowed to go +out. It's all the Psammead's - I mean the enchanter's fault. I +wish we'd never seen him.' + +'He is an enchanter of might?' + +'Oh yes - of might and main. Rather!' + +'And thou deemest that it is the spells of the enchanter whom thou +hast angered that have lent strength to the besieging party,' said +the gallant leader; 'but know thou that Wulfric de Talbot needs no +enchanter's aid to lead his followers to victory.' + +'No, I'm sure you don't,' said Robert, with hasty courtesy; 'of +course not - you wouldn't, you know. But, all the same, it's +partly his fault, but we're most to blame. You couldn't have done +anything if it hadn't been for us.' + +'How now, bold boy?' asked Sir Wulfric haughtily. 'Thy speech is +dark, and eke scarce courteous. Unravel me this riddle!' + +'Oh,' said Robert desperately, 'of course you don't know it, but +you're not REAL at all. You're only here because the others must +have been idiots enough to wish for a castle - and when the sun +sets you'll just vanish away, and it'll be all right.' + +The captain and the men-at-arms exchanged glances, at first +pitying, and then sterner, as the longest-booted man said, 'Beware, +noble my lord; the urchin doth but feign madness to escape from our +clutches. Shall we not bind him?' + +'I'm no more mad than you are,' said Robert angrily, 'perhaps not +so much - only, I was an idiot to think you'd understand anything. +Let me go - I haven't done anything to you.' + +'Whither?' asked the knight, who seemed to have believed all the +enchanter story till it came to his own share in it. 'Whither +wouldst thou wend?' + +'Home, of course.' Robert pointed to the castle. + +'To carry news of succour? Nay!' + +'All right then,' said Robert, struck by a sudden idea; 'then let +me go somewhere else.' His mind sought eagerly among his memories +of the historical romance. + +'Sir Wulfric de Talbot,' he said slowly, 'should think foul scorn +to - to keep a chap - I mean one who has done him no hurt - when he +wants to cut off quietly - I mean to depart without violence.' + +'This to my face! Beshrew thee for a knave!' replied Sir Wulfric. +But the appeal seemed to have gone home. 'Yet thou sayest sooth,' +he added thoughtfully. 'Go where thou wilt,' he added nobly, 'thou +art free. Wulfric de Talbot warreth not with babes, and Jakin here +shall bear thee company.' +'All right,' said Robert wildly. 'Jakin will enjoy himself, I +think. Come on, Jakin. Sir Wulfric, I salute thee.' + +He saluted after the modern military manner, and set off running to +the sand-pit, Jakin's long boots keeping up easily. + +He found the Fairy. He dug it up, he woke it up, + +he implored it to give him one more wish. + +'I've done two to-day already,' it grumbled, 'and one was as stiff +a bit of work as ever I did.' + +'Oh, do, do, do, do, DO!' said Robert, while Jakin looked on with +an expression of open-mouthed horror at the strange beast that +talked, and gazed with its snail's eyes at him. + +'Well, what is it?' snapped the Psammead, with cross sleepiness. + +'I wish I was with the others,' said Robert. And the Psammead +began to swell. Robert never thought of wishing the castle and the +siege away. Of course he knew they had all come out of a wish, but +swords and daggers and pikes and lances seemed much too real to be +wished away. Robert lost consciousness for an instant. When he +opened his eyes the others were crowding round him. + +'We never heard you come in,' they said. 'How awfully jolly of you +to wish it to give us our wish!' + +'Of course we understood that was what you'd done.' + +'But you ought to have told us. Suppose we'd wished something +silly.' + +'Silly?' said Robert, very crossly indeed. 'How much sillier could +you have been, I'd like to know? You nearly settled ME - I can +tell you.' + +Then he told his story, and the others admitted that it certainly +had been rough on him. But they praised his courage and cleverness +so much that he presently got back his lost temper, and felt braver +than ever, and consented to be captain of the besieged force. + +'We haven't done anything yet,' said Anthea comfortably; 'we waited +for you. We're going to shoot at them through these little +loopholes with the bow and arrows uncle gave you, and you shall +have first shot.' + +'I don't think I would,' said Robert cautiously; 'you don't know +what they're like near to. They've got REAL bows and arrows - an +awful length - and swords and pikes and daggers, and all sorts of +sharp things. They're all quite, quite real. It's not just a - a +picture, or a vision, or anything; they can hurt us - or kill us +even, I shouldn't wonder. I can feel my ear all sore still. Look +here - have you explored the castle? Because I think we'd better +let them alone as long as they let us alone. I heard that Jakin +man say they weren't going to attack till just before sundown. We +can be getting ready for the attack. Are there any soldiers in the +castle to defend it?' + +'We don't know,' said Cyril. 'You see, directly I'd wished we were +in a besieged castle, everything seemed to go upside down, and,when +it came straight we looked out of the window, and saw the camp and +things and you - and of course we kept on looking at everything. +Isn't this room jolly? It's as real as real!' + +It was. It was square, with stone walls four feet thick, and great +beams for ceiling. A low door at the corner led to a flight of +steps, up and down. The children went down; they found themselves +in a great arched gatehouse - the enormous doors were shut and +barred. There was a window in a little room at the bottom of the +round turret up which the stair wound, rather larger than the other +windows, and looking through it they saw that the drawbridge was up +and the portcullis down; the moat looked very wide and deep. +Opposite the great door that led to the moat was another great +door, with a little door in it. The children went through this, +and found themselves in a big paved courtyard, with the great grey +walls of the castle rising dark and heavy on all four sides. + +Near the middle of the courtyard stood Martha, moving her right +hand backwards and forwards in the air. The cook was stooping down +and moving her hands, also in a very curious way. But. the oddest +and at the same time most terrible thing was the Lamb, who was +sitting on nothing, about three feet from the ground, laughing +happily. + +The children ran towards him. Just as Anthea was reaching out her +arms to take him, Martha said crossly, 'Let him alone - do, miss, +when he is good.' + +'But what's he DOING?' said Anthea. + +'Doing? Why, a-setting in his high chair as good as gold, a +precious, watching me doing of the ironing. Get along with you, do +- my iron's cold again.' + +She went towards the cook, and seemed to poke an invisible fire +with an unseen poker - the cook seemed to be putting an unseen dish +into an invisible oven. + +'Run along with you, do,' she said; 'I'm behindhand as it is. You +won't get no dinner if you come a-hindering of me like this. Come, +off you goes, or I'll pin a dishcloth to some of your tails.' + +'You're sure the Lamb's all right?' asked Jane anxiously. + +'Right as ninepence, if you don't come unsettling of him. I +thought you'd like to be rid of him for to-day; but take him, if +you want him, for gracious' sake.' + +'No, no,' they said, and hastened away. They would have to defend +the castle presently, and the Lamb was safer even suspended in +mid-air in an invisible kitchen than in the guardroom of a besieged +castle. They went through the first doorway they came to, and sat +down helplessly on a wooden bench that ran along the room inside. + +'How awful!' said Anthea and Jane together; and Jane added, 'I feel +as if I was in a mad asylum.' + +'What does it mean?' Anthea said. 'It's creepy; I don't like it. +I wish we'd wished for something plain - a rocking-horse, or a +donkey, or something.' + +'It's no use wishing NOW,' said Robert bitterly; and Cyril said: + +'Do dry up a sec; I want to think.' + +He buried his face in his hands, and the others looked about them. +They were in a long room with an arched roof. There were wooden +tables along it, and one across at the end of the room, on a sort +of raised platform. The room was very dim and dark. The floor was +strewn with dry things like sticks, and they did not smell nice. + +Cyril sat up suddenly and said: + +'Look here - it's all right. I think it's like this. You know, we +wished that the servants shouldn't notice any difference when we +got wishes. And nothing happens to the Lamb unless we specially +wish it to. So of course they don't notice the castle or anything. +But then the castle is on the same place where our house was - is, +I mean - and the servants have to go on being in the house, or else +they would notice. But you can't have a castle mixed up with our +house - and so we can't see the house, because we see the castle; +and they can't see the castle, because they go on seeing the house; +and so -' + +'Oh, DON'T!' said Jane; 'you make my head go all swimmy, like being +on a roundabout. It doesn't matter! Only, I hope we shall be able +to see our dinner, that's all - because if it's invisible it'll be +unfeelable as well, and then we can't eat it! I KNOW it will, +because I tried to feel if I could feel the Lamb's chair, and there +was nothing under him at all but air. And we can't eat air, and I +feel just as if I hadn't had any breakfast for years and years.' + +'It's no use thinking about it,' said Anthea. 'Let's go on +exploring. Perhaps we might find something to eat.' + +This lighted hope in every breast, and they went on exploring the +castle. But though it was the most perfect and delightful castle +you can possibly imagine, and furnished in the most complete and +beautiful manner, neither food nor men-at-arms were to be found in +it. +'If only you'd thought of wishing to be besieged in a castle +thoroughly garrisoned and provisioned!' said Jane reproachfully. + +'You can't think of everything, you know,' said Anthea. 'I should +think it must be nearly dinner-time by now.' + +It wasn't; but they hung about watching the strange movements of +the servants in the middle of the courtyard, because, of course, +they couldn't be sure where the dining-room of the invisible house +was. Presently they saw Martha carrying an invisible tray across +the courtyard, for it seemed that, by the most fortunate accident, +the dining-room of the house and the banqueting-hall of the castle +were in the same place. But oh, how their hearts sank when they +perceived that the tray was invisible! + +They waited in wretched silence while Martha went through the form +of carving an unseen leg of mutton and serving invisible greens and +potatoes with a spoon that no one could see. When she had left the +room, the children looked at the empty table, and then at each +other. + +'This is worse than anything,' said Robert, who had not till now +been particularly keen on his dinner. + +'I'm not so very hungry,' said Anthea, trying to make the best of +things, as usual. + +Cyril tightened his belt ostentatiously. Jane burst into tears. + + + +CHAPTER 7 +A SIEGE AND BED + + +The children were sitting in the gloomy banqueting-hall, at the end +of one of the long bare wooden tables. There was now no hope. +Martha had brought in the dinner, and the dinner was invisible, and +unfeelable too; for, when they rubbed their hands along the table, +they knew but too well that for them there was nothing there BUT +table. + +Suddenly Cyril felt in his pocket. + +'Right, oh!' he cried. 'Look here! Biscuits.' + +Rather broken and crumbled, certainly, but still biscuits. Three +whole ones, and a generous handful of crumbs and fragments. + +'I got them this morning - cook - and I'd quite forgotten,' he +explained as he divided them with scrupulous fairness into four +heaps. + +They were eaten in a happy silence, though they tasted a little +oddly, because they had been in Cyril's pocket all the morning with +a hank of tarred twine, some green fir-cones, and a ball of +cobbler's wax. + +'Yes, but look here, Squirrel,' said Robert; 'you're so clever at +explaining about invisibleness and all that. How is it the +biscuits are here, and all the bread and meat and things have +disappeared?' + +'I don't know,' said Cyril after a pause, 'unless it's because WE +had them. Nothing about us has changed. Everything's in my pocket +all right.' + +'Then if we HAD the mutton it would be real,' said Robert. 'Oh, +don't I wish we could find it!' + +'But we can't find it. I suppose it isn't ours till we've got it +in our mouths.' + +'Or in our pockets,' said Jane, thinking of the biscuits. + +'Who puts mutton in their pockets, goose-girl?' said Cyril. 'But +I know - at any rate, I'll try it!' + +He leaned over the table with his face about an inch from it, and +kept opening and shutting his mouth as if he were taking bites out +of air. + +'It's no good,' said Robert in deep dejection. 'You'll only - +Hullo!' + +Cyril stood up with a grin of triumph, holding a square piece of +bread in his mouth. It was quite real. Everyone saw it. It is +true that, directly he bit a piece off, the rest vanished; but it +was all right, because he knew he had it in his hand though he +could neither see nor feel it. He took another bite from the air +between his fingers, and it turned into bread as he bit. The next +moment all the others were following his example, and opening and +shutting their mouths an inch or so from the bare-looking table. +Robert captured a slice of mutton, and - but I think I will draw a +veil over the rest of this painful scene. It is enough to say that +they all had enough mutton, and that when Martha came to change the +plates she said she had never seen such a mess in all her born +days. + +The pudding was, fortunately, a plain suet roly-poly, and in answer +to Martha's questions the children all with one accord said that +they would NOT have treacle on it - nor jam, nor sugar - 'Just +plain, please,' they said. Martha said, 'Well, I never - what +next, I wonder!' and went away. + +Then ensued another scene on which I will not dwell, for nobody +looks nice picking up slices of suet pudding from the table in its +mouth, like a dog. +The great thing, after all, was that they had had dinner; and now +everyone felt more courage to prepare for the attack that was to be +delivered before sunset. Robert, as captain, insisted on climbing +to the top of one of the towers to reconnoitre, so up they all +went. And now they could see all round the castle, and could see, +too, that beyond the moat, on every side, the tents of the +besieging party were pitched. Rather uncomfortable shivers ran +down the children's backs as they saw that all the men were very +busy cleaning or sharpening their arms, re-stringing their bows, +and polishing their shields. A large party came along the road, +with horses dragging along the great trunk of a tree; and Cyril +felt quite pale, because he knew this was for a battering-ram. + +'What a good thing we've got a moat,' he said; 'and what a good +thing the drawbridge is up - I should never have known how to work +it.' + +'Of course it would be up in a besieged castle.' + +'You'd think there ought to have been soldiers in it, wouldn't +you?' said Robert. + +'You see you don't know how long it's been besieged,' said Cyril +darkly; 'perhaps most of the brave defenders were killed quite +early in the siege and all the provisions eaten, and now there are +only a few intrepid survivors - that's us, and we are going to +defend it to the death.' + +'How do you begin - defending to the death, I mean?' asked Anthea. + +'We ought to be heavily armed - and then shoot at them when they +advance to the attack.' + +'They used to pour boiling lead down on besiegers when they got too +close,' said Anthea. 'Father showed me the holes on purpose for +pouring it down through at Bodiam Castle. And there are holes like +it in the gate-tower here.' + +'I think I'm glad it's only a game; it IS only a game, isn't it?' +said Jane. + +But no one answered. + +The children found plenty of strange weapons in the castle, and if +they were armed at all it was soon plain that they would be, as +Cyril said, 'armed heavily' - for these swords and lances and +crossbows were far too weighty even for Cyril's manly strength; and +as for the longbows, none of the children could even begin to bend +them. The daggers were better; but Jane hoped that the besiegers +would not come close enough for daggers to be of any use. + +'Never mind, we can hurl them like javelins,' said Cyril, 'or drop +them on people's heads. I say - there are lots of stones on the +other side of the courtyard. If we took some of those up, just to +drop on their heads if they were to try swimming the moat.' + +So a heap of stones grew apace, up in the room above the gate; and +another heap, a shiny spiky dangerous-looking heap, of daggers and +knives. + +As Anthea was crossing the courtyard for more stones, a sudden and +valuable idea came to her. She went to Martha and said, 'May we +have just biscuits for tea? We're going to play at besieged +castles, and we'd like the biscuits to provision the garrison. Put +mine in my pocket, please, my hands are so dirty. And I'll tell +the others to fetch theirs.' + +This was indeed a happy thought, for now with four generous +handfuls of air, which turned to biscuit as Martha crammed it into +their pockets, the garrison was well provisioned till sundown. + +They brought up some iron pots of cold water to pour on the +besiegers instead of hot lead, with which the castle did not seem +to be provided. + +The afternoon passed with wonderful quickness. It was very +exciting; but none of them, except Robert, could feel all the time +that this was real deadly dangerous work. To the others, who had +only seen the camp and the besiegers from a distance, the whole +thing seemed half a game of make-believe, and half a splendidly +distinct and perfectly safe dream. But it was only now and then +that Robert could feel this. + +When it seemed to be tea-time the biscuits were eaten with water +from the deep well in the courtyard, drunk out of horns. Cyril +insisted on putting by eight of the biscuits, in case anyone should +feel faint in stress of battle. + +just as he was putting away the reserve biscuits in a sort of +little stone cupboard without a door, a sudden sound made him drop +three. It was the loud fierce cry of a trumpet. + +'You see it IS real,' said Robert, 'and they are going to attack.' + +All rushed to the narrow windows. + +'Yes,' said Robert, 'they're all coming out of their tents and +moving about like ants. There's that Jakin dancing about where the +bridge joins on. I wish he could see me put my tongue out at him! +Yah!' + +The others were far too pale to wish to put their tongues out at +anybody. They looked at Robert with surprised respect. Anthea +said: + +'You really ARE brave, Robert.' + +'Rot!' Cyril's pallor turned to redness now, all in a minute. +'He's been getting ready to be brave all the afternoon. And I +wasn't ready, that's all. I shall be braver than he is in half a +jiffy.' + +'Oh dear!' said Jane, 'what does it matter which of +you is the bravest? I think Cyril was a perfect silly to wish for +a castle, and I don't want to play.' + +'It ISN'T' - Robert was beginning sternly, but Anthea +interrupted - + + +'Oh yes, you do,' she said coaxingly; 'it's a very nice game, +really, because they can't possibly get in, and if they do the +women and children are always spared by civilized armies.' + +'But are you quite, quite sure they ARE civilized?' asked Jane, +panting. 'They seem to be such a long time ago.' + +'Of course they are.' Anthea pointed cheerfully through the narrow +window. 'Why, look at the little flags on their lances, how bright +they are - and how fine the leader is! Look, that's him - isn't +it, Robert? - on the grey horse.' + +Jane consented to look, and the scene was almost too pretty to be +alarming. The green turf, the white tents, the flash of pennoned +lances, the gleam of armour, and the bright colours of scarf and +tunic - it was just like a splendid coloured picture. The trumpets +were sounding, and when the trumpets stopped for breath the +children could hear the cling-clang of armour and the murmur of +voices. + +A trumpeter came forward to the edge of the moat, which now seemed +very much narrower than at first, and blew the longest and loudest +blast they had yet heard. When the blaring noise had died away, a +man who was with the trumpeter shouted: + +'What ho, within there!' and his voice came plainly to the garrison +in the gate-house. + +'Hullo there!' Robert bellowed back at once. + +'In the name of our Lord the King, and of our good lord and trusty +leader Sir Wulfric de Talbot, we summon this castle to surrender - +on pain of fire and sword and no quarter. Do ye surrender?' + +'No,' bawled Robert, 'of course we don't! Never, + +Never, NEVER!' + +The man answered back: + +'Then your fate be on your own heads.' + +'Cheer,' said Robert in a fierce whisper. 'Cheer to show them we +aren't afraid, and rattle the daggers to make more noise. One, +two, three! Hip, hip, hooray! Again - Hip, hip, hooray! One more +- Hip, hip, hooray!' The cheers were rather high and weak, but the +rattle of the daggers lent them strength and depth. + +There was another shout from the camp across the moat - and then +the beleaguered fortress felt that the attack had indeed begun. + +It was getting rather dark in the room above the great gate, and +Jane took a very little courage as she remembered that sunset +couldn't be far off now. + +'The moat is dreadfully thin,' said Anthea. + +'But they can't get into the castle even if they do swim over,' +said Robert. And as he spoke he heard feet on the stair outside - +heavy feet and the clank of steel. No one breathed for a moment. +The steel and the feet went on up the turret stairs. Then Robert +sprang softly to the door. He pulled off his shoes. + +'Wait here,' he whispered, and stole quickly and softly after the +boots and the spur-clank. He peeped into the upper room. The man +was there - and it was Jakin, all dripping with moat-water, and he +was fiddling about with the machinery which Robert felt sure worked +the drawbridge. Robert banged the door suddenly, and turned the +great key in the lock, just as Jakin sprang to the inside of the +door. Then he tore downstairs and into the little turret at the +foot of the tower where the biggest window was. + +'We ought to have defended THIS!' he cried to the others as they +followed him. He was just in time. Another man had swum over, and +his fingers were on the window-ledge. Robert never knew how the +man had managed to climb up out of the water. But he saw the +clinging fingers, and hit them as hard as he could with an iron bar +that he caught up from the floor. The man fell with a plop-plash +into the moat-water. In another moment Robert was outside the +little room, had banged its door and was shooting home the enormous +bolts, and calling to Cyril to lend a hand. + +Then they stood in the arched gate-house, breathing hard and +looking at each other. jane's mouth was open. + +'Cheer up, jenny,' said Robert - 'it won't last much longer.' + +There was a creaking above, and something rattled and shook. The +pavement they stood on seemed to tremble. Then a crash told them +that the drawbridge had been lowered to its place. + +'That's that beast Jakin,' said Robert. 'There's still the +portcullis; I'm almost certain that's worked from lower down.' + +And now the drawbridge rang and echoed hollowly to the hoofs of +horses and the tramp of armed men. +'Up - quick!' cried Robert. 'Let's drop things on them.' + +Even the girls were feeling almost brave now. They followed Robert +quickly, and under his directions began to drop stones out through +the long narrow windows. There was a confused noise below, and +some groans. + +'Oh dear!' said Anthea, putting down the stone she was just going +to drop out. 'I'm afraid we've hurt somebody!' + +Robert caught up the stone in a fury. + +'I should just hope we HAD!' he said; 'I'd give something for a +jolly good boiling kettle of lead. Surrender, indeed!' + +And now came more tramping, and a pause, and then the thundering +thump of the battering-ram. And the little room was almost quite +dark. + +'We've held it,' cried Robert, 'we won't surrender! The sun MUST +set in a minute. Here - they're all jawing underneath again. Pity +there's no time to get more stones! Here, pour that water down on +them. It's no good, of course, but they'll hate it.' + +'Oh dear!' said Jane; 'don't you think we'd better surrender?' + +'Never!' said Robert; 'we'll have a parley if you like, but we'll +never surrender. Oh, I'll be a soldier when I grow up - you just +see if I don't. I won't go into the Civil Service, whatever anyone +says.' + +'Let's wave a handkerchief and ask for a parley,' Jane pleaded. 'I +don't believe the sun's going to set to-night at all.' + +'Give them the water first - the brutes!' said the bloodthirsty +Robert. So Anthea tilted the pot over the nearest lead-hole, and +poured. They heard a splash below, but no one below seemed to have +felt it. And again the ram battered the great door. Anthea +paused. + +'How idiotic,' said Robert, lying flat on the floor and putting one +eye to the lead hole. 'Of course the holes go straight down into +the gate-house - that's for when the enemy has got past the door +and the portcullis, and almost all is lost. Here, hand me the +pot.' He crawled on to the three-cornered window-ledge in the +middle of the wall, and, taking the pot from Anthea, poured the +water out through the arrow-slit. + +And as he began to pour, the noise of the battering-ram and the +trampling of the foe and the shouts of 'Surrender!' and 'De Talbot +for ever!' all suddenly stopped and went out like the snuff of a +candle; the little dark room seemed to whirl round and turn +topsy-turvy, and when the children came to themselves there they +were safe and sound, in the big front bedroom of their own house - +the house with the ornamental nightmare iron-top to the roof. + +They all crowded to the window and looked out. The moat and the +tents and the besieging force were all gone - and there was the +garden with its tangle of dahlias and marigolds and asters and late +roses, and the spiky iron railings and the quiet white road. + +Everyone drew a deep breath. + +'And that's all right!' said Robert. 'I told you so! And, I say, +we didn't surrender, did we?' + +'Aren't you glad now I wished for a castle?' asked Cyril. + +'I think I am NOW,' said Anthea slowly. 'But I wouldn't wish for +it again, I think, Squirrel dear!' + +'Oh, it was simply splendid!' said Jane unexpectedly. 'I wasn't +frightened a bit.' + +'Oh, I say!' Cyril was beginning, but Anthea stopped him. + +'Look here,' she said, 'it's just come into my head. This is the +very first thing we've wished for that hasn't got us into a row. +And there hasn't been the least little scrap of a row about this. +Nobody's raging downstairs, we're safe and sound, we've had an +awfully jolly day - at least, not jolly exactly, but you know what +I mean. And we know now how brave Robert is - and Cyril too, of +course,' she added hastily, 'and Jane as well. And we haven't got +into a row with a single grown-up.' + +The door was opened suddenly and fiercely. + +'You ought to be ashamed of yourselves,' said the voice of Martha, +and they could tell by her voice that she was very angry indeed. +'I thought you couldn't last through the day without getting up to +some doggery! A person can't take a breath of air on the front +doorstep but you must be emptying the wash-hand jug on to their +heads! Off you go to bed, the lot of you, and try to get up better +children in the morning. Now then - don't let me have to tell you +twice. If I find any of you not in bed in ten minutes I'll let you +know it, that's all! A new cap, and everything!' + +She flounced out amid a disregarded chorus of regrets and +apologies. The children were very sorry, but really it was not +their faults. You can't help it if you are pouring water on a +besieging foe, and your castle suddenly changes into your house - +and everything changes with it except the water, and that happens +to fall on somebody else's clean cap. + +'I don't know why the water didn't change into nothing, though,' +said Cyril. + +'Why should it?' asked Robert. 'Water's water all the world over.' +'I expect the castle well was the same as ours in the stable-yard,' +said Jane. And that was really the case. + +'I thought we couldn't get through a wish-day without a row,' said +Cyril; 'it was much too good to be true. Come on, Bobs, my +military hero. If we lick into bed sharp she won't be so frumious, +and perhaps she'll bong us up some supper. I'm jolly hungry! +Good-night, kids.' + +'Good-night. I hope the castle won't come creeping back in the +night,' said Jane. + +'Of course it won't,' said Anthea briskly, 'but Martha will - not +in the night, but in a minute. Here, turn round, I'll get that +knot out of your pinafore strings.' + +'Wouldn't it have been degrading for Sir Wulfric de Talbot,' said +Jane dreamily, 'if he could have known that half the besieged +garrison wore pinafores?' + +'And the other half knickerbockers. Yes - frightfully. Do stand +still - you're only tightening the knot,' said Anthea. + + + +CHAPTER 8 +BIGGER THAN THE BAKER'S BOY + + +'Look here,' said Cyril. 'I've got an idea.' + +'Does it hurt much?' said Robert sympathetically. + +'Don't be a jackape! I'm not humbugging.' + +'Shut up, Bobs!' said Anthea. + +'Silence for the Squirrel's oration,' said Robert. + +Cyril balanced himself on the edge of the water-butt in the +backyard, where they all happened to be, and spoke. + +'Friends, Romans, countrymen - and women - we found a Sammyadd. We +have had wishes. We've had wings, and being beautiful as the day +- ugh! - that was pretty jolly beastly if you like - and wealth and +castles, and that rotten gipsy business with the Lamb. But we're +no forrader. We haven't really got anything worth having for our +wishes.' + +'We've had things happening,' said Robert; 'that's always +something.' + +'It's not enough, unless they're the right things,' said Cyril +firmly. 'Now I've been thinking -' +'Not really?' whispered Robert. + +'In the silent what's-its-names of the night. It's like suddenly +being asked something out of history - the date of the Conquest or +something; you know it all right all the time, but when you're +asked it all goes out of your head. Ladies and gentlemen, you know +jolly well that when we're all rotting about in the usual way heaps +of things keep cropping up, and then real earnest wishes come into +the heads of the beholder -' + +'Hear, hear!' said Robert. + +'- of the beholder, however stupid he is,' Cyril went on. 'Why, +even Robert might happen to think of a really useful wish if he +didn't injure his poor little brains trying so hard to think. - +Shut up, Bobs, I tell you! - You'll have the whole show over.' + +A struggle on the edge of a water-butt is exciting, but damp. When +it was over, and the boys were partially dried, Anthea said: + +'It really was you began it, Bobs. Now honour is satisfied) do let +Squirrel go on. We're wasting the whole morning.' + +'Well then,' said Cyril, still wringing the water out of the tails +of his jacket, 'I'll call it pax if Bobs will.' + +'Pax then,' said Robert sulkily. 'But I've got a lump as big as a +cricket ball over my eye.' + +Anthea patiently offered a dust-coloured handkerchief, and Robert +bathed his wounds in silence. 'Now, Squirrel,' she said. + +'Well then - let's just play bandits, or forts, or soldiers, or any +of the old games. We're dead sure to think of something if we try +not to. You always do.' + +The others consented. Bandits was hastily chosen for the game. +'It's as good as anything else,' said Jane gloomily. It must be +owned that Robert was at first but a half-hearted bandit, but when +Anthea had borrowed from Martha the red-spotted handkerchief in +which the keeper had brought her mushrooms that morning, and had +tied up Robert's head with it so that he could be the wounded hero +who had saved the bandit captain's life the day before, he cheered +up wonderfully. All were soon armed. Bows and arrows slung on the +back look well; and umbrellas and cricket stumps stuck through the +belt give a fine impression of the wearer's being armed to the +teeth. The white cotton hats that men wear in the country nowadays +have a very brigandish effect when a few turkey's feathers are +stuck in them. The Lamb's mail-cart was covered with a +red-and-blue checked tablecloth, and made an admirable +baggage-wagon. The Lamb asleep inside it was not at all in the +way. So the banditti set out along the road that led to the +sand-pit. + +'We ought to be near the Sammyadd,' said Cyril, 'in case we think +of anything suddenly.' + +It is all very well to make up your minds to play bandits - or +chess, or ping-pong, or any other agreeable game - but it is not +easy to do it with spirit when all the wonderful wishes you can +think of, or can't think of, are waiting for you round the corner. +The game was dragging a little, and some of the bandits were +beginning to feel that the others were disagreeable things, and +were saying so candidly, when the baker's boy came along the road +with loaves in a basket. The opportunity was not one to be lost. + +'Stand and deliver!' cried Cyril. + +'Your money or your life!' said Robert. + +And they stood on each side of the baker's boy. Unfortunately, he +did not seem to enter into the spirit of the thing at all. He was +a baker's boy of an unusually large size. He merely said: + +'Chuck it now, d'ye hear!' and pushed the bandits aside most +disrespectfully. + +Then Robert lassoed him with jane's skipping-rope, and instead of +going round his shoulders, as Robert intended, it went round his +feet and tripped him up. The basket was upset, the beautiful new +loaves went bumping and bouncing all over the dusty chalky road. +The girls ran to pick them up, and all in a moment Robert and the +baker's boy were fighting it out, man to man, with Cyril to see +fair play, and the skipping-rope twisting round their legs like an +interested snake that wished to be a peacemaker. It did not +succeed; indeed the way the boxwood handles sprang up and hit the +fighters on the shins and ankles was not at all peace-making. I +know this is the second fight - or contest - in this chapter, but +I can't help it. It was that sort of day. You know yourself there +are days when rows seem to keep on happening, quite without your +meaning them to. If I were a writer of tales of adventure such as +those which used to appear in The Boys of England when I was young, +of course I should be able to describe the fight, but I cannot do +it. I never can see what happens during a fight, even when it is +only dogs. Also, if I had been one of these Boys of England +writers, Robert would have got the best of it. But I am like +George Washington - I cannot tell a lie, even about a cherry-tree, +much less about a fight, and I cannot conceal from you that Robert +was badly beaten, for the second time that day. The baker's boy +blacked his other eye, and, being ignorant of the first rules of +fair play and gentlemanly behaviour, he also pulled Robert's hair, +and kicked him on the knee. Robert always used to say he could +have licked the butcher if it hadn't been for the girls. But I am +not sure. Anyway, what happened was this, and very painful it was +to self-respecting boys. + +Cyril was just tearing off his coat so as to help his brother in +proper style, when Jane threw her arms round his legs and began to +cry and ask him not to go and be beaten too. That 'too' was very +nice for Robert, as you can imagine - but it was nothing to what he +felt when Anthea rushed in between him and the baker's boy, and +caught that unfair and degraded fighter round the waist, imploring +him not to fight any more. + +'Oh, don't hurt my brother any more!' she said in floods of tears. +'He didn't mean it - it's only play. And I'm sure he's very +sorry.' + +You see how unfair this was to Robert. Because, if the baker's boy +had had any right and chivalrous instincts, and had yielded to +Anthea's pleading and accepted her despicable apology, Robert could +not, in honour, have done anything to him at a future time. But +Robert's fears, if he had any, were soon dispelled. Chivalry was +a stranger to the breast of the baker's boy. He pushed Anthea away +very roughly, and he chased Robert with kicks and unpleasant +conversation right down the road to the sand-pit, and there, with +one last kick, he landed him in a heap of sand. + +'I'D larn you, you young varmint!' he said, and went off to pick up +his loaves and go about his business. Cyril, impeded by Jane, +could do nothing without hurting her, for she clung round his legs +with the strength of despair. The baker's boy went off red and +damp about the face; abusive to the last, he called them a pack of +silly idiots, and disappeared round the corner. Then jane's grasp +loosened. Cyril turned away in silent dignity to follow Robert, +and the girls followed him, weeping without restraint. + +It was not a happy party that flung itself down in the sand beside +the sobbing Robert. For Robert was sobbing - mostly with rage. +Though of course I know that a really heroic boy is always dry-eyed +after a fight. But then he always wins, which had not been the +case with Robert. + +Cyril was angry with Jane; Robert was furious with Anthea; the +girls were miserable; and not one of the four was pleased with the +baker's boy. There was, as French writers say, 'a silence full of +emotion'. + +Then Robert dug his toes and his hands into the sand and wriggled +in his rage. 'He'd better wait till I'm grown up - the cowardly +brute! Beast! - I hate him! But I'll pay him out. just because +he's bigger than me.' + +'You began,' said Jane incautiously. + +'I know I did, silly - but I was only rotting - and he kicked me - +look here -' + +Robert tore down a stocking and showed a purple bruise touched up +with red. 'I only wish I was bigger than him, that's all.' + +He dug his fingers in the sand, and sprang up, for his hand had +touched something furry. It was the Psammead, of course - 'On the +look-out to make sillies of them as usual,' as Cyril remarked +later. And of course the next moment Robert's wish was granted, +and he was bigger than the baker's boy. Oh, but much, much bigger. +He was bigger than the big policeman who used to be at the crossing +at the Mansion House years ago - the one who was so kind in helping +old ladies over the crossing - and he was the biggest man I have +ever seen, as well as the kindest. No one had a foot-rule in its +pocket, so Robert could not be measured - but he was taller than +your father would be if he stood on your mother's head, which I am +sure he would never be unkind enough to do. He must have been ten +or eleven feet high, and as broad as a boy of that height ought to +be. his Norfolk suit had fortunately grown too, and now he stood +up in it - with one of his enormous stockings turned down to show +the gigantic bruise on his vast leg. Immense tears of fury still +stood on his flushed giant face. He looked so surprised, and he +was so large to be wearing an Eton collar, that the others could +not help laughing. + +'The Sammyadd's done us again,' said Cyril. + +'Not us - ME,' said Robert. 'If you'd got any decent feeling you'd +try to make it make you the same size. You've no idea how silly it +feels,' he added thoughtlessly. + +'And I don't want to; I can jolly well see how silly it looks,' +Cyril was beginning; but Anthea said: + +'Oh, DON'T! I don't know what's the matter with you boys to-day. +Look here, Squirrel, let's play fair. It is hateful for poor old +Bobs, all alone up there. Let's ask the Sammyadd for another wish, +and, if it will, I do really think we ought to be made the same +size.' + +The others agreed, but not gaily; but when they found the Psammead, +it wouldn't. + +'Not I,' it said crossly, rubbing its face with its feet. He's a +rude violent boy, and it'll do him good to be the wrong size for a +bit. What did he want to come digging me out with his nasty wet +hands for? He nearly touched me! He's a perfect savage. A boy of +the Stone Age would have had more sense.' + +Robert's hands had indeed been wet - with tears. + +'Go away and leave me in peace, do,' the Psammead went on. 'I +can't think why you don't wish for something sensible - something +to eat or drink, or good manners, or good tempers. Go along with +you, do!' + +It almost snarled as it shook its whiskers, and turned a sulky +brown back on them. The most hopeful felt that further parley was +vain. They turned again to the colossal Robert. + +'Whatever shall we do?' they said; and they all said it. + +'First,' said Robert grimly, 'I'm going to reason with that baker's +boy. I shall catch him at the end of the road.' + +'Don't hit a chap littler than yourself, old man,' said Cyril. + +'Do I look like hitting him?' said Robert scornfully. 'Why, I +should KILL him. But I'll give him something to remember. Wait +till I pull up my stocking.' He pulled up his stocking, which was +as large as a small bolster-case, and strode off. His strides were +six or seven feet long, so that it was quite easy for him to be at +the bottom of the hill, ready to meet the baker's boy when he came +down swinging the empty basket to meet his master's cart, which had +been leaving bread at the cottages along the road. + +Robert crouched behind a haystack in the farmyard, that is at the +corner, and when he heard the boy come whistling along, he jumped +out at him and caught him by the collar. + +'Now,' he said, and his voice was about four times its usual size, +just as his body was four times its, 'I'm going to teach you to +kick boys smaller than you.' + +He lifted up the baker's boy and set him on the top of the +haystack, which was about sixteen feet from the ground, and then he +sat down on the roof of the cowshed and told the baker's boy +exactly what he thought of him. I don't think the boy heard it all +- he was in a sort of trance of terror. When Robert had said +everything he could think of, and some things twice over, he shook +the boy and said: + +'And now get down the best way you can,' and left him. + +I don't know how the baker's boy got down, but I do know that he +missed the cart, and got into the very hottest of hot water when he +turned up at last at the bakehouse. I am sorry for him, but, after +all, it was quite right that he should be taught that English boys +mustn't use their feet when they fight, but their fists. Of course +the water he got into only became hotter when he tried to tell his +master about the boy he had licked and the giant as high as a +church, because no one could possibly believe such a tale as that. +Next day the tale was believed - but that was too late to be of any +use to the baker's boy. + +When Robert rejoined the others he found them in the garden. +Anthea had thoughtfully asked Martha to let them have dinner out +there - because the dining-room was rather small, and it would have +been so awkward to have a brother the size of Robert in there. The +Lamb, who had slept peacefully during the whole stormy morning, was +now found to be sneezing, and Martha said he had a cold and would +be better indoors. + +'And really it's just as well,' said Cyril, 'for I don't believe +he'd ever have stopped screaming if he'd once seen you the awful +size you are!' + +Robert was indeed what a draper would call an 'out-size' in boys. +He found himself able to step right over the iron gate in the front +garden. + +Martha brought out the dinner - it was cold veal and baked +potatoes, with sago pudding and stewed plums to follow. + +She of course did not notice that Robert was anything but the usual +size, and she gave him as much meat and potatoes as usual and no +more. You have no idea how small your usual helping of dinner +looks when you are many times your proper size. Robert groaned, +and asked for more bread. But Martha would not go on giving more +bread for ever. She was in a hurry, because the keeper intended to +call on his way to Benenhurst Fair, and she wished to be dressed +smartly before he came. + +'I wish WE were going to the Fair,' said Robert. + +'You can't go anywhere that size,' said Cyril. + +'Why not?' said Robert. 'They have giants at fairs, much bigger +ones than me.' + +'Not much, they don't,' Cyril was beginning, when Jane screamed +'Oh!' with such loud suddenness that they all thumped her on the +back and asked whether she had swallowed a plum-stone. + +'No,' she said, breathless from being thumped, 'it's - it's not a +plum-stone. it's an idea. Let's take Robert to the Fair, and get +them to give us money for showing him! Then we really shall get +something out of the old Sammyadd at last!' + +'Take me, indeed!' said Robert indignantly. 'Much more likely me +take you!' + +And so it turned out. The idea appealed irresistibly to everyone +but Robert, and even he was brought round by Anthea's suggestion +that he should have a double share of any money they might make. +There was a little old pony-trap in the coach-house - the kind that +is called a governess-cart. It seemed desirable to get to the Fair +as quickly as possible, so Robert - who could now take enormous +steps and so go very fast indeed - consented to wheel the others in +this. It was as easy to him now as wheeling the Lamb in the +mail-cart had been in the morning. The Lamb's cold prevented his +being of the party. + +It was a strange sensation being wheeled in a pony-carriage by a +giant. Everyone enjoyed the journey except Robert and the few +people they passed on the way. These mostly went into what looked +like some kind of standing-up fits by the roadside, as Anthea said. +just outside Benenhurst, Robert hid in a barn, and the others went +on to the Fair. + +There were some swings, and a hooting tooting blaring +merry-go-round, and a shooting-gallery and coconut shies. +Resisting an impulse to win a coconut - or at least to attempt the +enterprise - Cyril went up to the woman who was loading little guns +before the array of glass bottles on strings against a sheet of +canvas. + +'Here you are, little gentleman!' she said. 'Penny a shot!' + +'No, thank you,' said Cyril, 'we are here on business, not on +pleasure. Who's the master?' + +'The what?' + +'The master - the head - the boss of the show.' + +'Over there,' she said, pointing to a stout man in a dirty linen +jacket who was sleeping in the sun; 'but I don't advise you to wake +him sudden. His temper's contrary, especially these hot days. +Better have a shot while you're waiting.' + +'It's rather important,' said Cyril. 'It'll be very profitable to +him. I think he'll be sorry if we take it away.' + +'Oh, if it's money in his pocket,' said the woman. 'No kid now? +What is it?' + +'It's a GIANT.' + +'You ARE kidding?' + +'Come along and see,' said Anthea. + +The woman looked doubtfully at them, then she called to a ragged +little girl in striped stockings and a dingy white petticoat that +came below her brown frock, and leaving her in charge of the +'shooting-gallery' she turned to Anthea and said, 'Well, hurry up! +But if you ARE kidding, you'd best say so. I'm as mild as milk +myself, but my Bill he's a fair terror and -' + +Anthea led the way to the barn. 'It really IS a giant,' she said. +'He's a giant little boy - in Norfolks like my brother's there. +And we didn't bring him up to the Fair because people do stare so, +and they seem to go into kind of standing-up fits when they see +him. And we thought perhaps you'd like to show him and get +pennies; and if you like to pay us something, you can - only, it'll +have to be rather a lot, because we promised him he should have a +double share of whatever we made.' + +The woman murmured something indistinct, of which the children +could only hear the words, 'Swelp me!' 'balmy,' and 'crumpet,' +which conveyed no definite idea to their minds. +She had taken Anthea's hand, and was holding it very firmly; and +Anthea could not help wondering what would happen if Robert should +have wandered off or turned his proper size during the interval. +But she knew that the Psammead's gifts really did last till sunset, +however inconvenient their lasting might be; and she did not think, +somehow, that Robert would care to go out alone while he was that +size. + +When they reached the barn and Cyril called 'Robert!' there was a +stir among the loose hay, and Robert began to come out. His hand +and arm came first - then a foot and leg. When the woman saw the +hand she said 'My!' but when she saw the foot she said 'Upon my +civvy!' and when, by slow and heavy degrees, the whole of Robert's +enormous bulk was at last completely disclosed, she drew a long +breath and began to say many things, compared with which 'balmy' +and 'crumpet' seemed quite ordinary. She dropped into +understandable English at last. + +'What'll you take for him?' she said excitedly. 'Anything in +reason. We'd have a special van built - leastways, I know where +there's a second-hand one would do up handsome - what a baby +elephant had, as died. What'll you take? He's soft, ain't he? +Them giants mostly is - but I never see - no, never! What'll you +take? Down on the nail. We'll treat him like a king, and give him +first-rate grub and a doss fit for a bloomin' dook. He must be +dotty or he wouldn't need you kids to cart him about. What'll you +take for him?' + +'They won't take anything,' said Robert sternly. 'I'm no more soft +than you are - not so much, I shouldn't wonder. I'll come and be +a show for to-day if you'll give me' - he hesitated at the enormous +price he was about to ask - 'if you'll give me fifteen shillings.' + +'Done,' said the woman, so quickly that Robert felt he had been +unfair to himself, and wished he had asked thirty. 'Come on now - +and see my Bill - and we'll fix a price for the season. I dessay +you might get as much as two quid a week reg'lar. Come on - and +make yourself as small as you can, for gracious' sake!' + +This was not very small, and a crowd gathered quickly, so that it +was at the head of an enthusiastic procession that Robert entered +the trampled meadow where the Fair was held, and passed over the +stubbly yellow dusty grass to the door of the biggest tent. He +crept in, and the woman went to call her Bill. He was the big +sleeping man, and he did not seem at all pleased at being awakened. +Cyril, watching through a slit in the tent, saw him scowl and shake +a heavy fist and a sleepy head. Then the woman went on speaking +very fast. Cyril heard 'Strewth,' and 'biggest draw you ever, so +help me!' and he began to share Robert's feeling that fifteen +shillings was indeed far too little. Bill slouched up to the tent +and entered. When he beheld the magnificent proportions of Robert +he said but little - 'Strike me pink!' were the only words the +children could afterwards remember - but he produced fifteen +shillings, mainly in sixpences and coppers, and handed it to +Robert. + +'We'll fix up about what you're to draw when the show's over +to-night,' he said with hoarse heartiness. 'Lor' love a duck! +you'll be that happy with us you'll never want to leave us. Can +you do a song now - or a bit of a breakdown?' + +'Not to-day,' said Robert, rejecting the idea of trying to sing 'As +once in May', a favourite of his mother's, and the only song he +could think of at the moment. + +'Get Levi and clear them bloomin' photos out. Clear the tent. +Stick up a curtain or suthink,' the man went on. 'Lor', what a +pity we ain't got no tights his size! But we'll have 'em before +the week's out. Young man, your fortune's made. It's a good thing +you came to me, and not to some chaps as I could tell you on. I've +known blokes as beat their giants, and starved 'em too; so I'll +tell you straight, you're in luck this day if you never was afore. +'Cos I'm a lamb, I am - and I don't deceive you.' + +'I'm not afraid of anyone's beating ME,' said Robert, looking down +on the 'lamb'. Robert was crouched on his knees, because the tent +was not big enough for him to stand upright in, but even in that +position he could still look down on most people. 'But I'm awfully +hungry I wish you'd get me something to eat.' + +'Here, 'Becca,' said the hoarse Bill. 'Get him some grub - the +best you've got, mind!' Another whisper followed, of which the +children only heard, 'Down in black and white - first thing +to-morrow.' + +Then the woman went to get the food - it was only bread and cheese +when it came, but it was delightful to the large and empty Robert; +and the man went to post sentinels round the tent, to give the +alarm if Robert should attempt to escape with his fifteen +shillings. + +'As if we weren't honest,' said Anthea indignantly when the meaning +of the sentinels dawned on her. + +Then began a very strange and wonderful afternoon. + +Bill was a man who knew his business. In a very little while, the +photographic views, the spyglasses you look at them through, so +that they really seem rather real, and the lights you see them by, +were all packed away. A curtain - it was an old red-and-black +carpet really - was run across the tent. Robert was concealed +behind, and Bill was standing on a trestle-table outside the tent +making a speech. It was rather a good speech. It began by saying +that the giant it was his privilege to introduce to the public that +day was the eldest son of the Emperor of San Francisco, compelled +through an unfortunate love affair with the Duchess of the Fiji +Islands to leave his own country and take refuge in England - the +land of liberty - where freedom was the right of every man, no +matter how big he was. It ended by the announcement that the first +twenty who came to the tent door should see the giant for +threepence apiece. 'After that,' said Bill, 'the price is riz, and +I don't undertake to say what it won't be riz to. So now's yer +time.' + +A young man squiring his sweetheart on her afternoon out was the +first to come forward. For that occasion his was the princely +attitude - no expense spared - money no object. His girl wished to +see the giant? Well, she should see the giant, even though seeing +the giant cost threepence each and the other entertainments were +all penny ones. + +The flap of the tent was raised - the couple entered. Next moment +a wild shriek from the girl thrilled through all present. Bill +slapped his leg. 'That's done the trick!' he whispered to 'Becca. +It was indeed a splendid advertisement of the charms of Robert. +When the girl came out she was pale and trembling, and a crowd was +round the tent. + + +'What was it like?' asked a bailiff. + +'Oh! - horrid! - you wouldn't believe,' she said. 'It's as big as +a barn, and that fierce. It froze the blood in my bones. I +wouldn't ha' missed seeing it for anything.' + +The fierceness was only caused by Robert's trying not to laugh. +But the desire to do that soon left him, and before sunset he was +more inclined to cry than to laugh, and more inclined to sleep than +either. For, by ones and twos and threes, people kept coming in +all the afternoon, and Robert had to shake hands with those who +wished it, and allow himself to be punched and pulled and patted +and thumped, so that people might make sure he was really real. + +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 tradespeople 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.' + +'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 an easy. 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 his 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 a 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. +'You go NOW,' said Cyril to the girls, 'and get along home as fast +as you can. Oh, never mind the beastly pony-cart; we'll get that +to-morrow. Robert and I are dressed the same. We'll manage +somehow, like Sydney Carton did. Only, you girls MUST get out, or +it's all no go. We can run, but you can't - whatever you may +think. No, Jane, it's no good Robert going out and knocking people +down. The police would follow him till he turned his proper size, +and then arrest him like a shot. Go you must! If you don't, I'll +never speak to you again. It was you got us into this mess really, +hanging round people's legs the way you did this morning. Go, I +tell you!' + +And Jane and Anthea went. + +'We're going home,' they said to Bill. 'We're leaving the giant +with you. Be kind to him.' And that, as Anthea said afterwards, +was very deceitful, but what were they to do? + +When they had gone, Cyril went to Bill. + +'Look here,' he said, 'he wants some ears of corn - there's some in +the next field but one. I'll just run and get it. Oh, and he says +can't you loop up the tent at the back a bit? He says he's +stifling for a breath of air. I'll see no one peeps in at him. +I'll cover him up, and he can take a nap while I go for the corn. +He WILL have it - there's no holding him when he gets like this.' + +The giant was made comfortable with a heap of sacks and an old +tarpaulin. The curtain was looped up, and the brothers were left +alone. They matured their plan in whispers. Outside, the +merry-go-round blared out its comic tunes, screaming now and then +to attract public notice. + +Half a minute after the sun had set, a boy in a Norfolk suit came +out past Bill. + +'I'm off for the corn,' he said, and mingled quickly with the +crowd. + +At the same instant a boy came out of the back of the tent past +'Becca, posted there as sentinel. + +'I'm off after the corn,' said this boy also. And he, too, moved +away quietly and was lost in the crowd. The front-door boy was +Cyril; the back-door was Robert - now, since sunset, once more his +proper size. They walked quickly through the field, and along the +road, where Robert caught Cyril up. Then they ran. They were home +as soon as the girls were, for it was a long way, and they ran most +of it. It was indeed a very long way, as they found when they had +to go and drag the pony-trap home next morning, with no enormous +Robert to wheel them in it as if it were a mail-cart, and they were +babies and he was their gigantic nursemaid. + + +I cannot possibly tell you what Bill and 'Becca said when they +found that the giant had gone. For one thing, I do not know. + + + +CHAPTER 9 +GROWN UP + + +Cyril had once pointed out that ordinary life is full of occasions +on which a wish would be most useful. And this thought filled his +mind when he happened to wake early on the morning after the +morning after Robert had wished to be bigger than the baker's boy, +and had been it. The day that lay between these two days had been +occupied entirely by getting the governess-cart home from +Benenhurst. + +Cyril dressed hastily; he did not take a bath, because tin baths +are so noisy, and he had no wish to rouse Robert, and he slipped +off alone, as Anthea had once done, and ran through the dewy +morning to the sand-pit. He dug up the Psammead very carefully and +kindly, and began the conversation by asking it whether it still +felt any ill effects from the contact with the tears of Robert the +day before yesterday. The Psammead was in a good temper. It +replied politely. + +'And now, what can I do for you?' it said. 'I suppose you've come +here so early to ask for something for yourself, something your +brothers and sisters aren't to know about eh? Now, do be persuaded +for your own good! Ask for a good fat Megatherium and have done +with it.' + +'Thank you - not to-day, I think,' said Cyril cautiously. 'What I +really wanted to say was - you know how you're always wishing for +things when you're playing at anything?' + +'I seldom play,' said the Psammead coldly. + +'Well, you know what I mean,' Cyril went on impatiently. 'What I +want to say is: won't you let us have our wish just when we think +of it, and just where we happen to be? So that we don't have to +come and disturb you again,' added the crafty Cyril. + +'It'll only end in your wishing for something you don't really +want, like you did about the castle,' said the Psammead, stretching +its brown arms and yawning. 'It's always the same since people +left off eating really wholesome things. However, have it your own +way. Good-bye.' + +'Good-bye,' said Cyril politely. + +'I'll tell you what,' said the Psammead suddenly, shooting out its +long snail's eyes - 'I'm getting tired of you - all of you. You +have no more sense than so many oysters. Go along with you!' +And Cyril went. + +'What an awful long time babies STAY babies,' said Cyril after the +Lamb had taken his watch out of his pocket while he wasn't +noticing, and with coos and clucks of naughty rapture had opened +the case and used the whole thing as a garden spade, and when even +immersion in a wash-hand basin had failed to wash the mould from +the works and make the watch go again. Cyril had said several +things in the heat of the moment; but now he was calmer, and had +even consented to carry the Lamb part of the way to the woods. +Cyril had persuaded the others to agree to his plan, and not to +wish for anything more till they really did wish it. Meantime it +seemed good to go to the woods for nuts, and on the mossy grass +under a sweet chestnut-tree the five were sitting. The Lamb was +pulling up the moss by fat handfuls, and Cyril was gloomily +contemplating the ruins of his watch. + +'He does grow,' said Anthea. 'Doesn't oo, precious?' + +'Me grow,' said the Lamb cheerfully - 'me grow big boy, have guns +an' mouses - an' - an' ...' Imagination or vocabulary gave out +here. But anyway it was the longest speech the Lamb had ever made, +and it charmed everyone, even Cyril, who tumbled the Lamb over and +rolled him in the moss to the music of delighted squeals. + +'I suppose he'll be grown up some day,' Anthea was saying, dreamily +looking up at the blue of the sky that showed between the long +straight chestnut-leaves. But at that moment the Lamb, struggling +gaily with Cyril, thrust a stoutly-shod little foot against his +brother's chest; there was a crack! - the innocent Lamb had broken +the glass of father's second-best Waterbury watch, which Cyril had +borrowed without leave. + +'Grow up some day!' said Cyril bitterly, plumping the Lamb down on +the grass. 'I daresay he will when nobody wants him to. I wish to +goodness he would -' + +'OH, take care!' cried Anthea in an agony of apprehension. But it +was too late - like music to a song her words and Cyril's came out +together - Anthea - 'Oh, take care!' Cyril - 'Grow up now!' + +The faithful Psammead was true to its promise, and there, before +the horrified eyes of its brothers and sisters, the Lamb suddenly +and violently grew up. It was the most terrible moment. The +change was not so sudden as the wish-changes usually were. The +Baby's face changed first. It grew thinner and larger, lines came +in the forehead, the eyes grew more deep-set and darker in colour, +the mouth grew longer and thinner; most terrible of all, a little +dark moustache appeared on the lip of one who was still - except as +to the face - a two-year-old baby in a linen smock and white +open-work socks. + +'Oh, I wish it wouldn't! Oh, I wish it wouldn't! You boys might +wish as well!' They all wished hard, for the sight was enough to +dismay the most heartless. They all wished so hard, indeed, that +they felt quite giddy and almost lost consciousness; but the +wishing was quite vain, for, when the wood ceased to whirl round, +their dazzled eyes were riveted at once by the spectacle of a very +proper-looking young man in flannels and a straw hat - a young man +who wore the same little black moustache which just before they had +actually seen growing upon the Baby's lip. This, then, was the +Lamb - grown up! Their own Lamb! It was a terrible moment. The +grown-up Lamb moved gracefully across the moss and settled himself +against the trunk of the sweet chestnut. He tilted the straw hat +over his eyes. He was evidently weary. He was going to sleep. +The Lamb - the original little tiresome beloved Lamb often went to +sleep at odd times and in unexpected places. Was this new Lamb in +the grey flannel suit and the pale green necktie like the other +Lamb? or had his mind grown up together with his body? + +That was the question which the others, in a hurried council held +among the yellowing bracken a few yards from the sleeper, debated +eagerly. + +'Whichever it is, it'll be just as awful,' said Anthea. 'If his +inside senses are grown up too, he won't stand our looking after +him; and if he's still a baby inside of him how on earth are we to +get him to do anything? And it'll be getting on for dinner-time in +a minute 'And we haven't got any nuts,' said Jane. + +'Oh, bother nuts!' said Robert; 'but dinner's different - I didn't +have half enough dinner yesterday. Couldn't we tie him to the tree +and go home to our dinners and come back afterwards?' + +'A fat lot of dinner we should get if we went back without the +Lamb!' said Cyril in scornful misery. 'And it'll be just the same +if we go back with him in the state he is now. Yes, I know it's my +doing; don't rub it in! I know I'm a beast, and not fit to live; +you can take that for settled, and say no more about it. The +question is, what are we going to do?' + +'Let's wake him up, and take him into Rochester or Maidstone and +get some grub at a pastrycook's,' said Robert hopefully. + +'Take him?' repeated Cyril. 'Yes - do! It's all MY fault - I +don't deny that - but you'll find you've got your work cut out for +you if you try to take that young man anywhere. The Lamb always +was spoilt, but now he's grown up he's a demon - simply. I can see +it. Look at his mouth.' + +'Well then,' said Robert, 'let's wake him up and see what HE'LL do. +Perhaps HE'LL take us to Maidstone and stand Sam. He ought to have +a lot of money in the pockets of those extra-special bags. We MUST +have dinner, anyway.' + +They drew lots with little bits of bracken. It fell to jane's lot +to waken the grown-up Lamb. + +She did it gently by tickling his nose with a twig of wild +honeysuckle. He said 'Bother the flies!' twice, and then opened +his eyes. + +'Hullo, kiddies!' he said in a languid tone, 'still here? What's +the giddy hour? You'll be late for your grub!' + +'I know we shall,' said Robert bitterly. + +'Then cut along home,' said the grown-up Lamb. + +'What about your grub, though?' asked Jane. + +'Oh, how far is it to the station, do you think? I've a sort of +notion that I'll run up to town and have some lunch at the club.' + +Blank misery fell like a pall on the four others. The Lamb - alone +- unattended - would go to town and have lunch at a club! Perhaps +he would also have tea there. Perhaps sunset would come upon him +amid the dazzling luxury of club-land, and a helpless cross sleepy +baby would find itself alone amid unsympathetic waiters, and would +wail miserably for 'Panty' from the depths of a club arm-chair! +The picture moved Anthea almost to tears. + +'Oh no, Lamb ducky, you mustn't do that!' she cried incautiously. + +The grown-up Lamb frowned. 'My dear Anthea,' he said, 'how often +am I to tell you that my name is Hilary or St Maur or Devereux? - +any of my baptismal names are free to my little brothers and +sisters, but NOT "Lamb" - a relic of foolish and far-off +childhood.' + +This was awful. He was their elder brother now, was he? Well, of +course he was, if he was grown up - since they weren't. Thus, in +whispers, Anthea and Robert. + +But the almost daily adventures resulting from the Psammead wishes +were making the children wise beyond their years. + +'Dear Hilary,' said Anthea, and the others choked at the name, 'you +know father didn't wish you to go to London. He wouldn't like us +to be left alone without you to take care of us. Oh, deceitful +beast that I am!' she added to herself. + +'Look here,' said Cyril, 'if you're our elder brother, why not +behave as such and take us over to Maidstone and give us a jolly +good blow-out, and we'll go on the river afterwards?' + +'I'm infinitely obliged to you,' said the Lamb courteously, 'but I +should prefer solitude. Go home to your lunch - I mean your +dinner. Perhaps I may look in about tea-time - or I may not be +home till after you are in your beds.' + +Their beds! Speaking glances flashed between the wretched four. +Much bed there would be for them if they went home without the +Lamb. + +'We promised mother not to lose sight of you if we took you +out,'Jane said before the others could stop her. + +'Look here, Jane,' said the grown-up Lamb, putting his hands in his +pockets and looking down at her, 'little girls should be seen and +not heard. You kids must learn not to make yourselves a nuisance. +Run along home now - and perhaps, if you're good, I'll give you +each a penny to-morrow.' + +'Look here,' said Cyril, in the best 'man to man' tone at his +command, 'where are you going, old man? You might let Bobs and me +come with you - even if you don't want the girls.' + +This was really rather noble of Cyril, for he never did care much +about being seen in public with the Lamb, who of course after +sunset would be a baby again. + +The 'man to man' tone succeeded. + +'I shall just run over to Maidstone on my bike,' said the new Lamb +airily, fingering the little black moustache. 'I can lunch at The +Crown - and perhaps I'll have a pull on the river; but I can't take +you all on the machine - now, can I? Run along home, like good +children.' + +The position was desperate. Robert exchanged a despairing look +with Cyril. Anthea detached a pin from her waistband, a pin whose +withdrawal left a gaping chasm between skirt and bodice, and handed +it furtively to Robert - with a grimace of the darkest and deepest +meaning. Robert slipped away to the road. There, sure enough, +stood a bicycle - a beautiful new free-wheel. Of course Robert +understood at once that if the Lamb was grown up he MUST have a +bicycle. This had always been one of Robert's own reasons for +wishing to be grown up. He hastily began to use the pin - eleven +punctures in the back tyre, seven in the front. He would have made +the total twenty-two but for the rustling of the yellow +hazel-leaves, which warned him of the approach of the others. He +hastily leaned a hand on each wheel, and was rewarded by the +'whish' of what was left of the air escaping from eighteen neat +pin-holes. + +'Your bike's run down,' said Robert, wondering how he could so soon +have learned to deceive. + +'So it is,' said Cyril. + +'It's a puncture,' said Anthea, stooping down, and standing up +again with a thorn which she had got ready for the purpose. 'Look +here.' + +The grown-up Lamb (or Hilary, as I suppose one must now call him) +fixed his pump and blew up the tyre. The punctured state of it was +soon evident. + +'I suppose there's a cottage somewhere near - where one could get +a pail of water?' said the Lamb. + +There was; and when the number of punctures had been made manifest, +it was felt to be a special blessing that the cottage provided +'teas for cyclists'. It provided an odd sort of tea-and-hammy meal +for the Lamb and his brothers. This was paid for out of the +fifteen shillings which had been earned by Robert when he was a +giant - for the Lamb, it appeared, had unfortunately no money about +him. This was a great disappointment for the others; but it is a +thing that will happen, even to the most grown-up of us. However, +Robert had enough to eat, and that was something. Quietly but +persistently the miserable four took it in turns to try to persuade +the Lamb (or St Maur) to spend the rest of the day in the woods. +There was not very much of the day left by the time he had mended +the eighteenth puncture. He looked up from the completed work with +a sigh of relief, and suddenly put his tie straight. + +'There's a lady coming,' he said briskly - 'for goodness' sake, get +out of the way. Go home - hide - vanish somehow! I can't be seen +with a pack of dirty kids.' His brothers and sisters were indeed +rather dirty, because, earlier in the day, the Lamb, in his infant +state, had sprinkled a good deal of garden soil over them. The +grown-up Lamb's voice was so tyrant-like, as Jane said afterwards, +that they actually retreated to the back garden, and left him with +his little moustache and his flannel suit to meet alone the young +lady, who now came up the front garden wheeling a bicycle. + +The woman of the house came out, and the young lady spoke to her - +the Lamb raised his hat as she passed him - and the children could +not hear what she said, though they were craning round the corner +by the pig-pail and listening with all their ears. They felt it to +be 'perfectly fair,' as Robert said, 'with that wretched Lamb in +that condition.' + +When the Lamb spoke in a languid voice heavy with politeness, they +heard well enough. + +'A puncture?' he was saying. 'Can I not be of any assistance? If +you could allow me -?' + +There was a stifled explosion of laughter behind the pig-pail - the +grown-up Lamb (otherwise Devereux) turned the tail of an angry eye +in its direction. + +'You're very kind,' said the lady, looking at the Lamb. She looked +rather shy, but, as the boys put it, there didn't seem to be any +nonsense about her. + +'But oh,' whispered Cyril behind the pig-pail, 'I should have +thought he'd had enough bicycle-mending for one day - and if she +only knew that really and truly he's only a whiny-piny, silly +little baby!' + +'He's not,' Anthea murmured angrily. 'He's a dear - if people only +let him alone. It's our own precious Lamb still, whatever silly +idiots may turn him into - isn't he, Pussy?' + +Jane doubtfully supposed so. + +Now, the Lamb - whom I must try to remember to call St Maur - was +examining the lady's bicycle and talking to her with a very +grown-up manner indeed. No one could possibly have supposed, to +see and hear him, that only that very morning he had been a chubby +child of two years breaking other people's Waterbury watches. +Devereux (as he ought to be called for the future) took out a gold +watch when he had mended the lady's bicycle, and all the onlookers +behind the pig-pail said 'Oh!' - because it seemed so unfair that +the Baby, who had only that morning destroyed two cheap but honest +watches, should now, in the grown-upness Cyril's folly had raised +him to, have a real gold watch - with a chain and seals! + +Hilary (as I will now term him) withered his brothers and sisters +with a glance, and then said to the lady - with whom he seemed to +be quite friendly: + +'If you will allow me, I will ride with you as far as the Cross +Roads; it is getting late, and there are tramps about.' + +No one will ever know what answer the young lady intended to give +to this gallant offer, for, directly Anthea heard it made, she +rushed out, knocking against the pig-pail, which overflowed in a +turbid stream, and caught the Lamb (I suppose I ought to say +Hilary) by the arm. The others followed, and in an instant the +four dirty children were visible, beyond disguise. + +'Don't let him,' said Anthea to the lady, and she spoke with +intense earnestness; 'he's not fit to go with anyone!' + +'Go away, little girl!' said St Maur (as we will now call him) in +a terrible voice. 'Go home at once!' + +'You'd much better not have anything to do with him,' the now +reckless Anthea went on. 'He doesn't know who he is. He's +something very different from what you think he is.' + +'What do you mean?' asked the lady not unnaturally, while Devereux +(as I must term the grown-up Lamb) tried vainly to push Anthea +away. The others backed her up, and she stood solid as a rock. + +'You just let him go with you,' said Anthea, 'you'll soon see what +I mean! How would you like to suddenly see a poor little helpless +baby spinning along downhill beside you with its feet up on a +bicycle it had lost control Of?' + +The lady had turned rather pale. + +'Who are these very dirty children?' she asked the grown-up Lamb +(sometimes called St Maur in these pages). + +'I don't know,' he lied miserably. + +'Oh, Lamb! how can you?' cried Jane - 'when you know perfectly well +you're our own little baby brother that we're so fond of. We're +his big brothers and sisters,' she explained, turning to the lady, +who with trembling hands was now turning her bicycle towards the +gate, 'and we've got to take care of him. And we must get him home +before sunset, or I don't know whatever will become of us. You +see, he's sort of under a spell - enchanted - you know what I +mean!' + +Again and again the Lamb (Devereux, I mean) had tried to stop +Jane's eloquence, but Robert and Cyril held him, one by each leg, +and no proper explanation was possible. The lady rode hastily +away, and electrified her relatives at dinner by telling them of +her escape from a family of dangerous lunatics. 'The little girl's +eyes were simply those of a maniac. I can't think how she came to +be at large,' she said. + +When her bicycle had whizzed away down the road, Cyril spoke +gravely. + +'Hilary, old chap,' he said, 'you must have had a sunstroke or +something. And the things you've been saying to that lady! Why, +if we were to tell you the things you've said when you are yourself +again, say to- morrow morning, you wouldn't even understand them - +let alone believe them! You trust to me, old chap, and come home +now, and if you're not yourself in the morning we'll ask the +milkman to ask the doctor to come.' + +The poor grown-up Lamb (St Maur was really one of his Christian +names) seemed now too bewildered to resist. + +'Since you seem all to be as mad as the whole worshipful company of +hatters,' he said bitterly, 'I suppose I HAD better take you home. +But you're not to suppose I shall pass this over. I shall have +something to say to you all to-morrow morning.' + +'Yes, you will, my Lamb,' said Anthea under her breath, 'but it +won't be at all the sort of thing you think it's going to be.' + +In her heart she could hear the pretty, soft little loving voice of +the baby Lamb - so different from the affected tones of the +dreadful grown-up Lamb (one of whose names was Devereux) - saying, +'Me love Panty - wants to come to own Panty.' + +'Oh, let's get home, for goodness' sake,' she said. 'You shall say +whatever you like in the morning - if you can,' she added in a +whisper. +It was a gloomy party that went home through the soft evening. +During Anthea's remarks Robert had again made play with the pin and +the bicycle tyre and the Lamb (whom they had to call St Maur or +Devereux or Hilary) seemed really at last to have had his fill of +bicycle-mending. So the machine was wheeled. + +The sun was just on the point of setting when they arrived at the +White House. The four elder children would have liked to linger in +the lane till the complete sunsetting turned the grown-up Lamb +(whose Christian names I will not further weary you by repeating) +into their own dear tiresome baby brother. But he, in his +grown-upness, insisted on going on, and thus he was met in the +front garden by Martha. + +Now you remember that, as a special favour, the Psammead had +arranged that the servants in the house should never notice any +change brought about by the wishes of the children. Therefore +Martha merely saw the usual party, with the baby Lamb, about whom +she had been desperately anxious all the afternoon, trotting beside +Anthea on fat baby legs, while the children, of course, still saw +the grown-up Lamb (never mind what names he was christened by), and +Martha rushed at him and caught him in her arms, exclaiming: + +'Come to his own Martha, then - a precious poppet!' + +The grown-up Lamb (whose names shall now be buried in oblivion) +struggled furiously. An expression of intense horror and annoyance +was seen on his face. But Martha was stronger than he. She lifted +him up and carried him into the house. None of the children will +ever forget that picture. The neat grey-flannel-suited grown-up +young man with the green tie and the little black moustache - +fortunately, he was slightly built, and not tall - struggling in +the sturdy arms of Martha, who bore him away helpless, imploring +him, as she went, to be a good boy now, and come and have his nice +bremmilk! Fortunately, the sun set as they reached the doorstep, +the bicycle disappeared, and Martha was seen to carry into the +house the real live darling sleepy two-year-old Lamb. The grown-up +Lamb (nameless hence- forth) was gone for ever. + +'For ever,' said Cyril, 'because, as soon as ever the Lamb's old +enough to be bullied, we must jolly well begin to bully him, for +his own sake - so that he mayn't grow up like that.' + +'You shan't bully him,' said Anthea stoutly; 'not if I can stop +it.' + +'We must tame him by kindness,' said Jane. + +'You see,' said Robert, 'if he grows up in the usual way, there'll +be plenty of time to correct him as he goes along. The awful thing +to-day was his growing up so suddenly. There was no time to +improve him at all.' + +'He doesn't want any improving,' said Anthea as the voice of the +Lamb came cooing through the open door, just as she had heard it in +her heart that afternoon: + +'Me loves Panty - wants to come to own Panty!' + + + +CHAPTER 10 +SCALPS + + +Probably the day would have been a greater success if Cyril had not +been reading The Last of the Mohicans. The story was running in +his head at breakfast, and as he took his third cup of tea he said +dreamily, 'I wish there were Red Indians in England - not big ones, +you know, but little ones, just about the right size for us to +fight.' + +Everyone disagreed with him at the time, and no one attached any +importance to the incident. But when they went down to the +sand-pit to ask for a hundred pounds in two-shilling pieces with +Queen Victoria's head on, to prevent mistakes - which they had +always felt to be a really reasonable wish that must turn out well +- they found out that they had done it again! For the Psammead, +which was very cross and sleepy, said: + +'Oh, don't bother me. You've had your wish.' + +'I didn't know it,' said Cyril. + +'Don't you remember yesterday?' said the Sand-fairy, still more +disagreeably. 'You asked me to let you have your wishes wherever +you happened to be, and you wished this morning, and you've got +it.' + +'Oh, have we?' said Robert. 'What is it?' + +'So you've forgotten?' said the Psammead, beginning to burrow. +'Never mind; you'll know soon enough. And I wish you joy of it! +A nice thing you've let yourselves in for!' + +'We always do, somehow,' said Jane sadly. + +And now the odd thing was that no one could remember anyone's +having wished for anything that morning. The wish about the Red +Indians had not stuck in anyone's head. It was a most anxious +morning. Everyone was trying to remember what had been wished for, +and no one could, and everyone kept expecting something awful to +happen every minute. It was most agitating; they knew, from what +the Psammead had said, that they must have wished for something +more than usually undesirable, and they spent several hours in most +agonizing uncertainty. It was not till nearly dinner-time that +Jane tumbled over The Last of the Mohicans - which had, of course, +been left face downwards on the floor - and when Anthea had picked +her and the book up she suddenly said, 'I know!' and sat down flat +on the carpet. + +'Oh, Pussy, how awful! It was Indians he wished for - Cyril - at +breakfast, don't you remember? He said, "I wish there were Red +Indians in England," - and now there are, and they're going about +scalping people all over the country, like as not.' + +'Perhaps they're only in Northumberland and Durham,' said Jane +soothingly. It was almost impossible to believe that it could +really hurt people much to be scalped so far away as that. + +'Don't you believe it!' said Anthea. 'The Sammyadd said we'd let +ourselves in for a nice thing. That means they'll come HERE. And +suppose they scalped the Lamb!' + +'Perhaps the scalping would come right again at sunset,' said Jane; +but she did not speak so hopefully as usual. + +'Not it!' said Anthea. 'The things that grow out of the wishes +don't go. Look at the fifteen shillings! Pussy, I'm going to +break something, and you must let me have every penny of money +you've got. The Indians will come HERE, don't you see? That +spiteful Psammead as good as said so. You see what my plan is? +Come on!' + +Jane did not see at all. But she followed her sister meekly into +their mother's bedroom. + +Anthea lifted down the heavy water-jug - it had a pattern of storks +and long grasses on it, which Anthea never forgot. She carried it +into the dressing-room, and carefully emptied the water out of it +into the bath. Then she took the jug back into the bedroom and +dropped it on the floor. You know how a jug always breaks if you +happen to drop it by accident. If you happen to drop it on +purpose, it is quite different. Anthea dropped that jug three +times, and it was as unbroken as ever. So at last she had to take +her father's boot-tree and break the jug with that in cold blood. +It was heartless work. + +Next she broke open the missionary-box with the poker. Jane told +her that it was wrong, of course, but Anthea shut her lips very +tight and then said: + +'Don't be silly - it's a matter of life and death.' + +There was not very much in the missionary-box - only +seven-and-fourpence - but the girls between them had nearly four +shillings. This made over eleven shillings, as you will easily +see. + +Anthea tied up the money in a corner of her pocket-handkerchief. +'Come on, Jane!' she said, and ran down to the farm. She knew that +the farmer was going into Rochester that afternoon. In fact it had +been arranged that he was to take the four children with him. They +had planned this in the happy hour when they believed that they +were going to get that hundred pounds, in two-shilling pieces, out +of the Psammead. They had arranged to pay the farmer two shillings +each for the ride. Now Anthea hastily explained to him that they +could not go, but would he take Martha and the Baby instead? He +agreed, but he was not pleased to get only half-a-crown instead of +eight shillings. + +Then the girls ran home again. Anthea was agitated, but not +flurried. When she came to think it over afterwards, she could not +help seeing that she had acted with the most far-seeing +promptitude, just like a born general. She fetched a little box +from her corner drawer, and went to find Martha, who was laying the +cloth and not in the best of tempers. + +'Look here,' said Anthea. 'I've broken the toilet-jug in mother's +room.' + +'Just like you - always up to some mischief,' said Martha, dumping +down a salt-cellar with a bang. + +'Don't be cross, Martha dear,' said Anthea. 'I've got enough money +to pay for a new one - if only you'll be a dear and go and buy it +for us. Your cousins keep a china-shop, don't they? And I would +like you to get it to-day, in case mother comes home to-morrow. +You know she said she might, perhaps.' + +'But you're all going into town yourselves,' said Martha. + +'We can't afford to, if we get the new jug,' said Anthea; 'but +we'll pay for you to go, if you'll take the Lamb. And I say, +Martha, look here - I'll give you my Liberty box, if you'll go. +Look, it's most awfully pretty - all inlaid with real silver and +ivory and ebony like King Solomon's temple.' + +'I see,' said Martha; 'no, I don't want your box, miss. What you +want is to get the precious Lamb off your hands for the afternoon. +Don't you go for to think I don't see through you!' + +This was so true that Anthea longed to deny it at once - Martha had +no business to know so much. But she held her tongue. + +Martha set down the bread with a bang that made it jump off its +trencher. + +'I DO want the jug got,' said Anthea softly. 'You WILL go, won't +you?' + +'Well, just for this once, I don't mind; but mind you don't get +into none of your outrageous mischief while I'm gone - that's all!' + +'He's going earlier than he thought,' said Anthea eagerly. 'You'd +better hurry and get dressed. Do put on that lovely purple frock, +Martha, and the hat with the pink cornflowers, and the yellow-lace +collar. Jane'll finish laying the cloth, and I'll wash the Lamb +and get him ready.' + +As she washed the unwilling Lamb, and hurried him into his best +clothes, Anthea peeped out of the window from time to time; so far +all was well - she could see no Red Indians. When with a rush and +a scurry and some deepening of the damask of Martha's complexion +she and the Lamb had been got off, Anthea drew a deep breath. + +'HE'S safe!' she said, and, to jane's horror, flung herself down on +the floor and burst into floods of tears. Jane did not understand +at all how a person could be so brave and like a general, and then +suddenly give way and go flat like an air-balloon when you prick +it. It is better not to go flat, of course, but you will observe +that Anthea did not give way till her aim was accomplished. She +had got the dear Lamb out of danger - she felt certain the Red +Indians would be round the White House or nowhere - the farmer's +cart would not come back till after sunset, so she could afford to +cry a little. It was partly with joy that she cried, because she +had done what she meant to do. She cried for about three minutes, +while Jane hugged her miserably and said at five-second intervals, +'Don't cry, Panther dear!' + +Then she jumped up, rubbed her eyes hard with the corner of her +pinafore, so that they kept red for the rest of the day, and +started to tell the boys. But just at that moment cook rang the +dinner-bell, and nothing could be said till they had all been +helped to minced beef. Then cook left the room, and Anthea told +her tale. But it is a mistake to tell a thrilling tale when people +are eating minced beef and boiled potatoes. There seemed somehow +to be something about the food that made the idea of Red Indians +seem flat and unbelievable. The boys actually laughed, and called +Anthea a little silly. + +'Why,' said Cyril, 'I'm almost sure it was before I said that, that +Jane said she wished it would be a fine day.' + +'It wasn't,' said Jane briefly. + +'Why, if it was Indians,' Cyril went on - 'salt, please, and +mustard - I must have something to make this mush go down - if it +was Indians, they'd have been infesting the place long before this +- you know they would. I believe it's the fine day.' + +'Then why did the Sammyadd say we'd let ourselves in for a nice +thing?' asked Anthea. She was feeling very cross. She knew she +had acted with nobility and discretion, and after that it was very +hard to be called a little silly, especially when she had the +weight of a burglared missionary-box and about seven-and-fourpence, +mostly in coppers, lying like lead upon her conscience. + +There was a silence, during which cook took away the mincy plates +and brought in the treacle-pudding. As soon as she had retired, +Cyril began again. + +'Of course I don't mean to say,' he admitted, 'that it wasn't a +good thing to get Martha and the Lamb out of the light for the +afternoon; but as for Red Indians - why, you know jolly well the +wishes always come that very minute. If there was going to be Red +Indians, they'd be here now.' + +'I expect they are,' said Anthea; 'they're lurking amid the +undergrowth, for anything you know. I do think you're most beastly +unkind.' + +'Indians almost always DO lurk, really, though, don't they?' put in +Jane, anxious for peace. + +No, they don't,' said Cyril tartly. 'And I'm not unkind, I'm only +truthful. And I say it was utter rot breaking the water-jug; and +as for the missionary-box, I believe it's a treason-crime, and I +shouldn't wonder if you could be hanged for it, if any of us was to +split -' + +'Shut up, can't you?' said Robert; but Cyril couldn't. You see, he +felt in his heart that if there SHOULD be Indians they would be +entirely his own fault, so he did not wish to believe in them. And +trying not to believe things when in your heart you are almost sure +they are true, is as bad for the temper as anything I know. + +'It's simply idiotic,' he said, 'talking about Indians, when you +can see for yourselves that it's Jane who's got her wish. Look +what a fine day it is - OH - ' + +He had turned towards the window to point out the fineness of the +day - the others turned too - and a frozen silence caught at Cyril, +and none of the others felt at all like breaking it. For there, +peering round the corner of the window, among the red leaves of the +Virginia creeper, was a face - a brown face, with a long nose and +a tight mouth and very bright eyes. And the face was painted in +coloured patches. It had long black hair, and in the hair were +feathers! + +Every child's mouth in the room opened, and stayed open. The +treacle-pudding was growing white and cold on their plates. No one +could move. + +Suddenly the feathered head was cautiously withdrawn, and the spell +was broken. I am sorry to say that Anthea's first words were very +like a girl. + +'There, now!' she said. 'I told you so!' + +Treacle-pudding had now definitely ceased to charm. Hastily +wrapping their portions in a Spectator of the week before the week +before last, they hid them behind the crinkled-paper +stove-ornament, and fled upstairs to reconnoitre and to hold a +hurried council. + +'Pax,' said Cyril handsomely when they reached their mother's +bedroom. 'Panther, I'm sorry if I was a brute.' + +'All right,' said Anthea, 'but you see now!' + +No further trace of Indians, however, could be discerned from the +windows. + +'Well,' said Robert, 'what are we to do?' + +'The only thing I can think of,' said Anthea, who was now generally +admitted to be the heroine of the day, 'is - if we dressed up as +like Indians as we can, and looked out of the windows, or even went +out. They might think we were the powerful leaders of a large +neighbouring tribe, and - and not do anything to us, you know, for +fear of awful vengeance.' + +'But Eliza, and the cook?' said Jane. + +'You forget - they can't notice anything,' said Robert. 'They +wouldn't notice anything out of the way, even if they were scalped +or roasted at a slow fire.' + +'But would they come right at sunset?' + +'Of course. You can't be really scalped or burned to death without +noticing it, and you'd be sure to notice it next day, even if it +escaped your attention at the time,' said Cyril. 'I think Anthea's +right, but we shall want a most awful lot of feathers.' + +'I'll go down to the hen-house,' said Robert. 'There's one of the +turkeys in there - it's not very well. I could cut its feathers +without it minding much. It's very bad - doesn't seem to care what +happens to it. Get me the cutting-out scissors.' + +Earnest reconnoitring convinced them all that no Indians were in +the poultry-yard. Robert went. In five minutes he came back - +pale, but with many feathers. + +'Look here,' he said, 'this is jolly serious. I cut off the +feathers, and when I turned to come out there was an Indian +squinting at me from under the old hen-coop. I just brandished the +feathers and yelled, and got away before he could get the coop off +the top of himself. Panther, get the coloured blankets off our +beds, and look slippy, can't you?' + +It is wonderful how like an Indian you can make yourselves with +blankets and feathers and coloured scarves. Of course none of the +children happened to have long black hair, but there was a lot of +black calico that had been got to cover school-books with. They +cut strips of this into a sort of fine fringe, and fastened it +round their heads with the amber-coloured ribbons off the girls' +Sunday dresses. Then they stuck turkeys' feathers in the ribbons. +The calico looked very like long black hair, especially when the +strips began to curl up a bit. + +'But our faces,' said Anthea, 'they're not at all the right colour. +We're all rather pale, and I'm sure I don't know why, but Cyril is +the colour of putty.' + +'I'm not,' said Cyril. + +'The real Indians outside seem to be brownish,' said Robert +hastily. 'I think we ought to be really RED - it's sort of +superior to have a red skin, if you are one.' + +The red ochre cook used for the kitchen bricks seemed to be about +the reddest thing in the house. The children mixed some in a +saucer with milk, as they had seen cook do for the kitchen floor. +Then they carefully painted each other's faces and hands with it, +till they were quite as red as any Red Indian need be - if not +redder. + +They knew at once that they must look very terrible when they met +Eliza in the passage, and she screamed aloud. This unsolicited +testimonial pleased them very much. Hastily telling her not to be +a goose, and that it was only a game, the four blanketed, +feathered, really and truly Redskins went boldly out to meet the +foe. I say boldly. That is because I wish to be polite. At any +rate, they went. + +Along the hedge dividing the wilderness from the garden was a row +of dark heads, all highly feathered. + +'It's our only chance,' whispered Anthea. 'Much better than to +wait for their blood-freezing attack. We must pretend like mad. +Like that game of cards where you pretend you've got aces when you +haven't. Fluffing they call it, I think. Now then. Whoop!' + +With four wild war-whoops - or as near them as English children +could be expected to go without any previous practice - they rushed +through the gate and struck four warlike attitudes in face of the +line of Red Indians. These were all about the same height, and +that height was Cyril's. + +'I hope to goodness they can talk English,' said Cyril through his +attitude. + +Anthea knew they could, though she never knew how she came to know +it. She had a white towel tied to a walking-stick. This was a +flag of truce, and she waved it, in the hope that the Indians would +know what it was. Apparently they did - for one who was browner +than the others stepped forward. + +'Ye seek a pow-wow?' he said in excellent English. 'I am Golden +Eagle, of the mighty tribe of Rock-dwellers.' +'And I,' said Anthea, with a sudden inspiration, 'am the Black +Panther - chief of the - the - the - Mazawattee tribe. My brothers +- I don't mean - yes, I do - the tribe - I mean the Mazawattees - +are in ambush below the brow of yonder hill.' + +'And what mighty warriors be these?' asked Golden Eagle, turning to +the others. + +Cyril said he was the great chief Squirrel, of the Moning Congo +tribe, and, seeing that Jane was sucking her thumb and could +evidently think of no name for herself, he added, 'This great +warrior is Wild Cat - Pussy Ferox we call it in this land - leader +of the vast Phiteezi tribe.' + +And thou, valorous Redskin?' Golden Eagle inquired suddenly of +Robert, who, taken unawares, could only reply that he was Bobs, +leader of the Cape Mounted Police. + +'And now,' said Black Panther, 'our tribes, if we just whistle them +up, will far outnumber your puny forces; so resistance is useless. +Return, therefore, to your own land, O brother, and smoke pipes of +peace in your wampums with your squaws and your medicine-men, and +dress yourselves in the gayest wigwams, and eat happily of the +juicy fresh-caught moccasins.' + +'You've got it all wrong,' murmured Cyril angrily. But Golden +Eagle only looked inquiringly at her. + +'Thy customs are other than ours, O Black Panther,' he said. +'Bring up thy tribe, that we may hold pow-wow in state before them, +as becomes great chiefs.' + +'We'll bring them up right enough,' said Anthea, 'with their bows +and arrows, and tomahawks, and scalping-knives, and everything you +can think of, if you don't look sharp and go.' + +She spoke bravely enough, but the hearts of all the children were +beating furiously, and their breath came in shorter and shorter +gasps. For the little real Red Indians were closing up round them +- coming nearer and nearer with angry murmurs - so that they were +the centre of a crowd of dark, cruel faces. + +'It's no go,' whispered Robert. 'I knew it wouldn't be. We must +make a bolt for the Psammead. It might help us. If it doesn't - +well, I suppose we shall come alive again at sunset. I wonder if +scalping hurts as much as they say.' + +'I'll wave the flag again,' said Anthea. 'If they stand back, +we'll run for it.' + +She waved the towel, and the chief commanded his followers to stand +back. Then, charging wildly at the place where the line of Indians +was thinnest, the four children started to run. Their first rush +knocked down some half-dozen Indians, over whose blanketed bodies +the children leaped, and made straight for the sand-Pit. This was +no time for the safe easy way by which carts go down - right over +the edge of the sand-pit they went, among the yellow and pale +purple flowers and dried grasses, past the little sand-martins' +little front doors, skipping, clinging, bounding, stumbling, +sprawling, and finally rolling. + +Yellow Eagle and his followers came up with them just at the very +spot where they had seen the Psammead that morning. + +Breathless and beaten, the wretched children now awaited their +fate. Sharp knives and axes gleamed round them, but worse than +these was the cruel light in the eyes of Golden Eagle and his +followers. + +'Ye have lied to us, O Black Panther of the Mazawattees - and thou, +too, Squirrel of the Moning Congos. These also, Pussy Ferox of the +Phiteezi, and Bobs of the Cape Mounted Police - these also have +lied to us, if not with their tongue, yet by their silence. Ye +have lied under the cover of the Truce-flag of the Pale-face. Ye +have no followers. Your tribes are far away - following the +hunting trail. What shall be their doom?' he concluded, turning +with a bitter smile to the other Red Indians. + +'Build we the fire!' shouted his followers; and at once a dozen +ready volunteers started to look for fuel. The four children, each +held between two strong little Indians, cast despairing glances +round them. Oh, if they could only see the Psammead! + +'Do you mean to scalp us first and then roast us?' asked Anthea +desperately. + +'Of course!' Redskin opened his eyes at her. 'It's always done.' + +The Indians had formed a ring round the children, and now sat on +the ground gazing at their captives. There was a threatening +silence. + +Then slowly, by twos and threes, the Indians who had gone to look +for firewood came back, and they came back empty-handed. They had +not been able to find a single stick of wood, for a fire! No one +ever can, as a matter of fact, in that part of Kent. + +The children drew a deep breath of relief, but it ended in a moan +of terror. For bright knives were being brandished all about them. +Next moment each child was seized by an Indian; each closed its +eyes and tried not to scream. They waited for the sharp agony of +the knife. It did not come. Next moment they were released, and +fell in a trembling heap. Their heads did not hurt at all. They +only felt strangely cool! Wild war-whoops rang in their ears. +When they ventured to open their eyes they saw four of their foes +dancing round them with wild leaps and screams, and each of the +four brandished in his hand a scalp of long flowing black hair. +They put their hands to their heads - their own scalps were safe! +The poor untutored savages had indeed scalped the children. But +they had only, so to speak, scalped them of the black calico +ringlets! + +The children fell into each other's arms, sobbing and laughing. + +'Their scalps are ours,' chanted the chief; 'ill-rooted were their +ill-fated hairs! They came off in the hands of the victors - +without struggle, without resistance, they yielded their scalps to +the conquering Rock-dwellers! Oh, how little a thing is a scalp so +lightly won!' + +'They'll take our real ones in a minute; you see if they don't,' +said Robert, trying to rub some of the red ochre off his face and +hands on to his hair. + +'Cheated of our just and fiery revenge are we,' the chant went on +- 'but there are other torments than the scalping-knife and the +flames. Yet is the slow fire the correct thing. O strange +unnatural country, wherein a man may find no wood to burn his +enemy! - Ah, for the boundless forests of my native land, where the +great trees for thousands of miles grow but to furnish firewood +wherewithal to burn our foes. Ah, would we were but in our native +forest once more!' + +Suddenly, like a flash of lightning, the golden gravel shone all +round the four children instead of the dusky figures. For every +single Indian had vanished on the instant at their leader's word. +The Psammead must have been there all the time. And it had given +the Indian chief his wish. + + +Martha brought home a jug with a pattern of storks and long grasses +on it. Also she brought back all Anthea's money. + +'My cousin, she give me the jug for luck; she said it was an odd +one what the basin of had got smashed.' + +'Oh, Martha, you arc a dear!' sighed Anthea, throwing her arms +round her. + +'Yes,' giggled Martha, 'you'd better make the most of me while +you've got me. I shall give your ma notice directly minute she +comes back.' + +'Oh, Martha, we haven't been so very horrid to you, have we?' asked +Anthea, aghast. + +'Oh, it ain't that, miss.' Martha giggled more than ever. 'I'm +a-goin' to be married. It's Beale the gamekeeper. He's been +a-proposin' to me off and on ever since you come home from the +clergyman's where you got locked up on the church-tower. And +to-day I said the word an' made him a happy man.' + +Anthea put the seven-and-fourpence back in the missionary-box, and +pasted paper over the place where the poker had broken it. She was +very glad to be able to do this, and she does not know to this day +whether breaking open a missionary-box is or is not a hanging +matter. + + + +CHAPTER 11 +THE LAST WISH + + +Of course you, who see above that this is the eleventh (and last) +chapter, know very well that the day of which this chapter tells +must be the last on which Cyril, Anthea, Robert, and Jane will have +a chance of getting anything out of the Psammead, or Sand-fairy. + +But the children themselves did not know this. They were full of +rosy visions, and, whereas on other days they had often found it +extremely difficult to think of anything really nice to wish for, +their brains were now full of the most beautiful and sensible +ideas. 'This,' as Jane remarked afterwards, 'is always the way.' +Everyone was up extra early that morning, and these plans were +hopefully discussed in the garden before breakfast. The old idea +of one hundred pounds in modern florins was still first favourite, +but there were others that ran it close - the chief of these being +the 'pony each' idea. This had a great advantage. You could wish +for a pony each during the morning, ride it all day, have it vanish +at sunset, and wish it back again next day. Which would be an +economy of litter and stabling. But at breakfast two things +happened. First, there was a letter from mother. Granny was +better, and mother and father hoped to be home that very afternoon. +A cheer arose. And of course this news at once scattered all the +before-breakfast wish-ideas. For everyone saw quite plainly that +the wish for the day must be something to please mother and not to +please themselves. + +'I wonder what she WOULD like,' pondered Cyril. + +'She'd like us all to be good,' said Jane primly. + +'Yes - but that's so dull for us,' Cyril rejoined; 'and, besides, +I should hope we could be that without sand-fairies to help us. +No; it must be something splendid, that we couldn't possibly get +without wishing for.' + +'Look out,' said Anthea in a warning voice; 'don't forget +yesterday. Remember, we get our wishes now just wherever we happen +to be when we say "I wish". Don't let's let ourselves in for +anything silly - to-day of all days.' + +'All right,' said Cyril. 'You needn't jaw.' + +just then Martha came in with a jug full of hot water for the +teapot - and a face full of importance for the children. + +'A blessing we're all alive to eat our breakfasses!' she said +darkly. + +'Why, whatever's happened?' everybody asked. + +'Oh, nothing,' said Martha, 'only it seems nobody's safe from being +murdered in their beds nowadays.' + +'Why,' said Jane as an agreeable thrill of horror ran down her back +and legs and out at her toes, 'has anyone been murdered in their +beds?' + +'Well - not exactly,' said Martha; 'but they might just as well. +There's been burglars over at Peasmarsh Place - Beale's just told +me - and they've took every single one of Lady Chittenden's +diamonds and jewels and things, and she's a-goin' out of one +fainting fit into another, with hardly time to say "Oh, my +diamonds!" in between. And Lord Chittenden's away in London.' + +'Lady Chittenden,' said Anthea; 'we've seen her. She wears a +red-and-white dress, and she has no children of her own and can't +abide other folkses'.' + +'That's her,' said Martha. 'Well, she's put all her trust in +riches, and you see how she's served. They say the diamonds and +things was worth thousands of thousands of pounds. There was a +necklace and a river - whatever that is - and no end of bracelets; +and a tarrer and ever so many rings. But there, I mustn't stand +talking and all the place to clean down afore your ma comes home.' + +'I don't see why she should ever have had such lots of diamonds,' +said Anthea when Martha had Bounced off. 'She was rather a nasty +lady, I thought. And mother hasn't any diamonds, and hardly any +jewels - the topaz necklace, and the sapphire ring daddy gave her +when they were engaged, and the garnet star, and the little pearl +brooch with great-grandpapa's hair in it - that's about all.' + +'When I'm grown up I'll buy mother no end of diamonds,' said +Robert, 'if she wants them. I shall make so much money exploring +in Africa I shan't know what to do with it.' + +'Wouldn't it be jolly,' said Jane dreamily, 'if mother could find +all those lovely things, necklaces and rivers of diamonds and +tarrers?' + +'TI--ARAS,' said Cyril. + +'Ti--aras, then - and rings and everything in her room when she +came home? I wish she would.' The others gazed at her in horror. + +'Well, she WILL,' said Robert; 'you've wished, my good Jane - and +our only chance now is to find the Psammead, and if it's in a good +temper it MAY take back the wish and give us another. If not - +well - goodness knows what we're in for! - the police, of course, +and - Don't cry, silly! We'll stand by you. Father says we need +never be afraid if we don't do anything wrong and always speak the +truth.' + +But Cyril and Anthea exchanged gloomy glances. They remembered how +convincing the truth about the Psammead had been once before when +told to the police. + +It was a day of misfortunes. Of course the Psammead could not be +found. Nor the jewels, though every one Of the children searched +their mother's room again and again. + +'Of course,' Robert said, 'WE couldn't find them. It'll be mother +who'll do that. Perhaps she'll think they've been in the house for +years and years, and never know they are the stolen ones at all.' + +'Oh yes!' Cyril was very scornful; 'then mother will be a receiver +of stolen goods, and you know jolly well what THAT'S worse than.' + +Another and exhaustive search of the sand-pit failed to reveal the +Psammead, so the children went back to the house slowly and sadly. + +'I don't care,' said Anthea stoutly, 'we'll tell mother the truth, +and she'll give back the jewels - and make everything all right.' + + +'Do you think so?' said Cyril slowly. 'Do you think She'll believe +us? Could anyone believe about a Sammyadd unless they'd seen it? +She'll think we're pretending. Or else she'll think we're raving +mad, and then we shall be sent to Bedlam. How would you like it?' +- he turned suddenly on the miserable Jane - 'how would you like +it, to be shut up in an iron cage with bars and padded walls, and +nothing to do but stick straws in your hair all day, and listen to +the howlings and ravings of the other maniacs? Make up your minds +to it, all of you. It's no use telling mother.' + +'But it's true,' said Jane. + +'Of course it is, but it's not true enough for grown-up people to +believe it,' said Anthea. 'Cyril's right. Let's put flowers in +all the vases, and try not to think about diamonds. After all, +everything has come right in the end all the other times.' + +So they filled all the pots they could find with flowers - asters +and zinnias, and loose-leaved late red roses from the wall of the +stable-yard, till the house was a perfect bower. + +And almost as soon as dinner was cleared away mother arrived, and +was clasped in eight loving arms. It was very difficult indeed not +to tell her all about the Psammead at once, because they had got +into the habit of telling her everything. But they did succeed in +not telling her. +Mother, on her side, had plenty to tell them - about Granny, and +Granny's pigeons, and Auntie Emma's lame tame donkey. She was very +delighted with the flowery-boweryness of the house; and everything +seemed so natural and pleasant, now that she was home again, that +the children almost thought they must have dreamed the Psammead. + +But, when mother moved towards the stairs to go UP to her bedroom +and take off her bonnet, the eight arms clung round her just as if +she only had two children, one the Lamb and the other an octopus. + +'Don't go up, mummy darling,' said Anthea; 'let me take your things +up for you.' + +'Or I will,' said Cyril. + +'We want you to come and look at the rose-tree,' said Robert. + +'Oh, don't go up!' said Jane helplessly. + +'Nonsense, dears,' said mother briskly, 'I'm not such an old woman +yet that I can't take my bonnet off in the proper place. Besides, +I must wash these black hands of mine.' + +So up she went, and the children, following her, exchanged glances +of gloomy foreboding. + +Mother took off her bonnet - it was a very pretty hat, really, with +white roses on it - and when she had taken it off she went to the +dressing-table to do her pretty hair. + +On the table between the ring-stand and the pincushion lay a green +leather case. Mother opened it. + +'Oh, how lovely!' she cried. It was a ring, a large pearl with +shining many-lighted diamonds set round it. 'Wherever did this +come from?' mother asked, trying it on her wedding finger, which it +fitted beautifully. 'However did it come here?' + +'I don't know,' said each of the children truthfully. + +'Father must have told Martha to put it here,' mother said. 'I'll +run down and ask her.' + +'Let me look at it,' said Anthea, who knew Martha would not be able +to see the ring. But when Martha was asked, of course she denied +putting the ring there, and so did Eliza and cook. + +Mother came back to her bedroom, very much interested and pleased +about the ring. But, when she opened the dressing-table drawer and +found a long case containing an almost priceless diamond necklace, +she was more interested still, though not so pleased. In the +wardrobe, when she went to put away her 'bonnet', she found a tiara +and several brooches, and the rest of the jewellery turned up in +various parts of the room during the next half-hour. The children +looked more and more uncomfortable, and now Jane began to sniff. + +Mother looked at her gravely. + +'Jane,' she said, 'I am sure you know something about this. Now +think before you speak, and tell me the truth.' + +'We found a Fairy,' said Jane obediently. + +'No nonsense, please,' said her mother sharply. + +'Don't be silly, Jane,' Cyril interrupted. Then he went on +desperately. 'Look here, mother, we've never seen the things +before, but Lady Chittenden at Peasmarsh Place lost all her +jewellery by wicked burglars last night. Could this possibly be +it?' + +All drew a deep breath. They were saved. + +'But how could they have put it here? And why should they?' asked +mother, not unreasonably. 'Surely it would have been easier and +safer to make off with it?' + +'Suppose,' said Cyril, 'they thought it better to wait for - for +sunset - nightfall, I mean, before they went off with it. No one +but us knew that you were coming back to-day.' + +'I must send for the police at once,' said mother distractedly. +'Oh, how I wish daddy were here!' + +'Wouldn't it be better to wait till he DOES come?' asked Robert, +knowing that his father would not be home before sunset. + +'No, no; I can't wait a minute with all this on my mind,' cried +mother. 'All this' was the heap of jewel-cases on the bed. They +put them all in the wardrobe, and mother locked it. Then mother +called Martha. + +'Martha,' she said, 'has any stranger been into MY room since I've +been away? Now, answer me truthfully.' + +'No, mum,' answered Martha; 'leastways, what I mean to say -' + +She stopped. + +'Come,' said her mistress kindly; 'I see someone has. You must +tell me at once. Don't be frightened. I'm sure you haven't done +anything wrong.' + +Martha burst into heavy sobs. + +'I was a-goin' to give you warning this very day, mum, to leave at +the end of my month, so I was - on account of me being going to +make a respectable young man happy. A gamekeeper he is by trade, +mum - and I wouldn't deceive you - of the name of Beale. And it's +as true as I stand here, it Was your coming home in such a hurry, +and no warning given, out of the kindness of his heart it was, as +he says, "Martha, my beauty," he says - which I ain't and never +was, but you know how them men will go on - "I can't see you +a-toiling and a-moiling and not lend a 'elping 'and; which mine is +a strong arm and it's yours, Martha, my dear," says he. And so he +helped me a-cleanin' of the windows, but outside, mum, the whole +time, and me in; if I never say another breathing word it's the +gospel truth.' + +'Were you with him the whole time?' asked her mistress. + +'Him outside and me in, I was,' said Martha; 'except for fetching +up a fresh pail and the leather that that slut of a Eliza 'd hidden +away behind the mangle.' + +'That will do,' said the children's mother. 'I am not pleased with +you, Martha, but you have spoken the truth, and that counts for +something.' + +When Martha had gone, the children clung round their mother. + +'Oh, mummy darling,' cried Anthea, 'it isn't Beale's fault, it +isn't really! He's a great dear; he is, truly and honourably, and +as honest as the day. Don't let the police take him, mummy! oh, +don't, don't, don't!' + +It was truly awful. Here was an innocent man accused of robbery +through that silly wish of Jane's, and it was absolutely useless to +tell the truth. All longed to, but they thought of the straws in +the hair and the shrieks of the other frantic maniacs, and they +could not do it. + +'Is there a cart hereabouts?' asked mother feverishly. 'A trap of +any sort? I must drive in to Rochester and tell the police at +once.' + +All the children sobbed, 'There's a cart at the farm, but, oh, +don't go! - don't go! - oh, don't go! - wait till daddy comes +home!' + +Mother took not the faintest notice. When she had set her mind on +a thing she always went straight through with it; she was rather +like Anthea in this respect. + +'Look here, Cyril,' she said, sticking on her hat with long sharp +violet-headed pins, 'I leave you in charge. Stay in the +dressing-room. You can pretend to be swimming boats in the bath, +or something. Say I gave you leave. But stay there, with the +landing door open; I've locked the other. And don't let anyone go +into my room. Remember, no one knows the jewels are there except +me, and all of you, and the wicked thieves who put them there. +Robert, you stay in the garden and watch the windows. If anyone +tries to get in you must run and tell the two farm men that I'll +send up to wait in the kitchen. I'll tell them there are dangerous +characters about - that's true enough. Now, remember, I trust you +both. But I don't think they'll try it till after dark, so you're +quite safe. Good-bye, darlings.' + +And she locked her bedroom door and went off with the key in her +pocket. + +The children could not help admiring the dashing and decided way in +which she had acted. They thought how useful she would have been +in organizing escape from some of the tight places in which they +had found themselves of late in consequence of their ill-timed +wishes. + +'She's a born general,' said Cyril - 'but I don't know what's going +to happen to us. Even if the girls were to hunt for that beastly +Sammyadd and find it, and get it to take the jewels away again, +mother would only think we hadn't looked out properly and let the +burglars sneak in and nick them - or else the police will think +WE'VE got them - or else that she's been fooling them. Oh, it's a +pretty decent average ghastly mess this time, and no mistake!' + + +He savagely made a paper boat and began to float it in the bath, as +he had been told to do. + +Robert went into the garden and sat down on the worn yellow grass, +with his miserable head between his helpless hands. + +Anthea and Jane whispered together in the passage downstairs, where +the coconut matting was - with the hole in it that you always +caught your foot in if you were not careful. Martha's voice could +be heard in the kitchen - grumbling loud and long. + +'It's simply quite too dreadfully awful,' said Anthea. 'How do you +know all the diamonds are there, too? If they aren't, the police +will think mother and father have got them, and that they've only +given up some of them for a kind of desperate blind. And they'll +be put in prison, and we shall be branded outcasts, the children of +felons. And it won't be at all nice for father and mother either,' +she added, by a candid afterthought. + +'But what can WE do?' asked Jane. + +'Nothing - at least we might look for the Psammead again. It's a +very, very hot day. He may have come out to warm that whisker of +his.' + +'He won't give us any more beastly wishes to-day,' said Jane +flatly. 'He gets crosser and crosser every time we see him. I +believe he hates having to give wishes.' + +Anthea had been shaking her head gloomily - now she stopped shaking +it so suddenly that it really looked as though she were pricking up +her ears. + +'What is it?' asked Jane. 'Oh, have you thought of something?' + +'Our one chance,' cried Anthea dramatically; 'the last lone-lorn +forlorn hope. Come on.' + +At a brisk trot she led the way to the sand-pit. Oh, joy! - there +was the Psammead, basking in a golden sandy hollow and preening its +whiskers happily in the glowing afternoon sun. The moment it saw +them it whisked round and began to burrow - it evidently preferred +its own company to theirs. But Anthea was too quick for it. She +caught it by its furry shoulders gently but firmly, and held it. + +'Here - none of that!' said the Psammead. 'Leave go of me, will +you?' + +But Anthea held him fast. + +'Dear kind darling Sammyadd,' she said breathlessly. + +'Oh yes - it's all very well,' it said; 'you want another wish, I +expect. But I can't keep on slaving from morning till night giving +people their wishes. I must have SOME time to myself.' + +'Do you hate giving wishes?' asked Anthea gently, and her voice +trembled with excitement. + +'Of course I do,' it said. 'Leave go of me or I'll bite! - I +really will - I mean it. Oh, well, if you choose to risk it.' + +Anthea risked it and held on. + +'Look here,' she said, 'don't bite me - listen to reason. If +you'll only do what we want to-day, we'll never ask you for another +wish as long as we live.' + +The Psammead was much moved. + +'I'd do anything,' it said in a tearful voice. 'I'd almost burst +myself to give you one wish after another, as long as I held out, +if you'd only never, never ask me to do it after to-day. If you +knew how I hate to blow myself out with other people's wishes, and +how frightened I am always that I shall strain a muscle or +something. And then to wake up every morning and know you've GOT +to do it. You don't know what it is - you don't know what it is, +you don't!' Its voice cracked with emotion, and the last 'don't' +was a squeak. + +Anthea set it down gently on the sand. + +'It's all over now,' she said soothingly. 'We promise faithfully +never to ask for another wish after to-day.' +'Well, go ahead,' said the Psammead; 'let's get it over.' + +'How many can you do?' + +'I don't know - as long as I can hold out.' + +'Well, first, I wish Lady Chittenden may find she's never lost her +jewels.' + +The Psammead blew itself out, collapsed, and said, 'Done.' + +'I wish, said Anthea more slowly, 'mother mayn't get to the +police.' + +'Done,' said the creature after the proper interval. + +'I wish,' said Jane suddenly, 'mother could forget all about the +diamonds.' + +'Done,' said the Psammead; but its voice was weaker. + +'Wouldn't you like to rest a little?' asked Anthea considerately. + +'Yes, please,' said the Psammead; 'and, before we go further, will +you wish something for me?' + +'Can't you do wishes for yourself?' + +'Of course not,' it said; 'we were always expected to give each +other our wishes - not that we had any to speak of in the good old +Megatherium days. just wish, will you, that you may never be able, +any of you, to tell anyone a word about ME.' + +'Why?' asked Jane. + +'Why, don't you see, if you told grown-ups I should have no peace +of my life. They'd get hold of me, and they wouldn't wish silly +things like you do, but real earnest things; and the scientific +people would hit on some way of making things last after sunset, as +likely as not; and they'd ask for a graduated income-tax, and +old-age pensions and manhood suffrage, and free secondary +education, and dull things like that; and get them, and keep them, +and the whole world would be turned topsy-turvy. Do wish it! +Quick!' + +Anthea repeated the Psammead's wish, and it blew itself out to a +larger size than they had yet seen it attain. + +'And now,' it said as it collapsed, 'can I do anything more for +you?' + +'Just one thing; and I think that clears everything up, doesn't it, +Jane? I wish Martha to forget about the diamond ring, and mother +to forget about the keeper cleaning the windows.' +'It's like the "Brass Bottle",' said Jane. + +'Yes, I'm glad we read that or I should never have thought of it.' + +'Now,' said the Psammead faintly, 'I'm almost worn out. Is there +anything else?' + +'No; only thank you kindly for all you've done for us, and I hope +you'll have a good long sleep, and I hope we shall see you again +some day.' + +'Is that a wish?' it said in a weak voice. + +'Yes, please,' said the two girls together. + +Then for the last time in this story they saw the Psammead blow +itself out and collapse suddenly. It nodded to them, blinked its +long snail's eyes, burrowed, and disappeared, scratching fiercely +to the last, and the sand closed over it. + +'I hope we've done right?' said Jane. + +'I'm sure we have,' said Anthea. 'Come on home and tell the boys.' + +Anthea found Cyril glooming over his paper boats, and told him. +Jane told Robert. The two tales were only just ended when mother +walked in, hot and dusty. She explained that as she was being +driven into Rochester to buy the girls' autumn school-dresses the +axle had broken, and but for the narrowness of the lane and the +high soft hedges she would have been thrown out. As it was, she +was not hurt, but she had had to walk home. 'And oh, my dearest +dear chicks,' she said, 'I am simply dying for a cup of tea! Do +run and see if the kettle boils!' + +'So you see it's all right,'Jane whispered. 'She doesn't +remember.' + +'No more does Martha,' said Anthea, who had been to ask after the +state of the kettle. + +As the servants sat at their tea, Beale the gamekeeper dropped in. +He brought the welcome news that Lady Chittenden's diamonds had not +been lost at all. Lord Chittenden had taken them to be re-set and +cleaned, and the maid who knew about it had gone for a holiday. So +that was all right. + +'I wonder if we ever shall see the Psammead again,' said Jane +wistfully as they walked in the garden, while mother was putting +the Lamb to bed. + +'I'm sure we shall,' said Cyril, 'if you really wished it.' + +'We've promised never to ask it for another wish,' said Anthea. + +'I never want to,' said Robert earnestly. + +They did see it again, of course, but not in this story. And it +was not in a sand-pit either, but in a very, very, very different +place. It was in a -- But I must say no more. + + + + + +*Project Gutenberg Etext of Five Children and It, by E. Nesbit* + Binary files differdiff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ad2cdc --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #778 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/778) |