diff options
Diffstat (limited to '836-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 836-h/836-h.htm | 10106 |
1 files changed, 10106 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/836-h/836-h.htm b/836-h/836-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..096c635 --- /dev/null +++ b/836-h/836-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10106 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Phoenix and the Carpet, By E. Nesbit + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Phoenix and the Carpet, by E. Nesbit + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Phoenix and the Carpet + +Author: E. Nesbit + +Release Date: August 2, 2008 [EBook #836] +Last Updated: October 11, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PHOENIX AND THE CARPET *** + + + + +Produced by Jo Churcher, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE PHOENIX AND THE CARPET + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By E. Nesbit + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h4> + TO<br /><br /> My Dear Godson<br /> HUBERT GRIFFITH<br /> and his sister<br /> + MARGARET + </h4> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TO HUBERT + + Dear Hubert, if I ever found + A wishing-carpet lying round, + I’d stand upon it, and I’d say: + ‘Take me to Hubert, right away!’ + And then we’d travel very far + To where the magic countries are + That you and I will never see, + And choose the loveliest gifts for you, from me. + + But oh! alack! and well-a-day! + No wishing-carpets come my way. + I never found a Phoenix yet, + And Psammeads are so hard to get! + So I give you nothing fine— + Only this book your book and mine, + And hers, whose name by yours is set; + Your book, my book, the book of Margaret! + + E. NESBIT + DYMCHURCH + September, 1904 +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER 1. THE EGG </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER 2. THE TOPLESS TOWER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER 3. THE QUEEN COOK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER 4. TWO BAZAARS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER 5. THE TEMPLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER 6. DOING GOOD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER 7. MEWS FROM PERSIA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER 8. THE CATS, THE COW, AND THE + BURGLAR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER 9. THE BURGLAR’S BRIDE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER 10. THE HOLE IN THE CARPET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER 11. THE BEGINNING OF THE END </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER 12. THE END OF THE END </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER 1. THE EGG + </h2> + <p> + It began with the day when it was almost the Fifth of November, and a + doubt arose in some breast—Robert’s, I fancy—as to the quality + of the fireworks laid in for the Guy Fawkes celebration. + </p> + <p> + ‘They were jolly cheap,’ said whoever it was, and I think it was Robert, + ‘and suppose they didn’t go off on the night? Those Prosser kids would + have something to snigger about then.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The ones <i>I</i> got are all right,’ Jane said; ‘I know they are, + because the man at the shop said they were worth thribble the money—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m sure thribble isn’t grammar,’ Anthea said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course it isn’t,’ said Cyril; ‘one word can’t be grammar all by + itself, so you needn’t be so jolly clever.’ + </p> + <p> + Anthea was rummaging in the corner-drawers of her mind for a very + disagreeable answer, when she remembered what a wet day it was, and how + the boys had been disappointed of that ride to London and back on the top + of the tram, which their mother had promised them as a reward for not + having once forgotten, for six whole days, to wipe their boots on the mat + when they came home from school. + </p> + <p> + So Anthea only said, ‘Don’t be so jolly clever yourself, Squirrel. And the + fireworks look all right, and you’ll have the eightpence that your tram + fares didn’t cost to-day, to buy something more with. You ought to get a + perfectly lovely Catharine wheel for eightpence.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I daresay,’ said Cyril, coldly; ‘but it’s not YOUR eightpence anyhow—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But look here,’ said Robert, ‘really now, about the fireworks. We don’t + want to be disgraced before those kids next door. They think because they + wear red plush on Sundays no one else is any good.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wouldn’t wear plush if it was ever so—unless it was black to be + beheaded in, if I was Mary Queen of Scots,’ said Anthea, with scorn. + </p> + <p> + Robert stuck steadily to his point. One great point about Robert is the + steadiness with which he can stick. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think we ought to test them,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘You young duffer,’ said Cyril, ‘fireworks are like postage-stamps. You + can only use them once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you suppose it means by “Carter’s tested seeds” in the + advertisement?’ + </p> + <p> + There was a blank silence. Then Cyril touched his forehead with his finger + and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘A little wrong here,’ he said. ‘I was always afraid of that with poor + Robert. All that cleverness, you know, and being top in algebra so often—it’s + bound to tell—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dry up,’ said Robert, fiercely. ‘Don’t you see? You can’t TEST seeds if + you do them ALL. You just take a few here and there, and if those grow you + can feel pretty sure the others will be—what do you call it?—Father + told me—“up to sample”. Don’t you think we ought to sample the + fire-works? Just shut our eyes and each draw one out, and then try them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But it’s raining cats and dogs,’ said Jane. + </p> + <p> + ‘And Queen Anne is dead,’ rejoined Robert. No one was in a very good + temper. ‘We needn’t go out to do them; we can just move back the table, + and let them off on the old tea-tray we play toboggans with. I don’t know + what YOU think, but <i>I</i> think it’s time we did something, and that + would be really useful; because then we shouldn’t just HOPE the fireworks + would make those Prossers sit up—we should KNOW.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It WOULD be something to do,’ Cyril owned with languid approval. + </p> + <p> + So the table was moved back. And then the hole in the carpet, that had + been near the window till the carpet was turned round, showed most + awfully. But Anthea stole out on tip-toe, and got the tray when cook + wasn’t looking, and brought it in and put it over the hole. + </p> + <p> + Then all the fireworks were put on the table, and each of the four + children shut its eyes very tight and put out its hand and grasped + something. Robert took a cracker, Cyril and Anthea had Roman candles; but + Jane’s fat paw closed on the gem of the whole collection, the + Jack-in-the-box that had cost two shillings, and one at least of the party—I + will not say which, because it was sorry afterwards—declared that + Jane had done it on purpose. Nobody was pleased. For the worst of it was + that these four children, with a very proper dislike of anything even + faintly bordering on the sneakish, had a law, unalterable as those of the + Medes and Persians, that one had to stand by the results of a toss-up, or + a drawing of lots, or any other appeal to chance, however much one might + happen to dislike the way things were turning out. + </p> + <p> + ‘I didn’t mean to,’ said Jane, near tears. ‘I don’t care, I’ll draw + another—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You know jolly well you can’t,’ said Cyril, bitterly. ‘It’s settled. It’s + Medium and Persian. You’ve done it, and you’ll have to stand by it—and + us too, worse luck. Never mind. YOU’LL have your pocket-money before the + Fifth. Anyway, we’ll have the Jack-in-the-box LAST, and get the most out + of it we can.’ + </p> + <p> + So the cracker and the Roman candles were lighted, and they were all that + could be expected for the money; but when it came to the Jack-in-the-box + it simply sat in the tray and laughed at them, as Cyril said. They tried + to light it with paper and they tried to light it with matches; they tried + to light it with Vesuvian fusees from the pocket of father’s second-best + overcoat that was hanging in the hall. And then Anthea slipped away to the + cupboard under the stairs where the brooms and dustpans were kept, and the + rosiny fire-lighters that smell so nice and like the woods where + pine-trees grow, and the old newspapers and the bees-wax and turpentine, + and the horrid an stiff dark rags that are used for cleaning brass and + furniture, and the paraffin for the lamps. She came back with a little pot + that had once cost sevenpence-halfpenny when it was full of red-currant + jelly; but the jelly had been all eaten long ago, and now Anthea had + filled the jar with paraffin. She came in, and she threw the paraffin over + the tray just at the moment when Cyril was trying with the twenty-third + match to light the Jack-in-the-box. The Jack-in-the-box did not catch fire + any more than usual, but the paraffin acted quite differently, and in an + instant a hot flash of flame leapt up and burnt off Cyril’s eyelashes, and + scorched the faces of all four before they could spring back. They backed, + in four instantaneous bounds, as far as they could, which was to the wall, + and the pillar of fire reached from floor to ceiling. + </p> + <p> + ‘My hat,’ said Cyril, with emotion, ‘You’ve done it this time, Anthea.’ + </p> + <p> + The flame was spreading out under the ceiling like the rose of fire in Mr + Rider Haggard’s exciting story about Allan Quatermain. Robert and Cyril + saw that no time was to be lost. They turned up the edges of the carpet, + and kicked them over the tray. This cut off the column of fire, and it + disappeared and there was nothing left but smoke and a dreadful smell of + lamps that have been turned too low. + </p> + <p> + All hands now rushed to the rescue, and the paraffin fire was only a + bundle of trampled carpet, when suddenly a sharp crack beneath their feet + made the amateur firemen start back. Another crack—the carpet moved + as if it had had a cat wrapped in it; the Jack-in-the-box had at last + allowed itself to be lighted, and it was going off with desperate violence + inside the carpet. + </p> + <p> + Robert, with the air of one doing the only possible thing, rushed to the + window and opened it. Anthea screamed, Jane burst into tears, and Cyril + turned the table wrong way up on top of the carpet heap. But the firework + went on, banging and bursting and spluttering even underneath the table. + </p> + <p> + Next moment mother rushed in, attracted by the howls of Anthea, and in a + few moments the firework desisted and there was a dead silence, and the + children stood looking at each other’s black faces, and, out of the + corners of their eyes, at mother’s white one. + </p> + <p> + The fact that the nursery carpet was ruined occasioned but little + surprise, nor was any one really astonished that bed should prove the + immediate end of the adventure. It has been said that all roads lead to + Rome; this may be true, but at any rate, in early youth I am quite sure + that many roads lead to BED, and stop there—or YOU do. + </p> + <p> + The rest of the fireworks were confiscated, and mother was not pleased + when father let them off himself in the back garden, though he said, + ‘Well, how else can you get rid of them, my dear?’ + </p> + <p> + You see, father had forgotten that the children were in disgrace, and that + their bedroom windows looked out on to the back garden. So that they all + saw the fireworks most beautifully, and admired the skill with which + father handled them. + </p> + <p> + Next day all was forgotten and forgiven; only the nursery had to be deeply + cleaned (like spring-cleaning), and the ceiling had to be whitewashed. + </p> + <p> + And mother went out; and just at tea-time next day a man came with a + rolled-up carpet, and father paid him, and mother said— + </p> + <p> + ‘If the carpet isn’t in good condition, you know, I shall expect you to + change it.’ And the man replied— + </p> + <p> + ‘There ain’t a thread gone in it nowhere, mum. It’s a bargain, if ever + there was one, and I’m more’n ‘arf sorry I let it go at the price; but we + can’t resist the lydies, can we, sir?’ and he winked at father and went + away. + </p> + <p> + Then the carpet was put down in the nursery, and sure enough there wasn’t + a hole in it anywhere. + </p> + <p> + As the last fold was unrolled something hard and loud-sounding bumped out + of it and trundled along the nursery floor. All the children scrambled for + it, and Cyril got it. He took it to the gas. It was shaped like an egg, + very yellow and shiny, half-transparent, and it had an odd sort of light + in it that changed as you held it in different ways. It was as though it + was an egg with a yolk of pale fire that just showed through the stone. + </p> + <p> + ‘I MAY keep it, mayn’t I, mother?’ Cyril asked. + </p> + <p> + And of course mother said no; they must take it back to the man who had + brought the carpet, because she had only paid for a carpet, and not for a + stone egg with a fiery yolk to it. + </p> + <p> + So she told them where the shop was, and it was in the Kentish Town Road, + not far from the hotel that is called the Bull and Gate. It was a poky + little shop, and the man was arranging furniture outside on the pavement + very cunningly, so that the more broken parts should show as little as + possible. And directly he saw the children he knew them again, and he + began at once, without giving them a chance to speak. + </p> + <p> + ‘No you don’t’ he cried loudly; ‘I ain’t a-goin’ to take back no carpets, + so don’t you make no bloomin’ errer. A bargain’s a bargain, and the + carpet’s puffik throughout.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We don’t want you to take it back,’ said Cyril; ‘but we found something + in it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It must have got into it up at your place, then,’ said the man, with + indignant promptness, ‘for there ain’t nothing in nothing as I sell. It’s + all as clean as a whistle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I never said it wasn’t CLEAN,’ said Cyril, ‘but—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, if it’s MOTHS,’ said the man, ‘that’s easy cured with borax. But I + expect it was only an odd one. I tell you the carpet’s good through and + through. It hadn’t got no moths when it left my ‘ands—not so much as + an hegg.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But that’s just it,’ interrupted Jane; ‘there WAS so much as an egg.’ + </p> + <p> + The man made a sort of rush at the children and stamped his foot. + </p> + <p> + ‘Clear out, I say!’ he shouted, ‘or I’ll call for the police. A nice thing + for customers to ‘ear you a-coming ‘ere a-charging me with finding things + in goods what I sells. ‘Ere, be off, afore I sends you off with a flea in + your ears. Hi! constable—’ + </p> + <p> + The children fled, and they think, and their father thinks, that they + couldn’t have done anything else. Mother has her own opinion. + </p> + <p> + But father said they might keep the egg. + </p> + <p> + ‘The man certainly didn’t know the egg was there when he brought the + carpet,’ said he, ‘any more than your mother did, and we’ve as much right + to it as he had.’ + </p> + <p> + So the egg was put on the mantelpiece, where it quite brightened up the + dingy nursery. The nursery was dingy, because it was a basement room, and + its windows looked out on a stone area with a rockery made of clinkers + facing the windows. Nothing grew in the rockery except London pride and + snails. + </p> + <p> + The room had been described in the house agent’s list as a ‘convenient + breakfast-room in basement,’ and in the daytime it was rather dark. This + did not matter so much in the evenings when the gas was alight, but then + it was in the evening that the blackbeetles got so sociable, and used to + come out of the low cupboards on each side of the fireplace where their + homes were, and try to make friends with the children. At least, I suppose + that was what they wanted, but the children never would. + </p> + <p> + On the Fifth of November father and mother went to the theatre, and the + children were not happy, because the Prossers next door had lots of + fireworks and they had none. + </p> + <p> + They were not even allowed to have a bonfire in the garden. + </p> + <p> + ‘No more playing with fire, thank you,’ was father’s answer, when they + asked him. + </p> + <p> + When the baby had been put to bed the children sat sadly round the fire in + the nursery. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m beastly bored,’ said Robert. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s talk about the Psammead,’ said Anthea, who generally tried to give + the conversation a cheerful turn. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the good of TALKING?’ said Cyril. ‘What I want is for something to + happen. It’s awfully stuffy for a chap not to be allowed out in the + evenings. There’s simply nothing to do when you’ve got through your + homers.’ + </p> + <p> + Jane finished the last of her home-lessons and shut the book with a bang. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ve got the pleasure of memory,’ said she. ‘Just think of last + holidays.’ + </p> + <p> + Last holidays, indeed, offered something to think of—for they had + been spent in the country at a white house between a sand-pit and a + gravel-pit, and things had happened. The children had found a Psammead, or + sand-fairy, and it had let them have anything they wished for—just + exactly anything, with no bother about its not being really for their + good, or anything like that. And if you want to know what kind of things + they wished for, and how their wishes turned out you can read it all in a + book called Five Children and It (It was the Psammead). If you’ve not read + it, perhaps I ought to tell you that the fifth child was the baby brother, + who was called the Lamb, because the first thing he ever said was ‘Baa!’ + and that the other children were not particularly handsome, nor were they + extra clever, nor extraordinarily good. But they were not bad sorts on the + whole; in fact, they were rather like you. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t want to think about the pleasures of memory,’ said Cyril; ‘I want + some more things to happen.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We’re very much luckier than any one else, as it is,’ said Jane. ‘Why, no + one else ever found a Psammead. We ought to be grateful.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why shouldn’t we GO ON being, though?’ Cyril asked—‘lucky, I mean, + not grateful. Why’s it all got to stop?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps something will happen,’ said Anthea, comfortably. ‘Do you know, + sometimes I think we are the sort of people that things DO happen to.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s like that in history,’ said Jane: ‘some kings are full of + interesting things, and others—nothing ever happens to them, except + their being born and crowned and buried, and sometimes not that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think Panther’s right,’ said Cyril: ‘I think we are the sort of people + things do happen to. I have a sort of feeling things would happen right + enough if we could only give them a shove. It just wants something to + start it. That’s all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish they taught magic at school,’ Jane sighed. ‘I believe if we could + do a little magic it might make something happen.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder how you begin?’ Robert looked round the room, but he got no + ideas from the faded green curtains, or the drab Venetian blinds, or the + worn brown oil-cloth on the floor. Even the new carpet suggested nothing, + though its pattern was a very wonderful one, and always seemed as though + it were just going to make you think of something. + </p> + <p> + ‘I could begin right enough,’ said Anthea; ‘I’ve read lots about it. But I + believe it’s wrong in the Bible.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s only wrong in the Bible because people wanted to hurt other people. + I don’t see how things can be wrong unless they hurt somebody, and we + don’t want to hurt anybody; and what’s more, we jolly well couldn’t if we + tried. Let’s get the Ingoldsby Legends. There’s a thing about Abra-cadabra + there,’ said Cyril, yawning. ‘We may as well play at magic. Let’s be + Knights Templars. They were awfully gone on magic. They used to work + spells or something with a goat and a goose. Father says so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, that’s all right,’ said Robert, unkindly; ‘you can play the goat + right enough, and Jane knows how to be a goose.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll get Ingoldsby,’ said Anthea, hastily. ‘You turn up the hearthrug.’ + </p> + <p> + So they traced strange figures on the linoleum, where the hearthrug had + kept it clean. They traced them with chalk that Robert had nicked from the + top of the mathematical master’s desk at school. You know, of course, that + it is stealing to take a new stick of chalk, but it is not wrong to take a + broken piece, so long as you only take one. (I do not know the reason of + this rule, nor who made it.) And they chanted all the gloomiest songs they + could think of. And, of course, nothing happened. So then Anthea said, + ‘I’m sure a magic fire ought to be made of sweet-smelling wood, and have + magic gums and essences and things in it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know any sweet-smelling wood, except cedar,’ said Robert; ‘but + I’ve got some ends of cedar-wood lead pencil.’ + </p> + <p> + So they burned the ends of lead pencil. And still nothing happened. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s burn some of the eucalyptus oil we have for our colds,’ said + Anthea. + </p> + <p> + And they did. It certainly smelt very strong. And they burned lumps of + camphor out of the big chest. It was very bright, and made a horrid black + smoke, which looked very magical. But still nothing happened. Then they + got some clean tea-cloths from the dresser drawer in the kitchen, and + waved them over the magic chalk-tracings, and sang ‘The Hymn of the + Moravian Nuns at Bethlehem’, which is very impressive. And still nothing + happened. So they waved more and more wildly, and Robert’s tea-cloth + caught the golden egg and whisked it off the mantelpiece, and it fell into + the fender and rolled under the grate. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, crikey!’ said more than one voice. + </p> + <p> + And every one instantly fell down flat on its front to look under the + grate, and there lay the egg, glowing in a nest of hot ashes. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not smashed, anyhow,’ said Robert, and he put his hand under the + grate and picked up the egg. But the egg was much hotter than any one + would have believed it could possibly get in such a short time, and Robert + had to drop it with a cry of ‘Bother!’ It fell on the top bar of the + grate, and bounced right into the glowing red-hot heart of the fire. + </p> + <p> + ‘The tongs!’ cried Anthea. But, alas, no one could remember where they + were. Every one had forgotten that the tongs had last been used to fish up + the doll’s teapot from the bottom of the water-butt, where the Lamb had + dropped it. So the nursery tongs were resting between the water-butt and + the dustbin, and cook refused to lend the kitchen ones. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind,’ said Robert, ‘we’ll get it out with the poker and the + shovel.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, stop,’ cried Anthea. ‘Look at it! Look! look! look! I do believe + something IS going to happen!’ + </p> + <p> + For the egg was now red-hot, and inside it something was moving. Next + moment there was a soft cracking sound; the egg burst in two, and out of + it came a flame-coloured bird. It rested a moment among the flames, and as + it rested there the four children could see it growing bigger and bigger + under their eyes. + </p> + <p> + Every mouth was a-gape, every eye a-goggle. + </p> + <p> + The bird rose in its nest of fire, stretched its wings, and flew out into + the room. It flew round and round, and round again, and where it passed + the air was warm. Then it perched on the fender. The children looked at + each other. Then Cyril put out a hand towards the bird. It put its head on + one side and looked up at him, as you may have seen a parrot do when it is + just going to speak, so that the children were hardly astonished at all + when it said, ‘Be careful; I am not nearly cool yet.’ + </p> + <p> + They were not astonished, but they were very, very much interested. + </p> + <p> + They looked at the bird, and it was certainly worth looking at. Its + feathers were like gold. It was about as large as a bantam, only its beak + was not at all bantam-shaped. ‘I believe I know what it is,’ said Robert. + ‘I’ve seen a picture.’ + </p> + <p> + He hurried away. A hasty dash and scramble among the papers on father’s + study table yielded, as the sum-books say, ‘the desired result’. But when + he came back into the room holding out a paper, and crying, ‘I say, look + here,’ the others all said ‘Hush!’ and he hushed obediently and instantly, + for the bird was speaking. + </p> + <p> + ‘Which of you,’ it was saying, ‘put the egg into the fire?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He did,’ said three voices, and three fingers pointed at Robert. + </p> + <p> + The bird bowed; at least it was more like that than anything else. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am your grateful debtor,’ it said with a high-bred air. + </p> + <p> + The children were all choking with wonder and curiosity—all except + Robert. He held the paper in his hand, and he KNEW. He said so. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>I</i> know who you are.’ + </p> + <p> + And he opened and displayed a printed paper, at the head of which was a + little picture of a bird sitting in a nest of flames. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are the Phoenix,’ said Robert; and the bird was quite pleased. + </p> + <p> + ‘My fame has lived then for two thousand years,’ it said. ‘Allow me to + look at my portrait.’ It looked at the page which Robert, kneeling down, + spread out in the fender, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not a flattering likeness... And what are these characters?’ it + asked, pointing to the printed part. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, that’s all dullish; it’s not much about YOU, you know,’ said Cyril, + with unconscious politeness; ‘but you’re in lots of books.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘With portraits?’ asked the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, no,’ said Cyril; ‘in fact, I don’t think I ever saw any portrait of + you but that one, but I can read you something about yourself, if you + like.’ + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix nodded, and Cyril went off and fetched Volume X of the old + Encyclopedia, and on page 246 he found the following:— + </p> + <p> + ‘Phoenix—in ornithology, a fabulous bird of antiquity.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Antiquity is quite correct,’ said the Phoenix, ‘but fabulous—well, + do I look it?’ + </p> + <p> + Every one shook its head. Cyril went on— + </p> + <p> + ‘The ancients speak of this bird as single, or the only one of its kind.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s right enough,’ said the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + ‘They describe it as about the size of an eagle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Eagles are of different sizes,’ said the Phoenix; ‘it’s not at all a good + description.’ + </p> + <p> + All the children were kneeling on the hearthrug, to be as near the Phoenix + as possible. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll boil your brains,’ it said. ‘Look out, I’m nearly cool now;’ and + with a whirr of golden wings it fluttered from the fender to the table. It + was so nearly cool that there was only a very faint smell of burning when + it had settled itself on the table-cloth. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s only a very little scorched,’ said the Phoenix, apologetically; ‘it + will come out in the wash. Please go on reading.’ + </p> + <p> + The children gathered round the table. + </p> + <p> + ‘The size of an eagle,’ Cyril went on, ‘its head finely crested with a + beautiful plumage, its neck covered with feathers of a gold colour, and + the rest of its body purple; only the tail white, and the eyes sparkling + like stars. They say that it lives about five hundred years in the + wilderness, and when advanced in age it builds itself a pile of sweet wood + and aromatic gums, fires it with the wafting of its wings, and thus burns + itself; and that from its ashes arises a worm, which in time grows up to + be a Phoenix. Hence the Phoenicians gave—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind what they gave,’ said the Phoenix, ruffling its golden + feathers. ‘They never gave much, anyway; they always were people who gave + nothing for nothing. That book ought to be destroyed. It’s most + inaccurate. The rest of my body was never purple, and as for my—tail—well, + I simply ask you, IS it white?’ + </p> + <p> + It turned round and gravely presented its golden tail to the children. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, it’s not,’ said everybody. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, and it never was,’ said the Phoenix. ‘And that about the worm is just + a vulgar insult. The Phoenix has an egg, like all respectable birds. It + makes a pile—that part’s all right—and it lays its egg, and it + burns itself; and it goes to sleep and wakes up in its egg, and comes out + and goes on living again, and so on for ever and ever. I can’t tell you + how weary I got of it—such a restless existence; no repose.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But how did your egg get HERE?’ asked Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, that’s my life-secret,’ said the Phoenix. ‘I couldn’t tell it to any + one who wasn’t really sympathetic. I’ve always been a misunderstood bird. + You can tell that by what they say about the worm. I might tell YOU,’ it + went on, looking at Robert with eyes that were indeed starry. ‘You put me + on the fire—’ Robert looked uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + ‘The rest of us made the fire of sweet-scented woods and gums, though,’ + said Cyril. + </p> + <p> + ‘And—and it was an accident my putting you on the fire,’ said + Robert, telling the truth with some difficulty, for he did not know how + the Phoenix might take it. It took it in the most unexpected manner. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your candid avowal,’ it said, ‘removes my last scruple. I will tell you + my story.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And you won’t vanish, or anything sudden will you? asked Anthea, + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why?’ it asked, puffing out the golden feathers, ‘do you wish me to stay + here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh YES,’ said every one, with unmistakable sincerity. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why?’ asked the Phoenix again, looking modestly at the table-cloth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Because,’ said every one at once, and then stopped short; only Jane added + after a pause, ‘you are the most beautiful person we’ve ever seen.’ ‘You + are a sensible child,’ said the Phoenix, ‘and I will NOT vanish or + anything sudden. And I will tell you my tale. I had resided, as your book + says, for many thousand years in the wilderness, which is a large, quiet + place with very little really good society, and I was becoming weary of + the monotony of my existence. But I acquired the habit of laying my egg + and burning myself every five hundred years—and you know how + difficult it is to break yourself of a habit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Cyril; ‘Jane used to bite her nails.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I broke myself of it,’ urged Jane, rather hurt, ‘You know I did.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not till they put bitter aloes on them,’ said Cyril. + </p> + <p> + ‘I doubt,’ said the bird, gravely, ‘whether even bitter aloes (the aloe, + by the way, has a bad habit of its own, which it might well cure before + seeking to cure others; I allude to its indolent practice of flowering but + once a century), I doubt whether even bitter aloes could have cured ME. + But I WAS cured. I awoke one morning from a feverish dream—it was + getting near the time for me to lay that tiresome fire and lay that + tedious egg upon it—and I saw two people, a man and a woman. They + were sitting on a carpet—and when I accosted them civilly they + narrated to me their life-story, which, as you have not yet heard it, I + will now proceed to relate. They were a prince and princess, and the story + of their parents was one which I am sure you will like to hear. In early + youth the mother of the princess happened to hear the story of a certain + enchanter, and in that story I am sure you will be interested. The + enchanter—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, please don’t,’ said Anthea. ‘I can’t understand all these beginnings + of stories, and you seem to be getting deeper and deeper in them every + minute. Do tell us your OWN story. That’s what we really want to hear.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said the Phoenix, seeming on the whole rather flattered, ‘to cut + about seventy long stories short (though <i>I</i> had to listen to them + all—but to be sure in the wilderness there is plenty of time), this + prince and princess were so fond of each other that they did not want any + one else, and the enchanter—don’t be alarmed, I won’t go into his + history—had given them a magic carpet (you’ve heard of a magic + carpet?), and they had just sat on it and told it to take them right away + from every one—and it had brought them to the wilderness. And as + they meant to stay there they had no further use for the carpet, so they + gave it to me. That was indeed the chance of a lifetime!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t see what you wanted with a carpet,’ said Jane, ‘when you’ve got + those lovely wings.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They ARE nice wings, aren’t they?’ said the Phoenix, simpering and + spreading them out. ‘Well, I got the prince to lay out the carpet, and I + laid my egg on it; then I said to the carpet, “Now, my excellent carpet, + prove your worth. Take that egg somewhere where it can’t be hatched for + two thousand years, and where, when that time’s up, some one will light a + fire of sweet wood and aromatic gums, and put the egg in to hatch;” and + you see it’s all come out exactly as I said. The words were no sooner out + of my beak than egg and carpet disappeared. The royal lovers assisted to + arrange my pile, and soothed my last moments. I burnt myself up and knew + no more till I awoke on yonder altar.’ + </p> + <p> + It pointed its claw at the grate. + </p> + <p> + ‘But the carpet,’ said Robert, ‘the magic carpet that takes you anywhere + you wish. What became of that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, THAT?’ said the Phoenix, carelessly—‘I should say that that is + the carpet. I remember the pattern perfectly.’ + </p> + <p> + It pointed as it spoke to the floor, where lay the carpet which mother had + bought in the Kentish Town Road for twenty-two shillings and ninepence. + </p> + <p> + At that instant father’s latch-key was heard in the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘OH,’ whispered Cyril, ‘now we shall catch it for not being in bed!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wish yourself there,’ said the Phoenix, in a hurried whisper, ‘and then + wish the carpet back in its place.’ + </p> + <p> + No sooner said than done. It made one a little giddy, certainly, and a + little breathless; but when things seemed right way up again, there the + children were, in bed, and the lights were out. + </p> + <p> + They heard the soft voice of the Phoenix through the darkness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall sleep on the cornice above your curtains,’ it said. ‘Please don’t + mention me to your kinsfolk.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not much good,’ said Robert, ‘they’d never believe us. I say,’ he called + through the half-open door to the girls; ‘talk about adventures and things + happening. We ought to be able to get some fun out of a magic carpet AND a + Phoenix.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Rather,’ said the girls, in bed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Children,’ said father, on the stairs, ‘go to sleep at once. What do you + mean by talking at this time of night?’ + </p> + <p> + No answer was expected to this question, but under the bedclothes Cyril + murmured one. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mean?’ he said. ‘Don’t know what we mean. I don’t know what anything + means.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But we’ve got a magic carpet AND a Phoenix,’ said Robert. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll get something else if father comes in and catches you,’ said + Cyril. ‘Shut up, I tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + Robert shut up. But he knew as well as you do that the adventures of that + carpet and that Phoenix were only just beginning. + </p> + <p> + Father and mother had not the least idea of what had happened in their + absence. This is often the case, even when there are no magic carpets or + Phoenixes in the house. + </p> + <p> + The next morning—but I am sure you would rather wait till the next + chapter before you hear about THAT. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 2. THE TOPLESS TOWER + </h2> + <p> + The children had seen the Phoenix-egg hatched in the flames in their own + nursery grate, and had heard from it how the carpet on their own nursery + floor was really the wishing carpet, which would take them anywhere they + chose. The carpet had transported them to bed just at the right moment, + and the Phoenix had gone to roost on the cornice supporting the + window-curtains of the boys’ room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Excuse me,’ said a gentle voice, and a courteous beak opened, very kindly + and delicately, the right eye of Cyril. ‘I hear the slaves below preparing + food. Awaken! A word of explanation and arrangement... I do wish you + wouldn’t—’ + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix stopped speaking and fluttered away crossly to the + cornice-pole; for Cyril had hit out, as boys do when they are awakened + suddenly, and the Phoenix was not used to boys, and his feelings, if not + his wings, were hurt. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sorry,’ said Cyril, coming awake all in a minute. ‘Do come back! What was + it you were saying? Something about bacon and rations?’ + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix fluttered back to the brass rail at the foot of the bed. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say—you ARE real,’ said Cyril. ‘How ripping! And the carpet?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The carpet is as real as it ever was,’ said the Phoenix, rather + contemptuously; ‘but, of course, a carpet’s only a carpet, whereas a + Phoenix is superlatively a Phoenix.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, indeed,’ said Cyril, ‘I see it is. Oh, what luck! Wake up, Bobs! + There’s jolly well something to wake up for today. And it’s Saturday, + too.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve been reflecting,’ said the Phoenix, ‘during the silent watches of + the night, and I could not avoid the conclusion that you were quite + insufficiently astonished at my appearance yesterday. The ancients were + always VERY surprised. Did you, by chance, EXPECT my egg to hatch?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not us,’ Cyril said. + </p> + <p> + ‘And if we had,’ said Anthea, who had come in in her nightie when she + heard the silvery voice of the Phoenix, ‘we could never, never have + expected it to hatch anything so splendid as you.’ + </p> + <p> + The bird smiled. Perhaps you’ve never seen a bird smile? + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ said Anthea, wrapping herself in the boys’ counterpane, for the + morning was chill, ‘we’ve had things happen to us before;’ and she told + the story of the Psammead, or sand-fairy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah yes,’ said the Phoenix; ‘Psammeads were rare, even in my time. I + remember I used to be called the Psammead of the Desert. I was always + having compliments paid me; I can’t think why.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Can YOU give wishes, then?’ asked Jane, who had now come in too. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, dear me, no,’ said the Phoenix, contemptuously, ‘at least—but I + hear footsteps approaching. I hasten to conceal myself.’ And it did. + </p> + <p> + I think I said that this day was Saturday. It was also cook’s birthday, + and mother had allowed her and Eliza to go to the Crystal Palace with a + party of friends, so Jane and Anthea of course had to help to make beds + and to wash up the breakfast cups, and little things like that. Robert and + Cyril intended to spend the morning in conversation with the Phoenix, but + the bird had its own ideas about this. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must have an hour or two’s quiet,’ it said, ‘I really must. My nerves + will give way unless I can get a little rest. You must remember it’s two + thousand years since I had any conversation—I’m out of practice, and + I must take care of myself. I’ve often been told that mine is a valuable + life.’ So it nestled down inside an old hatbox of father’s, which had been + brought down from the box-room some days before, when a helmet was + suddenly needed for a game of tournaments, with its golden head under its + golden wing, and went to sleep. So then Robert and Cyril moved the table + back and were going to sit on the carpet and wish themselves somewhere + else. But before they could decide on the place, Cyril said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know. Perhaps it’s rather sneakish to begin without the girls.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They’ll be all the morning,’ said Robert, impatiently. And then a thing + inside him, which tiresome books sometimes call the ‘inward monitor’, + said, ‘Why don’t you help them, then?’ + </p> + <p> + Cyril’s ‘inward monitor’ happened to say the same thing at the same + moment, so the boys went and helped to wash up the tea-cups, and to dust + the drawing-room. Robert was so interested that he proposed to clean the + front doorsteps—a thing he had never been allowed to do. Nor was he + allowed to do it on this occasion. One reason was that it had already been + done by cook. + </p> + <p> + When all the housework was finished, the girls dressed the happy, + wriggling baby in his blue highwayman coat and three-cornered hat, and + kept him amused while mother changed her dress and got ready to take him + over to granny’s. Mother always went to granny’s every Saturday, and + generally some of the children went with her; but today they were to keep + house. And their hearts were full of joyous and delightful feelings every + time they remembered that the house they would have to keep had a Phoenix + in it, AND a wishing carpet. + </p> + <p> + You can always keep the Lamb good and happy for quite a long time if you + play the Noah’s Ark game with him. It is quite simple. He just sits on + your lap and tells you what animal he is, and then you say the little + poetry piece about whatever animal he chooses to be. + </p> + <p> + Of course, some of the animals, like the zebra and the tiger, haven’t got + any poetry, because they are so difficult to rhyme to. The Lamb knows + quite well which are the poetry animals. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m a baby bear!’ said the Lamb, snugging down; and Anthea began: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘I love my little baby bear, + I love his nose and toes and hair; + I like to hold him in my arm, + And keep him VERY safe and warm.’ +</pre> + <p> + And when she said ‘very’, of course there was a real bear’s hug. + </p> + <p> + Then came the eel, and the Lamb was tickled till he wriggled exactly like + a real one: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘I love my little baby eel, + He is so squidglety to feel; + He’ll be an eel when he is big— + But now he’s just—a—tiny SNIG!’ +</pre> + <p> + Perhaps you didn’t know that a snig was a baby eel? It is, though, and the + Lamb knew it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hedgehog now-!’ he said; and Anthea went on: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘My baby hedgehog, how I like ye, + Though your back’s so prickly-spiky; + Your front is very soft, I’ve found, + So I must love you front ways round!’ +</pre> + <p> + And then she loved him front ways round, while he squealed with pleasure. + </p> + <p> + It is a very baby game, and, of course, the rhymes are only meant for + very, very small people—not for people who are old enough to read + books, so I won’t tell you any more of them. + </p> + <p> + By the time the Lamb had been a baby lion and a baby weazel, and a baby + rabbit and a baby rat, mother was ready; and she and the Lamb, having been + kissed by everybody and hugged as thoroughly as it is possible to be when + you’re dressed for out-of-doors, were seen to the tram by the boys. When + the boys came back, every one looked at every one else and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Now!’ + </p> + <p> + They locked the front door and they locked the back door, and they + fastened all the windows. They moved the table and chairs off the carpet, + and Anthea swept it. + </p> + <p> + ‘We must show it a LITTLE attention,’ she said kindly. ‘We’ll give it + tea-leaves next time. Carpets like tea-leaves.’ + </p> + <p> + Then every one put on its out-door things, because as Cyril said, they + didn’t know where they might be going, and it makes people stare if you go + out of doors in November in pinafores and without hats. + </p> + <p> + Then Robert gently awoke the Phoenix, who yawned and stretched itself, and + allowed Robert to lift it on to the middle of the carpet, where it + instantly went to sleep again with its crested head tucked under its + golden wing as before. Then every one sat down on the carpet. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where shall we go?’ was of course the question, and it was warmly + discussed. Anthea wanted to go to Japan. Robert and Cyril voted for + America, and Jane wished to go to the seaside. + </p> + <p> + ‘Because there are donkeys there,’ said she. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in November, silly,’ said Cyril; and the discussion got warmer and + warmer, and still nothing was settled. + </p> + <p> + ‘I vote we let the Phoenix decide,’ said Robert, at last. So they stroked + it till it woke. ‘We want to go somewhere abroad,’ they said, ‘and we + can’t make up our minds where.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let the carpet make up ITS mind, if it has one,’ said the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + ‘Just say you wish to go abroad.’ + </p> + <p> + So they did; and the next moment the world seemed to spin upside down, and + when it was right way up again and they were ungiddy enough to look about + them, they were out of doors. + </p> + <p> + Out of doors—this is a feeble way to express where they were. They + were out of—out of the earth, or off it. In fact, they were floating + steadily, safely, splendidly, in the crisp clear air, with the pale bright + blue of the sky above them, and far down below the pale bright + sun-diamonded waves of the sea. The carpet had stiffened itself somehow, + so that it was square and firm like a raft, and it steered itself so + beautifully and kept on its way so flat and fearless that no one was at + all afraid of tumbling off. In front of them lay land. + </p> + <p> + ‘The coast of France,’ said the Phoenix, waking up and pointing with its + wing. ‘Where do you wish to go? I should always keep one wish, of course—for + emergencies—otherwise you may get into an emergency from which you + can’t emerge at all.’ + </p> + <p> + But the children were far too deeply interested to listen. + </p> + <p> + ‘I tell you what,’ said Cyril: ‘let’s let the thing go on and on, and when + we see a place we really want to stop at—why, we’ll just stop. Isn’t + this ripping?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s like trains,’ said Anthea, as they swept over the low-lying + coast-line and held a steady course above orderly fields and straight + roads bordered with poplar trees—‘like express trains, only in + trains you never can see anything because of grown-ups wanting the windows + shut; and then they breathe on them, and it’s like ground glass, and + nobody can see anything, and then they go to sleep.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s like tobogganing,’ said Robert, ‘so fast and smooth, only there’s no + door-mat to stop short on—it goes on and on.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You darling Phoenix,’ said Jane, ‘it’s all your doing. Oh, look at that + ducky little church and the women with flappy cappy things on their + heads.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t mention it,’ said the Phoenix, with sleepy politeness. + </p> + <p> + ‘OH!’ said Cyril, summing up all the rapture that was in every heart. + ‘Look at it all—look at it—and think of the Kentish Town + Road!’ + </p> + <p> + Every one looked and every one thought. And the glorious, gliding, smooth, + steady rush went on, and they looked down on strange and beautiful things, + and held their breath and let it go in deep sighs, and said ‘Oh!’ and + ‘Ah!’ till it was long past dinner-time. + </p> + <p> + It was Jane who suddenly said, ‘I wish we’d brought that jam tart and cold + mutton with us. It would have been jolly to have a picnic in the air.’ + </p> + <p> + The jam tart and cold mutton were, however, far away, sitting quietly in + the larder of the house in Camden Town which the children were supposed to + be keeping. A mouse was at that moment tasting the outside of the + raspberry jam part of the tart (she had nibbled a sort of gulf, or bay, + through the pastry edge) to see whether it was the sort of dinner she + could ask her little mouse-husband to sit down to. She had had a very good + dinner herself. It is an ill wind that blows nobody any good. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ll stop as soon as we see a nice place,’ said Anthea. ‘I’ve got + threepence, and you boys have the fourpence each that your trams didn’t + cost the other day, so we can buy things to eat. I expect the Phoenix can + speak French.’ + </p> + <p> + The carpet was sailing along over rocks and rivers and trees and towns and + farms and fields. It reminded everybody of a certain time when all of them + had had wings, and had flown up to the top of a church tower, and had had + a feast there of chicken and tongue and new bread and soda-water. And this + again reminded them how hungry they were. And just as they were all being + reminded of this very strongly indeed, they saw ahead of them some ruined + walls on a hill, and strong and upright, and really, to look at, as good + as new—a great square tower. + </p> + <p> + ‘The top of that’s just the exactly same size as the carpet,’ said Jane. ‘<i>I</i> + think it would be good to go to the top of that, because then none of the + Abby-what’s-its-names—I mean natives—would be able to take the + carpet away even if they wanted to. And some of us could go out and get + things to eat—buy them honestly, I mean, not take them out of larder + windows.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think it would be better if we went—’ Anthea was beginning; but + Jane suddenly clenched her hands. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t see why I should never do anything I want, just because I’m the + youngest. I wish the carpet would fit itself in at the top of that tower—so + there!’ + </p> + <p> + The carpet made a disconcerting bound, and next moment it was hovering + above the square top of the tower. Then slowly and carefully it began to + sink under them. It was like a lift going down with you at the Army and + Navy Stores. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think we ought to wish things without all agreeing to them + first,’ said Robert, huffishly. ‘Hullo! What on earth?’ + </p> + <p> + For unexpectedly and greyly something was coming up all round the four + sides of the carpet. It was as if a wall were being built by magic + quickness. It was a foot high—it was two feet high—three, + four, five. It was shutting out the light—more and more. + </p> + <p> + Anthea looked up at the sky and the walls that now rose six feet above + them. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’re dropping into the tower,’ she screamed. ‘THERE WASN’T ANY TOP TO + IT. So the carpet’s going to fit itself in at the bottom.’ + </p> + <p> + Robert sprang to his feet. + </p> + <p> + ‘We ought to have—Hullo! an owl’s nest.’ He put his knee on a + jutting smooth piece of grey stone, and reached his hand into a deep + window slit—broad to the inside of the tower, and narrowing like a + funnel to the outside. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look sharp!’ cried every one, but Robert did not look sharp enough. By + the time he had drawn his hand out of the owl’s nest—there were no + eggs there—the carpet had sunk eight feet below him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Jump, you silly cuckoo!’ cried Cyril, with brotherly anxiety. + </p> + <p> + But Robert couldn’t turn round all in a minute into a jumping position. He + wriggled and twisted and got on to the broad ledge, and by the time he was + ready to jump the walls of the tower had risen up thirty feet above the + others, who were still sinking with the carpet, and Robert found himself + in the embrasure of a window; alone, for even the owls were not at home + that day. The wall was smoothish; there was no climbing up, and as for + climbing down—Robert hid his face in his hands, and squirmed back + and back from the giddy verge, until the back part of him was wedged quite + tight in the narrowest part of the window slit. + </p> + <p> + He was safe now, of course, but the outside part of his window was like a + frame to a picture of part of the other side of the tower. It was very + pretty, with moss growing between the stones and little shiny gems; but + between him and it there was the width of the tower, and nothing in it but + empty air. The situation was terrible. Robert saw in a flash that the + carpet was likely to bring them into just the same sort of tight places + that they used to get into with the wishes the Psammead granted them. + </p> + <p> + And the others—imagine their feelings as the carpet sank slowly and + steadily to the very bottom of the tower, leaving Robert clinging to the + wall. Robert did not even try to imagine their feelings—he had quite + enough to do with his own; but you can. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the carpet came to a stop on the ground at the bottom of the + inside of the tower it suddenly lost that raft-like stiffness which had + been such a comfort during the journey from Camden Town to the topless + tower, and spread itself limply over the loose stones and little earthy + mounds at the bottom of the tower, just exactly like any ordinary carpet. + Also it shrank suddenly, so that it seemed to draw away from under their + feet, and they stepped quickly off the edges and stood on the firm ground, + while the carpet drew itself in till it was its proper size, and no longer + fitted exactly into the inside of the tower, but left quite a big space + all round it. + </p> + <p> + Then across the carpet they looked at each other, and then every chin was + tilted up and every eye sought vainly to see where poor Robert had got to. + Of course, they couldn’t see him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish we hadn’t come,’ said Jane. + </p> + <p> + ‘You always do,’ said Cyril, briefly. ‘Look here, we can’t leave Robert up + there. I wish the carpet would fetch him down.’ + </p> + <p> + The carpet seemed to awake from a dream and pull itself together. It + stiffened itself briskly and floated up between the four walls of the + tower. The children below craned their heads back, and nearly broke their + necks in doing it. The carpet rose and rose. It hung poised darkly above + them for an anxious moment or two; then it dropped down again, threw + itself on the uneven floor of the tower, and as it did so it tumbled + Robert out on the uneven floor of the tower. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, glory!’ said Robert, ‘that was a squeak. You don’t know how I felt. I + say, I’ve had about enough for a bit. Let’s wish ourselves at home again + and have a go at that jam tart and mutton. We can go out again + afterwards.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Righto!’ said every one, for the adventure had shaken the nerves of all. + So they all got on to the carpet again, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish we were at home.’ + </p> + <p> + And lo and behold, they were no more at home than before. The carpet never + moved. The Phoenix had taken the opportunity to go to sleep. Anthea woke + it up gently. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m looking,’ said the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + ‘We WISHED to be at home, and we’re still here,’ complained Jane. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said the Phoenix, looking about it at the high dark walls of the + tower. ‘No; I quite see that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But we wished to be at home,’ said Cyril. + </p> + <p> + ‘No doubt,’ said the bird, politely. + </p> + <p> + ‘And the carpet hasn’t moved an inch,’ said Robert. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said the Phoenix, ‘I see it hasn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I thought it was a wishing carpet?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So it is,’ said the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then why—?’ asked the children, altogether. + </p> + <p> + ‘I did tell you, you know,’ said the Phoenix, ‘only you are so fond of + listening to the music of your own voices. It is, indeed, the most lovely + music to each of us, and therefore—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You did tell us WHAT?’ interrupted an Exasperated. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, that the carpet only gives you three wishes a day and YOU’VE HAD + THEM.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a heartfelt silence. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then how are we going to get home?’ said Cyril, at last. + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t any idea,’ replied the Phoenix, kindly. ‘Can I fly out and get + you any little thing?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How could you carry the money to pay for it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It isn’t necessary. Birds always take what they want. It is not regarded + as stealing, except in the case of magpies.’ + </p> + <p> + The children were glad to find they had been right in supposing this to be + the case, on the day when they had wings, and had enjoyed somebody else’s + ripe plums. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes; let the Phoenix get us something to eat, anyway,’ Robert urged—’ + (‘If it will be so kind you mean,’ corrected Anthea, in a whisper); ‘if it + will be so kind, and we can be thinking while it’s gone.’ + </p> + <p> + So the Phoenix fluttered up through the grey space of the tower and + vanished at the top, and it was not till it had quite gone that Jane said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Suppose it never comes back.’ + </p> + <p> + It was not a pleasant thought, and though Anthea at once said, ‘Of course + it will come back; I’m certain it’s a bird of its word,’ a further gloom + was cast by the idea. For, curiously enough, there was no door to the + tower, and all the windows were far, far too high to be reached by the + most adventurous climber. It was cold, too, and Anthea shivered. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Cyril, ‘it’s like being at the bottom of a well.’ + </p> + <p> + The children waited in a sad and hungry silence, and got little stiff + necks with holding their little heads back to look up the inside of the + tall grey tower, to see if the Phoenix were coming. + </p> + <p> + At last it came. It looked very big as it fluttered down between the + walls, and as it neared them the children saw that its bigness was caused + by a basket of boiled chestnuts which it carried in one claw. In the other + it held a piece of bread. And in its beak was a very large pear. The pear + was juicy, and as good as a very small drink. When the meal was over every + one felt better, and the question of how to get home was discussed without + any disagreeableness. But no one could think of any way out of the + difficulty, or even out of the tower; for the Phoenix, though its beak and + claws had fortunately been strong enough to carry food for them, was + plainly not equal to flying through the air with four well-nourished + children. + </p> + <p> + ‘We must stay here, I suppose,’ said Robert at last, ‘and shout out every + now and then, and some one will hear us and bring ropes and ladders, and + rescue us like out of mines; and they’ll get up a subscription to send us + home, like castaways.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes; but we shan’t be home before mother is, and then father’ll take away + the carpet and say it’s dangerous or something,’ said Cyril. + </p> + <p> + ‘I DO wish we hadn’t come,’ said Jane. + </p> + <p> + And every one else said ‘Shut up,’ except Anthea, who suddenly awoke the + Phoenix and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here, I believe YOU can help us. Oh, I do wish you would!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will help you as far as lies in my power,’ said the Phoenix, at once. + ‘What is it you want now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, we want to get home,’ said every one. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ said the Phoenix. ‘Ah, hum! Yes. Home, you said? Meaning?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Where we live—where we slept last night—where the altar is + that your egg was hatched on.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, there!’ said the Phoenix. ‘Well, I’ll do my best.’ It fluttered on to + the carpet and walked up and down for a few minutes in deep thought. Then + it drew itself up proudly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I CAN help you,’ it said. ‘I am almost sure I can help you. Unless I am + grossly deceived I can help you. You won’t mind my leaving you for an hour + or two?’ and without waiting for a reply it soared up through the dimness + of the tower into the brightness above. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Cyril, firmly, ‘it said an hour or two. But I’ve read about + captives and people shut up in dungeons and catacombs and things awaiting + release, and I know each moment is an eternity. Those people always do + something to pass the desperate moments. It’s no use our trying to tame + spiders, because we shan’t have time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I HOPE not,’ said Jane, doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + ‘But we ought to scratch our names on the stones or something.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, talking of stones,’ said Robert, ‘you see that heap of stones + against the wall over in that corner. Well, I’m certain there’s a hole in + the wall there—and I believe it’s a door. Yes, look here—the + stones are round like an arch in the wall; and here’s the hole—it’s + all black inside.’ + </p> + <p> + He had walked over to the heap as he spoke and climbed up to it—dislodged + the top stone of the heap and uncovered a little dark space. + </p> + <p> + Next moment every one was helping to pull down the heap of stones, and + very soon every one threw off its jacket, for it was warm work. + </p> + <p> + ‘It IS a door,’ said Cyril, wiping his face, ‘and not a bad thing either, + if—’ + </p> + <p> + He was going to add ‘if anything happens to the Phoenix,’ but he didn’t + for fear of frightening Jane. He was not an unkind boy when he had leisure + to think of such things. + </p> + <p> + The arched hole in the wall grew larger and larger. It was very, very + black, even compared with the sort of twilight at the bottom of the tower; + it grew larger because the children kept pulling off the stones and + throwing them down into another heap. The stones must have been there a + very long time, for they were covered with moss, and some of them were + stuck together by it. So it was fairly hard work, as Robert pointed out. + </p> + <p> + When the hole reached to about halfway between the top of the arch and the + tower, Robert and Cyril let themselves down cautiously on the inside, and + lit matches. How thankful they felt then that they had a sensible father, + who did not forbid them to carry matches, as some boys’ fathers do. The + father of Robert and Cyril only insisted on the matches being of the kind + that strike only on the box. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not a door, it’s a sort of tunnel,’ Robert cried to the girls, after + the first match had flared up, flickered, and gone out. ‘Stand off—we’ll + push some more stones down!’ + </p> + <p> + They did, amid deep excitement. And now the stone heap was almost gone—and + before them the girls saw the dark archway leading to unknown things. All + doubts and fears as to getting home were forgotten in this thrilling + moment. It was like Monte Cristo—it was like— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say,’ cried Anthea, suddenly, ‘come out! There’s always bad air in + places that have been shut up. It makes your torches go out, and then you + die. It’s called fire-damp, I believe. Come out, I tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + The urgency of her tone actually brought the boys out—and then every + one took up its jacket and fanned the dark arch with it, so as to make the + air fresh inside. When Anthea thought the air inside ‘must be freshened by + now,’ Cyril led the way into the arch. + </p> + <p> + The girls followed, and Robert came last, because Jane refused to tail the + procession lest ‘something’ should come in after her, and catch at her + from behind. Cyril advanced cautiously, lighting match after match, and + peering before him. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a vaulting roof,’ he said, ‘and it’s all stone—all right, + Panther, don’t keep pulling at my jacket! The air must be all right + because of the matches, silly, and there are—look out—there + are steps down.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, don’t let’s go any farther,’ said Jane, in an agony of reluctance (a + very painful thing, by the way, to be in). ‘I’m sure there are snakes, or + dens of lions, or something. Do let’s go back, and come some other time, + with candles, and bellows for the fire-damp.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me get in front of you, then,’ said the stern voice of Robert, from + behind. ‘This is exactly the place for buried treasure, and I’m going on, + anyway; you can stay behind if you like.’ + </p> + <p> + And then, of course, Jane consented to go on. + </p> + <p> + So, very slowly and carefully, the children went down the steps—there + were seventeen of them—and at the bottom of the steps were more + passages branching four ways, and a sort of low arch on the right-hand + side made Cyril wonder what it could be, for it was too low to be the + beginning of another passage. + </p> + <p> + So he knelt down and lit a match, and stooping very low he peeped in. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s SOMETHING,’ he said, and reached out his hand. It touched + something that felt more like a damp bag of marbles than anything else + that Cyril had ever touched. + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe it IS a buried treasure,’ he cried. + </p> + <p> + And it was; for even as Anthea cried, ‘Oh, hurry up, Squirrel—fetch + it out!’ Cyril pulled out a rotting canvas bag—about as big as the + paper ones the greengrocer gives you with Barcelona nuts in for sixpence. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s more of it, a lot more,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + As he pulled the rotten bag gave way, and the gold coins ran and span and + jumped and bumped and chinked and clinked on the floor of the dark + passage. + </p> + <p> + I wonder what you would say if you suddenly came upon a buried treasure? + What Cyril said was, ‘Oh, bother—I’ve burnt my fingers!’ and as he + spoke he dropped the match. ‘AND IT WAS THE LAST!’ he added. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment of desperate silence. Then Jane began to cry. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t,’ said Anthea, ‘don’t, Pussy—you’ll exhaust the air if you + cry. We can get out all right.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Jane, through her sobs, ‘and find the Phoenix has come back + and gone away again—because it thought we’d gone home some other + way, and—Oh, I WISH we hadn’t come.’ + </p> + <p> + Every one stood quite still—only Anthea cuddled Jane up to her and + tried to wipe her eyes in the dark. + </p> + <p> + ‘D-DON’T,’ said Jane; ‘that’s my EAR—I’m not crying with my ears.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, let’s get on out,’ said Robert; but that was not so easy, for no + one could remember exactly which way they had come. It is very difficult + to remember things in the dark, unless you have matches with you, and then + of course it is quite different, even if you don’t strike one. + </p> + <p> + Every one had come to agree with Jane’s constant wish—and despair + was making the darkness blacker than ever, when quite suddenly the floor + seemed to tip up—and a strong sensation of being in a whirling lift + came upon every one. All eyes were closed—one’s eyes always are in + the dark, don’t you think? When the whirling feeling stopped, Cyril said + ‘Earthquakes!’ and they all opened their eyes. + </p> + <p> + They were in their own dingy breakfast-room at home, and oh, how light and + bright and safe and pleasant and altogether delightful it seemed after + that dark underground tunnel! The carpet lay on the floor, looking as calm + as though it had never been for an excursion in its life. On the + mantelpiece stood the Phoenix, waiting with an air of modest yet sterling + worth for the thanks of the children. + </p> + <p> + ‘But how DID you do it?’ they asked, when every one had thanked the + Phoenix again and again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I just went and got a wish from your friend the Psammead.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But how DID you know where to find it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I found that out from the carpet; these wishing creatures always know all + about each other—they’re so clannish; like the Scots, you know—all + related.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, the carpet can’t talk, can it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then how—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How did I get the Psammead’s address? I tell you I got it from the + carpet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘DID it speak then?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said the Phoenix, thoughtfully, ‘it didn’t speak, but I gathered my + information from something in its manner. I was always a singularly + observant bird.’ + </p> + <p> + It was not till after the cold mutton and the jam tart, as well as the tea + and bread-and-butter, that any one found time to regret the golden + treasure which had been left scattered on the floor of the underground + passage, and which, indeed, no one had thought of till now, since the + moment when Cyril burnt his fingers at the flame of the last match. + </p> + <p> + ‘What owls and goats we were!’ said Robert. ‘Look how we’ve always wanted + treasure—and now—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind,’ said Anthea, trying as usual to make the best of it. ‘We’ll + go back again and get it all, and then we’ll give everybody presents.’ + </p> + <p> + More than a quarter of an hour passed most agreeably in arranging what + presents should be given to whom, and, when the claims of generosity had + been satisfied, the talk ran for fifty minutes on what they would buy for + themselves. + </p> + <p> + It was Cyril who broke in on Robert’s almost too technical account of the + motor-car on which he meant to go to and from school— + </p> + <p> + ‘There!’ he said. ‘Dry up. It’s no good. We can’t ever go back. We don’t + know where it is.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t YOU know?’ Jane asked the Phoenix, wistfully. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in the least,’ the Phoenix replied, in a tone of amiable regret. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then we’ve lost the treasure,’ said Cyril. And they had. + </p> + <p> + ‘But we’ve got the carpet and the Phoenix,’ said Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Excuse me,’ said the bird, with an air of wounded dignity, ‘I do SO HATE + to seem to interfere, but surely you MUST mean the Phoenix and the + carpet?’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 3. THE QUEEN COOK + </h2> + <p> + It was on a Saturday that the children made their first glorious journey + on the wishing carpet. Unless you are too young to read at all, you will + know that the next day must have been Sunday. + </p> + <p> + Sunday at 18, Camden Terrace, Camden Town, was always a very pretty day. + Father always brought home flowers on Saturday, so that the + breakfast-table was extra beautiful. In November, of course, the flowers + were chrysanthemums, yellow and coppery coloured. Then there were always + sausages on toast for breakfast, and these are rapture, after six days of + Kentish Town Road eggs at fourteen a shilling. + </p> + <p> + On this particular Sunday there were fowls for dinner, a kind of food that + is generally kept for birthdays and grand occasions, and there was an + angel pudding, when rice and milk and oranges and white icing do their + best to make you happy. + </p> + <p> + After dinner father was very sleepy indeed, because he had been working + hard all the week; but he did not yield to the voice that said, ‘Go and + have an hour’s rest.’ He nursed the Lamb, who had a horrid cough that cook + said was whooping-cough as sure as eggs, and he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Come along, kiddies; I’ve got a ripping book from the library, called The + Golden Age, and I’ll read it to you.’ + </p> + <p> + Mother settled herself on the drawing-room sofa, and said she could listen + quite nicely with her eyes shut. The Lamb snugged into the ‘armchair + corner’ of daddy’s arm, and the others got into a happy heap on the + hearth-rug. At first, of course, there were too many feet and knees and + shoulders and elbows, but real comfort was actually settling down on them, + and the Phoenix and the carpet were put away on the back top shelf of + their minds (beautiful things that could be taken out and played with + later), when a surly solid knock came at the drawing-room door. It opened + an angry inch, and the cook’s voice said, ‘Please, m’, may I speak to you + a moment?’ + </p> + <p> + Mother looked at father with a desperate expression. Then she put her + pretty sparkly Sunday shoes down from the sofa, and stood up in them and + sighed. + </p> + <p> + ‘As good fish in the sea,’ said father, cheerfully, and it was not till + much later that the children understood what he meant. + </p> + <p> + Mother went out into the passage, which is called ‘the hall’, where the + umbrella-stand is, and the picture of the ‘Monarch of the Glen’ in a + yellow shining frame, with brown spots on the Monarch from the damp in the + house before last, and there was cook, very red and damp in the face, and + with a clean apron tied on all crooked over the dirty one that she had + dished up those dear delightful chickens in. She stood there and she + seemed to get redder and damper, and she twisted the corner of her apron + round her fingers, and she said very shortly and fiercely— + </p> + <p> + ‘If you please ma’am, I should wish to leave at my day month.’ Mother + leaned against the hatstand. The children could see her looking pale + through the crack of the door, because she had been very kind to the cook, + and had given her a holiday only the day before, and it seemed so very + unkind of the cook to want to go like this, and on a Sunday too. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, what’s the matter?’ mother said. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s them children,’ the cook replied, and somehow the children all felt + that they had known it from the first. They did not remember having done + anything extra wrong, but it is so frightfully easy to displease a cook. + ‘It’s them children: there’s that there new carpet in their room, covered + thick with mud, both sides, beastly yellow mud, and sakes alive knows + where they got it. And all that muck to clean up on a Sunday! It’s not my + place, and it’s not my intentions, so I don’t deceive you, ma’am, and but + for them limbs, which they is if ever there was, it’s not a bad place, + though I says it, and I wouldn’t wish to leave, but—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m very sorry,’ said mother, gently. ‘I will speak to the children. And + you had better think it over, and if you REALLY wish to go, tell me + to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + Next day mother had a quiet talk with cook, and cook said she didn’t mind + if she stayed on a bit, just to see. + </p> + <p> + But meantime the question of the muddy carpet had been gone into + thoroughly by father and mother. Jane’s candid explanation that the mud + had come from the bottom of a foreign tower where there was buried + treasure was received with such chilling disbelief that the others limited + their defence to an expression of sorrow, and of a determination ‘not to + do it again’. But father said (and mother agreed with him, because mothers + have to agree with fathers, and not because it was her own idea) that + children who coated a carpet on both sides with thick mud, and when they + were asked for an explanation could only talk silly nonsense—that + meant Jane’s truthful statement—were not fit to have a carpet at + all, and, indeed, SHOULDN’T have one for a week! + </p> + <p> + So the carpet was brushed (with tea-leaves, too) which was the only + comfort Anthea could think of, and folded up and put away in the cupboard + at the top of the stairs, and daddy put the key in his trousers pocket. + ‘Till Saturday,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind,’ said Anthea, ‘we’ve got the Phoenix.’ + </p> + <p> + But, as it happened, they hadn’t. The Phoenix was nowhere to be found, and + everything had suddenly settled down from the rosy wild beauty of magic + happenings to the common damp brownness of ordinary November life in + Camden Town—and there was the nursery floor all bare boards in the + middle and brown oilcloth round the outside, and the bareness and + yellowness of the middle floor showed up the blackbeetles with terrible + distinctness, when the poor things came out in the evening, as usual, to + try to make friends with the children. But the children never would. + </p> + <p> + The Sunday ended in gloom, which even junket for supper in the blue + Dresden bowl could hardly lighten at all. Next day the Lamb’s cough was + worse. It certainly seemed very whoopy, and the doctor came in his + brougham carriage. + </p> + <p> + Every one tried to bear up under the weight of the sorrow which it was to + know that the wishing carpet was locked up and the Phoenix mislaid. A good + deal of time was spent in looking for the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a bird of its word,’ said Anthea. ‘I’m sure it’s not deserted us. + But you know it had a most awfully long fly from wherever it was to near + Rochester and back, and I expect the poor thing’s feeling tired out and + wants rest. I am sure we may trust it.’ + </p> + <p> + The others tried to feel sure of this, too, but it was hard. + </p> + <p> + No one could be expected to feel very kindly towards the cook, since it + was entirely through her making such a fuss about a little foreign mud + that the carpet had been taken away. + </p> + <p> + ‘She might have told us,’ said Jane, ‘and Panther and I would have cleaned + it with tea-leaves.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She’s a cantankerous cat,’ said Robert. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shan’t say what I think about her,’ said Anthea, primly, ‘because it + would be evil speaking, lying, and slandering.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not lying to say she’s a disagreeable pig, and a beastly blue-nosed + Bozwoz,’ said Cyril, who had read The Eyes of Light, and intended to talk + like Tony as soon as he could teach Robert to talk like Paul. + </p> + <p> + And all the children, even Anthea, agreed that even if she wasn’t a + blue-nosed Bozwoz, they wished cook had never been born. + </p> + <p> + But I ask you to believe that they didn’t do all the things on purpose + which so annoyed the cook during the following week, though I daresay the + things would not have happened if the cook had been a favourite. This is a + mystery. Explain it if you can. The things that had happened were as + follows: + </p> + <p> + Sunday.—Discovery of foreign mud on both sides of the carpet. + </p> + <p> + Monday.—Liquorice put on to boil with aniseed balls in a saucepan. + Anthea did this, because she thought it would be good for the Lamb’s + cough. The whole thing forgotten, and bottom of saucepan burned out. It + was the little saucepan lined with white that was kept for the baby’s + milk. + </p> + <p> + Tuesday.—A dead mouse found in pantry. Fish-slice taken to dig grave + with. By regrettable accident fish-slice broken. Defence: ‘The cook + oughtn’t to keep dead mice in pantries.’ + </p> + <p> + Wednesday.—Chopped suet left on kitchen table. Robert added chopped + soap, but he says he thought the suet was soap too. + </p> + <p> + Thursday.—Broke the kitchen window by falling against it during a + perfectly fair game of bandits in the area. + </p> + <p> + Friday.—Stopped up grating of kitchen sink with putty and filled + sink with water to make a lake to sail paper boats in. Went away and left + the tap running. Kitchen hearthrug and cook’s shoes ruined. + </p> + <p> + On Saturday the carpet was restored. There had been plenty of time during + the week to decide where it should be asked to go when they did get it + back. + </p> + <p> + Mother had gone over to granny’s, and had not taken the Lamb because he + had a bad cough, which, cook repeatedly said, was whooping-cough as sure + as eggs is eggs. + </p> + <p> + ‘But we’ll take him out, a ducky darling,’ said Anthea. ‘We’ll take him + somewhere where you can’t have whooping-cough. Don’t be so silly, Robert. + If he DOES talk about it no one’ll take any notice. He’s always talking + about things he’s never seen.’ + </p> + <p> + So they dressed the Lamb and themselves in out-of-doors clothes, and the + Lamb chuckled and coughed, and laughed and coughed again, poor dear, and + all the chairs and tables were moved off the carpet by the boys, while + Jane nursed the Lamb, and Anthea rushed through the house in one last wild + hunt for the missing Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s no use waiting for it,’ she said, reappearing breathless in the + breakfast-room. ‘But I know it hasn’t deserted us. It’s a bird of its + word.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite so,’ said the gentle voice of the Phoenix from beneath the table. + </p> + <p> + Every one fell on its knees and looked up, and there was the Phoenix + perched on a crossbar of wood that ran across under the table, and had + once supported a drawer, in the happy days before the drawer had been used + as a boat, and its bottom unfortunately trodden out by Raggett’s Really + Reliable School Boots on the feet of Robert. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve been here all the time,’ said the Phoenix, yawning politely behind + its claw. ‘If you wanted me you should have recited the ode of invocation; + it’s seven thousand lines long, and written in very pure and beautiful + Greek.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Couldn’t you tell it us in English?’ asked Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s rather long, isn’t it?’ said Jane, jumping the Lamb on her knee. + </p> + <p> + ‘Couldn’t you make a short English version, like Tate and Brady?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, come along, do,’ said Robert, holding out his hand. ‘Come along, good + old Phoenix.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good old BEAUTIFUL Phoenix,’ it corrected shyly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good old BEAUTIFUL Phoenix, then. Come along, come along,’ said Robert, + impatiently, with his hand still held out. + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix fluttered at once on to his wrist. + </p> + <p> + ‘This amiable youth,’ it said to the others, ‘has miraculously been able + to put the whole meaning of the seven thousand lines of Greek invocation + into one English hexameter—a little misplaced some of the words—but— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, come along, come along, good old beautiful Phoenix!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not perfect, I admit—but not bad for a boy of his age.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, now then,’ said Robert, stepping back on to the carpet with the + golden Phoenix on his wrist. + </p> + <p> + ‘You look like the king’s falconer,’ said Jane, sitting down on the carpet + with the baby on her lap. + </p> + <p> + Robert tried to go on looking like it. Cyril and Anthea stood on the + carpet. + </p> + <p> + ‘We shall have to get back before dinner,’ said Cyril, ‘or cook will blow + the gaff.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She hasn’t sneaked since Sunday,’ said Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘She—’ Robert was beginning, when the door burst open and the cook, + fierce and furious, came in like a whirlwind and stood on the corner of + the carpet, with a broken basin in one hand and a threat in the other, + which was clenched. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look ‘ere!’ she cried, ‘my only basin; and what the powers am I to make + the beefsteak and kidney pudding in that your ma ordered for your dinners? + You don’t deserve no dinners, so yer don’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m awfully sorry, cook,’ said Anthea gently; ‘it was my fault, and I + forgot to tell you about it. It got broken when we were telling our + fortunes with melted lead, you know, and I meant to tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Meant to tell me,’ replied the cook; she was red with anger, and really I + don’t wonder—‘meant to tell! Well, <i>I</i> mean to tell, too. I’ve + held my tongue this week through, because the missus she said to me quiet + like, “We mustn’t expect old heads on young shoulders,” but now I shan’t + hold it no longer. There was the soap you put in our pudding, and me and + Eliza never so much as breathed it to your ma—though well we might—and + the saucepan, and the fish-slice, and—My gracious cats alive! what + ‘ave you got that blessed child dressed up in his outdoors for?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We aren’t going to take him out,’ said Anthea; ‘at least—’ She + stopped short, for though they weren’t going to take him out in the + Kentish Town Road, they certainly intended to take him elsewhere. But not + at all where cook meant when she said ‘out’. This confused the truthful + Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Out!’ said the cook, ‘that I’ll take care you don’t;’ and she snatched + the Lamb from the lap of Jane, while Anthea and Robert caught her by the + skirts and apron. ‘Look here,’ said Cyril, in stern desperation, ‘will you + go away, and make your pudding in a pie-dish, or a flower-pot, or a + hot-water can, or something?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not me,’ said the cook, briefly; ‘and leave this precious poppet for you + to give his deathercold to.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I warn you,’ said Cyril, solemnly. ‘Beware, ere yet it be too late.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Late yourself the little popsey-wopsey,’ said the cook, with angry + tenderness. ‘They shan’t take it out, no more they shan’t. And—Where + did you get that there yellow fowl?’ She pointed to the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + Even Anthea saw that unless the cook lost her situation the loss would be + theirs. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish,’ she said suddenly, ‘we were on a sunny southern shore, where + there can’t be any whooping-cough.’ + </p> + <p> + She said it through the frightened howls of the Lamb, and the sturdy + scoldings of the cook, and instantly the giddy-go-round-and-falling-lift + feeling swept over the whole party, and the cook sat down flat on the + carpet, holding the screaming Lamb tight to her stout print-covered self, + and calling on St Bridget to help her. She was an Irishwoman. + </p> + <p> + The moment the tipsy-topsy-turvy feeling stopped, the cook opened her + eyes, gave one sounding screech and shut them again, and Anthea took the + opportunity to get the desperately howling Lamb into her own arms. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all right,’ she said; ‘own Panther’s got you. Look at the trees, and + the sand, and the shells, and the great big tortoises. Oh DEAR, how hot it + is!’ + </p> + <p> + It certainly was; for the trusty carpet had laid itself out on a southern + shore that was sunny and no mistake, as Robert remarked. The greenest of + green slopes led up to glorious groves where palm-trees and all the + tropical flowers and fruits that you read of in Westward Ho! and Fair Play + were growing in rich profusion. Between the green, green slope and the + blue, blue sea lay a stretch of sand that looked like a carpet of jewelled + cloth of gold, for it was not greyish as our northern sand is, but yellow + and changing—opal-coloured like sunshine and rainbows. And at the + very moment when the wild, whirling, blinding, deafening, tumbling + upside-downness of the carpet-moving stopped, the children had the + happiness of seeing three large live turtles waddle down to the edge of + the sea and disappear in the water. And it was hotter than you can + possibly imagine, unless you think of ovens on a baking-day. + </p> + <p> + Every one without an instant’s hesitation tore off its London-in-November + outdoor clothes, and Anthea took off the Lamb’s highwayman blue coat and + his three-cornered hat, and then his jersey, and then the Lamb himself + suddenly slipped out of his little blue tight breeches and stood up happy + and hot in his little white shirt. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m sure it’s much warmer than the seaside in the summer,’ said Anthea. + ‘Mother always lets us go barefoot then.’ + </p> + <p> + So the Lamb’s shoes and socks and gaiters came off, and he stood digging + his happy naked pink toes into the golden smooth sand. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m a little white duck-dickie,’ said he—‘a little white + duck-dickie what swims,’ and splashed quacking into a sandy pool. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let him,’ said Anthea; ‘it can’t hurt him. Oh, how hot it is!’ + </p> + <p> + The cook suddenly opened her eyes and screamed, shut them, screamed again, + opened her eyes once more and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, drat my cats alive, what’s all this? It’s a dream, I expect. + </p> + <p> + Well, it’s the best I ever dreamed. I’ll look it up in the dream-book + to-morrow. Seaside and trees and a carpet to sit on. I never did!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here,’ said Cyril, ‘it isn’t a dream; it’s real.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ho yes!’ said the cook; ‘they always says that in dreams.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s REAL, I tell you,’ Robert said, stamping his foot. ‘I’m not going to + tell you how it’s done, because that’s our secret.’ He winked heavily at + each of the others in turn. ‘But you wouldn’t go away and make that + pudding, so we HAD to bring you, and I hope you like it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do that, and no mistake,’ said the cook unexpectedly; ‘and it being a + dream it don’t matter what I say; and I WILL say, if it’s my last word, + that of all the aggravating little varmints—’ ‘Calm yourself, my + good woman,’ said the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good woman, indeed,’ said the cook; ‘good woman yourself’ Then she saw + who it was that had spoken. ‘Well, if I ever,’ said she; ‘this is + something like a dream! Yellow fowls a-talking and all! I’ve heard of + such, but never did I think to see the day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then,’ said Cyril, impatiently, ‘sit here and see the day now. It’s + a jolly fine day. Here, you others—a council!’ They walked along the + shore till they were out of earshot of the cook, who still sat gazing + about her with a happy, dreamy, vacant smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here,’ said Cyril, ‘we must roll the carpet up and hide it, so that + we can get at it at any moment. The Lamb can be getting rid of his + whooping-cough all the morning, and we can look about; and if the savages + on this island are cannibals, we’ll hook it, and take her back. And if + not, we’ll LEAVE HER HERE.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is that being kind to servants and animals, like the clergyman said?’ + asked Jane. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nor she isn’t kind,’ retorted Cyril. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well—anyway,’ said Anthea, ‘the safest thing is to leave the carpet + there with her sitting on it. Perhaps it’ll be a lesson to her, and + anyway, if she thinks it’s a dream it won’t matter what she says when she + gets home.’ + </p> + <p> + So the extra coats and hats and mufflers were piled on the carpet. Cyril + shouldered the well and happy Lamb, the Phoenix perched on Robert’s wrist, + and ‘the party of explorers prepared to enter the interior’. + </p> + <p> + The grassy slope was smooth, but under the trees there were tangled + creepers with bright, strange-shaped flowers, and it was not easy to walk. + </p> + <p> + ‘We ought to have an explorer’s axe,’ said Robert. ‘I shall ask father to + give me one for Christmas.’ + </p> + <p> + There were curtains of creepers with scented blossoms hanging from the + trees, and brilliant birds darted about quite close to their faces. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, tell me honestly,’ said the Phoenix, ‘are there any birds here + handsomer than I am? Don’t be afraid of hurting my feelings—I’m a + modest bird, I hope.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not one of them,’ said Robert, with conviction, ‘is a patch upon you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I was never a vain bird,’ said the Phoenix, ‘but I own that you confirm + my own impression. I will take a flight.’ It circled in the air for a + moment, and, returning to Robert’s wrist, went on, ‘There is a path to the + left.’ + </p> + <p> + And there was. So now the children went on through the wood more quickly + and comfortably, the girls picking flowers and the Lamb inviting the + ‘pretty dickies’ to observe that he himself was a ‘little white + real-water-wet duck!’ + </p> + <p> + And all this time he hadn’t whooping-coughed once. + </p> + <p> + The path turned and twisted, and, always threading their way amid a tangle + of flowers, the children suddenly passed a corner and found themselves in + a forest clearing, where there were a lot of pointed huts—the huts, + as they knew at once, of SAVAGES. + </p> + <p> + The boldest heart beat more quickly. Suppose they WERE cannibals. It was a + long way back to the carpet. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hadn’t we better go back?’ said Jane. ‘Go NOW,’ she said, and her voice + trembled a little. ‘Suppose they eat us.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nonsense, Pussy,’ said Cyril, firmly. ‘Look, there’s a goat tied up. That + shows they don’t eat PEOPLE.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s go on and say we’re missionaries,’ Robert suggested. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shouldn’t advise THAT,’ said the Phoenix, very earnestly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, for one thing, it isn’t true,’ replied the golden bird. + </p> + <p> + It was while they stood hesitating on the edge of the clearing that a tall + man suddenly came out of one of the huts. He had hardly any clothes, and + his body all over was a dark and beautiful coppery colour—just like + the chrysanthemums father had brought home on Saturday. In his hand he + held a spear. The whites of his eyes and the white of his teeth were the + only light things about him, except that where the sun shone on his shiny + brown body it looked white, too. If you will look carefully at the next + shiny savage you meet with next to nothing on, you will see at once—if + the sun happens to be shining at the time—that I am right about + this. + </p> + <p> + The savage looked at the children. Concealment was impossible. He uttered + a shout that was more like ‘Oo goggery bag-wag’ than anything else the + children had ever heard, and at once brown coppery people leapt out of + every hut, and swarmed like ants about the clearing. There was no time for + discussion, and no one wanted to discuss anything, anyhow. Whether these + coppery people were cannibals or not now seemed to matter very little. + </p> + <p> + Without an instant’s hesitation the four children turned and ran back + along the forest path; the only pause was Anthea’s. She stood back to let + Cyril pass, because he was carrying the Lamb, who screamed with delight. + (He had not whooping-coughed a single once since the carpet landed him on + the island.) + </p> + <p> + ‘Gee-up, Squirrel; gee-gee,’ he shouted, and Cyril did gee-up. The path + was a shorter cut to the beach than the creeper-covered way by which they + had come, and almost directly they saw through the trees the shining + blue-and-gold-and-opal of sand and sea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stick to it,’ cried Cyril, breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + They did stick to it; they tore down the sands—they could hear + behind them as they ran the patter of feet which they knew, too well, were + copper-coloured. + </p> + <p> + The sands were golden and opal-coloured—and BARE. There were wreaths + of tropic seaweed, there were rich tropic shells of the kind you would not + buy in the Kentish Town Road under at least fifteen pence a pair. There + were turtles basking lumpily on the water’s edge—but no cook, no + clothes, and no carpet. + </p> + <p> + ‘On, on! Into the sea!’ gasped Cyril. ‘They MUST hate water. I’ve—heard—savages + always—dirty.’ + </p> + <p> + Their feet were splashing in the warm shallows before his breathless words + were ended. The calm baby-waves were easy to go through. It is warm work + running for your life in the tropics, and the coolness of the water was + delicious. They were up to their arm-pits now, and Jane was up to her + chin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look!’ said the Phoenix. ‘What are they pointing at?’ + </p> + <p> + The children turned; and there, a little to the west was a head—a + head they knew, with a crooked cap upon it. It was the head of the cook. + </p> + <p> + For some reason or other the savages had stopped at the water’s edge and + were all talking at the top of their voices, and all were pointing + copper-coloured fingers, stiff with interest and excitement, at the head + of the cook. + </p> + <p> + The children hurried towards her as quickly as the water would let them. + </p> + <p> + ‘What on earth did you come out here for?’ Robert shouted; ‘and where on + earth’s the carpet?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not on earth, bless you,’ replied the cook, happily; ‘it’s UNDER ME—in + the water. I got a bit warm setting there in the sun, and I just says, “I + wish I was in a cold bath”—just like that—and next minute here + I was! It’s all part of the dream.’ + </p> + <p> + Every one at once saw how extremely fortunate it was that the carpet had + had the sense to take the cook to the nearest and largest bath—the + sea, and how terrible it would have been if the carpet had taken itself + and her to the stuffy little bath-room of the house in Camden Town! + </p> + <p> + ‘Excuse me,’ said the Phoenix’s soft voice, breaking in on the general + sigh of relief, ‘but I think these brown people want your cook.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To—to eat?’ whispered Jane, as well as she could through the water + which the plunging Lamb was dashing in her face with happy fat hands and + feet. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hardly,’ rejoined the bird. ‘Who wants cooks to EAT? Cooks are ENGAGED, + not eaten. They wish to engage her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How can you understand what they say?’ asked Cyril, doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s as easy as kissing your claw,’ replied the bird. ‘I speak and + understand ALL languages, even that of your cook, which is difficult and + unpleasing. It’s quite easy, when you know how it’s done. It just comes to + you. I should advise you to beach the carpet and land the cargo—the + cook, I mean. You can take my word for it, the copper-coloured ones will + not harm you now.’ + </p> + <p> + It is impossible not to take the word of a Phoenix when it tells you to. + So the children at once got hold of the corners of the carpet, and, + pulling it from under the cook, towed it slowly in through the shallowing + water, and at last spread it on the sand. The cook, who had followed, + instantly sat down on it, and at once the copper-coloured natives, now + strangely humble, formed a ring round the carpet, and fell on their faces + on the rainbow-and-gold sand. The tallest savage spoke in this position, + which must have been very awkward for him; and Jane noticed that it took + him quite a long time to get the sand out of his mouth afterwards. + </p> + <p> + ‘He says,’ the Phoenix remarked after some time, ‘that they wish to engage + your cook permanently.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Without a character?’ asked Anthea, who had heard her mother speak of + such things. + </p> + <p> + ‘They do not wish to engage her as cook, but as queen; and queens need not + have characters.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a breathless pause. + </p> + <p> + ‘WELL,’ said Cyril, ‘of all the choices! But there’s no accounting for + tastes.’ + </p> + <p> + Every one laughed at the idea of the cook’s being engaged as queen; they + could not help it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not advise laughter,’ warned the Phoenix, ruffling out his golden + feathers, which were extremely wet. ‘And it’s not their own choice. It + seems that there is an ancient prophecy of this copper-coloured tribe that + a great queen should some day arise out of the sea with a white crown on + her head, and—and—well, you see! There’s the crown!’ + </p> + <p> + It pointed its claw at cook’s cap; and a very dirty cap it was, because it + was the end of the week. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the white crown,’ it said; ‘at least, it’s nearly white—very + white indeed compared to the colour THEY are—and anyway, it’s quite + white enough.’ + </p> + <p> + Cyril addressed the cook. ‘Look here!’ said he, ‘these brown people want + you to be their queen. They’re only savages, and they don’t know any + better. Now would you really like to stay? or, if you’ll promise not to be + so jolly aggravating at home, and not to tell any one a word about to-day, + we’ll take you back to Camden Town.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, you don’t,’ said the cook, in firm, undoubting tones. ‘I’ve always + wanted to be the Queen, God bless her! and I always thought what a good + one I should make; and now I’m going to. IF it’s only in a dream, it’s + well worth while. And I don’t go back to that nasty underground kitchen, + and me blamed for everything; that I don’t, not till the dream’s finished + and I wake up with that nasty bell a rang-tanging in my ears—so I + tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you SURE,’ Anthea anxiously asked the Phoenix, ‘that she will be + quite safe here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She will find the nest of a queen a very precious and soft thing,’ said + the bird, solemnly. + </p> + <p> + ‘There—you hear,’ said Cyril. ‘You’re in for a precious soft thing, + so mind you’re a good queen, cook. It’s more than you’d any right to + expect, but long may you reign.’ + </p> + <p> + Some of the cook’s copper-coloured subjects now advanced from the forest + with long garlands of beautiful flowers, white and sweet-scented, and hung + them respectfully round the neck of their new sovereign. + </p> + <p> + ‘What! all them lovely bokays for me!’ exclaimed the enraptured cook. + ‘Well, this here is something LIKE a dream, I must say.’ + </p> + <p> + She sat up very straight on the carpet, and the copper-coloured ones, + themselves wreathed in garlands of the gayest flowers, madly stuck parrot + feathers in their hair and began to dance. It was a dance such as you have + never seen; it made the children feel almost sure that the cook was right, + and that they were all in a dream. Small, strange-shaped drums were + beaten, odd-sounding songs were sung, and the dance got faster and faster + and odder and odder, till at last all the dancers fell on the sand tired + out. + </p> + <p> + The new queen, with her white crown-cap all on one side, clapped wildly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Brayvo!’ she cried, ‘brayvo! It’s better than the Albert Edward + Music-hall in the Kentish Town Road. Go it again!’ + </p> + <p> + But the Phoenix would not translate this request into the copper-coloured + language; and when the savages had recovered their breath, they implored + their queen to leave her white escort and come with them to their huts. + </p> + <p> + ‘The finest shall be yours, O queen,’ said they. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well—so long!’ said the cook, getting heavily on to her feet, when + the Phoenix had translated this request. ‘No more kitchens and attics for + me, thank you. I’m off to my royal palace, I am; and I only wish this here + dream would keep on for ever and ever.’ + </p> + <p> + She picked up the ends of the garlands that trailed round her feet, and + the children had one last glimpse of her striped stockings and worn + elastic-side boots before she disappeared into the shadow of the forest, + surrounded by her dusky retainers, singing songs of rejoicing as they + went. + </p> + <p> + ‘WELL!’ said Cyril, ‘I suppose she’s all right, but they don’t seem to + count us for much, one way or the other.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ said the Phoenix, ‘they think you’re merely dreams. The prophecy + said that the queen would arise from the waves with a white crown and + surrounded by white dream-children. That’s about what they think YOU are!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what about dinner?’ said Robert, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + ‘There won’t be any dinner, with no cook and no pudding-basin,’ Anthea + reminded him; ‘but there’s always bread-and-butter.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s get home,’ said Cyril. + </p> + <p> + The Lamb was furiously unwishful to be dressed in his warm clothes again, + but Anthea and Jane managed it, by force disguised as coaxing, and he + never once whooping-coughed. + </p> + <p> + Then every one put on its own warm things and took its place on the + carpet. + </p> + <p> + A sound of uncouth singing still came from beyond the trees where the + copper-coloured natives were crooning songs of admiration and respect to + their white-crowned queen. Then Anthea said ‘Home,’ just as duchesses and + other people do to their coachmen, and the intelligent carpet in one + whirling moment laid itself down in its proper place on the nursery floor. + And at that very moment Eliza opened the door and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Cook’s gone! I can’t find her anywhere, and there’s no dinner ready. She + hasn’t taken her box nor yet her outdoor things. She just ran out to see + the time, I shouldn’t wonder—the kitchen clock never did give her + satisfaction—and she’s got run over or fell down in a fit as likely + as not. You’ll have to put up with the cold bacon for your dinners; and + what on earth you’ve got your outdoor things on for I don’t know. And then + I’ll slip out and see if they know anything about her at the + police-station.’ + </p> + <p> + But nobody ever knew anything about the cook any more, except the + children, and, later, one other person. + </p> + <p> + Mother was so upset at losing the cook, and so anxious about her, that + Anthea felt most miserable, as though she had done something very wrong + indeed. She woke several times in the night, and at last decided that she + would ask the Phoenix to let her tell her mother all about it. But there + was no opportunity to do this next day, because the Phoenix, as usual, had + gone to sleep in some out-of-the-way spot, after asking, as a special + favour, not to be disturbed for twenty-four hours. + </p> + <p> + The Lamb never whooping-coughed once all that Sunday, and mother and + father said what good medicine it was that the doctor had given him. But + the children knew that it was the southern shore where you can’t have + whooping-cough that had cured him. The Lamb babbled of coloured sand and + water, but no one took any notice of that. He often talked of things that + hadn’t happened. + </p> + <p> + It was on Monday morning, very early indeed, that Anthea woke and suddenly + made up her mind. She crept downstairs in her night-gown (it was very + chilly), sat down on the carpet, and with a beating heart wished herself + on the sunny shore where you can’t have whooping-cough, and next moment + there she was. + </p> + <p> + The sand was splendidly warm. She could feel it at once, even through the + carpet. She folded the carpet, and put it over her shoulders like a shawl, + for she was determined not to be parted from it for a single instant, no + matter how hot it might be to wear. + </p> + <p> + Then trembling a little, and trying to keep up her courage by saying over + and over, ‘It is my DUTY, it IS my duty,’ she went up the forest path. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, here you are again,’ said the cook, directly she saw Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘This dream does keep on!’ + </p> + <p> + The cook was dressed in a white robe; she had no shoes and stockings and + no cap and she was sitting under a screen of palm-leaves, for it was + afternoon in the island, and blazing hot. She wore a flower wreath on her + hair, and copper-coloured boys were fanning her with peacock’s feathers. + </p> + <p> + ‘They’ve got the cap put away,’ she said. ‘They seem to think a lot of it. + Never saw one before, I expect.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you happy?’ asked Anthea, panting; the sight of the cook as queen + quite took her breath away. + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe you, my dear,’ said the cook, heartily. ‘Nothing to do unless + you want to. But I’m getting rested now. Tomorrow I’m going to start + cleaning out my hut, if the dream keeps on, and I shall teach them + cooking; they burns everything to a cinder now unless they eats it raw.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But can you talk to them?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lor’ love a duck, yes!’ the happy cook-queen replied; ‘it’s quite easy to + pick up. I always thought I should be quick at foreign languages. I’ve + taught them to understand “dinner,” and “I want a drink,” and “You leave + me be,” already.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you don’t want anything?’ Anthea asked earnestly and anxiously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not me, miss; except if you’d only go away. I’m afraid of me waking up + with that bell a-going if you keep on stopping here a-talking to me. Long + as this here dream keeps up I’m as happy as a queen.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Goodbye, then,’ said Anthea, gaily, for her conscience was clear now. + </p> + <p> + She hurried into the wood, threw herself on the ground, and said ‘Home’—and + there she was, rolled in the carpet on the nursery floor. + </p> + <p> + ‘SHE’S all right, anyhow,’ said Anthea, and went back to bed. ‘I’m glad + somebody’s pleased. But mother will never believe me when I tell her.’ + </p> + <p> + The story is indeed a little difficult to believe. Still, you might try. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 4. TWO BAZAARS + </h2> + <p> + Mother was really a great dear. She was pretty and she was loving, and + most frightfully good when you were ill, and always kind, and almost + always just. That is, she was just when she understood things. But of + course she did not always understand things. No one understands + everything, and mothers are not angels, though a good many of them come + pretty near it. The children knew that mother always WANTED to do what was + best for them, even if she was not clever enough to know exactly what was + the best. That was why all of them, but much more particularly Anthea, + felt rather uncomfortable at keeping the great secret from her of the + wishing carpet and the Phoenix. And Anthea, whose inside mind was made so + that she was able to be much more uncomfortable than the others, had + decided that she MUST tell her mother the truth, however little likely it + was that her mother would believe it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then I shall have done what’s right,’ said she to the Phoenix; ‘and if + she doesn’t believe me it won’t be my fault—will it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in the least,’ said the golden bird. ‘And she won’t, so you’re quite + safe.’ + </p> + <p> + Anthea chose a time when she was doing her home-lessons—they were + Algebra and Latin, German, English, and Euclid—and she asked her + mother whether she might come and do them in the drawing-room—‘so as + to be quiet,’ she said to her mother; and to herself she said, ‘And that’s + not the real reason. I hope I shan’t grow up a LIAR.’ + </p> + <p> + Mother said, ‘Of course, dearie,’ and Anthea started swimming through a + sea of x’s and y’s and z’s. Mother was sitting at the mahogany bureau + writing letters. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mother dear,’ said Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, love-a-duck,’ said mother. + </p> + <p> + ‘About cook,’ said Anthea. ‘<i>I</i> know where she is.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you, dear?’ said mother. ‘Well, I wouldn’t take her back after the way + she has behaved.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not her fault,’ said Anthea. ‘May I tell you about it from the + beginning?’ + </p> + <p> + Mother laid down her pen, and her nice face had a resigned expression. As + you know, a resigned expression always makes you want not to tell anybody + anything. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s like this,’ said Anthea, in a hurry: ‘that egg, you know, that came + in the carpet; we put it in the fire and it hatched into the Phoenix, and + the carpet was a wishing carpet—and—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A very nice game, darling,’ said mother, taking up her pen. ‘Now do be + quiet. I’ve got a lot of letters to write. I’m going to Bournemouth + to-morrow with the Lamb—and there’s that bazaar.’ + </p> + <p> + Anthea went back to x y z, and mother’s pen scratched busily. + </p> + <p> + ‘But, mother,’ said Anthea, when mother put down the pen to lick an + envelope, ‘the carpet takes us wherever we like—and—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish it would take you where you could get a few nice Eastern things + for my bazaar,’ said mother. ‘I promised them, and I’ve no time to go to + Liberty’s now.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It shall,’ said Anthea, ‘but, mother—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, dear,’ said mother, a little impatiently, for she had taken up her + pen again. + </p> + <p> + ‘The carpet took us to a place where you couldn’t have whooping-cough, and + the Lamb hasn’t whooped since, and we took cook because she was so + tiresome, and then she would stay and be queen of the savages. They + thought her cap was a crown, and—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Darling one,’ said mother, ‘you know I love to hear the things you make + up—but I am most awfully busy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But it’s true,’ said Anthea, desperately. + </p> + <p> + ‘You shouldn’t say that, my sweet,’ said mother, gently. And then Anthea + knew it was hopeless. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you going away for long?’ asked Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve got a cold,’ said mother, ‘and daddy’s anxious about it, and the + Lamb’s cough.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He hasn’t coughed since Saturday,’ the Lamb’s eldest sister interrupted. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish I could think so,’ mother replied. ‘And daddy’s got to go to + Scotland. I do hope you’ll be good children.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We will, we will,’ said Anthea, fervently. ‘When’s the bazaar?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘On Saturday,’ said mother, ‘at the schools. Oh, don’t talk any more, + there’s a treasure! My head’s going round, and I’ve forgotten how to spell + whooping-cough.’ + </p> + <p> + Mother and the Lamb went away, and father went away, and there was a new + cook who looked so like a frightened rabbit that no one had the heart to + do anything to frighten her any more than seemed natural to her. + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix begged to be excused. It said it wanted a week’s rest, and + asked that it might not be disturbed. And it hid its golden gleaming self, + and nobody could find it. + </p> + <p> + So that when Wednesday afternoon brought an unexpected holiday, and every + one decided to go somewhere on the carpet, the journey had to be + undertaken without the Phoenix. They were debarred from any carpet + excursions in the evening by a sudden promise to mother, exacted in the + agitation of parting, that they would not be out after six at night, + except on Saturday, when they were to go to the bazaar, and were pledged + to put on their best clothes, to wash themselves to the uttermost, and to + clean their nails—not with scissors, which are scratchy and bad, but + with flat-sharpened ends of wooden matches, which do no harm to any one’s + nails. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s go and see the Lamb,’ said Jane. + </p> + <p> + But every one was agreed that if they appeared suddenly in Bournemouth it + would frighten mother out of her wits, if not into a fit. So they sat on + the carpet, and thought and thought and thought till they almost began to + squint. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here,’ said Cyril, ‘I know. Please carpet, take us somewhere where + we can see the Lamb and mother and no one can see us.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Except the Lamb,’ said Jane, quickly. + </p> + <p> + And the next moment they found themselves recovering from the upside-down + movement—and there they were sitting on the carpet, and the carpet + was laid out over another thick soft carpet of brown pine-needles. There + were green pine-trees overhead, and a swift clear little stream was + running as fast as ever it could between steep banks—and there, + sitting on the pine-needle carpet, was mother, without her hat; and the + sun was shining brightly, although it was November—and there was the + Lamb, as jolly as jolly and not whooping at all. + </p> + <p> + ‘The carpet’s deceived us,’ said Robert, gloomily; ‘mother will see us + directly she turns her head.’ + </p> + <p> + But the faithful carpet had not deceived them. + </p> + <p> + Mother turned her dear head and looked straight at them, and DID NOT SEE + THEM! + </p> + <p> + ‘We’re invisible,’ Cyril whispered: ‘what awful larks!’ + </p> + <p> + But to the girls it was not larks at all. It was horrible to have mother + looking straight at them, and her face keeping the same, just as though + they weren’t there. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t like it,’ said Jane. ‘Mother never looked at us like that before. + Just as if she didn’t love us—as if we were somebody else’s + children, and not very nice ones either—as if she didn’t care + whether she saw us or not.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is horrid,’ said Anthea, almost in tears. + </p> + <p> + But at this moment the Lamb saw them, and plunged towards the carpet, + shrieking, ‘Panty, own Panty—an’ Pussy, an’ Squiggle—an’ Bobs, + oh, oh!’ + </p> + <p> + Anthea caught him and kissed him, so did Jane; they could not help it—he + looked such a darling, with his blue three-cornered hat all on one side, + and his precious face all dirty—quite in the old familiar way. + </p> + <p> + ‘I love you, Panty; I love you—and you, and you, and you,’ cried the + Lamb. + </p> + <p> + It was a delicious moment. Even the boys thumped their baby brother + joyously on the back. + </p> + <p> + Then Anthea glanced at mother—and mother’s face was a pale sea-green + colour, and she was staring at the Lamb as if she thought he had gone mad. + And, indeed, that was exactly what she did think. + </p> + <p> + ‘My Lamb, my precious! Come to mother,’ she cried, and jumped up and ran + to the baby. + </p> + <p> + She was so quick that the invisible children had to leap back, or she + would have felt them; and to feel what you can’t see is the worst sort of + ghost-feeling. Mother picked up the Lamb and hurried away from the + pinewood. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s go home,’ said Jane, after a miserable silence. ‘It feels just + exactly as if mother didn’t love us.’ + </p> + <p> + But they couldn’t bear to go home till they had seen mother meet another + lady, and knew that she was safe. You cannot leave your mother to go green + in the face in a distant pinewood, far from all human aid, and then go + home on your wishing carpet as though nothing had happened. + </p> + <p> + When mother seemed safe the children returned to the carpet, and said + ‘Home’—and home they went. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care about being invisible myself,’ said Cyril, ‘at least, not + with my own family. It would be different if you were a prince, or a + bandit, or a burglar.’ + </p> + <p> + And now the thoughts of all four dwelt fondly on the dear greenish face of + mother. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish she hadn’t gone away,’ said Jane; ‘the house is simply beastly + without her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think we ought to do what she said,’ Anthea put in. ‘I saw something in + a book the other day about the wishes of the departed being sacred.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That means when they’ve departed farther off,’ said Cyril. ‘India’s coral + or Greenland’s icy, don’t you know; not Bournemouth. Besides, we don’t + know what her wishes are.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She SAID’—Anthea was very much inclined to cry—‘she said, + “Get Indian things for my bazaar;” but I know she thought we couldn’t, and + it was only play.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s get them all the same,’ said Robert. ‘We’ll go the first thing on + Saturday morning.’ + </p> + <p> + And on Saturday morning, the first thing, they went. + </p> + <p> + There was no finding the Phoenix, so they sat on the beautiful wishing + carpet, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘We want Indian things for mother’s bazaar. Will you please take us where + people will give us heaps of Indian things?’ + </p> + <p> + The docile carpet swirled their senses away, and restored them on the + outskirts of a gleaming white Indian town. They knew it was Indian at + once, by the shape of the domes and roofs; and besides, a man went by on + an elephant, and two English soldiers went along the road, talking like in + Mr Kipling’s books—so after that no one could have any doubt as to + where they were. They rolled up the carpet and Robert carried it, and they + walked bodily into the town. + </p> + <p> + It was very warm, and once more they had to take off their + London-in-November coats, and carry them on their arms. + </p> + <p> + The streets were narrow and strange, and the clothes of the people in the + streets were stranger and the talk of the people was strangest of all. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t understand a word,’ said Cyril. ‘How on earth are we to ask for + things for our bazaar?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And they’re poor people, too,’ said Jane; ‘I’m sure they are. What we + want is a rajah or something.’ + </p> + <p> + Robert was beginning to unroll the carpet, but the others stopped him, + imploring him not to waste a wish. + </p> + <p> + ‘We asked the carpet to take us where we could get Indian things for + bazaars,’ said Anthea, ‘and it will.’ + </p> + <p> + Her faith was justified. + </p> + <p> + Just as she finished speaking a very brown gentleman in a turban came up + to them and bowed deeply. He spoke, and they thrilled to the sound of + English words. + </p> + <p> + ‘My ranee, she think you very nice childs. She asks do you lose + yourselves, and do you desire to sell carpet? She see you from her palkee. + You come see her—yes?’ + </p> + <p> + They followed the stranger, who seemed to have a great many more teeth in + his smile than are usual, and he led them through crooked streets to the + ranee’s palace. I am not going to describe the ranee’s palace, because I + really have never seen the palace of a ranee, and Mr Kipling has. So you + can read about it in his books. But I know exactly what happened there. + </p> + <p> + The old ranee sat on a low-cushioned seat, and there were a lot of other + ladies with her—all in trousers and veils, and sparkling with tinsel + and gold and jewels. And the brown, turbaned gentleman stood behind a sort + of carved screen, and interpreted what the children said and what the + queen said. And when the queen asked to buy the carpet, the children said + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why?’ asked the ranee. + </p> + <p> + And Jane briefly said why, and the interpreter interpreted. The queen + spoke, and then the interpreter said— + </p> + <p> + ‘My mistress says it is a good story, and you tell it all through without + thought of time.’ + </p> + <p> + And they had to. It made a long story, especially as it had all to be told + twice—once by Cyril and once by the interpreter. Cyril rather + enjoyed himself. He warmed to his work, and told the tale of the Phoenix + and the Carpet, and the Lone Tower, and the Queen-Cook, in language that + grew insensibly more and more Arabian Nightsy, and the ranee and her + ladies listened to the interpreter, and rolled about on their fat cushions + with laughter. + </p> + <p> + When the story was ended she spoke, and the interpreter explained that she + had said, ‘Little one, thou art a heaven-born teller of tales,’ and she + threw him a string of turquoises from round her neck. + </p> + <p> + ‘OH, how lovely!’ cried Jane and Anthea. + </p> + <p> + Cyril bowed several times, and then cleared his throat and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank her very, very much; but I would much rather she gave me some of + the cheap things in the bazaar. Tell her I want them to sell again, and + give the money to buy clothes for poor people who haven’t any.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell him he has my leave to sell my gift and clothe the naked with its + price,’ said the queen, when this was translated. + </p> + <p> + But Cyril said very firmly, ‘No, thank you. The things have got to be sold + to-day at our bazaar, and no one would buy a turquoise necklace at an + English bazaar. They’d think it was sham, or else they’d want to know + where we got it.’ + </p> + <p> + So then the queen sent out for little pretty things, and her servants + piled the carpet with them. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must needs lend you an elephant to carry them away,’ she said, + laughing. + </p> + <p> + But Anthea said, ‘If the queen will lend us a comb and let us wash our + hands and faces, she shall see a magic thing. We and the carpet and all + these brass trays and pots and carved things and stuffs and things will + just vanish away like smoke.’ + </p> + <p> + The queen clapped her hands at this idea, and lent the children a + sandal-wood comb inlaid with ivory lotus-flowers. And they washed their + faces and hands in silver basins. Then Cyril made a very polite farewell + speech, and quite suddenly he ended with the words— + </p> + <p> + ‘And I wish we were at the bazaar at our schools.’ + </p> + <p> + And of course they were. And the queen and her ladies were left with their + mouths open, gazing at the bare space on the inlaid marble floor where the + carpet and the children had been. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is magic, if ever magic was!’ said the queen, delighted with the + incident; which, indeed, has given the ladies of that court something to + talk about on wet days ever since. + </p> + <p> + Cyril’s stories had taken some time, so had the meal of strange sweet + foods that they had had while the little pretty things were being bought, + and the gas in the schoolroom was already lighted. Outside, the winter + dusk was stealing down among the Camden Town houses. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m glad we got washed in India,’ said Cyril. ‘We should have been + awfully late if we’d had to go home and scrub.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Besides,’ Robert said, ‘it’s much warmer washing in India. I shouldn’t + mind it so much if we lived there.’ + </p> + <p> + The thoughtful carpet had dumped the children down in a dusky space behind + the point where the corners of two stalls met. The floor was littered with + string and brown paper, and baskets and boxes were heaped along the wall. + </p> + <p> + The children crept out under a stall covered with all sorts of + table-covers and mats and things, embroidered beautifully by idle ladies + with no real work to do. They got out at the end, displacing a + sideboard-cloth adorned with a tasteful pattern of blue geraniums. The + girls got out unobserved, so did Cyril; but Robert, as he cautiously + emerged, was actually walked on by Mrs Biddle, who kept the stall. Her + large, solid foot stood firmly on the small, solid hand of Robert and who + can blame Robert if he DID yell a little? + </p> + <p> + A crowd instantly collected. Yells are very unusual at bazaars, and every + one was intensely interested. It was several seconds before the three free + children could make Mrs Biddle understand that what she was walking on was + not a schoolroom floor, or even, as she presently supposed, a dropped + pin-cushion, but the living hand of a suffering child. When she became + aware that she really had hurt him, she grew very angry indeed. When + people have hurt other people by accident, the one who does the hurting is + always much the angriest. I wonder why. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m very sorry, I’m sure,’ said Mrs Biddle; but she spoke more in anger + than in sorrow. ‘Come out! whatever do you mean by creeping about under + the stalls, like earwigs?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We were looking at the things in the corner.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Such nasty, prying ways,’ said Mrs Biddle, ‘will never make you + successful in life. There’s nothing there but packing and dust.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, isn’t there!’ said Jane. ‘That’s all you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Little girl, don’t be rude,’ said Mrs Biddle, flushing violet. + </p> + <p> + ‘She doesn’t mean to be; but there ARE some nice things there, all the + same,’ said Cyril; who suddenly felt how impossible it was to inform the + listening crowd that all the treasures piled on the carpet were mother’s + contributions to the bazaar. No one would believe it; and if they did, and + wrote to thank mother, she would think—well, goodness only knew what + she would think. The other three children felt the same. + </p> + <p> + ‘I should like to see them,’ said a very nice lady, whose friends had + disappointed her, and who hoped that these might be belated contributions + to her poorly furnished stall. + </p> + <p> + She looked inquiringly at Robert, who said, ‘With pleasure, don’t mention + it,’ and dived back under Mrs Biddle’s stall. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder you encourage such behaviour,’ said Mrs Biddle. ‘I always speak + my mind, as you know, Miss Peasmarsh; and, I must say, I am surprised.’ + She turned to the crowd. ‘There is no entertainment here,’ she said + sternly. ‘A very naughty little boy has accidentally hurt himself, but + only slightly. Will you please disperse? It will only encourage him in + naughtiness if he finds himself the centre of attraction.’ + </p> + <p> + The crowd slowly dispersed. Anthea, speechless with fury, heard a nice + curate say, ‘Poor little beggar!’ and loved the curate at once and for + ever. + </p> + <p> + Then Robert wriggled out from under the stall with some Benares brass and + some inlaid sandalwood boxes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Liberty!’ cried Miss Peasmarsh. ‘Then Charles has not forgotten, after + all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Excuse me,’ said Mrs Biddle, with fierce politeness, ‘these objects are + deposited behind MY stall. Some unknown donor who does good by stealth, + and would blush if he could hear you claim the things. Of course they are + for me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My stall touches yours at the corner,’ said poor Miss Peasmarsh, timidly, + ‘and my cousin did promise—’ + </p> + <p> + The children sidled away from the unequal contest and mingled with the + crowd. Their feelings were too deep for words—till at last Robert + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘That stiff-starched PIG!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And after all our trouble! I’m hoarse with gassing to that trousered lady + in India.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The pig-lady’s very, very nasty,’ said Jane. + </p> + <p> + It was Anthea who said, in a hurried undertone, ‘She isn’t very nice, and + Miss Peasmarsh is pretty and nice too. Who’s got a pencil?’ + </p> + <p> + It was a long crawl, under three stalls, but Anthea did it. A large piece + of pale blue paper lay among the rubbish in the corner. + </p> + <p> + She folded it to a square and wrote upon it, licking the pencil at every + word to make it mark quite blackly: ‘All these Indian things are for + pretty, nice Miss Peasmarsh’s stall.’ She thought of adding, ‘There is + nothing for Mrs Biddle;’ but she saw that this might lead to suspicion, so + she wrote hastily: ‘From an unknown donna,’ and crept back among the + boards and trestles to join the others. + </p> + <p> + So that when Mrs Biddle appealed to the bazaar committee, and the corner + of the stall was lifted and shifted, so that stout clergymen and heavy + ladies could get to the corner without creeping under stalls, the blue + paper was discovered, and all the splendid, shining Indian things were + given over to Miss Peasmarsh, and she sold them all, and got thirty-five + pounds for them. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t understand about that blue paper,’ said Mrs Biddle. ‘It looks to + me like the work of a lunatic. And saying you were nice and pretty! It’s + not the work of a sane person.’ + </p> + <p> + Anthea and Jane begged Miss Peasmarsh to let them help her to sell the + things, because it was their brother who had announced the good news that + the things had come. Miss Peasmarsh was very willing, for now her stall, + that had been SO neglected, was surrounded by people who wanted to buy, + and she was glad to be helped. The children noted that Mrs Biddle had not + more to do in the way of selling than she could manage quite well. I hope + they were not glad—for you should forgive your enemies, even if they + walk on your hands and then say it is all your naughty fault. But I am + afraid they were not so sorry as they ought to have been. + </p> + <p> + It took some time to arrange the things on the stall. The carpet was + spread over it, and the dark colours showed up the brass and silver and + ivory things. It was a happy and busy afternoon, and when Miss Peasmarsh + and the girls had sold every single one of the little pretty things from + the Indian bazaar, far, far away, Anthea and Jane went off with the boys + to fish in the fishpond, and dive into the bran-pie, and hear the + cardboard band, and the phonograph, and the chorus of singing birds that + was done behind a screen with glass tubes and glasses of water. + </p> + <p> + They had a beautiful tea, suddenly presented to them by the nice curate, + and Miss Peasmarsh joined them before they had had more than three cakes + each. It was a merry party, and the curate was extremely pleasant to every + one, ‘even to Miss Peasmarsh,’ as Jane said afterwards. + </p> + <p> + ‘We ought to get back to the stall,’ said Anthea, when no one could + possibly eat any more, and the curate was talking in a low voice to Miss + Peas marsh about ‘after Easter’. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s nothing to go back for,’ said Miss Peasmarsh gaily; ‘thanks to + you dear children we’ve sold everything.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There—there’s the carpet,’ said Cyril. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ said Miss Peasmarsh, radiantly, ‘don’t bother about the carpet. I’ve + sold even that. Mrs Biddle gave me ten shillings for it. She said it would + do for her servant’s bedroom.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why,’ said Jane, ‘her servants don’t HAVE carpets. We had cook from her, + and she told us so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No scandal about Queen Elizabeth, if YOU please,’ said the curate, + cheerfully; and Miss Peasmarsh laughed, and looked at him as though she + had never dreamed that any one COULD be so amusing. But the others were + struck dumb. How could they say, ‘The carpet is ours!’ For who brings + carpets to bazaars? + </p> + <p> + The children were now thoroughly wretched. But I am glad to say that their + wretchedness did not make them forget their manners, as it does sometimes, + even with grown-up people, who ought to know ever so much better. + </p> + <p> + They said, ‘Thank you very much for the jolly tea,’ and ‘Thanks for being + so jolly,’ and ‘Thanks awfully for giving us such a jolly time;’ for the + curate had stood fish-ponds, and bran-pies, and phonographs, and the + chorus of singing birds, and had stood them like a man. The girls hugged + Miss Peasmarsh, and as they went away they heard the curate say— + </p> + <p> + ‘Jolly little kids, yes, but what about—you will let it be directly + after Easter. Ah, do say you will—’ + </p> + <p> + And Jane ran back and said, before Anthea could drag her away, ‘What are + you going to do after Easter?’ + </p> + <p> + Miss Peasmarsh smiled and looked very pretty indeed. And the curate said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope I am going to take a trip to the Fortunate Islands.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish we could take you on the wishing carpet,’ said Jane. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you,’ said the curate, ‘but I’m afraid I can’t wait for that. I + must go to the Fortunate Islands before they make me a bishop. I should + have no time afterwards.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve always thought I should marry a bishop,’ said Jane: ‘his aprons + would come in so useful. Wouldn’t YOU like to marry a bishop, Miss + Peasmarsh?’ + </p> + <p> + It was then that they dragged her away. + </p> + <p> + As it was Robert’s hand that Mrs Biddle had walked on, it was decided that + he had better not recall the incident to her mind, and so make her angry + again. Anthea and Jane had helped to sell things at the rival stall, so + they were not likely to be popular. + </p> + <p> + A hasty council of four decided that Mrs Biddle would hate Cyril less than + she would hate the others, so the others mingled with the crowd, and it + was he who said to her— + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Biddle, WE meant to have that carpet. Would you sell it to us? We + would give you—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly not,’ said Mrs Biddle. ‘Go away, little boy.’ + </p> + <p> + There was that in her tone which showed Cyril, all too plainly, the + hopelessness of persuasion. He found the others and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s no use; she’s like a lioness robbed of its puppies. We must watch + where it goes—and—Anthea, I don’t care what you say. It’s our + own carpet. It wouldn’t be burglary. It would be a sort of forlorn hope + rescue party—heroic and daring and dashing, and not wrong at all.’ + </p> + <p> + The children still wandered among the gay crowd—but there was no + pleasure there for them any more. The chorus of singing birds sounded just + like glass tubes being blown through water, and the phonograph simply made + a horrid noise, so that you could hardly hear yourself speak. And the + people were buying things they couldn’t possibly want, and it all seemed + very stupid. And Mrs Biddle had bought the wishing carpet for ten + shillings. And the whole of life was sad and grey and dusty, and smelt of + slight gas escapes, and hot people, and cake and crumbs, and all the + children were very tired indeed. + </p> + <p> + They found a corner within sight of the carpet, and there they waited + miserably, till it was far beyond their proper bedtime. And when it was + ten the people who had bought things went away, but the people who had + been selling stayed to count up their money. + </p> + <p> + ‘And to jaw about it,’ said Robert. ‘I’ll never go to another bazaar as + long as ever I live. My hand is swollen as big as a pudding. I expect the + nails in her horrible boots were poisoned.’ + </p> + <p> + Just then some one who seemed to have a right to interfere said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Everything is over now; you had better go home.’ + </p> + <p> + So they went. And then they waited on the pavement under the gas lamp, + where ragged children had been standing all the evening to listen to the + band, and their feet slipped about in the greasy mud till Mrs Biddle came + out and was driven away in a cab with the many things she hadn’t sold, and + the few things she had bought—among others the carpet. The other + stall-holders left their things at the school till Monday morning, but Mrs + Biddle was afraid some one would steal some of them, so she took them in a + cab. + </p> + <p> + The children, now too desperate to care for mud or appearances, hung on + behind the cab till it reached Mrs Biddle’s house. When she and the carpet + had gone in and the door was shut Anthea said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t let’s burgle—I mean do daring and dashing rescue acts—till + we’ve given her a chance. Let’s ring and ask to see her.’ + </p> + <p> + The others hated to do this, but at last they agreed, on condition that + Anthea would not make any silly fuss about the burglary afterwards, if it + really had to come to that. + </p> + <p> + So they knocked and rang, and a scared-looking parlourmaid opened the + front door. While they were asking for Mrs Biddle they saw her. She was in + the dining-room, and she had already pushed back the table and spread out + the carpet to see how it looked on the floor. + </p> + <p> + ‘I knew she didn’t want it for her servants’ bedroom,’ Jane muttered. + </p> + <p> + Anthea walked straight past the uncomfortable parlourmaid, and the others + followed her. Mrs Biddle had her back to them, and was smoothing down the + carpet with the same boot that had trampled on the hand of Robert. So that + they were all in the room, and Cyril, with great presence of mind, had + shut the room door before she saw them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who is it, Jane?’ she asked in a sour voice; and then turning suddenly, + she saw who it was. Once more her face grew violet—a deep, dark + violet. ‘You wicked daring little things!’ she cried, ‘how dare you come + here? At this time of night, too. Be off, or I’ll send for the police.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be angry,’ said Anthea, soothingly, ‘we only wanted to ask you to + let us have the carpet. We have quite twelve shillings between us, and—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How DARE you?’ cried Mrs Biddle, and her voice shook with angriness. + </p> + <p> + ‘You do look horrid,’ said Jane suddenly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Biddle actually stamped that booted foot of hers. ‘You rude, barefaced + child!’ she said. + </p> + <p> + Anthea almost shook Jane; but Jane pushed forward in spite of her. + </p> + <p> + ‘It really IS our nursery carpet,’ she said, ‘you ask ANY ONE if it + isn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s wish ourselves home,’ said Cyril in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + ‘No go,’ Robert whispered back, ‘she’d be there too, and raving mad as + likely as not. Horrid thing, I hate her!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish Mrs Biddle was in an angelic good temper,’ cried Anthea, suddenly. + ‘It’s worth trying,’ she said to herself. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Biddle’s face grew from purple to violet, and from violet to mauve, + and from mauve to pink. Then she smiled quite a jolly smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, so I am!’ she said, ‘what a funny idea! Why shouldn’t I be in a good + temper, my dears.’ + </p> + <p> + Once more the carpet had done its work, and not on Mrs Biddle alone. The + children felt suddenly good and happy. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re a jolly good sort,’ said Cyril. ‘I see that now. I’m sorry we + vexed you at the bazaar to-day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not another word,’ said the changed Mrs Biddle. ‘Of course you shall have + the carpet, my dears, if you’ve taken such a fancy to it. No, no; I won’t + have more than the ten shillings I paid.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It does seem hard to ask you for it after you bought it at the bazaar,’ + said Anthea; ‘but it really IS our nursery carpet. It got to the bazaar by + mistake, with some other things.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did it really, now? How vexing!’ said Mrs Biddle, kindly. ‘Well, my + dears, I can very well give the extra ten shillings; so you take your + carpet and we’ll say no more about it. Have a piece of cake before you go! + I’m so sorry I stepped on your hand, my boy. Is it all right now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, thank you,’ said Robert. ‘I say, you ARE good.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at all,’ said Mrs Biddle, heartily. ‘I’m delighted to be able to give + any little pleasure to you dear children.’ + </p> + <p> + And she helped them to roll up the carpet, and the boys carried it away + between them. + </p> + <p> + ‘You ARE a dear,’ said Anthea, and she and Mrs Biddle kissed each other + heartily. + </p> + <p> + ‘WELL!’ said Cyril as they went along the street. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Robert, ‘and the odd part is that you feel just as if it was + REAL—her being so jolly, I mean—and not only the carpet making + her nice.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps it IS real,’ said Anthea, ‘only it was covered up with crossness + and tiredness and things, and the carpet took them away.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope it’ll keep them away,’ said Jane; ‘she isn’t ugly at all when she + laughs.’ + </p> + <p> + The carpet has done many wonders in its day; but the case of Mrs Biddle + is, I think, the most wonderful. For from that day she was never anything + like so disagreeable as she was before, and she sent a lovely silver + tea-pot and a kind letter to Miss Peasmarsh when the pretty lady married + the nice curate; just after Easter it was, and they went to Italy for + their honeymoon. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 5. THE TEMPLE + </h2> + <p> + ‘I wish we could find the Phoenix,’ said Jane. ‘It’s much better company + than the carpet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Beastly ungrateful, little kids are,’ said Cyril. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I’m not; only the carpet never says anything, and it’s so helpless. + It doesn’t seem able to take care of itself. It gets sold, and taken into + the sea, and things like that. You wouldn’t catch the Phoenix getting + sold.’ + </p> + <p> + It was two days after the bazaar. Every one was a little cross—some + days are like that, usually Mondays, by the way. And this was a Monday. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shouldn’t wonder if your precious Phoenix had gone off for good,’ said + Cyril; ‘and I don’t know that I blame it. Look at the weather!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not worth looking at,’ said Robert. And indeed it wasn’t. + </p> + <p> + ‘The Phoenix hasn’t gone—I’m sure it hasn’t,’ said Anthea. ‘I’ll + have another look for it.’ + </p> + <p> + Anthea looked under tables and chairs, and in boxes and baskets, in + mother’s work-bag and father’s portmanteau, but still the Phoenix showed + not so much as the tip of one shining feather. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly Robert remembered how the whole of the Greek invocation song + of seven thousand lines had been condensed by him into one English + hexameter, so he stood on the carpet and chanted— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Oh, come along, come along, you good old beautiful Phoenix,’ +</pre> + <p> + and almost at once there was a rustle of wings down the kitchen stairs, + and the Phoenix sailed in on wide gold wings. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where on earth HAVE you been?’ asked Anthea. ‘I’ve looked everywhere for + you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not EVERYWHERE,’ replied the bird, ‘because you did not look in the place + where I was. Confess that that hallowed spot was overlooked by you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘WHAT hallowed spot?’ asked Cyril, a little impatiently, for time was + hastening on, and the wishing carpet still idle. + </p> + <p> + ‘The spot,’ said the Phoenix, ‘which I hallowed by my golden presence was + the Lutron.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The WHAT?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The bath—the place of washing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m sure you weren’t,’ said Jane. ‘I looked there three times and moved + all the towels.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I was concealed,’ said the Phoenix, ‘on the summit of a metal column—enchanted, + I should judge, for it felt warm to my golden toes, as though the glorious + sun of the desert shone ever upon it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you mean the cylinder,’ said Cyril: ‘it HAS rather a comforting feel, + this weather. And now where shall we go?’ + </p> + <p> + And then, of course, the usual discussion broke out as to where they + should go and what they should do. And naturally, every one wanted to do + something that the others did not care about. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am the eldest,’ Cyril remarked, ‘let’s go to the North Pole.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This weather! Likely!’ Robert rejoined. ‘Let’s go to the Equator.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think the diamond mines of Golconda would be nice,’ said Anthea; ‘don’t + you agree, Jane?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I don’t,’ retorted Jane, ‘I don’t agree with you. I don’t agree with + anybody.’ + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix raised a warning claw. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you cannot agree among yourselves, I fear I shall have to leave you,’ + it said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, where shall we go? You decide!’ said all. + </p> + <p> + ‘If I were you,’ said the bird, thoughtfully, ‘I should give the carpet a + rest. Besides, you’ll lose the use of your legs if you go everywhere by + carpet. Can’t you take me out and explain your ugly city to me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We will if it clears up,’ said Robert, without enthusiasm. ‘Just look at + the rain. And why should we give the carpet a rest?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you greedy and grasping, and heartless and selfish?’ asked the bird, + sharply. + </p> + <p> + ‘NO!’ said Robert, with indignation. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well then!’ said the Phoenix. ‘And as to the rain—well, I am not + fond of rain myself. If the sun knew <i>I</i> was here—he’s very + fond of shining on me because I look so bright and golden. He always says + I repay a little attention. Haven’t you some form of words suitable for + use in wet weather?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s “Rain, rain, go away,”’ said Anthea; ‘but it never DOES go.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps you don’t say the invocation properly,’ said the bird. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Rain, rain, go away, + Come again another day, + Little baby wants to play,’ +</pre> + <p> + said Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s quite wrong; and if you say it in that sort of dull way, I can + quite understand the rain not taking any notice. You should open the + window and shout as loud as you can— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Rain, rain, go away, + Come again another day; + Now we want the sun, and so, + Pretty rain, be kind and go! +</pre> + <p> + ‘You should always speak politely to people when you want them to do + things, and especially when it’s going away that you want them to do. And + to-day you might add— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Shine, great sun, the lovely Phoe- + Nix is here, and wants to be + Shone on, splendid sun, by thee!’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘That’s poetry!’ said Cyril, decidedly. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s like it,’ said the more cautious Robert. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was obliged to put in “lovely”,’ said the Phoenix, modestly, ‘to make + the line long enough.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There are plenty of nasty words just that length,’ said Jane; but every + one else said ‘Hush!’ And then they opened the window and shouted the + seven lines as loud as they could, and the Phoenix said all the words with + them, except ‘lovely’, and when they came to that it looked down and + coughed bashfully. + </p> + <p> + The rain hesitated a moment and then went away. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s true politeness,’ said the Phoenix, and the next moment it was + perched on the window-ledge, opening and shutting its radiant wings and + flapping out its golden feathers in such a flood of glorious sunshine as + you sometimes have at sunset in autumn time. People said afterwards that + there had not been such sunshine in December for years and years and + years. + </p> + <p> + ‘And now,’ said the bird, ‘we will go out into the city, and you shall + take me to see one of my temples.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your temples?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I gather from the carpet that I have many temples in this land.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t see how you CAN find anything out from it,’ said Jane: ‘it never + speaks.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All the same, you can pick up things from a carpet,’ said the bird; ‘I’ve + seen YOU do it. And I have picked up several pieces of information in this + way. That papyrus on which you showed me my picture—I understand + that it bears on it the name of the street of your city in which my finest + temple stands, with my image graved in stone and in metal over against its + portal.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You mean the fire insurance office,’ said Robert. ‘It’s not really a + temple, and they don’t—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Excuse me,’ said the Phoenix, coldly, ‘you are wholly misinformed. It IS + a temple, and they do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t let’s waste the sunshine,’ said Anthea; ‘we might argue as we go + along, to save time.’ + </p> + <p> + So the Phoenix consented to make itself a nest in the breast of Robert’s + Norfolk jacket, and they all went out into the splendid sunshine. The best + way to the temple of the Phoenix seemed to be to take the tram, and on the + top of it the children talked, while the Phoenix now and then put out a + wary beak, cocked a cautious eye, and contradicted what the children were + saying. + </p> + <p> + It was a delicious ride, and the children felt how lucky they were to have + had the money to pay for it. They went with the tram as far as it went, + and when it did not go any farther they stopped too, and got off. The tram + stops at the end of the Gray’s Inn Road, and it was Cyril who thought that + one might well find a short cut to the Phoenix Office through the little + streets and courts that lie tightly packed between Fetter Lane and Ludgate + Circus. Of course, he was quite mistaken, as Robert told him at the time, + and afterwards Robert did not forbear to remind his brother how he had + said so. The streets there were small and stuffy and ugly, and crowded + with printers’ boys and binders’ girls coming out from work; and these + stared so hard at the pretty red coats and caps of the sisters that they + wished they had gone some other way. And the printers and binders made + very personal remarks, advising Jane to get her hair cut, and inquiring + where Anthea had bought that hat. Jane and Anthea scorned to reply, and + Cyril and Robert found that they were hardly a match for the rough crowd. + They could think of nothing nasty enough to say. They turned a corner + sharply, and then Anthea pulled Jane into an archway, and then inside a + door; Cyril and Robert quickly followed, and the jeering crowd passed by + without seein them. + </p> + <p> + Anthea drew a long breath. + </p> + <p> + ‘How awful!’ she said. ‘I didn’t know there were such people, except in + books.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was a bit thick; but it’s partly you girls’ fault, coming out in those + flashy coats.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We thought we ought to, when we were going out with the Phoenix,’ said + Jane; and the bird said, ‘Quite right, too’—and incautiously put out + his head to give her a wink of encouragement. + </p> + <p> + And at the same instant a dirty hand reached through the grim balustrade + of the staircase beside them and clutched the Phoenix, and a hoarse voice + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, Urb, blowed if this ain’t our Poll parrot what we lost. Thank you + very much, lidy, for bringin’ ‘im home to roost.’ + </p> + <p> + The four turned swiftly. Two large and ragged boys were crouched amid the + dark shadows of the stairs. They were much larger than Robert and Cyril, + and one of them had snatched the Phoenix away and was holding it high + above their heads. + </p> + <p> + ‘Give me that bird,’ said Cyril, sternly: ‘it’s ours.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good arternoon, and thankin’ you,’ the boy went on, with maddening + mockery. ‘Sorry I can’t give yer tuppence for yer trouble—but I’ve + ‘ad to spend my fortune advertising for my vallyable bird in all the + newspapers. You can call for the reward next year.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Look out, Ike,’ said his friend, a little anxiously; ‘it ‘ave a beak on + it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s other parties as’ll have the Beak on to ‘em presently,’ said Ike, + darkly, ‘if they come a-trying to lay claims on my Poll parrot. You just + shut up, Urb. Now then, you four little gells, get out er this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Little girls!’ cried Robert. ‘I’ll little girl you!’ + </p> + <p> + He sprang up three stairs and hit out. + </p> + <p> + There was a squawk—the most bird-like noise any one had ever heard + from the Phoenix—and a fluttering, and a laugh in the darkness, and + Ike said— + </p> + <p> + ‘There now, you’ve been and gone and strook my Poll parrot right in the + fevvers—strook ‘im something crool, you ‘ave.’ + </p> + <p> + Robert stamped with fury. Cyril felt himself growing pale with rage, and + with the effort of screwing up his brain to make it clever enough to think + of some way of being even with those boys. Anthea and Jane were as angry + as the boys, but it made them want to cry. Yet it was Anthea who said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Do, PLEASE, let us have the bird.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dew, PLEASE, get along and leave us an’ our bird alone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you don’t,’ said Anthea, ‘I shall fetch the police.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You better!’ said he who was named Urb. ‘Say, Ike, you twist the bloomin’ + pigeon’s neck; he ain’t worth tuppence.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, no,’ cried Jane, ‘don’t hurt it. Oh, don’t; it is such a pet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t hurt it,’ said Ike; ‘I’m ‘shamed of you, Urb, for to think of + such a thing. Arf a shiner, miss, and the bird is yours for life.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Half a WHAT?’ asked Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Arf a shiner, quid, thick ‘un—half a sov, then.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t got it—and, besides, it’s OUR bird,’ said Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, don’t talk to him,’ said Cyril and then Jane said suddenly— + </p> + <p> + ‘Phoenix—dear Phoenix, we can’t do anything. YOU must manage it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘With pleasure,’ said the Phoenix—and Ike nearly dropped it in his + amazement. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, it do talk, suthin’ like,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘Youths,’ said the Phoenix, ‘sons of misfortune, hear my words.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My eyes!’ said Ike. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look out, Ike,’ said Urb, ‘you’ll throttle the joker—and I see at + wunst ‘e was wuth ‘is weight in flimsies.‘00 + </p> + <p> + ‘Hearken, O Eikonoclastes, despiser of sacred images—and thou, + Urbanus, dweller in the sordid city. Forbear this adventure lest a worse + thing befall.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Luv’ us!’ said Ike, ‘ain’t it been taught its schoolin’ just!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Restore me to my young acolytes and escape unscathed. Retain me—and—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They must ha’ got all this up, case the Polly got pinched,’ said Ike. + ‘Lor’ lumme, the artfulness of them young uns!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, slosh ‘em in the geseech and get clear off with the swag’s wot I + say,’ urged Herbert. + </p> + <p> + ‘Right O,’ said Isaac. + </p> + <p> + ‘Forbear,’ repeated the Phoenix, sternly. ‘Who pinched the click off of + the old bloke in Aldermanbury?’ it added, in a changed tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who sneaked the nose-rag out of the young gell’s ‘and in Bell Court? Who—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stow it,’ said Ike. ‘You! ugh! yah!—leave go of me. Bash him off, + Urb; ‘e’ll have my bloomin’ eyes outer my ed.’ + </p> + <p> + There were howls, a scuffle, a flutter; Ike and Urb fled up the stairs, + and the Phoenix swept out through the doorway. The children followed and + the Phoenix settled on Robert, ‘like a butterfly on a rose,’ as Anthea + said afterwards, and wriggled into the breast of his Norfolk jacket, ‘like + an eel into mud,’ as Cyril later said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why ever didn’t you burn him? You could have, couldn’t you?’ asked + Robert, when the hurried flight through the narrow courts had ended in the + safe wideness of Farringdon Street. + </p> + <p> + ‘I could have, of course,’ said the bird, ‘but I didn’t think it would be + dignified to allow myself to get warm about a little thing like that. The + Fates, after all, have not been illiberal to me. I have a good many + friends among the London sparrows, and I have a beak and claws.’ + </p> + <p> + These happenings had somewhat shaken the adventurous temper of the + children, and the Phoenix had to exert its golden self to hearten them up. + </p> + <p> + Presently the children came to a great house in Lombard Street, and there, + on each side of the door, was the image of the Phoenix carved in stone, + and set forth on shining brass were the words— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + PHOENIX FIRE OFFICE +</pre> + <p> + ‘One moment,’ said the bird. ‘Fire? For altars, I suppose?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>I</i> don’t know,’ said Robert; he was beginning to feel shy, and that + always made him rather cross. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, yes, you do,’ Cyril contradicted. ‘When people’s houses are burnt + down the Phoenix gives them new houses. Father told me; I asked him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The house, then, like the Phoenix, rises from its ashes? Well have my + priests dealt with the sons of men!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The sons of men pay, you know,’ said Anthea; ‘but it’s only a little + every year.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is to maintain my priests,’ said the bird, ‘who, in the hour of + affliction, heal sorrows and rebuild houses. Lead on; inquire for the High + Priest. I will not break upon them too suddenly in all my glory. Noble and + honour-deserving are they who make as nought the evil deeds of the + lame-footed and unpleasing Hephaestus.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I wish you wouldn’t muddle us + with new names. Fire just happens. Nobody does it—not as a deed, you + know,’ Cyril explained. ‘If they did the Phoenix wouldn’t help them, + because its a crime to set fire to things. Arsenic, or something they call + it, because it’s as bad as poisoning people. The Phoenix wouldn’t help + THEM—father told me it wouldn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My priests do well,’ said the Phoenix. ‘Lead on.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know what to say,’ said Cyril; and the Others said the same. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ask for the High Priest,’ said the Phoenix. ‘Say that you have a secret + to unfold that concerns my worship, and he will lead you to the innermost + sanctuary.’ + </p> + <p> + So the children went in, all four of them, though they didn’t like it, and + stood in a large and beautiful hall adorned with Doulton tiles, like a + large and beautiful bath with no water in it, and stately pillars + supporting the roof. An unpleasing representation of the Phoenix in brown + pottery disfigured one wall. There were counters and desks of mahogany and + brass, and clerks bent over the desks and walked behind the counters. + There was a great clock over an inner doorway. + </p> + <p> + ‘Inquire for the High Priest,’ whispered the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + An attentive clerk in decent black, who controlled his mouth but not his + eyebrows, now came towards them. He leaned forward on the counter, and the + children thought he was going to say, ‘What can I have the pleasure of + showing you?’ like in a draper’s; instead of which the young man said— + </p> + <p> + ‘And what do YOU want?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We want to see the High Priest.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Get along with you,’ said the young man. + </p> + <p> + An elder man, also decent in black coat, advanced. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps it’s Mr Blank’ (not for worlds would I give the name). ‘He’s a + Masonic High Priest, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + A porter was sent away to look for Mr Asterisk (I cannot give his name), + and the children were left there to look on and be looked on by all the + gentlemen at the mahogany desks. Anthea and Jane thought that they looked + kind. The boys thought they stared, and that it was like their cheek. + </p> + <p> + The porter returned with the news that Mr Dot Dash Dot (I dare not reveal + his name) was out, but that Mr— + </p> + <p> + Here a really delightful gentleman appeared. He had a beard and a kind and + merry eye, and each one of the four knew at once that this was a man who + had kiddies of his own and could understand what you were talking about. + Yet it was a difficult thing to explain. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Mr’—he named the name which I will never + reveal—‘is out. Can I do anything?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Inner sanctuary,’ murmured the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon,’ said the nice gentleman, who thought it was Robert + who had spoken. + </p> + <p> + ‘We have something to tell you,’ said Cyril, ‘but’—he glanced at the + porter, who was lingering much nearer than he need have done—‘this + is a very public place.’ + </p> + <p> + The nice gentleman laughed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come upstairs then,’ he said, and led the way up a wide and beautiful + staircase. Anthea says the stairs were of white marble, but I am not sure. + On the corner-post of the stairs, at the top, was a beautiful image of the + Phoenix in dark metal, and on the wall at each side was a flat sort of + image of it. + </p> + <p> + The nice gentleman led them into a room where the chairs, and even the + tables, were covered with reddish leather. He looked at the children + inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be frightened,’ he said; ‘tell me exactly what you want.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘May I shut the door?’ asked Cyril. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman looked surprised, but he shut the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Cyril, firmly, ‘I know you’ll be awfully surprised, and you’ll + think it’s not true and we are lunatics; but we aren’t, and it is. + Robert’s got something inside his Norfolk—that’s Robert, he’s my + young brother. Now don’t be upset and have a fit or anything sir. Of + course, I know when you called your shop the “Phoenix” you never thought + there was one; but there is—and Robert’s got it buttoned up against + his chest!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If it’s an old curio in the form of a Phoenix, I dare say the Board—’ + said the nice gentleman, as Robert began to fumble with his buttons. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s old enough,’ said Anthea, ‘going by what it says, but—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My goodness gracious!’ said the gentleman, as the Phoenix, with one last + wriggle that melted into a flutter, got out of its nest in the breast of + Robert and stood up on the leather-covered table. + </p> + <p> + ‘What an extraordinarily fine bird!’ he went on. ‘I don’t think I ever saw + one just like it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should think not,’ said the Phoenix, with pardonable pride. And the + gentleman jumped. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, it’s been taught to speak! Some sort of parrot, perhaps?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am,’ said the bird, simply, ‘the Head of your House, and I have come to + my temple to receive your homage. I am no parrot’—its beak curved + scornfully—‘I am the one and only Phoenix, and I demand the homage + of my High Priest.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In the absence of our manager,’ the gentleman began, exactly as though he + were addressing a valued customer—‘in the absence of our manager, I + might perhaps be able—What am I saying?’ He turned pale, and passed + his hand across his brow. ‘My dears,’ he said, ‘the weather is unusually + warm for the time of year, and I don’t feel quite myself. Do you know, for + a moment I really thought that that remarkable bird of yours had spoken + and said it was the Phoenix, and, what’s more, that I’d believed it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So it did, sir,’ said Cyril, ‘and so did you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It really—Allow me.’ + </p> + <p> + A bell was rung. The porter appeared. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mackenzie,’ said the gentleman, ‘you see that golden bird?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + The other breathed a sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + ‘It IS real, then?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir, of course, sir. You take it in your hand, sir,’ said the + porter, sympathetically, and reached out his hand to the Phoenix, who + shrank back on toes curved with agitated indignation. + </p> + <p> + ‘Forbear!’ it cried; ‘how dare you seek to lay hands on me?’ + </p> + <p> + The porter saluted. + </p> + <p> + ‘Beg pardon, sir,’ he said, ‘I thought you was a bird.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I AM a bird—THE bird—the Phoenix.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course you are, sir,’ said the porter. ‘I see that the first minute, + directly I got my breath, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That will do,’ said the gentleman. ‘Ask Mr Wilson and Mr Sterry to step + up here for a moment, please.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Sterry and Mr Wilson were in their turn overcome by amazement—quickly + followed by conviction. To the surprise of the children every one in the + office took the Phoenix at its word, and after the first shock of surprise + it seemed to be perfectly natural to every one that the Phoenix should be + alive, and that, passing through London, it should call at its temple. + </p> + <p> + ‘We ought to have some sort of ceremony,’ said the nicest gentleman, + anxiously. ‘There isn’t time to summon the directors and shareholders—we + might do that tomorrow, perhaps. Yes, the board-room would be best. I + shouldn’t like it to feel we hadn’t done everything in our power to show + our appreciation of its condescension in looking in on us in this friendly + way.’ + </p> + <p> + The children could hardly believe their ears, for they had never thought + that any one but themselves would believe in the Phoenix. And yet every + one did; all the men in the office were brought in by twos and threes, and + the moment the Phoenix opened its beak it convinced the cleverest of them, + as well as those who were not so clever. Cyril wondered how the story + would look in the papers next day. He seemed to see the posters in the + streets: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + PHOENIX FIRE OFFICE + THE PHOENIX AT ITS TEMPLE + MEETING TO WELCOME IT + DELIGHT OF THE MANAGER AND EVERYBODY. +</pre> + <p> + ‘Excuse our leaving you a moment,’ said the nice gentleman, and he went + away with the others; and through the half-closed door the children could + hear the sound of many boots on stairs, the hum of excited voices + explaining, suggesting, arguing, the thumpy drag of heavy furniture being + moved about. + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix strutted up and down the leather-covered table, looking over + its shoulder at its pretty back. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see what a convincing manner I have,’ it said proudly. + </p> + <p> + And now a new gentleman came in and said, bowing low— + </p> + <p> + ‘Everything is prepared—we have done our best at so short a notice; + the meeting—the ceremony—will be in the board-room. Will the + Honourable Phoenix walk—it is only a few steps—or would it + like to be—would it like some sort of conveyance?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My Robert will bear me to the board-room, if that be the unlovely name of + my temple’s inmost court,’ replied the bird. + </p> + <p> + So they all followed the gentleman. There was a big table in the + board-room, but it had been pushed right up under the long windows at one + side, and chairs were arranged in rows across the room—like those + you have at schools when there is a magic lantern on ‘Our Eastern Empire’, + or on ‘The Way We Do in the Navy’. The doors were of carved wood, very + beautiful, with a carved Phoenix above. Anthea noticed that the chairs in + the front rows were of the kind that her mother so loved to ask the price + of in old furniture shops, and never could buy, because the price was + always nearly twenty pounds each. On the mantelpiece were some heavy + bronze candlesticks and a clock, and on the top of the clock was another + image of the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + ‘Remove that effigy,’ said the Phoenix to the gentlemen who were there, + and it was hastily taken down. Then the Phoenix fluttered to the middle of + the mantelpiece and stood there, looking more golden than ever. Then every + one in the house and the office came in—from the cashier to the + women who cooked the clerks’ dinners in the beautiful kitchen at the top + of the house. And every one bowed to the Phoenix and then sat down in a + chair. + </p> + <p> + ‘Gentlemen,’ said the nicest gentleman, ‘we have met here today—’ + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix was turning its golden beak from side to side. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t notice any incense,’ it said, with an injured sniff. A hurried + consultation ended in plates being fetched from the kitchen. Brown sugar, + sealing-wax, and tobacco were placed on these, and something from a square + bottle was poured over it all. Then a match was applied. It was the only + incense that was handy in the Phoenix office, and it certainly burned very + briskly and smoked a great deal. + </p> + <p> + ‘We have met here today,’ said the gentleman again, ‘on an occasion + unparalleled in the annals of this office. Our respected Phoenix—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Head of the House,’ said the Phoenix, in a hollow voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was coming to that. Our respected Phoenix, the Head of this ancient + House, has at length done us the honour to come among us. I think I may + say, gentlemen, that we are not insensible to this honour, and that we + welcome with no uncertain voice one whom we have so long desired to see in + our midst.’ + </p> + <p> + Several of the younger clerks thought of saying ‘Hear, hear,’ but they + feared it might seem disrespectful to the bird. + </p> + <p> + ‘I will not take up your time,’ the speaker went on, ‘by recapitulating + the advantages to be derived from a proper use of our system of fire + insurance. I know, and you know, gentlemen, that our aim has ever been to + be worthy of that eminent bird whose name we bear, and who now adorns our + mantelpiece with his presence. Three cheers, gentlemen, for the winged + Head of the House!’ + </p> + <p> + The cheers rose, deafening. When they had died away the Phoenix was asked + to say a few words. + </p> + <p> + It expressed in graceful phrases the pleasure it felt in finding itself at + last in its own temple. + </p> + <p> + ‘And,’ it went on, ‘You must not think me wanting in appreciation of your + very hearty and cordial reception when I ask that an ode may be recited or + a choric song sung. It is what I have always been accustomed to.’ + </p> + <p> + The four children, dumb witnesses of this wonderful scene, glanced a + little nervously across the foam of white faces above the sea of black + coats. It seemed to them that the Phoenix was really asking a little too + much. + </p> + <p> + ‘Time presses,’ said the Phoenix, ‘and the original ode of invocation is + long, as well as being Greek; and, besides, it’s no use invoking me when + here I am; but is there not a song in your own tongue for a great day such + as this?’ + </p> + <p> + Absently the manager began to sing, and one by one the rest joined— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Absolute security! + No liability! + All kinds of property + insured against fire. + Terms most favourable, + Expenses reasonable, + Moderate rates for annual + Insurance.’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘That one is NOT my favourite,’ interrupted the Phoenix, ‘and I think + you’ve forgotten part of it.’ + </p> + <p> + The manager hastily began another— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘O Golden Phoenix, fairest bird, + The whole great world has often heard + Of all the splendid things we do, + Great Phoenix, just to honour you.’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘That’s better,’ said the bird. And every one sang— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Class one, for private dwelling-house, + For household goods and shops allows; + Provided these are built of brick + Or stone, and tiled and slated thick.’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘Try another verse,’ said the Phoenix, ‘further on.’ + </p> + <p> + And again arose the voices of all the clerks and employees and managers + and secretaries and cooks— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘In Scotland our insurance yields + The price of burnt-up stacks in fields.’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘Skip that verse,’ said the Phoenix. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Thatched dwellings and their whole contents + We deal with—also with their rents; + Oh, glorious Phoenix, look and see + That these are dealt with in class three. + + ‘The glories of your temple throng + Too thick to go in any song; + And we attend, O good and wise, + To “days of grace” and merchandise. + + ‘When people’s homes are burned away + They never have a cent to pay + If they have done as all should do, + O Phoenix, and have honoured you. + + ‘So let us raise our voice and sing + The praises of the Phoenix King. + In classes one and two and three, + Oh, trust to him, for kind is he!’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘I’m sure YOU’RE very kind,’ said the Phoenix; ‘and now we must be going. + An thank you very much for a very pleasant time. May you all prosper as + you deserve to do, for I am sure a nicer, pleasanter-spoken lot of temple + attendants I have never met, and never wish to meet. I wish you all + good-day!’ + </p> + <p> + It fluttered to the wrist of Robert and drew the four children from the + room. The whole of the office staff followed down the wide stairs and + filed into their accustomed places, and the two most important officials + stood on the steps bowing till Robert had buttoned the golden bird in his + Norfolk bosom, and it and he and the three other children were lost in the + crowd. + </p> + <p> + The two most important gentlemen looked at each other earnestly and + strangely for a moment, and then retreated to those sacred inner rooms, + where they toil without ceasing for the good of the House. + </p> + <p> + And the moment they were all in their places—managers, secretaries, + clerks, and porters—they all started, and each looked cautiously + round to see if any one was looking at him. For each thought that he had + fallen asleep for a few minutes, and had dreamed a very odd dream about + the Phoenix and the board-room. And, of course, no one mentioned it to any + one else, because going to sleep at your office is a thing you simply MUST + NOT do. + </p> + <p> + The extraordinary confusion of the board-room, with the remains of the + incense in the plates, would have shown them at once that the visit of the + Phoenix had been no dream, but a radiant reality, but no one went into the + board-room again that day; and next day, before the office was opened, it + was all cleaned and put nice and tidy by a lady whose business asking + questions was not part of. That is why Cyril read the papers in vain on + the next day and the day after that; because no sensible person thinks his + dreams worth putting in the paper, and no one will ever own that he has + been asleep in the daytime. + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix was very pleased, but it decided to write an ode for itself. + It thought the ones it had heard at its temple had been too hastily + composed. Its own ode began— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘For beauty and for modest worth + The Phoenix has not its equal on earth.’ +</pre> + <p> + And when the children went to bed that night it was still trying to cut + down the last line to the proper length without taking out any of what it + wanted to say. + </p> + <p> + That is what makes poetry so difficult. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 6. DOING GOOD + </h2> + <p> + ‘We shan’t be able to go anywhere on the carpet for a whole week, though,’ + said Robert. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I’m glad of it,’ said Jane, unexpectedly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Glad?’ said Cyril; ‘GLAD?’ + </p> + <p> + It was breakfast-time, and mother’s letter, telling them how they were all + going for Christmas to their aunt’s at Lyndhurst, and how father and + mother would meet them there, having been read by every one, lay on the + table, drinking hot bacon-fat with one corner and eating marmalade with + the other. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, glad,’ said Jane. ‘I don’t want any more things to happen just now. + I feel like you do when you’ve been to three parties in a week—like + we did at granny’s once—and extras in between, toys and chocs and + things like that. I want everything to be just real, and no fancy things + happening at all.’ ‘I don’t like being obliged to keep things from + mother,’ said Anthea. ‘I don’t know why, but it makes me feel selfish and + mean.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If we could only get the mater to believe it, we might take her to the + jolliest places,’ said Cyril, thoughtfully. ‘As it is, we’ve just got to + be selfish and mean—if it is that—but I don’t feel it is.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I KNOW it isn’t, but I FEEL it is,’ said Anthea, ‘and that’s just as + bad.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s worse,’ said Robert; ‘if you knew it and didn’t feel it, it wouldn’t + matter so much.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s being a hardened criminal, father says,’ put in Cyril, and he + picked up mother’s letter and wiped its corners with his handkerchief, to + whose colour a trifle of bacon-fat and marmalade made but little + difference. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’re going to-morrow, anyhow,’ said Robert. ‘Don’t,’ he added, with a + good-boy expression on his face—‘don’t let’s be ungrateful for our + blessings; don’t let’s waste the day in saying how horrid it is to keep + secrets from mother, when we all know Anthea tried all she knew to give + her the secret, and she wouldn’t take it. Let’s get on the carpet and have + a jolly good wish. You’ll have time enough to repent of things all next + week.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Cyril, ‘let’s. It’s not really wrong.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, look here,’ said Anthea. ‘You know there’s something about + Christmas that makes you want to be good—however little you wish it + at other times. Couldn’t we wish the carpet to take us somewhere where we + should have the chance to do some good and kind action? It would be an + adventure just the same,’ she pleaded. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t mind,’ said Cyril. ‘We shan’t know where we’re going, and that’ll + be exciting. No one knows what’ll happen. We’d best put on our outers in + case—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We might rescue a traveller buried in the snow, like St Bernard dogs, + with barrels round our necks,’ said Jane, beginning to be interested. + </p> + <p> + ‘Or we might arrive just in time to witness a will being signed—more + tea, please,’ said Robert, ‘and we should see the old man hide it away in + the secret cupboard; and then, after long years, when the rightful heir + was in despair, we should lead him to the hidden panel and—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ interrupted Anthea; ‘or we might be taken to some freezing garret + in a German town, where a poor little pale, sick child—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We haven’t any German money,’ interrupted Cyril, ‘so THAT’S no go. What I + should like would be getting into the middle of a war and getting hold of + secret intelligence and taking it to the general, and he would make me a + lieutenant or a scout, or a hussar.’ + </p> + <p> + When breakfast was cleared away, Anthea swept the carpet, and the children + sat down on it, together with the Phoenix, who had been especially + invited, as a Christmas treat, to come with them and witness the good and + kind action they were about to do. + </p> + <p> + Four children and one bird were ready, and the wish was wished. + </p> + <p> + Every one closed its eyes, so as to feel the topsy-turvy swirl of the + carpet’s movement as little as possible. + </p> + <p> + When the eyes were opened again the children found themselves on the + carpet, and the carpet was in its proper place on the floor of their own + nursery at Camden Town. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say,’ said Cyril, ‘here’s a go!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think it’s worn out? The wishing part of it, I mean?’ Robert + anxiously asked the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not that,’ said the Phoenix; ‘but—well—what did you wish—?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! I see what it means,’ said Robert, with deep disgust; ‘it’s like the + end of a fairy story in a Sunday magazine. How perfectly beastly!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You mean it means we can do kind and good actions where we are? I see. I + suppose it wants us to carry coals for the cook or make clothes for the + bare heathens. Well, I simply won’t. And the last day and everything. Look + here!’ Cyril spoke loudly and firmly. ‘We want to go somewhere really + interesting, where we have a chance of doing something good and kind; we + don’t want to do it here, but somewhere else. See? Now, then.’ + </p> + <p> + The obedient carpet started instantly, and the four children and one bird + fell in a heap together, and as they fell were plunged in perfect + darkness. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you all there?’ said Anthea, breathlessly, through the black dark. + Every one owned that it was there. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where are we? Oh! how shivery and wet it is! Ugh!—oh!—I’ve + put my hand in a puddle!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Has any one got any matches?’ said Anthea, hopelessly. She felt sure that + no one would have any. + </p> + <p> + It was then that Robert, with a radiant smile of triumph that was quite + wasted in the darkness, where, of course, no one could see anything, drew + out of his pocket a box of matches, struck a match and lighted a candle—two + candles. And every one, with its mouth open, blinked at the sudden light. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well done Bobs,’ said his sisters, and even Cyril’s natural brotherly + feelings could not check his admiration of Robert’s foresight. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve always carried them about ever since the lone tower day,’ said + Robert, with modest pride. ‘I knew we should want them some day. I kept + the secret well, didn’t I?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, yes,’ said Cyril, with fine scorn. ‘I found them the Sunday after, + when I was feeling in your Norfolks for the knife you borrowed off me. But + I thought you’d only sneaked them for Chinese lanterns, or reading in bed + by.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bobs,’ said Anthea, suddenly, ‘do you know where we are? This is the + underground passage, and look there—there’s the money and the + money-bags, and everything.’ + </p> + <p> + By this time the ten eyes had got used to the light of the candles, and no + one could help seeing that Anthea spoke the truth. + </p> + <p> + ‘It seems an odd place to do good and kind acts in, though,’ said Jane. + ‘There’s no one to do them to.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you be too sure,’ said Cyril; ‘just round the next turning we might + find a prisoner who has languished here for years and years, and we could + take him out on our carpet and restore him to his sorrowing friends.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course we could,’ said Robert, standing up and holding the candle + above his head to see further off; ‘or we might find the bones of a poor + prisoner and take them to his friends to be buried properly—that’s + always a kind action in books, though I never could see what bones + matter.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish you wouldn’t,’ said Jane. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know exactly where we shall find the bones, too,’ Robert went on. ‘You + see that dark arch just along the passage? Well, just inside there—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you don’t stop going on like that,’ said Jane, firmly, ‘I shall + scream, and then I’ll faint—so now then!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And <i>I</i> will, too,’ said Anthea. + </p> + <p> + Robert was not pleased at being checked in his flight of fancy. + </p> + <p> + ‘You girls will never be great writers,’ he said bitterly. ‘They just love + to think of things in dungeons, and chains, and knobbly bare human bones, + and—’ + </p> + <p> + Jane had opened her mouth to scream, but before she could decide how you + began when you wanted to faint, the golden voice of the Phoenix spoke + through the gloom. + </p> + <p> + ‘Peace!’ it said; ‘there are no bones here except the small but useful + sets that you have inside you. And you did not invite me to come out with + you to hear you talk about bones, but to see you do some good and kind + action.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We can’t do it here,’ said Robert, sulkily. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ rejoined the bird. ‘The only thing we can do here, it seems, is to + try to frighten our little sisters.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He didn’t, really, and I’m not so VERY little,’ said Jane, rather + ungratefully. + </p> + <p> + Robert was silent. It was Cyril who suggested that perhaps they had better + take the money and go. + </p> + <p> + ‘That wouldn’t be a kind act, except to ourselves; and it wouldn’t be + good, whatever way you look at it,’ said Anthea, ‘to take money that’s not + ours.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We might take it and spend it all on benefits to the poor and aged,’ said + Cyril. + </p> + <p> + ‘That wouldn’t make it right to steal,’ said Anthea, stoutly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know,’ said Cyril. They were all standing up now. ‘Stealing is + taking things that belong to some one else, and there’s no one else.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It can’t be stealing if—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s right,’ said Robert, with ironical approval; ‘stand here all day + arguing while the candles burn out. You’ll like it awfully when it’s all + dark again—and bony.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s get out, then,’ said Anthea. ‘We can argue as we go.’ So they + rolled up the carpet and went. But when they had crept along to the place + where the passage led into the topless tower they found the way blocked by + a great stone, which they could not move. + </p> + <p> + ‘There!’ said Robert. ‘I hope you’re satisfied!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Everything has two ends,’ said the Phoenix, softly; ‘even a quarrel or a + secret passage.’ + </p> + <p> + So they turned round and went back, and Robert was made to go first with + one of the candles, because he was the one who had begun to talk about + bones. And Cyril carried the carpet. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish you hadn’t put bones into our heads,’ said Jane, as they went + along. + </p> + <p> + ‘I didn’t; you always had them. More bones than brains,’ said Robert. + </p> + <p> + The passage was long, and there were arches and steps and turnings and + dark alcoves that the girls did not much like passing. The passage ended + in a flight of steps. Robert went up them. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he staggered heavily back on to the following feet of Jane, and + everybody screamed, ‘Oh! what is it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve only bashed my head in,’ said Robert, when he had groaned for some + time; ‘that’s all. Don’t mention it; I like it. The stairs just go right + slap into the ceiling, and it’s a stone ceiling. You can’t do good and + kind actions underneath a paving-stone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stairs aren’t made to lead just to paving-stones as a general rule,’ said + the Phoenix. ‘Put your shoulder to the wheel.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There isn’t any wheel,’ said the injured Robert, still rubbing his head. + </p> + <p> + But Cyril had pushed past him to the top stair, and was already shoving + his hardest against the stone above. Of course, it did not give in the + least. + </p> + <p> + ‘If it’s a trap-door—’ said Cyril. And he stopped shoving and began + to feel about with his hands. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, there is a bolt. I can’t move it.’ + </p> + <p> + By a happy chance Cyril had in his pocket the oil-can of his father’s + bicycle; he put the carpet down at the foot of the stairs, and he lay on + his back, with his head on the top step and his feet straggling down among + his young relations, and he oiled the bolt till the drops of rust and oil + fell down on his face. One even went into his mouth—open, as he + panted with the exertion of keeping up this unnatural position. Then he + tried again, but still the bolt would not move. So now he tied his + handkerchief—the one with the bacon-fat and marmalade on it—to + the bolt, and Robert’s handkerchief to that, in a reef knot, which cannot + come undone however much you pull, and, indeed, gets tighter and tighter + the more you pull it. This must not be confused with a granny knot, which + comes undone if you look at it. And then he and Robert pulled, and the + girls put their arms round their brothers and pulled too, and suddenly the + bolt gave way with a rusty scrunch, and they all rolled together to the + bottom of the stairs—all but the Phoenix, which had taken to its + wings when the pulling began. + </p> + <p> + Nobody was hurt much, because the rolled-up carpet broke their fall; and + now, indeed, the shoulders of the boys were used to some purpose, for the + stone allowed them to heave it up. They felt it give; dust fell freely on + them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, then,’ cried Robert, forgetting his head and his temper, ‘push all + together. One, two, three!’ + </p> + <p> + The stone was heaved up. It swung up on a creaking, unwilling hinge, and + showed a growing oblong of dazzling daylight; and it fell back with a bang + against something that kept it upright. Every one climbed out, but there + was not room for every one to stand comfortably in the little paved house + where they found themselves, so when the Phoenix had fluttered up from the + darkness they let the stone down, and it closed like a trap-door, as + indeed it was. + </p> + <p> + You can have no idea how dusty and dirty the children were. Fortunately + there was no one to see them but each other. The place they were in was a + little shrine, built on the side of a road that went winding up through + yellow-green fields to the topless tower. Below them were fields and + orchards, all bare boughs and brown furrows, and little houses and + gardens. The shrine was a kind of tiny chapel with no front wall—just + a place for people to stop and rest in and wish to be good. So the Phoenix + told them. There was an image that had once been brightly coloured, but + the rain and snow had beaten in through the open front of the shrine, and + the poor image was dull and weather-stained. Under it was written: ‘St + Jean de Luz. Priez pour nous.’ It was a sad little place, very neglected + and lonely, and yet it was nice, Anthea thought, that poor travellers + should come to this little rest-house in the hurry and worry of their + journeyings and be quiet for a few minutes, and think about being good. + The thought of St Jean de Luz—who had, no doubt, in his time, been + very good and kind—made Anthea want more than ever to do something + kind and good. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell us,’ she said to the Phoenix, ‘what is the good and kind action the + carpet brought us here to do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think it would be kind to find the owners of the treasure and tell them + about it,’ said Cyril. + </p> + <p> + ‘And give it them ALL?’ said Jane. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. But whose is it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should go to the first house and ask the name of the owner of the + castle,’ said the golden bird, and really the idea seemed a good one. + </p> + <p> + They dusted each other as well as they could and went down the road. A + little way on they found a tiny spring, bubbling out of the hillside and + falling into a rough stone basin surrounded by draggled hart’s-tongue + ferns, now hardly green at all. Here the children washed their hands and + faces and dried them on their pocket-handkerchiefs, which always, on these + occasions, seem unnaturally small. Cyril’s and Robert’s handkerchiefs, + indeed, rather undid the effects of the wash. But in spite of this the + party certainly looked cleaner than before. + </p> + <p> + The first house they came to was a little white house with green shutters + and a slate roof. It stood in a prim little garden, and down each side of + the neat path were large stone vases for flowers to grow in; but all the + flowers were dead now. + </p> + <p> + Along one side of the house was a sort of wide veranda, built of poles and + trellis-work, and a vine crawled all over it. It was wider than our + English verandas, and Anthea thought it must look lovely when the green + leaves and the grapes were there; but now there were only dry, + reddish-brown stalks and stems, with a few withered leaves caught in them. + </p> + <p> + The children walked up to the front door. It was green and narrow. A chain + with a handle hung beside it, and joined itself quite openly to a rusty + bell that hung under the porch. Cyril had pulled the bell and its noisy + clang was dying away before the terrible thought came to all. Cyril spoke + it. + </p> + <p> + ‘My hat!’ he breathed. ‘We don’t know any French!’ + </p> + <p> + At this moment the door opened. A very tall, lean lady, with pale ringlets + like whitey-brown paper or oak shavings, stood before them. She had an + ugly grey dress and a black silk apron. Her eyes were small and grey and + not pretty, and the rims were red, as though she had been crying. + </p> + <p> + She addressed the party in something that sounded like a foreign language, + and ended with something which they were sure was a question. Of course, + no one could answer it. + </p> + <p> + ‘What does she say?’ Robert asked, looking down into the hollow of his + jacket, where the Phoenix was nestling. But before the Phoenix could + answer, the whitey-brown lady’s face was lighted up by a most charming + smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘You—you ar-r-re fr-r-rom the England!’ she cried. ‘I love so much + the England. Mais entrez—entrez donc tous! Enter, then—enter + all. One essuyes his feet on the carpet.’ She pointed to the mat. + </p> + <p> + ‘We only wanted to ask—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall say you all that what you wish,’ said the lady. ‘Enter only!’ + </p> + <p> + So they all went in, wiping their feet on a very clean mat, and putting + the carpet in a safe corner of the veranda. + </p> + <p> + ‘The most beautiful days of my life,’ said the lady, as she shut the door, + ‘did pass themselves in England. And since long time I have not heard an + English voice to repeal me the past.’ + </p> + <p> + This warm welcome embarrassed every one, but most the boys, for the floor + of the hall was of such very clean red and white tiles, and the floor of + the sitting-room so very shiny—like a black looking-glass—that + each felt as though he had on far more boots than usual, and far noisier. + </p> + <p> + There was a wood fire, very small and very bright, on the hearth—neat + little logs laid on brass fire-dogs. Some portraits of powdered ladies and + gentlemen hung in oval frames on the pale walls. There were silver + candlesticks on the mantelpiece, and there were chairs and a table, very + slim and polite, with slender legs. The room was extremely bare, but with + a bright foreign bareness that was very cheerful, in an odd way of its + own. At the end of the polished table a very un-English little boy sat on + a footstool in a high-backed, uncomfortable-looking chair. He wore black + velvet, and the kind of collar—all frills and lacey—that + Robert would rather have died than wear; but then the little French boy + was much younger than Robert. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, how pretty!’ said every one. But no one meant the little French boy, + with the velvety short knickerbockers and the velvety short hair. + </p> + <p> + What every one admired was a little, little Christmas-tree, very green, + and standing in a very red little flower-pot, and hung round with very + bright little things made of tinsel and coloured paper. There were tiny + candles on the tree, but they were not lighted yet. + </p> + <p> + ‘But yes—is it not that it is genteel?’ said the lady. ‘Sit down you + then, and let us see.’ + </p> + <p> + The children sat down in a row on the stiff chairs against the wall, and + the lady lighted a long, slim red taper at the wood flame, and then she + drew the curtains and lit the little candles, and when they were all + lighted the little French boy suddenly shouted, ‘Bravo, ma tante! Oh, que + c’est gentil,’ and the English children shouted ‘Hooray!’ + </p> + <p> + Then there was a struggle in the breast of Robert, and out fluttered the + Phoenix—spread his gold wings, flew to the top of the + Christmas-tree, and perched there. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! catch it, then,’ cried the lady; ‘it will itself burn—your + genteel parrakeet!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It won’t,’ said Robert, ‘thank you.’ + </p> + <p> + And the little French boy clapped his clean and tidy hands; but the lady + was so anxious that the Phoenix fluttered down and walked up and down on + the shiny walnut-wood table. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it that it talks?’ asked the lady. + </p> + <p> + And the Phoenix replied in excellent French. It said, ‘Parfaitement, + madame!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, the pretty parrakeet,’ said the lady. ‘Can it say still of other + things?’ + </p> + <p> + And the Phoenix replied, this time in English, ‘Why are you sad so near + Christmas-time?’ + </p> + <p> + The children looked at it with one gasp of horror and surprise, for the + youngest of them knew that it is far from manners to notice that strangers + have been crying, and much worse to ask them the reason of their tears. + And, of course, the lady began to cry again, very much indeed, after + calling the Phoenix a bird without a heart; and she could not find her + handkerchief, so Anthea offered hers, which was still very damp and no use + at all. She also hugged the lady, and this seemed to be of more use than + the handkerchief, so that presently the lady stopped crying, and found her + own handkerchief and dried her eyes, and called Anthea a cherished angel. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sorry we came just when you were so sad,’ said Anthea, ‘but we + really only wanted to ask you whose that castle is on the hill.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, my little angel,’ said the poor lady, sniffing, ‘to-day and for + hundreds of years the castle is to us, to our family. To-morrow it must + that I sell it to some strangers—and my little Henri, who ignores + all, he will not have never the lands paternal. But what will you? His + father, my brother—Mr the Marquis—has spent much of money, and + it the must, despite the sentiments of familial respect, that I admit that + my sainted father he also—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How would you feel if you found a lot of money—hundreds and + thousands of gold pieces?’ asked Cyril. + </p> + <p> + The lady smiled sadly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! one has already recounted to you the legend?’ she said. ‘It is true + that one says that it is long time; oh! but long time, one of our + ancestors has hid a treasure—of gold, and of gold, and of gold—enough + to enrich my little Henri for the life. But all that, my children, it is + but the accounts of fays—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She means fairy stories,’ whispered the Phoenix to Robert. ‘Tell her what + you have found.’ + </p> + <p> + So Robert told, while Anthea and Jane hugged the lady for fear she should + faint for joy, like people in books, and they hugged her with the earnest, + joyous hugs of unselfish delight. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s no use explaining how we got in,’ said Robert, when he had told of + the finding of the treasure, ‘because you would find it a little difficult + to understand, and much more difficult to believe. But we can show you + where the gold is and help you to fetch it away.’ + </p> + <p> + The lady looked doubtfully at Robert as she absently returned the hugs of + the girls. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, he’s not making it up,’ said Anthea; ‘it’s true, TRUE, TRUE!—and + we are so glad.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You would not be capable to torment an old woman?’ she said; ‘and it is + not possible that it be a dream.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It really IS true,’ said Cyril; ‘and I congratulate you very much.’ + </p> + <p> + His tone of studied politeness seemed to convince more than the raptures + of the others. + </p> + <p> + ‘If I do not dream,’ she said, ‘Henri come to Manon—and you—you + shall come all with me to Mr the Curate. Is it not?’ + </p> + <p> + Manon was a wrinkled old woman with a red and yellow handkerchief twisted + round her head. She took Henri, who was already sleepy with the excitement + of his Christmas-tree and his visitors, and when the lady had put on a + stiff black cape and a wonderful black silk bonnet and a pair of black + wooden clogs over her black cashmere house-boots, the whole party went + down the road to a little white house—very like the one they had + left—where an old priest, with a good face, welcomed them with a + politeness so great that it hid his astonishment. + </p> + <p> + The lady, with her French waving hands and her shrugging French shoulders + and her trembling French speech, told the story. And now the priest, who + knew no English, shrugged HIS shoulders and waved HIS hands and spoke also + in French. + </p> + <p> + ‘He thinks,’ whispered the Phoenix, ‘that her troubles have turned her + brain. What a pity you know no French!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do know a lot of French,’ whispered Robert, indignantly; ‘but it’s all + about the pencil of the gardener’s son and the penknife of the baker’s + niece—nothing that anyone ever wants to say.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If <i>I</i> speak,’ the bird whispered, ‘he’ll think HE’S mad, too.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell me what to say.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Say “C’est vrai, monsieur. Venez donc voir,”’ said the Phoenix; and then + Robert earned the undying respect of everybody by suddenly saying, very + loudly and distinctly— + </p> + <p> + ‘Say vray, mossoo; venny dong vwaw.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest was disappointed when he found that Robert’s French began and + ended with these useful words; but, at any rate, he saw that if the lady + was mad she was not the only one, and he put on a big beavery hat, and got + a candle and matches and a spade, and they all went up the hill to the + wayside shrine of St John of Luz. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Robert, ‘I will go first and show you where it is.’ + </p> + <p> + So they prised the stone up with a corner of the spade, and Robert did go + first, and they all followed and found the golden treasure exactly as they + had left it. And every one was flushed with the joy of performing such a + wonderfully kind action. + </p> + <p> + Then the lady and the priest clasped hands and wept for joy, as French + people do, and knelt down and touched the money, and talked very fast and + both together, and the lady embraced all the children three times each, + and called them ‘little garden angels,’ and then she and the priest shook + each other by both hands again, and talked, and talked, and talked, faster + and more Frenchy than you would have believed possible. And the children + were struck dumb with joy and pleasure. + </p> + <p> + ‘Get away NOW,’ said the Phoenix softly, breaking in on the radiant dream. + </p> + <p> + So the children crept away, and out through the little shrine, and the + lady and the priest were so tearfully, talkatively happy that they never + noticed that the guardian angels had gone. + </p> + <p> + The ‘garden angels’ ran down the hill to the lady’s little house, where + they had left the carpet on the veranda, and they spread it out and said + ‘Home,’ and no one saw them disappear, except little Henri, who had + flattened his nose into a white button against the window-glass, and when + he tried to tell his aunt she thought he had been dreaming. So that was + all right. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is much the best thing we’ve done,’ said Anthea, when they talked it + over at tea-time. ‘In the future we’ll only do kind actions with the + carpet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ahem!’ said the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, nothing,’ said the bird. ‘I was only thinking!’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 7. MEWS FROM PERSIA + </h2> + <p> + When you hear that the four children found themselves at Waterloo Station + quite un-taken-care-of, and with no one to meet them, it may make you + think that their parents were neither kind nor careful. But if you think + this you will be wrong. The fact is, mother arranged with Aunt Emma that + she was to meet the children at Waterloo, when they went back from their + Christmas holiday at Lyndhurst. The train was fixed, but not the day. Then + mother wrote to Aunt Emma, giving her careful instructions about the day + and the hour, and about luggage and cabs and things, and gave the letter + to Robert to post. But the hounds happened to meet near Rufus Stone that + morning, and what is more, on the way to the meet they met Robert, and + Robert met them, and instantly forgot all about posting Aunt Emma’s + letter, and never thought of it again until he and the others had wandered + three times up and down the platform at Waterloo—which makes six in + all—and had bumped against old gentlemen, and stared in the faces of + ladies, and been shoved by people in a hurry, and ‘by-your-leaved’ by + porters with trucks, and were quite, quite sure that Aunt Emma was not + there. Then suddenly the true truth of what he had forgotten to do came + home to Robert, and he said, ‘Oh, crikey!’ and stood still with his mouth + open, and let a porter with a Gladstone bag in each hand and a bundle of + umbrellas under one arm blunder heavily into him, and never so much as + said, ‘Where are you shoving to now?’ or, ‘Look out where you’re going, + can’t you?’ The heavier bag smote him at the knee, and he staggered, but + he said nothing. + </p> + <p> + When the others understood what was the matter I think they told Robert + what they thought of him. + </p> + <p> + ‘We must take the train to Croydon,’ said Anthea, ‘and find Aunt Emma.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Cyril, ‘and precious pleased those Jevonses would be to see us + and our traps.’ + </p> + <p> + Aunt Emma, indeed, was staying with some Jevonses—very prim people. + They were middle-aged and wore very smart blouses, and they were fond of + matinees and shopping, and they did not care about children. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know MOTHER would be pleased to see us if we went back,’ said Jane. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, she would, but she’d think it was not right to show she was pleased, + because it’s Bob’s fault we’re not met. Don’t I know the sort of thing?’ + said Cyril. ‘Besides, we’ve no tin. No; we’ve got enough for a growler + among us, but not enough for tickets to the New Forest. We must just go + home. They won’t be so savage when they find we’ve really got home all + right. You know auntie was only going to take us home in a cab.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe we ought to go to Croydon,’ Anthea insisted. + </p> + <p> + ‘Aunt Emma would be out to a dead cert,’ said Robert. ‘Those Jevonses go + to the theatre every afternoon, I believe. Besides, there’s the Phoenix at + home, AND the carpet. I votes we call a four-wheeled cabman.’ + </p> + <p> + A four-wheeled cabman was called—his cab was one of the + old-fashioned kind with straw in the bottom—and he was asked by + Anthea to drive them very carefully to their address. This he did, and the + price he asked for doing so was exactly the value of the gold coin + grandpapa had given Cyril for Christmas. This cast a gloom; but Cyril + would never have stooped to argue about a cab-fare, for fear the cabman + should think he was not accustomed to take cabs whenever he wanted them. + For a reason that was something like this he told the cabman to put the + luggage on the steps, and waited till the wheels of the growler had + grittily retired before he rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ he said, with his hand on the handle, ‘we don’t want cook and + Eliza asking us before HIM how it is we’ve come home alone, as if we were + babies.’ + </p> + <p> + Here he rang the bell; and the moment its answering clang was heard, every + one felt that it would be some time before that bell was answered. The + sound of a bell is quite different, somehow, when there is anyone inside + the house who hears it. I can’t tell you why that is—but so it is. + </p> + <p> + ‘I expect they’re changing their dresses,’ said Jane. + </p> + <p> + ‘Too late,’ said Anthea, ‘it must be past five. I expect Eliza’s gone to + post a letter, and cook’s gone to see the time.’ + </p> + <p> + Cyril rang again. And the bell did its best to inform the listening + children that there was really no one human in the house. They rang again + and listened intently. The hearts of all sank low. It is a terrible thing + to be locked out of your own house, on a dark, muggy January evening. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is no gas on anywhere,’ said Jane, in a broken voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘I expect they’ve left the gas on once too often, and the draught blew it + out, and they’re suffocated in their beds. Father always said they would + some day,’ said Robert cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s go and fetch a policeman,’ said Anthea, trembling. + </p> + <p> + ‘And be taken up for trying to be burglars—no, thank you,’ said + Cyril. ‘I heard father read out of the paper about a young man who got + into his own mother’s house, and they got him made a burglar only the + other day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I only hope the gas hasn’t hurt the Phoenix,’ said Anthea. ‘It said it + wanted to stay in the bathroom cupboard, and I thought it would be all + right, because the servants never clean that out. But if it’s gone and got + out and been choked by gas—And besides, directly we open the door we + shall be choked, too. I KNEW we ought to have gone to Aunt Emma, at + Croydon. Oh, Squirrel, I wish we had. Let’s go NOW.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Shut up,’ said her brother, briefly. ‘There’s some one rattling the latch + inside.’ Every one listened with all its ears, and every one stood back as + far from the door as the steps would allow. + </p> + <p> + The latch rattled, and clicked. Then the flap of the letter-box lifted + itself—every one saw it by the flickering light of the gas-lamp that + shone through the leafless lime-tree by the gate—a golden eye seemed + to wink at them through the letter-slit, and a cautious beak whispered— + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you alone?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the Phoenix,’ said every one, in a voice so joyous, and so full of + relief, as to be a sort of whispered shout. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush!’ said the voice from the letter-box slit. ‘Your slaves have gone + a-merry-making. The latch of this portal is too stiff for my beak. But at + the side—the little window above the shelf whereon your bread lies—it + is not fastened.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Righto!’ said Cyril. + </p> + <p> + And Anthea added, ‘I wish you’d meet us there, dear Phoenix.’ + </p> + <p> + The children crept round to the pantry window. It is at the side of the + house, and there is a green gate labelled ‘Tradesmen’s Entrance’, which is + always kept bolted. But if you get one foot on the fence between you and + next door, and one on the handle of the gate, you are over before you know + where you are. This, at least, was the experience of Cyril and Robert, and + even, if the truth must be told, of Anthea and Jane. So in almost no time + all four were in the narrow gravelled passage that runs between that house + and the next. + </p> + <p> + Then Robert made a back, and Cyril hoisted himself up and got his + knicker-bockered knee on the concrete window-sill. He dived into the + pantry head first, as one dives into water, and his legs waved in the air + as he went, just as your legs do when you are first beginning to learn to + dive. The soles of his boots—squarish muddy patches—disappeared. + </p> + <p> + ‘Give me a leg up,’ said Robert to his sisters. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, you don’t,’ said Jane firmly. ‘I’m not going to be left outside here + with just Anthea, and have something creep up behind us out of the dark. + Squirrel can go and open the back door.’ + </p> + <p> + A light had sprung awake in the pantry. Cyril always said the Phoenix + turned the gas on with its beak, and lighted it with a waft of its wing; + but he was excited at the time, and perhaps he really did it himself with + matches, and then forgot all about it. He let the others in by the back + door. And when it had been bolted again the children went all over the + house and lighted every single gas-jet they could find. For they couldn’t + help feeling that this was just the dark dreary winter’s evening when an + armed burglar might easily be expected to appear at any moment. There is + nothing like light when you are afraid of burglars—or of anything + else, for that matter. + </p> + <p> + And when all the gas-jets were lighted it was quite clear that the Phoenix + had made no mistake, and that Eliza and cook were really out, and that + there was no one in the house except the four children, and the Phoenix, + and the carpet, and the blackbeetles who lived in the cupboards on each + side of the nursery fire-place. These last were very pleased that the + children had come home again, especially when Anthea had lighted the + nursery fire. But, as usual, the children treated the loving little + blackbeetles with coldness and disdain. + </p> + <p> + I wonder whether you know how to light a fire? I don’t mean how to strike + a match and set fire to the corners of the paper in a fire someone has + laid ready, but how to lay and light a fire all by yourself. I will tell + you how Anthea did it, and if ever you have to light one yourself you may + remember how it is done. First, she raked out the ashes of the fire that + had burned there a week ago—for Eliza had actually never done this, + though she had had plenty of time. In doing this Anthea knocked her + knuckle and made it bleed. Then she laid the largest and handsomest + cinders in the bottom of the grate. Then she took a sheet of old newspaper + (you ought never to light a fire with to-day’s newspaper—it will not + burn well, and there are other reasons against it), and tore it into four + quarters, and screwed each of these into a loose ball, and put them on the + cinders; then she got a bundle of wood and broke the string, and stuck the + sticks in so that their front ends rested on the bars, and the back ends + on the back of the paper balls. In doing this she cut her finger slightly + with the string, and when she broke it, two of the sticks jumped up and + hit her on the cheek. Then she put more cinders and some bits of coal—no + dust. She put most of that on her hands, but there seemed to be enough + left for her face. Then she lighted the edges of the paper balls, and + waited till she heard the fizz-crack-crack-fizz of the wood as it began to + burn. Then she went and washed her hands and face under the tap in the + back kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Of course, you need not bark your knuckles, or cut your finger, or bruise + your cheek with wood, or black yourself all over; but otherwise, this is a + very good way to light a fire in London. In the real country fires are + lighted in a different and prettier way. + </p> + <p> + But it is always good to wash your hands and face afterwards, wherever you + are. + </p> + <p> + While Anthea was delighting the poor little blackbeetles with the cheerful + blaze, Jane had set the table for—I was going to say tea, but the + meal of which I am speaking was not exactly tea. Let us call it a tea-ish + meal. There was tea, certainly, for Anthea’s fire blazed and crackled so + kindly that it really seemed to be affectionately inviting the kettle to + come and sit upon its lap. So the kettle was brought and tea made. But no + milk could be found—so every one had six lumps of sugar to each cup + instead. The things to eat, on the other hand, were nicer than usual. The + boys looked about very carefully, and found in the pantry some cold + tongue, bread, butter, cheese, and part of a cold pudding—very much + nicer than cook ever made when they were at home. And in the kitchen + cupboard was half a Christmassy cake, a pot of strawberry jam, and about a + pound of mixed candied fruit, with soft crumbly slabs of delicious sugar + in each cup of lemon, orange, or citron. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed, as Jane said, ‘a banquet fit for an Arabian Knight.’ + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix perched on Robert’s chair, and listened kindly and politely to + all they had to tell it about their visit to Lyndhurst, and underneath the + table, by just stretching a toe down rather far, the faithful carpet could + be felt by all—even by Jane, whose legs were very short. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your slaves will not return to-night,’ said the Phoenix. ‘They sleep + under the roof of the cook’s stepmother’s aunt, who is, I gather, hostess + to a large party to-night in honour of her husband’s cousin’s + sister-in-law’s mother’s ninetieth birthday.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think they ought to have gone without leave,’ said Anthea, + ‘however many relations they have, or however old they are; but I suppose + we ought to wash up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not our business about the leave,’ said Cyril, firmly, ‘but I simply + won’t wash up for them. We got it, and we’ll clear it away; and then we’ll + go somewhere on the carpet. It’s not often we get a chance of being out + all night. We can go right away to the other side of the equator, to the + tropical climes, and see the sun rise over the great Pacific Ocean.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Right you are,’ said Robert. ‘I always did want to see the Southern Cross + and the stars as big as gas-lamps.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘DON’T go,’ said Anthea, very earnestly, ‘because I COULDN’T. I’m SURE + mother wouldn’t like us to leave the house and I should hate to be left + here alone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’d stay with you,’ said Jane loyally. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know you would,’ said Anthea gratefully, ‘but even with you I’d much + rather not.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said Cyril, trying to be kind and amiable, ‘I don’t want you to do + anything you think’s wrong, BUT—’ + </p> + <p> + He was silent; this silence said many things. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t see,’ Robert was beginning, when Anthea interrupted— + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m quite sure. Sometimes you just think a thing’s wrong, and sometimes + you KNOW. And this is a KNOW time.’ + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix turned kind golden eyes on her and opened a friendly beak to + say— + </p> + <p> + ‘When it is, as you say, a “know time”, there is no more to be said. And + your noble brothers would never leave you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course not,’ said Cyril rather quickly. And Robert said so too. + </p> + <p> + ‘I myself,’ the Phoenix went on, ‘am willing to help in any way possible. + I will go personally—either by carpet or on the wing—and fetch + you anything you can think of to amuse you during the evening. In order to + waste no time I could go while you wash up.—Why,’ it went on in a + musing voice, ‘does one wash up teacups and wash down the stairs?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You couldn’t wash stairs up, you know,’ said Anthea, ‘unless you began at + the bottom and went up feet first as you washed. I wish cook would try + that way for a change.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t,’ said Cyril, briefly. ‘I should hate the look of her + elastic-side boots sticking up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This is mere trifling,’ said the Phoenix. ‘Come, decide what I shall + fetch for you. I can get you anything you like.’ + </p> + <p> + But of course they couldn’t decide. Many things were suggested—a + rocking-horse, jewelled chessmen, an elephant, a bicycle, a motor-car, + books with pictures, musical instruments, and many other things. But a + musical instrument is agreeable only to the player, unless he has learned + to play it really well; books are not sociable, bicycles cannot be ridden + without going out of doors, and the same is true of motor-cars and + elephants. Only two people can play chess at once with one set of chessmen + (and anyway it’s very much too much like lessons for a game), and only one + can ride on a rocking-horse. Suddenly, in the midst of the discussion, the + Phoenix spread its wings and fluttered to the floor, and from there it + spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘I gather,’ it said, ‘from the carpet, that it wants you to let it go to + its old home, where it was born and brought up, and it will return within + the hour laden with a number of the most beautiful and delightful products + of its native land.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What IS its native land?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I didn’t gather. But since you can’t agree, and time is passing, and the + tea-things are not washed down—I mean washed up—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I votes we do,’ said Robert. ‘It’ll stop all this jaw, anyway. And it’s + not bad to have surprises. Perhaps it’s a Turkey carpet, and it might + bring us Turkish delight.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Or a Turkish patrol,’ said Robert. + </p> + <p> + ‘Or a Turkish bath,’ said Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Or a Turkish towel,’ said Jane. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nonsense,’ Robert urged, ‘it said beautiful and delightful, and towels + and baths aren’t THAT, however good they may be for you. Let it go. I + suppose it won’t give us the slip,’ he added, pushing back his chair and + standing up. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush!’ said the Phoenix; ‘how can you? Don’t trample on its feelings just + because it’s only a carpet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But how can it do it—unless one of us is on it to do the wishing?’ + asked Robert. He spoke with a rising hope that it MIGHT be necessary for + one to go and why not Robert? But the Phoenix quickly threw cold water on + his new-born dream. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, you just write your wish on a paper, and pin it on the carpet.’ + </p> + <p> + So a leaf was torn from Anthea’s arithmetic book, and on it Cyril wrote in + large round-hand the following: + </p> + <p> + We wish you to go to your dear native home, and bring back the most + beautiful and delightful productions of it you can—and not to be + gone long, please. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (Signed) CYRIL. + ROBERT. + ANTHEA. + JANE. +</pre> + <p> + Then the paper was laid on the carpet. + </p> + <p> + ‘Writing down, please,’ said the Phoenix; ‘the carpet can’t read a paper + whose back is turned to it, any more than you can.’ + </p> + <p> + It was pinned fast, and the table and chairs having been moved, the carpet + simply and suddenly vanished, rather like a patch of water on a hearth + under a fierce fire. The edges got smaller and smaller, and then it + disappeared from sight. + </p> + <p> + ‘It may take it some time to collect the beautiful and delightful things,’ + said the Phoenix. ‘I should wash up—I mean wash down.’ + </p> + <p> + So they did. There was plenty of hot water left in the kettle, and every + one helped—even the Phoenix, who took up cups by their handles with + its clever claws and dipped them in the hot water, and then stood them on + the table ready for Anthea to dry them. But the bird was rather slow, + because, as it said, though it was not above any sort of honest work, + messing about with dish-water was not exactly what it had been brought up + to. Everything was nicely washed up, and dried, and put in its proper + place, and the dish-cloth washed and hung on the edge of the copper to + dry, and the tea-cloth was hung on the line that goes across the scullery. + (If you are a duchess’s child, or a king’s, or a person of high social + position’s child, you will perhaps not know the difference between a + dish-cloth and a tea-cloth; but in that case your nurse has been better + instructed than you, and she will tell you all about it.) And just as + eight hands and one pair of claws were being dried on the roller-towel + behind the scullery door there came a strange sound from the other side of + the kitchen wall—the side where the nursery was. It was a very + strange sound, indeed—most odd, and unlike any other sounds the + children had ever heard. At least, they had heard sounds as much like it + as a toy engine’s whistle is like a steam siren’s. + </p> + <p> + ‘The carpet’s come back,’ said Robert; and the others felt that he was + right. + </p> + <p> + ‘But what has it brought with it?’ asked Jane. ‘It sounds like Leviathan, + that great beast.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It couldn’t have been made in India, and have brought elephants? Even + baby ones would be rather awful in that room,’ said Cyril. ‘I vote we take + it in turns to squint through the keyhole.’ + </p> + <p> + They did—in the order of their ages. The Phoenix, being the eldest + by some thousands of years, was entitled to the first peep. But— + </p> + <p> + ‘Excuse me,’ it said, ruffling its golden feathers and sneezing softly; + ‘looking through keyholes always gives me a cold in my golden eyes.’ + </p> + <p> + So Cyril looked. + </p> + <p> + ‘I see something grey moving,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a zoological garden of some sort, I bet,’ said Robert, when he had + taken his turn. And the soft rustling, bustling, ruffling, scuffling, + shuffling, fluffling noise went on inside. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>I</i> can’t see anything,’ said Anthea, ‘my eye tickles so.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Jane’s turn came, and she put her eye to the keyhole. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a giant kitty-cat,’ she said; ‘and it’s asleep all over the floor.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Giant cats are tigers—father said so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, he didn’t. He said tigers were giant cats. It’s not at all the same + thing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s no use sending the carpet to fetch precious things for you if you’re + afraid to look at them when they come,’ said the Phoenix, sensibly. And + Cyril, being the eldest, said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Come on,’ and turned the handle. + </p> + <p> + The gas had been left full on after tea, and everything in the room could + be plainly seen by the ten eyes at the door. At least, not everything, for + though the carpet was there it was invisible, because it was completely + covered by the hundred and ninety-nine beautiful objects which it had + brought from its birthplace. + </p> + <p> + ‘My hat!’ Cyril remarked. ‘I never thought about its being a PERSIAN + carpet.’ + </p> + <p> + Yet it was now plain that it was so, for the beautiful objects which it + had brought back were cats—Persian cats, grey Persian cats, and + there were, as I have said, 199 of them, and they were sitting on the + carpet as close as they could get to each other. But the moment the + children entered the room the cats rose and stretched, and spread and + overflowed from the carpet to the floor, and in an instant the floor was a + sea of moving, mewing pussishness, and the children with one accord + climbed to the table, and gathered up their legs, and the people next door + knocked on the wall—and, indeed, no wonder, for the mews were + Persian and piercing. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is pretty poor sport,’ said Cyril. ‘What’s the matter with the + bounders?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I imagine that they are hungry,’ said the Phoenix. ‘If you were to feed + them—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We haven’t anything to feed them with,’ said Anthea in despair, and she + stroked the nearest Persian back. ‘Oh, pussies, do be quiet—we can’t + hear ourselves think.’ + </p> + <p> + She had to shout this entreaty, for the mews were growing deafening, ‘and + it would take pounds’ and pounds’ worth of cat’s-meat.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s ask the carpet to take them away,’ said Robert. But the girls said + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They are so soft and pussy,’ said Jane. + </p> + <p> + ‘And valuable,’ said Anthea, hastily. ‘We can sell them for lots and lots + of money.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not send the carpet to get food for them?’ suggested the Phoenix, and + its golden voice came harsh and cracked with the effort it had to be make + to be heard above the increasing fierceness of the Persian mews. + </p> + <p> + So it was written that the carpet should bring food for 199 Persian cats, + and the paper was pinned to the carpet as before. + </p> + <p> + The carpet seemed to gather itself together, and the cats dropped off it, + as raindrops do from your mackintosh when you shake it. And the carpet + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Unless you have had one-hundred and ninety-nine well-grown Persian cats in + one small room, all hungry, and all saying so in unmistakable mews, you + can form but a poor idea of the noise that now deafened the children and + the Phoenix. The cats did not seem to have been at all properly brought + up. They seemed to have no idea of its being a mistake in manners to ask + for meals in a strange house—let alone to howl for them—and + they mewed, and they mewed, and they mewed, and they mewed, till the + children poked their fingers into their ears and waited in silent agony, + wondering why the whole of Camden Town did not come knocking at the door + to ask what was the matter, and only hoping that the food for the cats + would come before the neighbours did—and before all the secret of + the carpet and the Phoenix had to be given away beyond recall to an + indignant neighbourhood. + </p> + <p> + The cats mewed and mewed and twisted their Persian forms in and out and + unfolded their Persian tails, and the children and the Phoenix huddled + together on the table. + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix, Robert noticed suddenly, was trembling. + </p> + <p> + ‘So many cats,’ it said, ‘and they might not know I was the Phoenix. These + accidents happen so quickly. It quite un-mans me.’ + </p> + <p> + This was a danger of which the children had not thought. + </p> + <p> + ‘Creep in,’ cried Robert, opening his jacket. + </p> + <p> + And the Phoenix crept in—only just in time, for green eyes had + glared, pink noses had sniffed, white whiskers had twitched, and as Robert + buttoned his coat he disappeared to the waist in a wave of eager grey + Persian fur. And on the instant the good carpet slapped itself down on the + floor. And it was covered with rats—three hundred and ninety-eight + of them, I believe, two for each cat. + </p> + <p> + ‘How horrible!’ cried Anthea. ‘Oh, take them away!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Take yourself away,’ said the Phoenix, ‘and me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish we’d never had a carpet,’ said Anthea, in tears. + </p> + <p> + They hustled and crowded out of the door, and shut it, and locked it. + Cyril, with great presence of mind, lit a candle and turned off the gas at + the main. + </p> + <p> + ‘The rats’ll have a better chance in the dark,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + The mewing had ceased. Every one listened in breathless silence. We all + know that cats eat rats—it is one of the first things we read in our + little brown reading books; but all those cats eating all those rats—it + wouldn’t bear thinking of. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Robert sniffed, in the silence of the dark kitchen, where the + only candle was burning all on one side, because of the draught. + </p> + <p> + ‘What a funny scent!’ he said. + </p> + <p> + And as he spoke, a lantern flashed its light through the window of the + kitchen, a face peered in, and a voice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s all this row about? You let me in.’ + </p> + <p> + It was the voice of the police! + </p> + <p> + Robert tip-toed to the window, and spoke through the pane that had been a + little cracked since Cyril accidentally knocked it with a walking-stick + when he was playing at balancing it on his nose. (It was after they had + been to a circus.) + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you mean?’ he said. ‘There’s no row. You listen; everything’s as + quiet as quiet.’ And indeed it was. + </p> + <p> + The strange sweet scent grew stronger, and the Phoenix put out its beak. + </p> + <p> + The policeman hesitated. + </p> + <p> + ‘They’re MUSK-rats,’ said the Phoenix. ‘I suppose some cats eat them—but + never Persian ones. What a mistake for a well-informed carpet to make! Oh, + what a night we’re having!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do go away,’ said Robert, nervously. ‘We’re just going to bed—that’s + our bedroom candle; there isn’t any row. Everything’s as quiet as a + mouse.’ + </p> + <p> + A wild chorus of mews drowned his words, and with the mews were mingled + the shrieks of the musk-rats. What had happened? Had the cats tasted them + before deciding that they disliked the flavour? + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m a-coming in,’ said the policeman. ‘You’ve got a cat shut up there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A cat,’ said Cyril. ‘Oh, my only aunt! A cat!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come in, then,’ said Robert. ‘It’s your own look out. I advise you not. + Wait a shake, and I’ll undo the side gate.’ + </p> + <p> + He undid the side gate, and the policeman, very cautiously, came in. And + there in the kitchen, by the light of one candle, with the mewing and the + screaming going like a dozen steam sirens, twenty waiting on motor-cars, + and half a hundred squeaking pumps, four agitated voices shouted to the + policeman four mixed and wholly different explanations of the very mixed + events of the evening. + </p> + <p> + Did you ever try to explain the simplest thing to a policeman? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 8. THE CATS, THE COW, AND THE BURGLAR + </h2> + <p> + The nursery was full of Persian cats and musk-rats that had been brought + there by the wishing carpet. The cats were mewing and the musk-rats were + squeaking so that you could hardly hear yourself speak. In the kitchen + were the four children, one candle, a concealed Phoenix, and a very + visible policeman. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now then, look here,’ said the Policeman, very loudly, and he pointed his + lantern at each child in turn, ‘what’s the meaning of this here yelling + and caterwauling. I tell you you’ve got a cat here, and some one’s a + ill-treating of it. What do you mean by it, eh?’ + </p> + <p> + It was five to one, counting the Phoenix; but the policeman, who was one, + was of unusually fine size, and the five, including the Phoenix, were + small. The mews and the squeaks grew softer, and in the comparative + silence, Cyril said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s true. There are a few cats here. But we’ve not hurt them. It’s quite + the opposite. We’ve just fed them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It don’t sound like it,’ said the policeman grimly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I daresay they’re not REAL cats,’ said Jane madly, perhaps they’re only + dream-cats.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll dream-cat you, my lady,’ was the brief response of the force. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you understood anything except people who do murders and stealings and + naughty things like that, I’d tell you all about it,’ said Robert; ‘but + I’m certain you don’t. You’re not meant to shove your oar into people’s + private cat-keepings. You’re only supposed to interfere when people shout + “murder” and “stop thief” in the street. So there!’ + </p> + <p> + The policeman assured them that he should see about that; and at this + point the Phoenix, who had been making itself small on the pot-shelf under + the dresser, among the saucepan lids and the fish-kettle, walked on + tip-toed claws in a noiseless and modest manner, and left the room + unnoticed by any one. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, don’t be so horrid,’ Anthea was saying, gently and earnestly. ‘We + LOVE cats—dear pussy-soft things. We wouldn’t hurt them for worlds. + Would we, Pussy?’ + </p> + <p> + And Jane answered that of course they wouldn’t. And still the policeman + seemed unmoved by their eloquence. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, look here,’ he said, ‘I’m a-going to see what’s in that room beyond + there, and—’ + </p> + <p> + His voice was drowned in a wild burst of mewing and squeaking. And as soon + as it died down all four children began to explain at once; and though the + squeaking and mewing were not at their very loudest, yet there was quite + enough of both to make it very hard for the policeman to understand a + single word of any of the four wholly different explanations now poured + out to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stow it,’ he said at last. ‘I’m a-goin’ into the next room in the + execution of my duty. I’m a-goin’ to use my eyes—my ears have gone + off their chumps, what with you and them cats.’ + </p> + <p> + And he pushed Robert aside, and strode through the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ said Robert. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s tigers REALLY,’ said Jane. ‘Father said so. I wouldn’t go in, if I + were you.’ + </p> + <p> + But the policeman was quite stony; nothing any one said seemed to make any + difference to him. Some policemen are like this, I believe. He strode down + the passage, and in another moment he would have been in the room with all + the cats and all the rats (musk), but at that very instant a thin, sharp + voice screamed from the street outside— + </p> + <p> + ‘Murder—murder! Stop thief!’ + </p> + <p> + The policeman stopped, with one regulation boot heavily poised in the air. + </p> + <p> + ‘Eh?’ he said. + </p> + <p> + And again the shrieks sounded shrilly and piercingly from the dark street + outside. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come on,’ said Robert. ‘Come and look after cats while somebody’s being + killed outside.’ For Robert had an inside feeling that told him quite + plainly WHO it was that was screaming. + </p> + <p> + ‘You young rip,’ said the policeman, ‘I’ll settle up with you bimeby.’ + </p> + <p> + And he rushed out, and the children heard his boots going weightily along + the pavement, and the screams also going along, rather ahead of the + policeman; and both the murder-screams and the policeman’s boots faded + away in the remote distance. + </p> + <p> + Then Robert smacked his knickerbocker loudly with his palm, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Good old Phoenix! I should know its golden voice anywhere.’ + </p> + <p> + And then every one understood how cleverly the Phoenix had caught at what + Robert had said about the real work of a policeman being to look after + murderers and thieves, and not after cats, and all hearts were filled with + admiring affection. + </p> + <p> + ‘But he’ll come back,’ said Anthea, mournfully, ‘as soon as it finds the + murderer is only a bright vision of a dream, and there isn’t one at all + really.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No he won’t,’ said the soft voice of the clever Phoenix, as it flew in. + ‘HE DOES NOT KNOW WHERE YOUR HOUSE IS. I heard him own as much to a fellow + mercenary. Oh! what a night we are having! Lock the door, and let us rid + ourselves of this intolerable smell of the perfume peculiar to the + musk-rat and to the house of the trimmers of beards. If you’ll excuse me, + I will go to bed. I am worn out.’ + </p> + <p> + It was Cyril who wrote the paper that told the carpet to take away the + rats and bring milk, because there seemed to be no doubt in any breast + that, however Persian cats may be, they must like milk. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s hope it won’t be musk-milk,’ said Anthea, in gloom, as she pinned + the paper face-downwards on the carpet. ‘Is there such a thing as a + musk-cow?’ she added anxiously, as the carpet shrivelled and vanished. ‘I + do hope not. Perhaps really it WOULD have been wiser to let the carpet + take the cats away. It’s getting quite late, and we can’t keep them all + night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, can’t we?’ was the bitter rejoinder of Robert, who had been fastening + the side door. ‘You might have consulted me,’ he went on. ‘I’m not such an + idiot as some people.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, whatever—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you see? We’ve jolly well GOT to keep the cats all night—oh, + get down, you furry beasts!—because we’ve had three wishes out of + the old carpet now, and we can’t get any more till to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + The liveliness of Persian mews alone prevented the occurrence of a dismal + silence. + </p> + <p> + Anthea spoke first. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind,’ she said. ‘Do you know, I really do think they’re quieting + down a bit. Perhaps they heard us say milk.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They can’t understand English,’ said Jane. ‘You forget they’re Persian + cats, Panther.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said Anthea, rather sharply, for she was tired and anxious, ‘who + told you “milk” wasn’t Persian for milk. Lots of English words are just + the same in French—at least I know “miaw” is, and “croquet”, and + “fiance”. Oh, pussies, do be quiet! Let’s stroke them as hard as we can + with both hands, and perhaps they’ll stop.’ + </p> + <p> + So every one stroked grey fur till their hands were tired, and as soon as + a cat had been stroked enough to make it stop mewing it was pushed gently + away, and another mewing mouser was approached by the hands of the + strokers. And the noise was really more than half purr when the carpet + suddenly appeared in its proper place, and on it, instead of rows of + milk-cans, or even of milk-jugs, there was a COW. Not a Persian cow, + either, nor, most fortunately, a musk-cow, if there is such a thing, but a + smooth, sleek, dun-coloured Jersey cow, who blinked large soft eyes at the + gas-light and mooed in an amiable if rather inquiring manner. + </p> + <p> + Anthea had always been afraid of cows; but now she tried to be brave. + </p> + <p> + ‘Anyway, it can’t run after me,’ she said to herself ‘There isn’t room for + it even to begin to run.’ + </p> + <p> + The cow was perfectly placid. She behaved like a strayed duchess till some + one brought a saucer for the milk, and some one else tried to milk the cow + into it. Milking is very difficult. You may think it is easy, but it is + not. All the children were by this time strung up to a pitch of heroism + that would have been impossible to them in their ordinary condition. + Robert and Cyril held the cow by the horns; and Jane, when she was quite + sure that their end of the cow was quite secure, consented to stand by, + ready to hold the cow by the tail should occasion arise. Anthea, holding + the saucer, now advanced towards the cow. She remembered to have heard + that cows, when milked by strangers, are susceptible to the soothing + influence of the human voice. So, clutching her saucer very tight, she + sought for words to whose soothing influence the cow might be susceptible. + And her memory, troubled by the events of the night, which seemed to go on + and on for ever and ever, refused to help her with any form of words + suitable to address a Jersey cow in. + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor pussy, then. Lie down, then, good dog, lie down!’ was all that she + could think of to say, and she said it. + </p> + <p> + And nobody laughed. The situation, full of grey mewing cats, was too + serious for that. Then Anthea, with a beating heart, tried to milk the + cow. Next moment the cow had knocked the saucer out of her hand and + trampled on it with one foot, while with the other three she had walked on + a foot each of Robert, Cyril, and Jane. + </p> + <p> + Jane burst into tears. ‘Oh, how much too horrid everything is!’ she cried. + ‘Come away. Let’s go to bed and leave the horrid cats with the hateful + cow. Perhaps somebody will eat somebody else. And serve them right.’ + </p> + <p> + They did not go to bed, but they had a shivering council in the + drawing-room, which smelt of soot—and, indeed, a heap of this lay in + the fender. There had been no fire in the room since mother went away, and + all the chairs and tables were in the wrong places, and the chrysanthemums + were dead, and the water in the pot nearly dried up. Anthea wrapped the + embroidered woolly sofa blanket round Jane and herself, while Robert and + Cyril had a struggle, silent and brief, but fierce, for the larger share + of the fur hearthrug. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is most truly awful,’ said Anthea, ‘and I am so tired. Let’s let the + cats loose.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And the cow, perhaps?’ said Cyril. ‘The police would find us at once. + That cow would stand at the gate and mew—I mean moo—to come + in. And so would the cats. No; I see quite well what we’ve got to do. We + must put them in baskets and leave them on people’s doorsteps, like orphan + foundlings.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ve got three baskets, counting mother’s work one,’ said Jane + brightening. + </p> + <p> + ‘And there are nearly two hundred cats,’ said Anthea, ‘besides the cow—and + it would have to be a different-sized basket for her; and then I don’t + know how you’d carry it, and you’d never find a doorstep big enough to put + it on. Except the church one—and—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, well,’ said Cyril, ‘if you simply MAKE difficulties—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m with you,’ said Robert. ‘Don’t fuss about the cow, Panther. It’s + simply GOT to stay the night, and I’m sure I’ve read that the cow is a + remunerating creature, and that means it will sit still and think for + hours. The carpet can take it away in the morning. And as for the baskets, + we’ll do them up in dusters, or pillow-cases, or bath-towels. Come on, + Squirrel. You girls can be out of it if you like.’ + </p> + <p> + His tone was full of contempt, but Jane and Anthea were too tired and + desperate to care; even being ‘out of it’, which at other times they could + not have borne, now seemed quite a comfort. They snuggled down in the sofa + blanket, and Cyril threw the fur hearthrug over them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, he said, ‘that’s all women are fit for—to keep safe and warm, + while the men do the work and run dangers and risks and things.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not,’ said Anthea, ‘you know I’m not.’ But Cyril was gone. + </p> + <p> + It was warm under the blanket and the hearthrug, and Jane snuggled up + close to her sister; and Anthea cuddled Jane closely and kindly, and in a + sort of dream they heard the rise of a wave of mewing as Robert opened the + door of the nursery. They heard the booted search for baskets in the back + kitchen. They heard the side door open and close, and they knew that each + brother had gone out with at least one cat. Anthea’s last thought was that + it would take at least all night to get rid of one hundred and ninety-nine + cats by twos. There would be ninety-nine journeys of two cats each, and + one cat over. + </p> + <p> + ‘I almost think we might keep the one cat over,’ said Anthea. ‘I don’t + seem to care for cats just now, but I daresay I shall again some day.’ And + she fell asleep. Jane also was sleeping. + </p> + <p> + It was Jane who awoke with a start, to find Anthea still asleep. As, in + the act of awakening, she kicked her sister, she wondered idly why they + should have gone to bed in their boots; but the next moment she remembered + where they were. + </p> + <p> + There was a sound of muffled, shuffled feet on the stairs. Like the + heroine of the classic poem, Jane ‘thought it was the boys’, and as she + felt quite wide awake, and not nearly so tired as before, she crept gently + from Anthea’s side and followed the footsteps. They went down into the + basement; the cats, who seemed to have fallen into the sleep of + exhaustion, awoke at the sound of the approaching footsteps and mewed + piteously. Jane was at the foot of the stairs before she saw it was not + her brothers whose coming had roused her and the cats, but a burglar. She + knew he was a burglar at once, because he wore a fur cap and a red and + black charity-check comforter, and he had no business where he was. + </p> + <p> + If you had been stood in jane’s shoes you would no doubt have run away in + them, appealing to the police and neighbours with horrid screams. But Jane + knew better. She had read a great many nice stories about burglars, as + well as some affecting pieces of poetry, and she knew that no burglar will + ever hurt a little girl if he meets her when burgling. Indeed, in all the + cases Jane had read of, his burglarishness was almost at once forgotten in + the interest he felt in the little girl’s artless prattle. So if Jane + hesitated for a moment before addressing the burglar, it was only because + she could not at once think of any remark sufficiently prattling and + artless to make a beginning with. In the stories and the affecting poetry + the child could never speak plainly, though it always looked old enough to + in the pictures. And Jane could not make up her mind to lisp and ‘talk + baby’, even to a burglar. And while she hesitated he softly opened the + nursery door and went in. + </p> + <p> + Jane followed—just in time to see him sit down flat on the floor, + scattering cats as a stone thrown into a pool splashes water. + </p> + <p> + She closed the door softly and stood there, still wondering whether she + COULD bring herself to say, ‘What’s ‘oo doing here, Mithter Wobber?’ and + whether any other kind of talk would do. + </p> + <p> + Then she heard the burglar draw a long breath, and he spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a judgement,’ he said, ‘so help me bob if it ain’t. Oh, ‘ere’s a + thing to ‘appen to a chap! Makes it come ‘ome to you, don’t it neither? + Cats an’ cats an’ cats. There couldn’t be all them cats. Let alone the + cow. If she ain’t the moral of the old man’s Daisy. She’s a dream out of + when I was a lad—I don’t mind ‘er so much. ‘Ere, Daisy, Daisy?’ + </p> + <p> + The cow turned and looked at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘SHE’S all right,’ he went on. ‘Sort of company, too. Though them above + knows how she got into this downstairs parlour. But them cats—oh, + take ‘em away, take ‘em away! I’ll chuck the ‘ole show—Oh, take ‘em + away.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Burglar,’ said Jane, close behind him, and he started convulsively, and + turned on her a blank face, whose pale lips trembled. ‘I can’t take those + cats away.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lor’ lumme!’ exclaimed the man; ‘if ‘ere ain’t another on ‘em. Are you + real, miss, or something I’ll wake up from presently?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am quite real,’ said Jane, relieved to find that a lisp was not needed + to make the burglar understand her. ‘And so,’ she added, ‘are the cats.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then send for the police, send for the police, and I’ll go quiet. If you + ain’t no realler than them cats, I’m done, spunchuck—out of time. + Send for the police. I’ll go quiet. One thing, there’d not be room for + ‘arf them cats in no cell as ever <i>I</i> see.’ + </p> + <p> + He ran his fingers through his hair, which was short, and his eyes + wandered wildly round the roomful of cats. + </p> + <p> + ‘Burglar,’ said Jane, kindly and softly, ‘if you didn’t like cats, what + did you come here for?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Send for the police,’ was the unfortunate criminal’s only reply. ‘I’d + rather you would—honest, I’d rather.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I daren’t,’ said Jane, ‘and besides, I’ve no one to send. I hate the + police. I wish he’d never been born.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ve a feeling ‘art, miss,’ said the burglar; ‘but them cats is really + a little bit too thick.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here,’ said Jane, ‘I won’t call the police. And I am quite a real + little girl, though I talk older than the kind you’ve met before when + you’ve been doing your burglings. And they are real cats—and they + want real milk—and—Didn’t you say the cow was like somebody’s + Daisy that you used to know?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wish I may die if she ain’t the very spit of her,’ replied the man. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then,’ said Jane—and a thrill of joyful pride ran through her—‘perhaps + you know how to milk cows?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps I does,’ was the burglar’s cautious rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then,’ said Jane, ‘if you will ONLY milk ours—you don’t know how we + shall always love you.’ + </p> + <p> + The burglar replied that loving was all very well. + </p> + <p> + ‘If those cats only had a good long, wet, thirsty drink of milk,’ Jane + went on with eager persuasion, ‘they’d lie down and go to sleep as likely + as not, and then the police won’t come back. But if they go on mewing like + this he will, and then I don’t know what’ll become of us, or you either.’ + </p> + <p> + This argument seemed to decide the criminal. Jane fetched the wash-bowl + from the sink, and he spat on his hands and prepared to milk the cow. At + this instant boots were heard on the stairs. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all up,’ said the man, desperately, ‘this ‘ere’s a plant. ‘ERE’S the + police.’ He made as if to open the window and leap from it. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all right, I tell you,’ whispered Jane, in anguish. ‘I’ll say you’re + a friend of mine, or the good clergyman called in, or my uncle, or + ANYTHING—only do, do, do milk the cow. Oh, DON’T go—oh—oh, + thank goodness it’s only the boys!’ + </p> + <p> + It was; and their entrance had awakened Anthea, who, with her brothers, + now crowded through the doorway. The man looked about him like a rat looks + round a trap. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is a friend of mine,’ said Jane; ‘he’s just called in, and he’s + going to milk the cow for us. ISN’T it good and kind of him?’ + </p> + <p> + She winked at the others, and though they did not understand they played + up loyally. + </p> + <p> + ‘How do?’ said Cyril, ‘Very glad to meet you. Don’t let us interrupt the + milking.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall ‘ave a ‘ead and a ‘arf in the morning, and no bloomin’ error,’ + remarked the burglar; but he began to milk the cow. + </p> + <p> + Robert was winked at to stay and see that he did not leave off milking or + try to escape, and the others went to get things to put the milk in; for + it was now spurting and foaming in the wash-bowl, and the cats had ceased + from mewing and were crowding round the cow, with expressions of hope and + anticipation on their whiskered faces. + </p> + <p> + ‘We can’t get rid of any more cats,’ said Cyril, as he and his sisters + piled a tray high with saucers and soup-plates and platters and + pie-dishes, ‘the police nearly got us as it was. Not the same one—a + much stronger sort. He thought it really was a foundling orphan we’d got. + If it hadn’t been for me throwing the two bags of cat slap in his eye and + hauling Robert over a railing, and lying like mice under a laurel-bush—Well, + it’s jolly lucky I’m a good shot, that’s all. He pranced off when he’d got + the cat-bags off his face—thought we’d bolted. And here we are.’ + </p> + <p> + The gentle samishness of the milk swishing into the hand-bowl seemed to + have soothed the burglar very much. He went on milking in a sort of happy + dream, while the children got a cap and ladled the warm milk out into the + pie-dishes and plates, and platters and saucers, and set them down to the + music of Persian purrs and lappings. + </p> + <p> + ‘It makes me think of old times,’ said the burglar, smearing his ragged + coat-cuff across his eyes—‘about the apples in the orchard at home, + and the rats at threshing time, and the rabbits and the ferrets, and how + pretty it was seeing the pigs killed.’ + </p> + <p> + Finding him in this softened mood, Jane said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish you’d tell us how you came to choose our house for your burglaring + to-night. I am awfully glad you did. You have been so kind. I don’t know + what we should have done without you,’ she added hastily. ‘We all love you + ever so. Do tell us.’ + </p> + <p> + The others added their affectionate entreaties, and at last the burglar + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, it’s my first job, and I didn’t expect to be made so welcome, and + that’s the truth, young gents and ladies. And I don’t know but what it + won’t be my last. For this ‘ere cow, she reminds me of my father, and I + know ‘ow ‘e’d ‘ave ‘ided me if I’d laid ‘ands on a ‘a’penny as wasn’t my + own.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m sure he would,’ Jane agreed kindly; ‘but what made you come here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, miss,’ said the burglar, ‘you know best ‘ow you come by them cats, + and why you don’t like the police, so I’ll give myself away free, and + trust to your noble ‘earts. (You’d best bale out a bit, the pan’s getting + fullish.) I was a-selling oranges off of my barrow—for I ain’t a + burglar by trade, though you ‘ave used the name so free—an’ there + was a lady bought three ‘a’porth off me. An’ while she was a-pickin’ of + them out—very careful indeed, and I’m always glad when them sort + gets a few over-ripe ones—there was two other ladies talkin’ over + the fence. An’ one on ‘em said to the other on ‘em just like this— + </p> + <p> + “‘I’ve told both gells to come, and they can doss in with M’ria and Jane, + ‘cause their boss and his missis is miles away and the kids too. So they + can just lock up the ‘ouse and leave the gas a-burning, so’s no one won’t + know, and get back bright an’ early by ‘leven o’clock. And we’ll make a + night of it, Mrs Prosser, so we will. I’m just a-going to run out to pop + the letter in the post.” And then the lady what had chosen the three + ha’porth so careful, she said: “Lor, Mrs Wigson, I wonder at you, and your + hands all over suds. This good gentleman’ll slip it into the post for yer, + I’ll be bound, seeing I’m a customer of his.” So they give me the letter, + and of course I read the direction what was written on it afore I shoved + it into the post. And then when I’d sold my barrowful, I was a-goin’ ‘ome + with the chink in my pocket, and I’m blowed if some bloomin’ thievin’ + beggar didn’t nick the lot whilst I was just a-wettin’ of my whistle, for + callin’ of oranges is dry work. Nicked the bloomin’ lot ‘e did—and + me with not a farden to take ‘ome to my brother and his missus.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How awful!’ said Anthea, with much sympathy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Horful indeed, miss, I believe yer,’ the burglar rejoined, with deep + feeling. ‘You don’t know her temper when she’s roused. An’ I’m sure I ‘ope + you never may, neither. And I’d ‘ad all my oranges off of ‘em. So it came + back to me what was wrote on the ongverlope, and I says to myself, “Why + not, seein’ as I’ve been done myself, and if they keeps two slaveys there + must be some pickings?” An’ so ‘ere I am. But them cats, they’ve brought + me back to the ways of honestness. Never no more.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here,’ said Cyril, ‘these cats are very valuable—very indeed. + And we will give them all to you, if only you will take them away.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I see they’re a breedy lot,’ replied the burglar. ‘But I don’t want no + bother with the coppers. Did you come by them honest now? Straight?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They are all our very own,’ said Anthea, ‘we wanted them, but the + confidement—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Consignment,’ whispered Cyril, ‘was larger than we wanted, and they’re an + awful bother. If you got your barrow, and some sacks or baskets, your + brother’s missus would be awfully pleased. My father says Persian cats are + worth pounds and pounds each.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said the burglar—and he was certainly moved by her remarks—‘I + see you’re in a hole—and I don’t mind lending a helping ‘and. I + don’t ask ‘ow you come by them. But I’ve got a pal—‘e’s a mark on + cats. I’ll fetch him along, and if he thinks they’d fetch anything above + their skins I don’t mind doin’ you a kindness.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You won’t go away and never come back,’ said Jane, ‘because I don’t think + I COULD bear that.’ + </p> + <p> + The burglar, quite touched by her emotion, swore sentimentally that, alive + or dead, he would come back. + </p> + <p> + Then he went, and Cyril and Robert sent the girls to bed and sat up to + wait for his return. It soon seemed absurd to await him in a state of + wakefulness, but his stealthy tap on the window awoke them readily enough. + For he did return, with the pal and the barrow and the sacks. The pal + approved of the cats, now dormant in Persian repletion, and they were + bundled into the sacks, and taken away on the barrow—mewing, indeed, + but with mews too sleepy to attract public attention. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m a fence—that’s what I am,’ said the burglar gloomily. ‘I never + thought I’d come down to this, and all acause er my kind ‘eart.’ + </p> + <p> + Cyril knew that a fence is a receiver of stolen goods, and he replied + briskly— + </p> + <p> + ‘I give you my sacred the cats aren’t stolen. What do you make the time?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I ain’t got the time on me,’ said the pal—‘but it was just about + chucking-out time as I come by the “Bull and Gate”. I shouldn’t wonder if + it was nigh upon one now.’ + </p> + <p> + When the cats had been removed, and the boys and the burglar had parted + with warm expressions of friendship, there remained only the cow. + </p> + <p> + ‘She must stay all night,’ said Robert. ‘Cook’ll have a fit when she sees + her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All night?’ said Cyril. ‘Why—it’s tomorrow morning if it’s one. We + can have another wish!’ + </p> + <p> + So the carpet was urged, in a hastily written note, to remove the cow to + wherever she belonged, and to return to its proper place on the nursery + floor. But the cow could not be got to move on to the carpet. So Robert + got the clothes line out of the back kitchen, and tied one end very firmly + to the cow’s horns, and the other end to a bunched-up corner of the + carpet, and said ‘Fire away.’ + </p> + <p> + And the carpet and cow vanished together, and the boys went to bed, tired + out and only too thankful that the evening at last was over. + </p> + <p> + Next morning the carpet lay calmly in its place, but one corner was very + badly torn. It was the corner that the cow had been tied on to. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 9. THE BURGLAR’S BRIDE + </h2> + <p> + The morning after the adventure of the Persian cats, the musk-rats, the + common cow, and the uncommon burglar, all the children slept till it was + ten o’clock; and then it was only Cyril who woke; but he attended to the + others, so that by half past ten every one was ready to help to get + breakfast. It was shivery cold, and there was but little in the house that + was really worth eating. + </p> + <p> + Robert had arranged a thoughtful little surprise for the absent servants. + He had made a neat and delightful booby trap over the kitchen door, and as + soon as they heard the front door click open and knew the servants had + come back, all four children hid in the cupboard under the stairs and + listened with delight to the entrance—the tumble, the splash, the + scuffle, and the remarks of the servants. They heard the cook say it was a + judgement on them for leaving the place to itself; she seemed to think + that a booby trap was a kind of plant that was quite likely to grow, all + by itself, in a dwelling that was left shut up. But the housemaid, more + acute, judged that someone must have been in the house—a view + confirmed by the sight of the breakfast things on the nursery table. + </p> + <p> + The cupboard under the stairs was very tight and paraffiny, however, and a + silent struggle for a place on top ended in the door bursting open and + discharging Jane, who rolled like a football to the feet of the servants. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Cyril, firmly, when the cook’s hysterics had become quieter, + and the housemaid had time to say what she thought of them, ‘don’t you + begin jawing us. We aren’t going to stand it. We know too much. You’ll + please make an extra special treacle roley for dinner, and we’ll have a + tinned tongue.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I daresay,’ said the housemaid, indignant, still in her outdoor things + and with her hat very much on one side. ‘Don’t you come a-threatening me, + Master Cyril, because I won’t stand it, so I tell you. You tell your ma + about us being out? Much I care! She’ll be sorry for me when she hears + about my dear great-aunt by marriage as brought me up from a child and was + a mother to me. She sent for me, she did, she wasn’t expected to last the + night, from the spasms going to her legs—and cook was that kind and + careful she couldn’t let me go alone, so—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t,’ said Anthea, in real distress. ‘You know where liars go to, Eliza—at + least if you don’t—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Liars indeed!’ said Eliza, ‘I won’t demean myself talking to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How’s Mrs Wigson?’ said Robert, ‘and DID you keep it up last night?’ + </p> + <p> + The mouth of the housemaid fell open. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you doss with Maria or Emily?’ asked Cyril. + </p> + <p> + ‘How did Mrs Prosser enjoy herself?’ asked Jane. + </p> + <p> + ‘Forbear,’ said Cyril, ‘they’ve had enough. Whether we tell or not depends + on your later life,’ he went on, addressing the servants. ‘If you are + decent to us we’ll be decent to you. You’d better make that treacle roley—and + if I were you, Eliza, I’d do a little housework and cleaning, just for a + change.’ + </p> + <p> + The servants gave in once and for all. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s nothing like firmness,’ Cyril went on, when the breakfast things + were cleared away and the children were alone in the nursery. ‘People are + always talking of difficulties with servants. It’s quite simple, when you + know the way. We can do what we like now and they won’t peach. I think + we’ve broken THEIR proud spirit. Let’s go somewhere by carpet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wouldn’t if I were you,’ said the Phoenix, yawning, as it swooped down + from its roost on the curtain pole. ‘I’ve given you one or two hints, but + now concealment is at an end, and I see I must speak out.’ + </p> + <p> + It perched on the back of a chair and swayed to and fro, like a parrot on + a swing. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the matter now?’ said Anthea. She was not quite so gentle as + usual, because she was still weary from the excitement of last night’s + cats. ‘I’m tired of things happening. I shan’t go anywhere on the carpet. + I’m going to darn my stockings.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Darn!’ said the Phoenix, ‘darn! From those young lips these strange + expressions—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mend, then,’ said Anthea, ‘with a needle and wool.’ + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix opened and shut its wings thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your stockings,’ it said, ‘are much less important than they now appear + to you. But the carpet—look at the bare worn patches, look at the + great rent at yonder corner. The carpet has been your faithful friend—your + willing servant. How have you requited its devoted service?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Phoenix,’ Anthea urged, ‘don’t talk in that horrid lecturing tone. + You make me feel as if I’d done something wrong. And really it is a + wishing carpet, and we haven’t done anything else to it—only + wishes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Only wishes,’ repeated the Phoenix, ruffling its neck feathers angrily, + ‘and what sort of wishes? Wishing people to be in a good temper, for + instance. What carpet did you ever hear of that had such a wish asked of + it? But this noble fabric, on which you trample so recklessly’ (every one + removed its boots from the carpet and stood on the linoleum), ‘this carpet + never flinched. It did what you asked, but the wear and tear must have + been awful. And then last night—I don’t blame you about the cats and + the rats, for those were its own choice; but what carpet could stand a + heavy cow hanging on to it at one corner?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should think the cats and rats were worse,’ said Robert, ‘look at all + their claws.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said the bird, ‘eleven thousand nine hundred and forty of them—I + daresay you noticed? I should be surprised if these had not left their + mark.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good gracious,’ said Jane, sitting down suddenly on the floor, and + patting the edge of the carpet softly; ‘do you mean it’s WEARING OUT?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Its life with you has not been a luxurious one,’ said the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + ‘French mud twice. Sand of sunny shores twice. Soaking in southern seas + once. India once. Goodness knows where in Persia once. Musk-rat-land once. + And once, wherever the cow came from. Hold your carpet up to the light, + and with cautious tenderness, if YOU please.’ + </p> + <p> + With cautious tenderness the boys held the carpet up to the light; the + girls looked, and a shiver of regret ran through them as they saw how + those eleven thoousand nine hundred and forty claws had run through the + carpet. It was full of little holes: there were some large ones, and more + than one thin place. At one corner a strip of it was torn, and hung + forlornly. + </p> + <p> + ‘We must mend it,’ said Anthea; ‘never mind about my stockings. I can sew + them up in lumps with sewing cotton if there’s no time to do them + properly. I know it’s awful and no girl would who respected herself, and + all that; but the poor dear carpet’s more important than my silly + stockings. Let’s go out now this very minute.’ + </p> + <p> + So out they all went, and bought wool to mend the carpet; but there is no + shop in Camden Town where you can buy wishing-wool, no, nor in Kentish + Town either. However, ordinary Scotch heather-mixture fingering seemed + good enough, and this they bought, and all that day Jane and Anthea darned + and darned and darned. The boys went out for a walk in the afternoon, and + the gentle Phoenix paced up and down the table—for exercise, as it + said—and talked to the industrious girls about their carpet. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is not an ordinary, ignorant, innocent carpet from Kidderminster,’ it + said, ‘it is a carpet with a past—a Persian past. Do you know that + in happier years, when that carpet was the property of caliphs, viziers, + kings, and sultans, it never lay on a floor?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought the floor was the proper home of a carpet,’ Jane interrupted. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not of a MAGIC carpet,’ said the Phoenix; ‘why, if it had been allowed to + lie about on floors there wouldn’t be much of it left now. No, indeed! It + has lived in chests of cedarwood, inlaid with pearl and ivory, wrapped in + priceless tissues of cloth of gold, embroidered with gems of fabulous + value. It has reposed in the sandal-wood caskets of princesses, and in the + rose-attar-scented treasure-houses of kings. Never, never, had any one + degraded it by walking on it—except in the way of business, when + wishes were required, and then they always took their shoes off. And YOU—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, DON’T!’ said Jane, very near tears. ‘You know you’d never have been + hatched at all if it hadn’t been for mother wanting a carpet for us to + walk on.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You needn’t have walked so much or so hard!’ said the bird, ‘but come, + dry that crystal tear, and I will relate to you the story of the Princess + Zulieka, the Prince of Asia, and the magic carpet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Relate away,’ said Anthea—‘I mean, please do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Princess Zulieka, fairest of royal ladies,’ began the bird, ‘had in + her cradle been the subject of several enchantments. Her grandmother had + been in her day—’ + </p> + <p> + But what in her day Zulieka’s grandmother had been was destined never to + be revealed, for Cyril and Robert suddenly burst into the room, and on + each brow were the traces of deep emotion. On Cyril’s pale brow stood + beads of agitation and perspiration, and on the scarlet brow of Robert was + a large black smear. + </p> + <p> + ‘What ails ye both?’ asked the Phoenix, and it added tartly that + story-telling was quite impossible if people would come interrupting like + that. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, do shut up, for any sake!’ said Cyril, sinking into a chair. + </p> + <p> + Robert smoothed the ruffled golden feathers, adding kindly— + </p> + <p> + ‘Squirrel doesn’t mean to be a beast. It’s only that the MOST AWFUL thing + has happened, and stories don’t seem to matter so much. Don’t be cross. + You won’t be when you’ve heard what’s happened.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what HAS happened?’ said the bird, still rather crossly; and Anthea + and Jane paused with long needles poised in air, and long needlefuls of + Scotch heather-mixture fingering wool drooping from them. + </p> + <p> + ‘The most awful thing you can possibly think of,’ said Cyril. ‘That nice + chap—our own burglar—the police have got him, on suspicion of + stolen cats. That’s what his brother’s missis told me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, begin at the beginning!’ cried Anthea impatiently. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, we went out, and down by where the undertaker’s is, with the + china flowers in the window—you know. There was a crowd, and of + course we went to have a squint. And it was two bobbies and our burglar + between them, and he was being dragged along; and he said, “I tell you + them cats was GIVE me. I got ‘em in exchange for me milking a cow in a + basement parlour up Camden Town way.” + </p> + <p> + ‘And the people laughed. Beasts! And then one of the policemen said + perhaps he could give the name and address of the cow, and he said, no, he + couldn’t; but he could take them there if they’d only leave go of his coat + collar, and give him a chance to get his breath. And the policeman said he + could tell all that to the magistrate in the morning. He didn’t see us, + and so we came away.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Cyril, how COULD you?’ said Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be a pudding-head,’ Cyril advised. ‘A fat lot of good it would have + done if we’d let him see us. No one would have believed a word we said. + They’d have thought we were kidding. We did better than let him see us. We + asked a boy where he lived and he told us, and we went there, and it’s a + little greengrocer’s shop, and we bought some Brazil nuts. Here they are.’ + The girls waved away the Brazil nuts with loathing and contempt. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, we had to buy SOMETHING, and while we were making up our minds what + to buy we heard his brother’s missis talking. She said when he came home + with all them miaoulers she thought there was more in it than met the eye. + But he WOULD go out this morning with the two likeliest of them, one under + each arm. She said he sent her out to buy blue ribbon to put round their + beastly necks, and she said if he got three months’ hard it was her dying + word that he’d got the blue ribbon to thank for it; that, and his own + silly thieving ways, taking cats that anybody would know he couldn’t have + come by in the way of business, instead of things that wouldn’t have been + missed, which Lord knows there are plenty such, and—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, STOP!’ cried Jane. And indeed it was time, for Cyril seemed like a + clock that had been wound up, and could not help going on. ‘Where is he + now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘At the police-station,’ said Robert, for Cyril was out of breath. ‘The + boy told us they’d put him in the cells, and would bring him up before the + Beak in the morning. I thought it was a jolly lark last night—getting + him to take the cats—but now—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The end of a lark,’ said the Phoenix, ‘is the Beak.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s go to him,’ cried both the girls jumping up. ‘Let’s go and tell the + truth. They MUST believe us.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They CAN’T,’ said Cyril. ‘Just think! If any one came to you with such a + tale, you couldn’t believe it, however much you tried. We should only mix + things up worse for him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There must be something we could do,’ said Jane, sniffing very much—‘my + own dear pet burglar! I can’t bear it. And he was so nice, the way he + talked about his father, and how he was going to be so extra honest. Dear + Phoenix, you MUST be able to help us. You’re so good and kind and pretty + and clever. Do, do tell us what to do.’ + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix rubbed its beak thoughtfully with its claw. + </p> + <p> + ‘You might rescue him,’ it said, ‘and conceal him here, till the + law-supporters had forgotten about him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That would be ages and ages,’ said Cyril, ‘and we couldn’t conceal him + here. Father might come home at any moment, and if he found the burglar + here HE wouldn’t believe the true truth any more than the police would. + That’s the worst of the truth. Nobody ever believes it. Couldn’t we take + him somewhere else?’ + </p> + <p> + Jane clapped her hands. + </p> + <p> + ‘The sunny southern shore!’ she cried, ‘where the cook is being queen. He + and she would be company for each other!’ + </p> + <p> + And really the idea did not seem bad, if only he would consent to go. + </p> + <p> + So, all talking at once, the children arranged to wait till evening, and + then to seek the dear burglar in his lonely cell. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Jane and Anthea darned away as hard as they could, to make the + carpet as strong as possible. For all felt how terrible it would be if the + precious burglar, while being carried to the sunny southern shore, were to + tumble through a hole in the carpet, and be lost for ever in the sunny + southern sea. + </p> + <p> + The servants were tired after Mrs Wigson’s party, so every one went to bed + early, and when the Phoenix reported that both servants were snoring in a + heartfelt and candid manner, the children got up—they had never + undressed; just putting their nightgowns on over their things had been + enough to deceive Eliza when she came to turn out the gas. So they were + ready for anything, and they stood on the carpet and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish we were in our burglar’s lonely cell.’ and instantly they were. + </p> + <p> + I think every one had expected the cell to be the ‘deepest dungeon below + the castle moat’. I am sure no one had doubted that the burglar, chained + by heavy fetters to a ring in the damp stone wall, would be tossing + uneasily on a bed of straw, with a pitcher of water and a mouldering + crust, untasted, beside him. Robert, remembering the underground passage + and the treasure, had brought a candle and matches, but these were not + needed. + </p> + <p> + The cell was a little white-washed room about twelve feet long and six + feet wide. On one side of it was a sort of shelf sloping a little towards + the wall. On this were two rugs, striped blue and yellow, and a + water-proof pillow. Rolled in the rugs, and with his head on the pillow, + lay the burglar, fast asleep. (He had had his tea, though this the + children did not know—it had come from the coffee-shop round the + corner, in very thick crockery.) The scene was plainly revealed by the + light of a gas-lamp in the passage outside, which shone into the cell + through a pane of thick glass over the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall gag him,’ said Cyril, ‘and Robert will hold him down. Anthea and + Jane and the Phoenix can whisper soft nothings to him while he gradually + awakes.’ + </p> + <p> + This plan did not have the success it deserved, because the burglar, + curiously enough, was much stronger, even in his sleep, than Robert and + Cyril, and at the first touch of their hands he leapt up and shouted out + something very loud indeed. + </p> + <p> + Instantly steps were heard outside. Anthea threw her arms round the + burglar and whispered— + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s us—the ones that gave you the cats. We’ve come to save you, + only don’t let on we’re here. Can’t we hide somewhere?’ + </p> + <p> + Heavy boots sounded on the flagged passage outside, and a firm voice + shouted— + </p> + <p> + ‘Here—you—stop that row, will you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right, governor,’ replied the burglar, still with Anthea’s arms round + him; ‘I was only a-talking in my sleep. No offence.’ + </p> + <p> + It was an awful moment. Would the boots and the voice come in. Yes! No! + The voice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, stow it, will you?’ + </p> + <p> + And the boots went heavily away, along the passage and up some sounding + stone stairs. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now then,’ whispered Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘How the blue Moses did you get in?’ asked the burglar, in a hoarse + whisper of amazement. + </p> + <p> + ‘On the carpet,’ said Jane, truly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stow that,’ said the burglar. ‘One on you I could ‘a’ swallowed, but four—AND + a yellow fowl.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here,’ said Cyril, sternly, ‘you wouldn’t have believed any one if + they’d told you beforehand about your finding a cow and all those cats in + our nursery.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That I wouldn’t,’ said the burglar, with whispered fervour, ‘so help me + Bob, I wouldn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then,’ Cyril went on, ignoring this appeal to his brother, ‘just + try to believe what we tell you and act accordingly. It can’t do you any + HARM, you know,’ he went on in hoarse whispered earnestness. ‘You can’t be + very much worse off than you are now, you know. But if you’ll just trust + to us we’ll get you out of this right enough. No one saw us come in. The + question is, where would you like to go?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’d like to go to Boolong,’ was the instant reply of the burglar. ‘I’ve + always wanted to go on that there trip, but I’ve never ‘ad the ready at + the right time of the year.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Boolong is a town like London,’ said Cyril, well meaning, but inaccurate, + ‘how could you get a living there?’ + </p> + <p> + The burglar scratched his head in deep doubt. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s ‘ard to get a ‘onest living anywheres nowadays,’ he said, and his + voice was sad. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, isn’t it?’ said Jane, sympathetically; ‘but how about a sunny + southern shore, where there’s nothing to do at all unless you want to.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s my billet, miss,’ replied the burglar. ‘I never did care about + work—not like some people, always fussing about.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you never like any sort of work?’ asked Anthea, severely. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lor’, lumme, yes,’ he answered, ‘gardening was my ‘obby, so it was. But + father died afore ‘e could bind me to a nurseryman, an’—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ll take you to the sunny southern shore,’ said Jane; ‘you’ve no idea + what the flowers are like.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Our old cook’s there,’ said Anthea. ‘She’s queen—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, chuck it,’ the burglar whispered, clutching at his head with both + hands. ‘I knowed the first minute I see them cats and that cow as it was a + judgement on me. I don’t know now whether I’m a-standing on my hat or my + boots, so help me I don’t. If you CAN get me out, get me, and if you + can’t, get along with you for goodness’ sake, and give me a chanst to + think about what’ll be most likely to go down with the Beak in the + morning.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come on to the carpet, then,’ said Anthea, gently shoving. The others + quietly pulled, and the moment the feet of the burglar were planted on the + carpet Anthea wished: + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish we were all on the sunny southern shore where cook is.’ + </p> + <p> + And instantly they were. There were the rainbow sands, the tropic glories + of leaf and flower, and there, of course, was the cook, crowned with white + flowers, and with all the wrinkles of crossness and tiredness and hard + work wiped out of her face. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, cook, you’re quite pretty!’ Anthea said, as soon as she had got her + breath after the tumble-rush-whirl of the carpet. The burglar stood + rubbing his eyes in the brilliant tropic sunlight, and gazing wildly round + him on the vivid hues of the tropic land. + </p> + <p> + ‘Penny plain and tuppence coloured!’ he exclaimed pensively, ‘and well + worth any tuppence, however hard-earned.’ + </p> + <p> + The cook was seated on a grassy mound with her court of copper-coloured + savages around her. The burglar pointed a grimy finger at these. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are they tame?’ he asked anxiously. ‘Do they bite or scratch, or do + anything to yer with poisoned arrows or oyster shells or that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you be so timid,’ said the cook. ‘Look’e ‘ere, this ‘ere’s only a + dream what you’ve come into, an’ as it’s only a dream there’s no nonsense + about what a young lady like me ought to say or not, so I’ll say you’re + the best-looking fellow I’ve seen this many a day. And the dream goes on + and on, seemingly, as long as you behaves. The things what you has to eat + and drink tastes just as good as real ones, and—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Look ‘ere,’ said the burglar, ‘I’ve come ‘ere straight outer the pleece + station. These ‘ere kids’ll tell you it ain’t no blame er mine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, you WERE a burglar, you know,’ said the truthful Anthea gently. + </p> + <p> + ‘Only because I was druv to it by dishonest blokes, as well you knows, + miss,’ rejoined the criminal. ‘Blowed if this ain’t the ‘ottest January as + I’ve known for years.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wouldn’t you like a bath?’ asked the queen, ‘and some white clothes like + me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should only look a juggins in ‘em, miss, thanking you all the same,’ + was the reply; ‘but a bath I wouldn’t resist, and my shirt was only clean + on week before last.’ + </p> + <p> + Cyril and Robert led him to a rocky pool, where he bathed luxuriously. + Then, in shirt and trousers he sat on the sand and spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘That cook, or queen, or whatever you call her—her with the white + bokay on her ‘ed—she’s my sort. Wonder if she’d keep company!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should ask her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I was always a quick hitter,’ the man went on; ‘it’s a word and a blow + with me. I will.’ + </p> + <p> + In shirt and trousers, and crowned with a scented flowery wreath which + Cyril hastily wove as they returned to the court of the queen, the burglar + stood before the cook and spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look ‘ere, miss,’ he said. ‘You an’ me being’ all forlorn-like, both on + us, in this ‘ere dream, or whatever you calls it, I’d like to tell you + straight as I likes yer looks.’ + </p> + <p> + The cook smiled and looked down bashfully. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m a single man—what you might call a batcheldore. I’m mild in my + ‘abits, which these kids’ll tell you the same, and I’d like to ‘ave the + pleasure of walkin’ out with you next Sunday.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lor!’ said the queen cook, ‘’ow sudden you are, mister.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Walking out means you’re going to be married,’ said Anthea. ‘Why not get + married and have done with it? <i>I</i> would.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t mind if I do,’ said the burglar. But the cook said— + </p> + <p> + ‘No, miss. Not me, not even in a dream. I don’t say anythink ag’in the + young chap’s looks, but I always swore I’d be married in church, if at all—and, + anyway, I don’t believe these here savages would know how to keep a + registering office, even if I was to show them. No, mister, thanking you + kindly, if you can’t bring a clergyman into the dream I’ll live and die + like what I am.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you marry her if we get a clergyman?’ asked the match-making Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m agreeable, miss, I’m sure,’ said he, pulling his wreath straight. + ‘’Ow this ‘ere bokay do tiddle a chap’s ears to be sure!’ + </p> + <p> + So, very hurriedly, the carpet was spread out, and instructed to fetch a + clergyman. The instructions were written on the inside of Cyril’s cap with + a piece of billiard chalk Robert had got from the marker at the hotel at + Lyndhurst. The carpet disappeared, and more quickly than you would have + thought possible it came back, bearing on its bosom the Reverend Septimus + Blenkinsop. + </p> + <p> + The Reverend Septimus was rather a nice young man, but very much mazed and + muddled, because when he saw a strange carpet laid out at his feet, in his + own study, he naturally walked on it to examine it more closely. And he + happened to stand on one of the thin places that Jane and Anthea had + darned, so that he was half on wishing carpet and half on plain Scotch + heather-mixture fingering, which has no magic properties at all. + </p> + <p> + The effect of this was that he was only half there—so that the + children could just see through him, as though he had been a ghost. And as + for him, he saw the sunny southern shore, the cook and the burglar and the + children quite plainly; but through them all he saw, quite plainly also, + his study at home, with the books and the pictures and the marble clock + that had been presented to him when he left his last situation. + </p> + <p> + He seemed to himself to be in a sort of insane fit, so that it did not + matter what he did—and he married the burglar to the cook. The cook + said that she would rather have had a solider kind of a clergyman, one + that you couldn’t see through so plain, but perhaps this was real enough + for a dream. + </p> + <p> + And of course the clergyman, though misty, was really real, and able to + marry people, and he did. When the ceremony was over the clergyman + wandered about the island collecting botanical specimens, for he was a + great botanist, and the ruling passion was strong even in an insane fit. + </p> + <p> + There was a splendid wedding feast. Can you fancy Jane and Anthea, and + Robert and Cyril, dancing merrily in a ring, hand-in-hand with + copper-coloured savages, round the happy couple, the queen cook and the + burglar consort? There were more flowers gathered and thrown than you have + ever even dreamed of, and before the children took carpet for home the now + married-and-settled burglar made a speech. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, ‘and savages of both kinds, only I know + you can’t understand what I’m a saying of, but we’ll let that pass. If + this is a dream, I’m on. If it ain’t, I’m onner than ever. If it’s betwixt + and between—well, I’m honest, and I can’t say more. I don’t want no + more ‘igh London society—I’ve got some one to put my arm around of; + and I’ve got the whole lot of this ‘ere island for my allotment, and if I + don’t grow some broccoli as’ll open the judge’s eye at the cottage flower + shows, well, strike me pink! All I ask is, as these young gents and + ladies’ll bring some parsley seed into the dream, and a penn’orth of + radish seed, and threepenn’orth of onion, and I wouldn’t mind goin’ to + fourpence or fippence for mixed kale, only I ain’t got a brown, so I don’t + deceive you. And there’s one thing more, you might take away the parson. I + don’t like things what I can see ‘alf through, so here’s how!’ He drained + a coconut-shell of palm wine. + </p> + <p> + It was now past midnight—though it was tea-time on the island. + </p> + <p> + With all good wishes the children took their leave. They also collected + the clergyman and took him back to his study and his presentation clock. + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix kindly carried the seeds next day to the burglar and his + bride, and returned with the most satisfactory news of the happy pair. + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s made a wooden spade and started on his allotment,’ it said, ‘and she + is weaving him a shirt and trousers of the most radiant whiteness.’ + </p> + <p> + The police never knew how the burglar got away. In Kentish Town Police + Station his escape is still spoken of with bated breath as the Persian + mystery. + </p> + <p> + As for the Reverend Septimus Blenkinsop, he felt that he had had a very + insane fit indeed, and he was sure it was due to over-study. So he planned + a little dissipation, and took his two maiden aunts to Paris, where they + enjoyed a dazzling round of museums and picture galleries, and came back + feeling that they had indeed seen life. He never told his aunts or any one + else about the marriage on the island—because no one likes it to be + generally known if he has had insane fits, however interesting and + unusual. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 10. THE HOLE IN THE CARPET + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hooray! hooray! hooray! + Mother comes home to-day; + Mother comes home to-day, + Hooray! hooray! hooray!’ +</pre> + <p> + Jane sang this simple song directly after breakfast, and the Phoenix shed + crystal tears of affectionate sympathy. + </p> + <p> + ‘How beautiful,’ it said, ‘is filial devotion!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She won’t be home till past bedtime, though,’ said Robert. ‘We might have + one more carpet-day.’ + </p> + <p> + He was glad that mother was coming home—quite glad, very glad; but + at the same time that gladness was rudely contradicted by a quite strong + feeling of sorrow, because now they could not go out all day on the + carpet. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do wish we could go and get something nice for mother, only she’d want + to know where we got it,’ said Anthea. ‘And she’d never, never believe it, + the truth. People never do, somehow, if it’s at all interesting.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Robert. ‘Suppose we wished the carpet to take + us somewhere where we could find a purse with money in it—then we + could buy her something.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Suppose it took us somewhere foreign, and the purse was covered with + strange Eastern devices, embroidered in rich silks, and full of money that + wasn’t money at all here, only foreign curiosities, then we couldn’t spend + it, and people would bother about where we got it, and we shouldn’t know + how on earth to get out of it at all.’ + </p> + <p> + Cyril moved the table off the carpet as he spoke, and its leg caught in + one of Anthea’s darns and ripped away most of it, as well as a large slit + in the carpet. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, now you HAVE done it,’ said Robert. + </p> + <p> + But Anthea was a really first-class sister. She did not say a word till + she had got out the Scotch heather-mixture fingering wool and the + darning-needle and the thimble and the scissors, and by that time she had + been able to get the better of her natural wish to be thoroughly + disagreeable, and was able to say quite kindly— + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind, Squirrel, I’ll soon mend it.’ + </p> + <p> + Cyril thumped her on the back. He understood exactly how she had felt, and + he was not an ungrateful brother. + </p> + <p> + ‘Respecting the purse containing coins,’ the Phoenix said, scratching its + invisible ear thoughtfully with its shining claw, ‘it might be as well, + perhaps, to state clearly the amount which you wish to find, as well as + the country where you wish to find it, and the nature of the coins which + you prefer. It would be indeed a cold moment when you should find a purse + containing but three oboloi.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How much is an oboloi?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘An obol is about twopence halfpenny,’ the Phoenix replied. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Jane, ‘and if you find a purse I suppose it is only because + some one has lost it, and you ought to take it to the policeman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The situation,’ remarked the Phoenix, ‘does indeed bristle with + difficulties.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What about a buried treasure,’ said Cyril, ‘and every one was dead that + it belonged to?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mother wouldn’t believe THAT,’ said more than one voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Suppose,’ said Robert—‘suppose we asked to be taken where we could + find a purse and give it back to the person it belonged to, and they would + give us something for finding it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We aren’t allowed to take money from strangers. You know we aren’t, + Bobs,’ said Anthea, making a knot at the end of a needleful of Scotch + heather-mixture fingering wool (which is very wrong, and you must never do + it when you are darning). + </p> + <p> + ‘No, THAT wouldn’t do,’ said Cyril. ‘Let’s chuck it and go to the North + Pole, or somewhere really interesting.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said the girls together, ‘there must be SOME way.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait a sec,’ Anthea added. ‘I’ve got an idea coming. Don’t speak.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a silence as she paused with the darning-needle in the air! + Suddenly she spoke: + </p> + <p> + ‘I see. Let’s tell the carpet to take us somewhere where we can get the + money for mother’s present, and—and—and get it some way that + she’ll believe in and not think wrong.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I must say you are learning the way to get the most out of the + carpet,’ said Cyril. He spoke more heartily and kindly than usual, because + he remembered how Anthea had refrained from snarking him about tearing the + carpet. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said the Phoenix, ‘you certainly are. And you have to remember that + if you take a thing out it doesn’t stay in.’ + </p> + <p> + No one paid any attention to this remark at the time, but afterwards every + one thought of it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do hurry up, Panther,’ said Robert; and that was why Anthea did hurry up, + and why the big darn in the middle of the carpet was all open and webby + like a fishing net, not tight and close like woven cloth, which is what a + good, well-behaved darn should be. + </p> + <p> + Then every one put on its outdoor things, the Phoenix fluttered on to the + mantelpiece and arranged its golden feathers in the glass, and all was + ready. Every one got on to the carpet. + </p> + <p> + ‘Please go slowly, dear carpet,’ Anthea began; we like to see where we’re + going.’ And then she added the difficult wish that had been decided on. + </p> + <p> + Next moment the carpet, stiff and raftlike, was sailing over the roofs of + Kentish Town. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish—No, I don’t mean that. I mean it’s a PITY we aren’t higher + up,’ said Anthea, as the edge of the carpet grazed a chimney-pot. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s right. Be careful,’ said the Phoenix, in warning tones. ‘If you + wish when you’re on a wishing carpet, you DO wish, and there’s an end of + it.’ + </p> + <p> + So for a short time no one spoke, and the carpet sailed on in calm + magnificence over St Pancras and King’s Cross stations and over the + crowded streets of Clerkenwell. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’re going out Greenwich way,’ said Cyril, as they crossed the streak of + rough, tumbled water that was the Thames. ‘We might go and have a look at + the Palace.’ + </p> + <p> + On and on the carpet swept, still keeping much nearer to the chimney-pots + than the children found at all comfortable. And then, just over New Cross, + a terrible thing happened. + </p> + <p> + Jane and Robert were in the middle of the carpet. Part of them was on the + carpet, and part of them—the heaviest part—was on the great + central darn. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all very misty,’ said Jane; ‘it looks partly like out of doors and + partly like in the nursery at home. I feel as if I was going to have + measles; everything looked awfully rum then, remember.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I feel just exactly the same,’ Robert said. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the hole,’ said the Phoenix; ‘it’s not measles whatever that + possession may be.’ + </p> + <p> + And at that both Robert and Jane suddenly, and at once, made a bound to + try and get on to the safer part of the carpet, and the darn gave way and + their boots went up, and the heavy heads and bodies of them went down + through the hole, and they landed in a position something between sitting + and sprawling on the flat leads on the top of a high, grey, gloomy, + respectable house whose address was 705, Amersham Road, New Cross. + </p> + <p> + The carpet seemed to awaken to new energy as soon as it had got rid of + their weight, and it rose high in the air. The others lay down flat and + peeped over the edge of the rising carpet. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you hurt?’ cried Cyril, and Robert shouted ‘No,’ and next moment the + carpet had sped away, and Jane and Robert were hidden from the sight of + the others by a stack of smoky chimneys. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, how awful!’ said Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘It might have been worse,’ said the Phoenix. ‘What would have been the + sentiments of the survivors if that darn had given way when we were + crossing the river?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, there’s that,’ said Cyril, recovering himself. ‘They’ll be all + right. They’ll howl till some one gets them down, or drop tiles into the + front garden to attract attention of passersby. Bobs has got my + one-and-fivepence—lucky you forgot to mend that hole in my pocket, + Panther, or he wouldn’t have had it. They can tram it home.’ + </p> + <p> + But Anthea would not be comforted. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all my fault,’ she said. ‘I KNEW the proper way to darn, and I + didn’t do it. It’s all my fault. Let’s go home and patch the carpet with + your Etons—something really strong—and send it to fetch them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right,’ said Cyril; ‘but your Sunday jacket is stronger than my + Etons. We must just chuck mother’s present, that’s all. I wish—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop!’ cried the Phoenix; ‘the carpet is dropping to earth.’ + </p> + <p> + And indeed it was. + </p> + <p> + It sank swiftly, yet steadily, and landed on the pavement of the Deptford + Road. It tipped a little as it landed, so that Cyril and Anthea naturally + walked off it, and in an instant it had rolled itself up and hidden behind + a gate-post. It did this so quickly that not a single person in the + Deptford Road noticed it. The Phoenix rustled its way into the breast of + Cyril’s coat, and almost at the same moment a well-known voice remarked— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I never! What on earth are you doing here?’ + </p> + <p> + They were face to face with their pet uncle—their Uncle Reginald. + </p> + <p> + ‘We DID think of going to Greenwich Palace and talking about Nelson,’ said + Cyril, telling as much of the truth as he thought his uncle could believe. + </p> + <p> + ‘And where are the others?’ asked Uncle Reginald. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t exactly know,’ Cyril replied, this time quite truthfully. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said Uncle Reginald, ‘I must fly. I’ve a case in the County Court. + That’s the worst of being a beastly solicitor. One can’t take the chances + of life when one gets them. If only I could come with you to the Painted + Hall and give you lunch at the “Ship” afterwards! But, alas! it may not + be.’ + </p> + <p> + The uncle felt in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>I</i> mustn’t enjoy myself,’ he said, ‘but that’s no reason why you + shouldn’t. Here, divide this by four, and the product ought to give you + some desired result. Take care of yourselves. Adieu.’ + </p> + <p> + And waving a cheery farewell with his neat umbrella, the good and + high-hatted uncle passed away, leaving Cyril and Anthea to exchange + eloquent glances over the shining golden sovereign that lay in Cyril’s + hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well!’ said Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well!’ said Cyril. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well!’ said the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good old carpet!’ said Cyril, joyously. + </p> + <p> + ‘It WAS clever of it—so adequate and yet so simple,’ said the + Phoenix, with calm approval. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, come on home and let’s mend the carpet. I am a beast. I’d forgotten + the others just for a minute,’ said the conscience-stricken Anthea. + </p> + <p> + They unrolled the carpet quickly and slyly—they did not want to + attract public attention—and the moment their feet were on the + carpet Anthea wished to be at home, and instantly they were. + </p> + <p> + The kindness of their excellent uncle had made it unnecessary for them to + go to such extremes as Cyril’s Etons or Anthea’s Sunday jacket for the + patching of the carpet. + </p> + <p> + Anthea set to work at once to draw the edges of the broken darn together, + and Cyril hastily went out and bought a large piece of the + marble-patterned American oil-cloth which careful house-wives use to cover + dressers and kitchen tables. It was the strongest thing he could think of. + </p> + <p> + Then they set to work to line the carpet throughout with the oil-cloth. + The nursery felt very odd and empty without the others, and Cyril did not + feel so sure as he had done about their being able to ‘tram it’ home. So + he tried to help Anthea, which was very good of him, but not much use to + her. + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix watched them for a time, but it was plainly growing more and + more restless. It fluffed up its splendid feathers, and stood first on one + gilded claw and then on the other, and at last it said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I can bear it no longer. This suspense! My Robert—who set my egg to + hatch—in the bosom of whose Norfolk raiment I have nestled so often + and so pleasantly! I think, if you’ll excuse me—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes—DO,’ cried Anthea, ‘I wish we’d thought of asking you before.’ + </p> + <p> + Cyril opened the window. The Phoenix flapped its sunbright wings and + vanished. + </p> + <p> + ‘So THAT’S all right,’ said Cyril, taking up his needle and instantly + pricking his hand in a new place. + </p> + <p> + Of course I know that what you have really wanted to know about all this + time is not what Anthea and Cyril did, but what happened to Jane and + Robert after they fell through the carpet on to the leads of the house + which was called number 705, Amersham Road. + </p> + <p> + But I had to tell you the other first. That is one of the most annoying + things about stories, you cannot tell all the different parts of them at + the same time. + </p> + <p> + Robert’s first remark when he found himself seated on the damp, cold, + sooty leads was— + </p> + <p> + ‘Here’s a go!’ + </p> + <p> + Jane’s first act was tears. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dry up, Pussy; don’t be a little duffer,’ said her brother, kindly, + ‘it’ll be all right.’ + </p> + <p> + And then he looked about, just as Cyril had known he would, for something + to throw down, so as to attract the attention of the wayfarers far below + in the street. He could not find anything. Curiously enough, there were no + stones on the leads, not even a loose tile. The roof was of slate, and + every single slate knew its place and kept it. But, as so often happens, + in looking for one thing he found another. There was a trap-door leading + down into the house. + </p> + <p> + And that trap-door was not fastened. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop snivelling and come here, Jane,’ he cried, encouragingly. ‘Lend a + hand to heave this up. If we can get into the house, we might sneak down + without meeting any one, with luck. Come on.’ + </p> + <p> + They heaved up the door till it stood straight up, and, as they bent to + look into the hole below, the door fell back with a hollow clang on the + leads behind, and with its noise was mingled a blood-curdling scream from + underneath. + </p> + <p> + ‘Discovered!’ hissed Robert. ‘Oh, my cats alive!’ + </p> + <p> + They were indeed discovered. + </p> + <p> + They found themselves looking down into an attic, which was also a + lumber-room. It had boxes and broken chairs, old fenders and + picture-frames, and rag-bags hanging from nails. + </p> + <p> + In the middle of the floor was a box, open, half full of clothes. Other + clothes lay on the floor in neat piles. In the middle of the piles of + clothes sat a lady, very fat indeed, with her feet sticking out straight + in front of her. And it was she who had screamed, and who, in fact, was + still screaming. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t!’ cried Jane, ‘please don’t! We won’t hurt you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Where are the rest of your gang?’ asked the lady, stopping short in the + middle of a scream. + </p> + <p> + ‘The others have gone on, on the wishing carpet,’ said Jane truthfully. + </p> + <p> + ‘The wishing carpet?’ said the lady. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Jane, before Robert could say ‘You shut up!’ ‘You must have + read about it. The Phoenix is with them.’ + </p> + <p> + Then the lady got up, and picking her way carefully between the piles of + clothes she got to the door and through it. She shut it behind her, and + the two children could hear her calling ‘Septimus! Septimus!’ in a loud + yet frightened way. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Robert quickly; ‘I’ll drop first.’ + </p> + <p> + He hung by his hands and dropped through the trap-door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now you. Hang by your hands. I’ll catch you. Oh, there’s no time for jaw. + Drop, I say.’ + </p> + <p> + Jane dropped. + </p> + <p> + Robert tried to catch her, and even before they had finished the + breathless roll among the piles of clothes, which was what his catching + ended in, he whispered— + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ll hide—behind those fenders and things; they’ll think we’ve + gone along the roofs. Then, when all is calm, we’ll creep down the stairs + and take our chance.’ + </p> + <p> + They hastily hid. A corner of an iron bedstead stuck into Robert’s side, + and Jane had only standing room for one foot—but they bore it—and + when the lady came back, not with Septimus, but with another lady, they + held their breath and their hearts beat thickly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Gone!’ said the first lady; ‘poor little things—quite mad, my dear—and + at large! We must lock this room and send for the police.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me look out,’ said the second lady, who was, if possible, older and + thinner and primmer than the first. So the two ladies dragged a box under + the trap-door and put another box on the top of it, and then they both + climbed up very carefully and put their two trim, tidy heads out of the + trap-door to look for the ‘mad children’. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ whispered Robert, getting the bedstead leg out of his side. + </p> + <p> + They managed to creep out from their hiding-place and out through the door + before the two ladies had done looking out of the trap-door on to the + empty leads. + </p> + <p> + Robert and Jane tiptoed down the stairs—one flight, two flights. + Then they looked over the banisters. Horror! a servant was coming up with + a loaded scuttle. + </p> + <p> + The children with one consent crept swiftly through the first open door. + </p> + <p> + The room was a study, calm and gentlemanly, with rows of books, a writing + table, and a pair of embroidered slippers warming themselves in the + fender. The children hid behind the window-curtains. As they passed the + table they saw on it a missionary-box with its bottom label torn off, open + and empty. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, how awful!’ whispered Jane. ‘We shall never get away alive.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush!’ said Robert, not a moment too soon, for there were steps on the + stairs, and next instant the two ladies came into the room. They did not + see the children, but they saw the empty missionary box. + </p> + <p> + ‘I knew it,’ said one. ‘Selina, it WAS a gang. I was certain of it from + the first. The children were not mad. They were sent to distract our + attention while their confederates robbed the house.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid you are right,’ said Selina; ‘and WHERE ARE THEY NOW?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Downstairs, no doubt, collecting the silver milk-jug and sugar-basin and + the punch-ladle that was Uncle Joe’s, and Aunt Jerusha’s teaspoons. I + shall go down.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, don’t be so rash and heroic,’ said Selina. ‘Amelia, we must call the + police from the window. Lock the door. I WILL—I will—’ + </p> + <p> + The words ended in a yell as Selina, rushing to the window, came face to + face with the hidden children. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, don’t!’ said Jane; ‘how can you be so unkind? We AREN’T burglars, and + we haven’t any gang, and we didn’t open your missionary-box. We opened our + own once, but we didn’t have to use the money, so our consciences made us + put it back and—DON’T! Oh, I wish you wouldn’t—’ + </p> + <p> + Miss Selina had seized Jane and Miss Amelia captured Robert. The children + found themselves held fast by strong, slim hands, pink at the wrists and + white at the knuckles. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ve got YOU, at any rate,’ said Miss Amelia. ‘Selina, your captive is + smaller than mine. You open the window at once and call “Murder!” as loud + as you can. + </p> + <p> + Selina obeyed; but when she had opened the window, instead of calling + ‘Murder!’ she called ‘Septimus!’ because at that very moment she saw her + nephew coming in at the gate. + </p> + <p> + In another minute he had let himself in with his latch-key and had mounted + the stairs. As he came into the room Jane and Robert each uttered a shriek + of joy so loud and so sudden that the ladies leaped with surprise, and + nearly let them go. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s our own clergyman,’ cried Jane. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you remember us?’ asked Robert. ‘You married our burglar for us—don’t + you remember?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I KNEW it was a gang,’ said Amelia. ‘Septimus, these abandoned children + are members of a desperate burgling gang who are robbing the house. They + have already forced the missionary-box and purloined its contents.’ + </p> + <p> + The Reverend Septimus passed his hand wearily over his brow. + </p> + <p> + ‘I feel a little faint,’ he said, ‘running upstairs so quickly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We never touched the beastly box,’ said Robert. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then your confederates did,’ said Miss Selina. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no,’ said the curate, hastily. ‘<i>I</i> opened the box myself. This + morning I found I had not enough small change for the Mothers’ Independent + Unity Measles and Croup Insurance payments. I suppose this is NOT a dream, + is it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dream? No, indeed. Search the house. I insist upon it.’ + </p> + <p> + The curate, still pale and trembling, searched the house, which, of + course, was blamelessly free of burglars. + </p> + <p> + When he came back he sank wearily into his chair. + </p> + <p> + ‘Aren’t you going to let us go?’ asked Robert, with furious indignation, + for there is something in being held by a strong lady that sets the blood + of a boy boiling in his veins with anger and despair. ‘We’ve never done + anything to you. It’s all the carpet. It dropped us on the leads. WE + couldn’t help it. You know how it carried you over to the island, and you + had to marry the burglar to the cook.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, my head!’ said the curate. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind your head just now,’ said Robert; ‘try to be honest and + honourable, and do your duty in that state of life!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This is a judgement on me for something, I suppose,’ said the Reverend + Septimus, wearily, ‘but I really cannot at the moment remember what.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Send for the police,’ said Miss Selina. + </p> + <p> + ‘Send for a doctor,’ said the curate. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think they ARE mad, then,’ said Miss Amelia. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think I am,’ said the curate. + </p> + <p> + Jane had been crying ever since her capture. Now she said— ‘You + aren’t now, but perhaps you will be, if—And it would serve you jolly + well right, too.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Aunt Selina,’ said the curate, ‘and Aunt Amelia, believe me, this is only + an insane dream. You will realize it soon. It has happened to me before. + But do not let us be unjust, even in a dream. Do not hold the children; + they have done no harm. As I said before, it was I who opened the box.’ + </p> + <p> + The strong, bony hands unwillingly loosened their grasp. Robert shook + himself and stood in sulky resentment. But Jane ran to the curate and + embraced him so suddenly that he had not time to defend himself. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re a dear,’ she said. ‘It IS like a dream just at first, but you get + used to it. Now DO let us go. There’s a good, kind, honourable clergyman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know,’ said the Reverend Septimus; ‘it’s a difficult problem. It + is such a very unusual dream. Perhaps it’s only a sort of other life—quite + real enough for you to be mad in. And if you’re mad, there might be a + dream-asylum where you’d be kindly treated, and in time restored, cured, + to your sorrowing relatives. It is very hard to see your duty plainly, + even in ordinary life, and these dream-circumstances are so complicated—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If it’s a dream,’ said Robert, ‘you will wake up directly, and then you’d + be sorry if you’d sent us into a dream-asylum, because you might never get + into the same dream again and let us out, and so we might stay there for + ever, and then what about our sorrowing relatives who aren’t in the dreams + at all?’ + </p> + <p> + But all the curate could now say was, ‘Oh, my head!’ + </p> + <p> + And Jane and Robert felt quite ill with helplessness and hopelessness. A + really conscientious curate is a very difficult thing to manage. + </p> + <p> + And then, just as the hopelessness and the helplessness were getting to be + almost more than they could bear, the two children suddenly felt that + extraordinary shrinking feeling that you always have when you are just + going to vanish. And the next moment they had vanished, and the Reverend + Septimus was left alone with his aunts. + </p> + <p> + ‘I knew it was a dream,’ he cried, wildly. ‘I’ve had something like it + before. Did you dream it too, Aunt Selina, and you, Aunt Amelia? I dreamed + that you did, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + Aunt Selina looked at him and then at Aunt Amelia. Then she said boldly— + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you mean? WE haven’t been dreaming anything. You must have + dropped off in your chair.’ + </p> + <p> + The curate heaved a sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, if it’s only <i>I</i>,’ he said; ‘if we’d all dreamed it I could + never have believed it, never!’ + </p> + <p> + Afterwards Aunt Selina said to the other aunt— + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I know it was an untruth, and I shall doubtless be punished for it + in due course. But I could see the poor dear fellow’s brain giving way + before my very eyes. He couldn’t have stood the strain of three dreams. It + WAS odd, wasn’t it? All three of us dreaming the same thing at the same + moment. We must never tell dear Seppy. But I shall send an account of it + to the Psychical Society, with stars instead of names, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + And she did. And you can read all about it in one of the society’s fat + Blue-books. + </p> + <p> + Of course, you understand what had happened? The intelligent Phoenix had + simply gone straight off to the Psammead, and had wished Robert and Jane + at home. And, of course, they were at home at once. Cyril and Anthea had + not half finished mending the carpet. + </p> + <p> + When the joyful emotions of reunion had calmed down a little, they all + went out and spent what was left of Uncle Reginald’s sovereign in presents + for mother. They bought her a pink silk handkerchief, a pair of blue and + white vases, a bottle of scent, a packet of Christmas candles, and a cake + of soap shaped and coloured like a tomato, and one that was so like an + orange that almost any one you had given it to would have tried to peel it—if + they liked oranges, of course. Also they bought a cake with icing on, and + the rest of the money they spent on flowers to put in the vases. + </p> + <p> + When they had arranged all the things on a table, with the candles stuck + up on a plate ready to light the moment mother’s cab was heard, they + washed themselves thoroughly and put on tidier clothes. + </p> + <p> + Then Robert said, ‘Good old Psammead,’ and the others said so too. + </p> + <p> + ‘But, really, it’s just as much good old Phoenix,’ said Robert. ‘Suppose + it hadn’t thought of getting the wish!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said the Phoenix, ‘it is perhaps fortunate for you that I am such a + competent bird.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s mother’s cab,’ cried Anthea, and the Phoenix hid and they lighted + the candles, and next moment mother was home again. + </p> + <p> + She liked her presents very much, and found their story of Uncle Reginald + and the sovereign easy and even pleasant to believe. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good old carpet,’ were Cyril’s last sleepy words. + </p> + <p> + ‘What there is of it,’ said the Phoenix, from the cornice-pole. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 11. THE BEGINNING OF THE END + </h2> + <p> + ‘Well, I MUST say,’ mother said, looking at the wishing carpet as it lay, + all darned and mended and backed with shiny American cloth, on the floor + of the nursery—‘I MUST say I’ve never in my life bought such a bad + bargain as that carpet.’ + </p> + <p> + A soft ‘Oh!’ of contradiction sprang to the lips of Cyril, Robert, Jane, + and Anthea. Mother looked at them quickly, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, of course, I see you’ve mended it very nicely, and that was sweet + of you, dears.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The boys helped too,’ said the dears, honourably. + </p> + <p> + ‘But, still—twenty-two and ninepence! It ought to have lasted for + years. It’s simply dreadful now. Well, never mind, darlings, you’ve done + your best. I think we’ll have coconut matting next time. A carpet doesn’t + have an easy life of it in this room, does it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not our fault, mother, is it, that our boots are the really reliable + kind?’ Robert asked the question more in sorrow than in anger. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, dear, we can’t help our boots,’ said mother, cheerfully, ‘but we + might change them when we come in, perhaps. It’s just an idea of mine. I + wouldn’t dream of scolding on the very first morning after I’ve come home. + Oh, my Lamb, how could you?’ + </p> + <p> + This conversation was at breakfast, and the Lamb had been beautifully good + until every one was looking at the carpet, and then it was for him but the + work of a moment to turn a glass dish of syrupy blackberry jam upside down + on his young head. It was the work of a good many minutes and several + persons to get the jam off him again, and this interesting work took + people’s minds off the carpet, and nothing more was said just then about + its badness as a bargain and about what mother hoped for from coconut + matting. + </p> + <p> + When the Lamb was clean again he had to be taken care of while mother + rumpled her hair and inked her fingers and made her head ache over the + difficult and twisted house-keeping accounts which cook gave her on dirty + bits of paper, and which were supposed to explain how it was that cook had + only fivepence-half-penny and a lot of unpaid bills left out of all the + money mother had sent her for house-keeping. Mother was very clever, but + even she could not quite understand the cook’s accounts. + </p> + <p> + The Lamb was very glad to have his brothers and sisters to play with him. + He had not forgotten them a bit, and he made them play all the old + exhausting games: ‘Whirling Worlds’, where you swing the baby round and + round by his hands; and ‘Leg and Wing’, where you swing him from side to + side by one ankle and one wrist. There was also climbing Vesuvius. In this + game the baby walks up you, and when he is standing on your shoulders, you + shout as loud as you can, which is the rumbling of the burning mountain, + and then tumble him gently on to the floor, and roll him there, which is + the destruction of Pompeii. + </p> + <p> + ‘All the same, I wish we could decide what we’d better say next time + mother says anything about the carpet,’ said Cyril, breathlessly ceasing + to be a burning mountain. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, you talk and decide,’ said Anthea; ‘here, you lovely ducky Lamb. + Come to Panther and play Noah’s Ark.’ + </p> + <p> + The Lamb came with his pretty hair all tumbled and his face all dusty from + the destruction of Pompeii, and instantly became a baby snake, hissing and + wriggling and creeping in Anthea’s arms, as she said— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘I love my little baby snake, + He hisses when he is awake, + He creeps with such a wriggly creep, + He wriggles even in his sleep.’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘Crocky,’ said the Lamb, and showed all his little teeth. So Anthea went + on— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘I love my little crocodile, + I love his truthful toothful smile; + It is so wonderful and wide, + I like to see it—FROM OUTSIDE.’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘Well, you see,’ Cyril was saying; ‘it’s just the old bother. Mother can’t + believe the real true truth about the carpet, and—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You speak sooth, O Cyril,’ remarked the Phoenix, coming out from the + cupboard where the blackbeetles lived, and the torn books, and the broken + slates, and odd pieces of toys that had lost the rest of themselves. ‘Now + hear the wisdom of Phoenix, the son of the Phoenix—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is a society called that,’ said Cyril. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where is it? And what is a society?’ asked the bird. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a sort of joined-together lot of people—a sort of brotherhood—a + kind of—well, something very like your temple, you know, only quite + different.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I take your meaning,’ said the Phoenix. ‘I would fain see these calling + themselves Sons of the Phoenix.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But what about your words of wisdom?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wisdom is always welcome,’ said the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pretty Polly!’ remarked the Lamb, reaching his hands towards the golden + speaker. + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix modestly retreated behind Robert, and Anthea hastened to + distract the attention of the Lamb by murmuring— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I love my little baby rabbit; + But oh! he has a dreadful habit + Of paddling out among the rocks + And soaking both his bunny socks.’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘I don’t think you’d care about the sons of the Phoenix, really,’ said + Robert. ‘I have heard that they don’t do anything fiery. They only drink a + great deal. Much more than other people, because they drink lemonade and + fizzy things, and the more you drink of those the more good you get.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In your mind, perhaps,’ said Jane; ‘but it wouldn’t be good in your body. + You’d get too balloony.’ + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix yawned. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here,’ said Anthea; ‘I really have an idea. This isn’t like a common + carpet. It’s very magic indeed. Don’t you think, if we put Tatcho on it, + and then gave it a rest, the magic part of it might grow, like hair is + supposed to do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It might,’ said Robert; ‘but I should think paraffin would do as well—at + any rate as far as the smell goes, and that seems to be the great thing + about Tatcho.’ + </p> + <p> + But with all its faults Anthea’s idea was something to do, and they did + it. + </p> + <p> + It was Cyril who fetched the Tatcho bottle from father’s washhand-stand. + But the bottle had not much in it. + </p> + <p> + ‘We mustn’t take it all,’ Jane said, ‘in case father’s hair began to come + off suddenly. If he hadn’t anything to put on it, it might all drop off + before Eliza had time to get round to the chemist’s for another bottle. It + would be dreadful to have a bald father, and it would all be our fault.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And wigs are very expensive, I believe,’ said Anthea. ‘Look here, leave + enough in the bottle to wet father’s head all over with in case any + emergency emerges—and let’s make up with paraffin. I expect it’s the + smell that does the good really—and the smell’s exactly the same.’ + </p> + <p> + So a small teaspoonful of the Tatcho was put on the edges of the worst + darn in the carpet and rubbed carefully into the roots of the hairs of it, + and all the parts that there was not enough Tatcho for had paraffin rubbed + into them with a piece of flannel. Then the flannel was burned. It made a + gay flame, which delighted the Phoenix and the Lamb. + </p> + <p> + ‘How often,’ said mother, opening the door—‘how often am I to tell + you that you are NOT to play with paraffin? What have you been doing?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We have burnt a paraffiny rag,’ Anthea answered. + </p> + <p> + It was no use telling mother what they had done to the carpet. She did not + know it was a magic carpet, and no one wants to be laughed at for trying + to mend an ordinary carpet with lamp-oil. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, don’t do it again,’ said mother. ‘And now, away with melancholy! + Father has sent a telegram. Look!’ She held it out, and the children, + holding it by its yielding corners, read— + </p> + <p> + ‘Box for kiddies at Garrick. Stalls for us, Haymarket. Meet Charing Cross, + 6.30.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That means,’ said mother, ‘that you’re going to see “The Water Babies” + all by your happy selves, and father and I will take you and fetch you. + Give me the Lamb, dear, and you and Jane put clean lace in your red + evening frocks, and I shouldn’t wonder if you found they wanted ironing. + This paraffin smell is ghastly. Run and get out your frocks.’ + </p> + <p> + The frocks did want ironing—wanted it rather badly, as it happened; + for, being of tomato-Coloured Liberty silk, they had been found very + useful for tableaux vivants when a red dress was required for Cardinal + Richelieu. They were very nice tableaux, these, and I wish I could tell + you about them; but one cannot tell everything in a story. You would have + been specially interested in hearing about the tableau of the Princes in + the Tower, when one of the pillows burst, and the youthful Princes were so + covered with feathers that the picture might very well have been called + ‘Michaelmas Eve; or, Plucking the Geese’. + </p> + <p> + Ironing the dresses and sewing the lace in occupied some time, and no one + was dull, because there was the theatre to look forward to, and also the + possible growth of hairs on the carpet, for which every one kept looking + anxiously. By four o’clock Jane was almost sure that several hairs were + beginning to grow. + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix perched on the fender, and its conversation, as usual, was + entertaining and instructive—like school prizes are said to be. But + it seemed a little absent-minded, and even a little sad. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you feel well, Phoenix, dear?’ asked Anthea, stooping to take an + iron off the fire. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not sick,’ replied the golden bird, with a gloomy shake of the head; + ‘but I am getting old.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, you’ve hardly been hatched any time at all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Time,’ remarked the Phoenix, ‘is measured by heartbeats. I’m sure the + palpitations I’ve had since I’ve known you are enough to blanch the + feathers of any bird.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I thought you lived 500 years,’ said Robert, and you’ve hardly begun + this set of years. Think of all the time that’s before you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Time,’ said the Phoenix, ‘is, as you are probably aware, merely a + convenient fiction. There is no such thing as time. I have lived in these + two months at a pace which generously counterbalances 500 years of life in + the desert. I am old, I am weary. I feel as if I ought to lay my egg, and + lay me down to my fiery sleep. But unless I’m careful I shall be hatched + again instantly, and that is a misfortune which I really do not think I + COULD endure. But do not let me intrude these desperate personal + reflections on your youthful happiness. What is the show at the theatre + to-night? Wrestlers? Gladiators? A combat of cameleopards and unicorns?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think so,’ said Cyril; ‘it’s called “The Water Babies”, and if + it’s like the book there isn’t any gladiating in it. There are + chimney-sweeps and professors, and a lobster and an otter and a salmon, + and children living in the water.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It sounds chilly.’ The Phoenix shivered, and went to sit on the tongs. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t suppose there will be REAL water,’ said Jane. ‘And theatres are + very warm and pretty, with a lot of gold and lamps. Wouldn’t you like to + come with us?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>I</i> was just going to say that,’ said Robert, in injured tones, + ‘only I know how rude it is to interrupt. Do come, Phoenix, old chap; it + will cheer you up. It’ll make you laugh like any thing. Mr Bourchier + always makes ripping plays. You ought to have seen “Shock-headed Peter” + last year.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your words are strange,’ said the Phoenix, ‘but I will come with you. The + revels of this Bourchier, of whom you speak, may help me to forget the + weight of my years.’ So that evening the Phoenix snugged inside the + waistcoat of Robert’s Etons—a very tight fit it seemed both to + Robert and to the Phoenix—and was taken to the play. + </p> + <p> + Robert had to pretend to be cold at the glittering, many-mirrored + restaurant where they ate dinner, with father in evening dress, with a + very shiny white shirt-front, and mother looking lovely in her grey + evening dress, that changes into pink and green when she moves. Robert + pretended that he was too cold to take off his great-coat, and so sat + sweltering through what would otherwise have been a most thrilling meal. + He felt that he was a blot on the smart beauty of the family, and he hoped + the Phoenix knew what he was suffering for its sake. Of course, we are all + pleased to suffer for the sake of others, but we like them to know it + unless we are the very best and noblest kind of people, and Robert was + just ordinary. + </p> + <p> + Father was full of jokes and fun, and every one laughed all the time, even + with their mouths full, which is not manners. Robert thought father would + not have been quite so funny about his keeping his over-coat on if father + had known all the truth. And there Robert was probably right. + </p> + <p> + When dinner was finished to the last grape and the last paddle in the + finger glasses—for it was a really truly grown-up dinner—the + children were taken to the theatre, guided to a box close to the stage, + and left. + </p> + <p> + Father’s parting words were: ‘Now, don’t you stir out of this box, + whatever you do. I shall be back before the end of the play. Be good and + you will be happy. Is this zone torrid enough for the abandonment of + great-coats, Bobs? No? Well, then, I should say you were sickening for + something—mumps or measles or thrush or teething. Goodbye.’ + </p> + <p> + He went, and Robert was at last able to remove his coat, mop his + perspiring brow, and release the crushed and dishevelled Phoenix. Robert + had to arrange his damp hair at the looking-glass at the back of the box, + and the Phoenix had to preen its disordered feathers for some time before + either of them was fit to be seen. + </p> + <p> + They were very, very early. When the lights went up fully, the Phoenix, + balancing itself on the gilded back of a chair, swayed in ecstasy. + </p> + <p> + ‘How fair a scene is this!’ it murmured; ‘how far fairer than my temple! + Or have I guessed aright? Have you brought me hither to lift up my heart + with emotions of joyous surprise? Tell me, my Robert, is it not that this, + THIS is my true temple, and the other was but a humble shrine frequented + by outcasts?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know about outcasts,’ said Robert, ‘but you can call this your + temple if you like. Hush! the music is beginning.’ + </p> + <p> + I am not going to tell you about the play. As I said before, one can’t + tell everything, and no doubt you saw ‘The Water Babies’ yourselves. If + you did not it was a shame, or, rather, a pity. + </p> + <p> + What I must tell you is that, though Cyril and Jane and Robert and Anthea + enjoyed it as much as any children possibly could, the pleasure of the + Phoenix was far, far greater than theirs. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is indeed my temple,’ it said again and again. ‘What radiant rites! + And all to do honour to me!’ + </p> + <p> + The songs in the play it took to be hymns in its honour. The choruses were + choric songs in its praise. The electric lights, it said, were magic + torches lighted for its sake, and it was so charmed with the footlights + that the children could hardly persuade it to sit still. But when the + limelight was shown it could contain its approval no longer. It flapped + its golden wings, and cried in a voice that could be heard all over the + theatre: + </p> + <p> + ‘Well done, my servants! Ye have my favour and my countenance!’ + </p> + <p> + Little Tom on the stage stopped short in what he was saying. A deep breath + was drawn by hundreds of lungs, every eye in the house turned to the box + where the luckless children cringed, and most people hissed, or said + ‘Shish!’ or ‘Turn them out!’ + </p> + <p> + Then the play went on, and an attendant presently came to the box and + spoke wrathfully. + </p> + <p> + ‘It wasn’t us, indeed it wasn’t,’ said Anthea, earnestly; ‘it was the + bird.’ + </p> + <p> + The man said well, then, they must keep their bird very quiet. ‘Disturbing + every one like this,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘It won’t do it again,’ said Robert, glancing imploringly at the golden + bird; ‘I’m sure it won’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have my leave to depart,’ said the Phoenix gently. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, he is a beauty, and no mistake,’ said the attendant, ‘only I’d + cover him up during the acts. It upsets the performance.’ + </p> + <p> + And he went. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t speak again, there’s a dear,’ said Anthea; ‘you wouldn’t like to + interfere with your own temple, would you?’ + </p> + <p> + So now the Phoenix was quiet, but it kept whispering to the children. It + wanted to know why there was no altar, no fire, no incense, and became so + excited and fretful and tiresome that four at least of the party of five + wished deeply that it had been left at home. + </p> + <p> + What happened next was entirely the fault of the Phoenix. It was not in + the least the fault of the theatre people, and no one could ever + understand afterwards how it did happen. No one, that is, except the + guilty bird itself and the four children. The Phoenix was balancing itself + on the gilt back of the chair, swaying backwards and forwards and up and + down, as you may see your own domestic parrot do. I mean the grey one with + the red tail. All eyes were on the stage, where the lobster was delighting + the audience with that gem of a song, ‘If you can’t walk straight, walk + sideways!’ when the Phoenix murmured warmly— + </p> + <p> + ‘No altar, no fire, no incense!’ and then, before any of the children + could even begin to think of stopping it, it spread its bright wings and + swept round the theatre, brushing its gleaming feathers against delicate + hangings and gilded woodwork. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to have made but one circular wing-sweep, such as you may see a + gull make over grey water on a stormy day. Next moment it was perched + again on the chair-back—and all round the theatre, where it had + passed, little sparks shone like tinsel seeds, then little smoke wreaths + curled up like growing plants—little flames opened like flower-buds. + People whispered—then people shrieked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fire! Fire!’ The curtain went down—the lights went up. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fire!’ cried every one, and made for the doors. + </p> + <p> + ‘A magnificent idea!’ said the Phoenix, complacently. ‘An enormous altar—fire + supplied free of charge. Doesn’t the incense smell delicious?’ + </p> + <p> + The only smell was the stifling smell of smoke, of burning silk, or + scorching varnish. + </p> + <p> + The little flames had opened now into great flame-flowers. The people in + the theatre were shouting and pressing towards the doors. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, how COULD you!’ cried Jane. ‘Let’s get out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Father said stay here,’ said Anthea, very pale, and trying to speak in + her ordinary voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘He didn’t mean stay and be roasted,’ said Robert. ‘No boys on burning + decks for me, thank you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not much,’ said Cyril, and he opened the door of the box. + </p> + <p> + But a fierce waft of smoke and hot air made him shut it again. It was not + possible to get out that way. + </p> + <p> + They looked over the front of the box. Could they climb down? + </p> + <p> + It would be possible, certainly; but would they be much better off? + </p> + <p> + ‘Look at the people,’ moaned Anthea; ‘we couldn’t get through.’ + </p> + <p> + And, indeed, the crowd round the doors looked as thick as flies in the + jam-making season. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish we’d never seen the Phoenix,’ cried Jane. + </p> + <p> + Even at that awful moment Robert looked round to see if the bird had + overheard a speech which, however natural, was hardly polite or grateful. + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix was gone. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here,’ said Cyril, ‘I’ve read about fires in papers; I’m sure it’s + all right. Let’s wait here, as father said.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We can’t do anything else,’ said Anthea bitterly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here,’ said Robert, ‘I’m NOT frightened—no, I’m not. The + Phoenix has never been a skunk yet, and I’m certain it’ll see us through + somehow. I believe in the Phoenix!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Phoenix thanks you, O Robert,’ said a golden voice at his feet, and + there was the Phoenix itself, on the Wishing Carpet. + </p> + <p> + ‘Quick!’ it said. ‘Stand on those portions of the carpet which are truly + antique and authentic—and—’ + </p> + <p> + A sudden jet of flame stopped its words. Alas! the Phoenix had + unconsciously warmed to its subject, and in the unintentional heat of the + moment had set fire to the paraffin with which that morning the children + had anointed the carpet. It burned merrily. The children tried in vain to + stamp it out. They had to stand back and let it burn itself out. When the + paraffin had burned away it was found that it had taken with it all the + darns of Scotch heather-mixture fingering. Only the fabric of the old + carpet was left—and that was full of holes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come,’ said the Phoenix, ‘I’m cool now.’ + </p> + <p> + The four children got on to what was left of the carpet. Very careful they + were not to leave a leg or a hand hanging over one of the holes. It was + very hot—the theatre was a pit of fire. Every one else had got out. + </p> + <p> + Jane had to sit on Anthea’s lap. + </p> + <p> + ‘Home!’ said Cyril, and instantly the cool draught from under the nursery + door played upon their legs as they sat. They were all on the carpet + still, and the carpet was lying in its proper place on the nursery floor, + as calm and unmoved as though it had never been to the theatre or taken + part in a fire in its life. + </p> + <p> + Four long breaths of deep relief were instantly breathed. The draught + which they had never liked before was for the moment quite pleasant. And + they were safe. And every one else was safe. The theatre had been quite + empty when they left. Every one was sure of that. + </p> + <p> + They presently found themselves all talking at once. Somehow none of their + adventures had given them so much to talk about. None other had seemed so + real. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you notice—?’ they said, and ‘Do you remember—?’ + </p> + <p> + When suddenly Anthea’s face turned pale under the dirt which it had + collected on it during the fire. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ she cried, ‘mother and father! Oh, how awful! They’ll think we’re + burned to cinders. Oh, let’s go this minute and tell them we aren’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We should only miss them,’ said the sensible Cyril. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well—YOU go then,’ said Anthea, ‘or I will. Only do wash your face + first. Mother will be sure to think you are burnt to a cinder if she sees + you as black as that, and she’ll faint or be ill or something. Oh, I wish + we’d never got to know that Phoenix.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush!’ said Robert; ‘it’s no use being rude to the bird. I suppose it + can’t help its nature. Perhaps we’d better wash too. Now I come to think + of it my hands are rather—’ + </p> + <p> + No one had noticed the Phoenix since it had bidden them to step on the + carpet. And no one noticed that no one had noticed. + </p> + <p> + All were partially clean, and Cyril was just plunging into his great-coat + to go and look for his parents—he, and not unjustly, called it + looking for a needle in a bundle of hay—when the sound of father’s + latchkey in the front door sent every one bounding up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you all safe?’ cried mother’s voice; ‘are you all safe?’ and the next + moment she was kneeling on the linoleum of the hall, trying to kiss four + damp children at once, and laughing and crying by turns, while father + stood looking on and saying he was blessed or something. + </p> + <p> + ‘But how did you guess we’d come home,’ said Cyril, later, when every one + was calm enough for talking. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, it was rather a rum thing. We heard the Garrick was on fire, and of + course we went straight there,’ said father, briskly. ‘We couldn’t find + you, of course—and we couldn’t get in—but the firemen told us + every one was safely out. And then I heard a voice at my ear say, “Cyril, + Anthea, Robert, and Jane”—and something touched me on the shoulder. + It was a great yellow pigeon, and it got in the way of my seeing who’d + spoken. It fluttered off, and then some one said in the other ear, + “They’re safe at home”; and when I turned again, to see who it was + speaking, hanged if there wasn’t that confounded pigeon on my other + shoulder. Dazed by the fire, I suppose. Your mother said it was the voice + of—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I said it was the bird that spoke,’ said mother, ‘and so it was. Or at + least I thought so then. It wasn’t a pigeon. It was an orange-coloured + cockatoo. I don’t care who it was that spoke. It was true and you’re + safe.’ + </p> + <p> + Mother began to cry again, and father said bed was a good place after the + pleasures of the stage. + </p> + <p> + So every one went there. + </p> + <p> + Robert had a talk to the Phoenix that night. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, very well,’ said the bird, when Robert had said what he felt, ‘didn’t + you know that I had power over fire? Do not distress yourself. I, like my + high priests in Lombard Street, can undo the work of flames. Kindly open + the casement.’ + </p> + <p> + It flew out. + </p> + <p> + That was why the papers said next day that the fire at the theatre had + done less damage than had been anticipated. As a matter of fact it had + done none, for the Phoenix spent the night in putting things straight. How + the management accounted for this, and how many of the theatre officials + still believe that they were mad on that night will never be known. + </p> + <p> + Next day mother saw the burnt holes in the carpet. + </p> + <p> + ‘It caught where it was paraffiny,’ said Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must get rid of that carpet at once,’ said mother. + </p> + <p> + But what the children said in sad whispers to each other, as they pondered + over last night’s events, was— + </p> + <p> + ‘We must get rid of that Phoenix.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 12. THE END OF THE END + </h2> + <p> + ‘Egg, toast, tea, milk, tea-cup and saucer, egg-spoon, knife, butter—that’s + all, I think,’ remarked Anthea, as she put the last touches to mother’s + breakfast-tray, and went, very carefully up the stairs, feeling for every + step with her toes, and holding on to the tray with all her fingers. She + crept into mother’s room and set the tray on a chair. Then she pulled one + of the blinds up very softly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is your head better, mammy dear?’ she asked, in the soft little voice + that she kept expressly for mother’s headaches. ‘I’ve brought your + brekkie, and I’ve put the little cloth with clover-leaves on it, the one I + made you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s very nice,’ said mother sleepily. + </p> + <p> + Anthea knew exactly what to do for mothers with headaches who had + breakfast in bed. She fetched warm water and put just enough eau de + Cologne in it, and bathed mother’s face and hands with the sweet-scented + water. Then mother was able to think about breakfast. + </p> + <p> + ‘But what’s the matter with my girl?’ she asked, when her eyes got used to + the light. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I’m so sorry you’re ill,’ Anthea said. ‘It’s that horrible fire and + you being so frightened. Father said so. And we all feel as if it was our + faults. I can’t explain, but—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It wasn’t your fault a bit, you darling goosie,’ mother said. ‘How could + it be?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s just what I can’t tell you,’ said Anthea. ‘I haven’t got a futile + brain like you and father, to think of ways of explaining everything.’ + </p> + <p> + Mother laughed. + </p> + <p> + ‘My futile brain—or did you mean fertile?—anyway, it feels + very stiff and sore this morning—but I shall be quite all right by + and by. And don’t be a silly little pet girl. The fire wasn’t your faults. + No; I don’t want the egg, dear. I’ll go to sleep again, I think. Don’t you + worry. And tell cook not to bother me about meals. You can order what you + like for lunch.’ + </p> + <p> + Anthea closed the door very mousily, and instantly went downstairs and + ordered what she liked for lunch. She ordered a pair of turkeys, a large + plum-pudding, cheese-cakes, and almonds and raisins. + </p> + <p> + Cook told her to go along, do. And she might as well not have ordered + anything, for when lunch came it was just hashed mutton and semolina + pudding, and cook had forgotten the sippets for the mutton hash and the + semolina pudding was burnt. + </p> + <p> + When Anthea rejoined the others she found them all plunged in the gloom + where she was herself. For every one knew that the days of the carpet were + now numbered. Indeed, so worn was it that you could almost have numbered + its threads. + </p> + <p> + So that now, after nearly a month of magic happenings, the time was at + hand when life would have to go on in the dull, ordinary way and Jane, + Robert, Anthea, and Cyril would be just in the same position as the other + children who live in Camden Town, the children whom these four had so + often pitied, and perhaps a little despised. + </p> + <p> + ‘We shall be just like them,’ Cyril said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Except,’ said Robert, ‘that we shall have more things to remember and be + sorry we haven’t got.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mother’s going to send away the carpet as soon as she’s well enough to + see about that coconut matting. Fancy us with coconut-matting—us! + And we’ve walked under live coconut-trees on the island where you can’t + have whooping-cough.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pretty island,’ said the Lamb; ‘paint-box sands and sea all shiny + sparkly.’ + </p> + <p> + His brothers and sisters had often wondered whether he remembered that + island. Now they knew that he did. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Cyril; ‘no more cheap return trips by carpet for us—that’s + a dead cert.’ + </p> + <p> + They were all talking about the carpet, but what they were all thinking + about was the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + The golden bird had been so kind, so friendly, so polite, so instructive—and + now it had set fire to a theatre and made mother ill. + </p> + <p> + Nobody blamed the bird. It had acted in a perfectly natural manner. But + every one saw that it must not be asked to prolong its visit. Indeed, in + plain English it must be asked to go! + </p> + <p> + The four children felt like base spies and treacherous friends; and each + in its mind was saying who ought not to be the one to tell the Phoenix + that there could no longer be a place for it in that happy home in Camden + Town. Each child was quite sure that one of them ought to speak out in a + fair and manly way, but nobody wanted to be the one. + </p> + <p> + They could not talk the whole thing over as they would have liked to do, + because the Phoenix itself was in the cupboard, among the blackbeetles and + the odd shoes and the broken chessmen. + </p> + <p> + But Anthea tried. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s very horrid. I do hate thinking things about people, and not being + able to say the things you’re thinking because of the way they would feel + when they thought what things you were thinking, and wondered what they’d + done to make you think things like that, and why you were thinking them.’ + </p> + <p> + Anthea was so anxious that the Phoenix should not understand what she said + that she made a speech completely baffling to all. It was not till she + pointed to the cupboard in which all believed the Phoenix to be that Cyril + understood. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he said, while Jane and Robert were trying to tell each other how + deeply they didn’t understand what Anthea were saying; ‘but after recent + eventfulnesses a new leaf has to be turned over, and, after all, mother is + more important than the feelings of any of the lower forms of creation, + however unnatural.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How beautifully you do do it,’ said Anthea, absently beginning to build a + card-house for the Lamb—‘mixing up what you’re saying, I mean. We + ought to practise doing it so as to be ready for mysterious occasions. + We’re talking about THAT,’ she said to Jane and Robert, frowning, and + nodding towards the cupboard where the Phoenix was. Then Robert and Jane + understood, and each opened its mouth to speak. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait a minute,’ said Anthea quickly; ‘the game is to twist up what you + want to say so that no one can understand what you’re saying except the + people you want to understand it, and sometimes not them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The ancient philosophers,’ said a golden voice, ‘Well understood the art + of which you speak.’ + </p> + <p> + Of course it was the Phoenix, who had not been in the cupboard at all, but + had been cocking a golden eye at them from the cornice during the whole + conversation. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pretty dickie!’ remarked the Lamb. ‘CANARY dickie!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor misguided infant,’ said the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + There was a painful pause; the four could not but think it likely that the + Phoenix had understood their very veiled allusions, accompanied as they + had been by gestures indicating the cupboard. For the Phoenix was not + wanting in intelligence. + </p> + <p> + ‘We were just saying—’ Cyril began, and I hope he was not going to + say anything but the truth. Whatever it was he did not say it, for the + Phoenix interrupted him, and all breathed more freely as it spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘I gather,’ it said, ‘that you have some tidings of a fatal nature to + communicate to our degraded black brothers who run to and fro for ever + yonder.’ It pointed a claw at the cupboard, where the blackbeetles lived. + </p> + <p> + ‘Canary TALK,’ said the Lamb joyously; ‘go and show mammy.’ + </p> + <p> + He wriggled off Anthea’s lap. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mammy’s asleep,’ said Jane, hastily. ‘Come and be wild beasts in a cage + under the table.’ + </p> + <p> + But the Lamb caught his feet and hands, and even his head, so often and so + deeply in the holes of the carpet that the cage, or table, had to be moved + on to the linoleum, and the carpet lay bare to sight with all its horrid + holes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah,’ said the bird, ‘it isn’t long for this world.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Robert; ‘everything comes to an end. It’s awful.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sometimes the end is peace,’ remarked the Phoenix. ‘I imagine that unless + it comes soon the end of your carpet will be pieces.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Cyril, respectfully kicking what was left of the carpet. The + movement of its bright colours caught the eye of the Lamb, who went down + on all fours instantly and began to pull at the red and blue threads. + </p> + <p> + ‘Aggedydaggedygaggedy,’ murmured the Lamb; ‘daggedy ag ag ag!’ + </p> + <p> + And before any one could have winked (even if they had wanted to, and it + would not have been of the slightest use) the middle of the floor showed + bare, an island of boards surrounded by a sea of linoleum. The magic + carpet was gone, AND SO WAS THE LAMB! + </p> + <p> + There was a horrible silence. The Lamb—the baby, all alone—had + been wafted away on that untrustworthy carpet, so full of holes and magic. + And no one could know where he was. And no one could follow him because + there was now no carpet to follow on. + </p> + <p> + Jane burst into tears, but Anthea, though pale and frantic, was dry-eyed. + </p> + <p> + ‘It MUST be a dream,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s what the clergyman said,’ remarked Robert forlornly; ‘but it + wasn’t, and it isn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But the Lamb never wished,’ said Cyril; ‘he was only talking Bosh.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The carpet understands all speech,’ said the Phoenix, ‘even Bosh. I know + not this Boshland, but be assured that its tongue is not unknown to the + carpet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you mean, then,’ said Anthea, in white terror, ‘that when he was + saying “Agglety dag,” or whatever it was, that he meant something by it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All speech has meaning,’ said the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + ‘There I think you’re wrong,’ said Cyril; ‘even people who talk English + sometimes say things that don’t mean anything in particular.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, never mind that now,’ moaned Anthea; ‘you think “Aggety dag” meant + something to him and the carpet?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Beyond doubt it held the same meaning to the carpet as to the luckless + infant,’ the Phoenix said calmly. + </p> + <p> + ‘And WHAT did it mean? Oh WHAT?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Unfortunately,’ the bird rejoined, ‘I never studied Bosh.’ + </p> + <p> + Jane sobbed noisily, but the others were calm with what is sometimes + called the calmness of despair. The Lamb was gone—the Lamb, their + own precious baby brother—who had never in his happy little life + been for a moment out of the sight of eyes that loved him—he was + gone. He had gone alone into the great world with no other companion and + protector than a carpet with holes in it. The children had never really + understood before what an enormously big place the world is. And the Lamb + might be anywhere in it! + </p> + <p> + ‘And it’s no use going to look for him.’ Cyril, in flat and wretched + tones, only said what the others were thinking. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you wish him to return?’ the Phoenix asked; it seemed to speak with + some surprise. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course we do!’ cried everybody. + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t he more trouble than he’s worth?’ asked the bird doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no. Oh, we do want him back! We do!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then,’ said the wearer of gold plumage, ‘if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just + pop out and see what I can do.’ + </p> + <p> + Cyril flung open the window, and the Phoenix popped out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, if only mother goes on sleeping! Oh, suppose she wakes up and wants + the Lamb! Oh, suppose the servants come! Stop crying, Jane. It’s no + earthly good. No, I’m not crying myself—at least I wasn’t till you + said so, and I shouldn’t anyway if—if there was any mortal thing we + could do. Oh, oh, oh!’ + </p> + <p> + Cyril and Robert were boys, and boys never cry, of course. Still, the + position was a terrible one, and I do not wonder that they made faces in + their efforts to behave in a really manly way. + </p> + <p> + And at this awful moment mother’s bell rang. + </p> + <p> + A breathless stillness held the children. Then Anthea dried her eyes. She + looked round her and caught up the poker. She held it out to Cyril. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hit my hand hard,’ she said; ‘I must show mother some reason for my eyes + being like they are. Harder,’ she cried as Cyril gently tapped her with + the iron handle. And Cyril, agitated and trembling, nerved himself to hit + harder, and hit very much harder than he intended. + </p> + <p> + Anthea screamed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Panther, I didn’t mean to hurt, really,’ cried Cyril, clattering the + poker back into the fender. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s—all—right,’ said Anthea breathlessly, clasping the hurt + hand with the one that wasn’t hurt; ‘it’s—getting—red.’ + </p> + <p> + It was—a round red and blue bump was rising on the back of it. ‘Now, + Robert,’ she said, trying to breathe more evenly, ‘you go out—oh, I + don’t know where—on to the dustbin—anywhere—and I shall + tell mother you and the Lamb are out.’ + </p> + <p> + Anthea was now ready to deceive her mother for as long as ever she could. + Deceit is very wrong, we know, but it seemed to Anthea that it was her + plain duty to keep her mother from being frightened about the Lamb as long + as possible. And the Phoenix might help. + </p> + <p> + ‘It always has helped,’ Robert said; ‘it got us out of the tower, and even + when it made the fire in the theatre it got us out all right. I’m certain + it will manage somehow.’ + </p> + <p> + Mother’s bell rang again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Eliza’s never answered it,’ cried Anthea; ‘she never does. Oh, I must + go.’ + </p> + <p> + And she went. + </p> + <p> + Her heart beat bumpingly as she climbed the stairs. Mother would be + certain to notice her eyes—well, her hand would account for that. + But the Lamb— + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I must NOT think of the Lamb, she said to herself, and bit her tongue + till her eyes watered again, so as to give herself something else to think + of. Her arms and legs and back, and even her tear-reddened face, felt + stiff with her resolution not to let mother be worried if she could help + it. + </p> + <p> + She opened the door softly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, mother?’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dearest,’ said mother, ‘the Lamb—’ + </p> + <p> + Anthea tried to be brave. She tried to say that the Lamb and Robert were + out. Perhaps she tried too hard. Anyway, when she opened her mouth no + words came. So she stood with it open. It seemed easier to keep from + crying with one’s mouth in that unusual position. + </p> + <p> + ‘The Lamb,’ mother went on; ‘he was very good at first, but he’s pulled + the toilet-cover off the dressing-table with all the brushes and pots and + things, and now he’s so quiet I’m sure he’s in some dreadful mischief. And + I can’t see him from here, and if I’d got out of bed to see I’m sure I + should have fainted.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you mean he’s HERE?’ said Anthea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course he’s here,’ said mother, a little impatiently. ‘Where did you + think he was?’ + </p> + <p> + Anthea went round the foot of the big mahogany bed. There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s not here NOW,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + That he had been there was plain, from the toilet-cover on the floor, the + scattered pots and bottles, the wandering brushes and combs, all involved + in the tangle of ribbons and laces which an open drawer had yielded to the + baby’s inquisitive fingers. + </p> + <p> + ‘He must have crept out, then,’ said mother; ‘do keep him with you, + there’s a darling. If I don’t get some sleep I shall be a wreck when + father comes home.’ + </p> + <p> + Anthea closed the door softly. Then she tore downstairs and burst into the + nursery, crying— + </p> + <p> + ‘He must have wished he was with mother. He’s been there all the time. + “Aggety dag—“’ + </p> + <p> + The unusual word was frozen on her lip, as people say in books. + </p> + <p> + For there, on the floor, lay the carpet, and on the carpet, surrounded by + his brothers and by Jane, sat the Lamb. He had covered his face and + clothes with vaseline and violet powder, but he was easily recognizable in + spite of this disguise. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are right,’ said the Phoenix, who was also present; ‘it is evident + that, as you say, “Aggety dag” is Bosh for “I want to be where my mother + is,” and so the faithful carpet understood it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But how,’ said Anthea, catching up the Lamb and hugging him—‘how + did he get back here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ said the Phoenix, ‘I flew to the Psammead and wished that your + infant brother were restored to your midst, and immediately it was so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I am glad, I am glad!’ cried Anthea, still hugging the baby. ‘Oh, you + darling! Shut up, Jane! I don’t care HOW much he comes off on me! Cyril! + You and Robert roll that carpet up and put it in the beetle-cupboard. He + might say “Aggety dag” again, and it might mean something quite different + next time. Now, my Lamb, Panther’ll clean you a little. Come on.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope the beetles won’t go wishing,’ said Cyril, as they rolled up the + carpet. + </p> + <p> + Two days later mother was well enough to go out, and that evening the + coconut matting came home. The children had talked and talked, and thought + and thought, but they had not found any polite way of telling the Phoenix + that they did not want it to stay any longer. + </p> + <p> + The days had been days spent by the children in embarrassment, and by the + Phoenix in sleep. + </p> + <p> + And, now the matting was laid down, the Phoenix awoke and fluttered down + on to it. + </p> + <p> + It shook its crested head. + </p> + <p> + ‘I like not this carpet,’ it said; ‘it is harsh and unyielding, and it + hurts my golden feet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ve jolly well got to get used to its hurting OUR golden feet,’ said + Cyril. + </p> + <p> + ‘This, then,’ said the bird, ‘supersedes the Wishing Carpet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Robert, ‘if you mean that it’s instead of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And the magic web?’ inquired the Phoenix, with sudden eagerness. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the rag-and-bottle man’s day to-morrow,’ said Anthea, in a low + voice; ‘he will take it away.’ + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix fluttered up to its favourite perch on the chair-back. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hear me!’ it cried, ‘oh youthful children of men, and restrain your tears + of misery and despair, for what must be must be, and I would not remember + you, thousands of years hence, as base ingrates and crawling worms compact + of low selfishness.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should hope not, indeed,’ said Cyril. + </p> + <p> + ‘Weep not,’ the bird went on; ‘I really do beg that you won’t weep. + </p> + <p> + I will not seek to break the news to you gently. Let the blow fall at + once. The time has come when I must leave you.’ + </p> + <p> + All four children breathed forth a long sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + ‘We needn’t have bothered so about how to break the news to it,’ whispered + Cyril. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, sigh not so,’ said the bird, gently. ‘All meetings end in partings. I + must leave you. I have sought to prepare you for this. Ah, do not give + way!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Must you really go—so soon?’ murmured Anthea. It was what she had + often heard her mother say to calling ladies in the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must, really; thank you so much, dear,’ replied the bird, just as + though it had been one of the ladies. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am weary,’ it went on. ‘I desire to rest—after all the happenings + of this last moon I do desire really to rest, and I ask of you one last + boon.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Any little thing we can do,’ said Robert. + </p> + <p> + Now that it had really come to parting with the Phoenix, whose favourite + he had always been, Robert did feel almost as miserable as the Phoenix + thought they all did. + </p> + <p> + ‘I ask but the relic designed for the rag-and-bottle man. Give me what is + left of the carpet and let me go.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dare we?’ said Anthea. ‘Would mother mind?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have dared greatly for your sakes,’ remarked the bird. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, we will,’ said Robert. + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix fluffed out its feathers joyously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nor shall you regret it, children of golden hearts,’ it said. ‘Quick—spread + the carpet and leave me alone; but first pile high the fire. Then, while I + am immersed in the sacred preliminary rites, do ye prepare sweet-smelling + woods and spices for the last act of parting.’ + </p> + <p> + The children spread out what was left of the carpet. And, after all, + though this was just what they would have wished to have happened, all + hearts were sad. Then they put half a scuttle of coal on the fire and went + out, closing the door on the Phoenix—left, at last, alone with the + carpet. + </p> + <p> + ‘One of us must keep watch,’ said Robert, excitedly, as soon as they were + all out of the room, ‘and the others can go and buy sweet woods and + spices. Get the very best that money can buy, and plenty of them. Don’t + let’s stand to a threepence or so. I want it to have a jolly good + send-off. It’s the only thing that’ll make us feel less horrid inside.’ + </p> + <p> + It was felt that Robert, as the pet of the Phoenix, ought to have the last + melancholy pleasure of choosing the materials for its funeral pyre. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll keep watch if you like,’ said Cyril. ‘I don’t mind. And, besides, + it’s raining hard, and my boots let in the wet. You might call and see if + my other ones are “really reliable” again yet.’ + </p> + <p> + So they left Cyril, standing like a Roman sentinel outside the door inside + which the Phoenix was getting ready for the great change, and they all + went out to buy the precious things for the last sad rites. + </p> + <p> + ‘Robert is right,’ Anthea said; ‘this is no time for being careful about + our money. Let’s go to the stationer’s first, and buy a whole packet of + lead-pencils. They’re cheaper if you buy them by the packet.’ + </p> + <p> + This was a thing that they had always wanted to do, but it needed the + great excitement of a funeral pyre and a parting from a beloved Phoenix to + screw them up to the extravagance. + </p> + <p> + The people at the stationer’s said that the pencils were real cedar-wood, + so I hope they were, for stationers should always speak the truth. At any + rate they cost one-and-fourpence. Also they spent sevenpence + three-farthings on a little sandal-wood box inlaid with ivory. + </p> + <p> + ‘Because,’ said Anthea, ‘I know sandalwood smells sweet, and when it’s + burned it smells very sweet indeed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ivory doesn’t smell at all,’ said Robert, ‘but I expect when you burn it + it smells most awful vile, like bones.’ + </p> + <p> + At the grocer’s they bought all the spices they could remember the names + of—shell-like mace, cloves like blunt nails, peppercorns, the long + and the round kind; ginger, the dry sort, of course; and the beautiful + bloom-covered shells of fragrant cinnamon. Allspice too, and caraway seeds + (caraway seeds that smelt most deadly when the time came for burning + them). + </p> + <p> + Camphor and oil of lavender were bought at the chemist’s, and also a + little scent sachet labelled ‘Violettes de Parme’. + </p> + <p> + They took the things home and found Cyril still on guard. When they had + knocked and the golden voice of the Phoenix had said ‘Come in,’ they went + in. + </p> + <p> + There lay the carpet—or what was left of it—and on it lay an + egg, exactly like the one out of which the Phoenix had been hatched. + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix was walking round and round the egg, clucking with joy and + pride. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve laid it, you see,’ it said, ‘and as fine an egg as ever I laid in + all my born days.’ + </p> + <p> + Every one said yes, it was indeed a beauty. + </p> + <p> + The things which the children had bought were now taken out of their + papers and arranged on the table, and when the Phoenix had been persuaded + to leave its egg for a moment and look at the materials for its last fire + it was quite overcome. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never, never have I had a finer pyre than this will be. You shall not + regret it,’ it said, wiping away a golden tear. ‘Write quickly: “Go and + tell the Psammead to fulfil the last wish of the Phoenix, and return + instantly”.’ + </p> + <p> + But Robert wished to be polite and he wrote— + </p> + <p> + ‘Please go and ask the Psammead to be so kind as to fulfil the Phoenix’s + last wish, and come straight back, if you please.’ The paper was pinned to + the carpet, which vanished and returned in the flash of an eye. + </p> + <p> + Then another paper was written ordering the carpet to take the egg + somewhere where it wouldn’t be hatched for another two thousand years. The + Phoenix tore itself away from its cherished egg, which it watched with + yearning tenderness till, the paper being pinned on, the carpet hastily + rolled itself up round the egg, and both vanished for ever from the + nursery of the house in Camden Town. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!’ said everybody. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bear up,’ said the bird; ‘do you think <i>I</i> don’t suffer, being + parted from my precious new-laid egg like this? Come, conquer your + emotions and build my fire.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘OH!’ cried Robert, suddenly, and wholly breaking down, ‘I can’t BEAR you + to go!’ + </p> + <p> + The Phoenix perched on his shoulder and rubbed its beak softly against his + ear. + </p> + <p> + ‘The sorrows of youth soon appear but as dreams,’ it said. ‘Farewell, + Robert of my heart. I have loved you well.’ + </p> + <p> + The fire had burnt to a red glow. One by one the spices and sweet woods + were laid on it. Some smelt nice and some—the caraway seeds and the + Violettes de Parme sachet among them—smelt worse than you would + think possible. + </p> + <p> + ‘Farewell, farewell, farewell, farewell!’ said the Phoenix, in a far-away + voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, GOOD-BYE,’ said every one, and now all were in tears. + </p> + <p> + The bright bird fluttered seven times round the room and settled in the + hot heart of the fire. The sweet gums and spices and woods flared and + flickered around it, but its golden feathers did not burn. It seemed to + grow red-hot to the very inside heart of it—and then before the + eight eyes of its friends it fell together, a heap of white ashes, and the + flames of the cedar pencils and the sandal-wood box met and joined above + it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Whatever have you done with the carpet?’ asked mother next day. + </p> + <p> + ‘We gave it to some one who wanted it very much. The name began with a P,’ + said Jane. + </p> + <p> + The others instantly hushed her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, well, it wasn’t worth twopence,’ said mother. + </p> + <p> + ‘The person who began with P said we shouldn’t lose by it,’ Jane went on + before she could be stopped. + </p> + <p> + ‘I daresay!’ said mother, laughing. + </p> + <p> + But that very night a great box came, addressed to the children by all + their names. Eliza never could remember the name of the carrier who + brought it. It wasn’t Carter Paterson or the Parcels Delivery. + </p> + <p> + It was instantly opened. It was a big wooden box, and it had to be opened + with a hammer and the kitchen poker; the long nails came squeaking out, + and boards scrunched as they were wrenched off. Inside the box was soft + paper, with beautiful Chinese patterns on it—blue and green and red + and violet. And under the paper—well, almost everything lovely that + you can think of. Everything of reasonable size, I mean; for, of course, + there were no motors or flying machines or thoroughbred chargers. But + there really was almost everything else. Everything that the children had + always wanted—toys and games and books, and chocolate and candied + cherries and paint-boxes and photographic cameras, and all the presents + they had always wanted to give to father and mother and the Lamb, only + they had never had the money for them. At the very bottom of the box was a + tiny golden feather. No one saw it but Robert, and he picked it up and hid + it in the breast of his jacket, which had been so often the nesting-place + of the golden bird. When he went to bed the feather was gone. It was the + last he ever saw of the Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + Pinned to the lovely fur cloak that mother had always wanted was a paper, + and it said— + </p> + <p> + ‘In return for the carpet. With gratitude.—P.’ + </p> + <p> + You may guess how father and mother talked it over. They decided at last + the person who had had the carpet, and whom, curiously enough, the + children were quite unable to describe, must be an insane millionaire who + amused himself by playing at being a rag-and-bone man. But the children + knew better. + </p> + <p> + They knew that this was the fulfilment, by the powerful Psammead, of the + last wish of the Phoenix, and that this glorious and delightful boxful of + treasures was really the very, very, very end of the Phoenix and the + Carpet. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Phoenix and the Carpet, by E. Nesbit + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PHOENIX AND THE CARPET *** + +***** This file should be named 836-h.htm or 836-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/3/836/ + +Produced by Jo Churcher, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’ WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> |