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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/17314-8.txt b/17314-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb83837 --- /dev/null +++ b/17314-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7015 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Five Children and It, 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: Five Children and It + +Author: E. Nesbit + +Illustrator: H.R. Millar + +Release Date: December 15, 2005 [EBook #17314] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIVE CHILDREN AND IT *** + + + + +Produced by Jason Isbell and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by the +Library of Congress) + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: The Psammead] + + + + +FIVE CHILDREN + AND IT + +BY +E. NESBIT + +AUTHOR OF "THE TREASURE-SEEKERS," +"THE WOULD-BE-GOODS," ETC. + + +_ILLUSTRATED_ + + +[Illustration] + + + NEW YORK +DODD, MEAD & COMPANY + +1905 + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY +DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY + +_Published October, 1905_ + + + + + _TO_ + + JOHN BLAND + + + _My Lamb, you are so very small, + You have not learned to read at all; + Yet never a printed book withstands + The urgence of your dimpled hands. + So, though this book is for yourself, + Let mother keep it on the shelf + Till you can read. O days that pass, + That day will come too soon, alas!_ + + + + +NOTE + + +Parts of this story have appeared in the _Strand Magazine_ under the +title of + + "THE PSAMMEAD." + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER PAGE + + I BEAUTIFUL AS THE DAY 1 + + II GOLDEN GUINEAS 36 + + III BEING WANTED 70 + + IV WINGS 108 + + V NO WINGS 141 + + VI A CASTLE AND NO DINNER 159 + + VII A SIEGE AND BED 183 + +VIII BIGGER THAN THE BAKER'S BOY 203 + + IX GROWN UP 236 + + X SCALPS 261 + + XI THE LAST WISH 287 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +The Psammead _Frontispiece_ + +That First Glorious Rush Round the Garden _Facing page_ 2 + +Cyril Had Nipped His Finger in the Door of a Hutch " " 4 + +Anthea Suddenly Screamed, "It's Alive!" " " 12 + +The Baby Did Not Know Them! " " 28 + +Martha Emptied a Toilet-jug of Cold Water Over Him " " 32 + +The Rain Fell in Slow Drops on to Anthea's Face " " 36 + +He Staggered, and Had to Sit Down Again in a Hurry " " 50 + +Mr. Beale Snatched the Coin, Bit It, and Put It in + His Pocket " " 58 + +They Had Run Into Martha and the Baby " " 64 + +He Said, "Now Then!" to the Policeman and Mr. + Peasemarsh " " 66 + +The Lucky Children Hurriedly Started for the Gravel + Pit " " 78 + +"Poof, poof, poofy," He Said, and Made a Grab " " 86 + +At Double-quick Time Ran the Twinkling Legs of the + Lamb's Brothers and Sisters " " 88 + +The Next Minute the Two Were Fighting " " 90 + +He Snatched the Baby from Anthea " " 94 + +He Consented to Let the Two Gypsy Women Feed Him " " 98 + +The Sand-fairy Blew Himself Out " " 122 + +They Flew Over Rochester " " 126 + +The Farmer Sat Down on the Grass, Suddenly and + Heavily " " 128 + +Everyone Now Turned Out His Pockets " " 132 + +These Were the Necessaries of Life " " 134 + +The Children Were Fast Asleep " " 138 + +The Keeper Spoke Deep-Chested Words through the + Keyhole " " 150 + +There the Castle Stood, Black and Stately " " 164 + +Robert Was Dragged Forthwith--by the Reluctant Ear " " 166 + +He Wiped Away a Manly Tear " " 168 + +"Oh, Do, Do, Do, _Do_!" Said Robert " " 174 + +The Man Fell with a Splash Into the Moat-water " " 196 + +Anthea Tilted the Pot over the Nearest Leadhole " " 198 + +He Pulled Robert's Hair " " 210 + +"The Sammyadd's Done Us Again," Said Cyril " " 214 + +He Lifted Up the Baker's Boy and Set Him on Top of + the Haystack " " 216 + +It Was a Strange Sensation Being Wheeled in a + Pony-carriage by a Giant " " 220 + +When the Girl Came Out She Was Pale and Trembling " " 228 + +"When Your Time's Up Come to Me" " " 230 + +He Opened the Case and Used the Whole Thing as a + Garden Spade " " 238 + +She Did It Gently by Tickling His Nose with a Twig of + Honeysuckle " " 244 + +There, Sure Enough, Stood a Bicycle " " 248 + +The Punctured State of It Was Soon Evident " " 250 + +The Grown-up Lamb Struggled " " 258 + +She Broke Open the Missionary Box with the Poker " " 266 + +"Ye Seek a Pow-wow?" He Said " " 278 + +Bright Knives Were Being Brandished All about Them " " 284 + +She Was Clasped in Eight Loving Arms " " 294 + +"We Found a Fairy," Said Jane, Obediently " " 298 + +It Burrowed, and Disappeared, Scratching Fiercely + to the Last " " 308 + + + + +CHAPTER I + +BEAUTIFUL AS THE DAY + + +The house was three miles from the station, but, before the dusty hired +hack had rattled along for five minutes, the children began to put their +heads out of the carriage window and say, "Aren't we nearly there?" And +every time they passed a house, which was not very often, they all said, +"Oh, _is_ this it?" But it never was, till they reached the very top of +the hill, just past the chalk-quarry and before you come to the +gravel-pit. And then there was a white house with a green garden and an +orchard beyond, and mother said, "Here we are!" + +"How white the house is," said Robert. + +"And look at the roses," said Anthea. + +"And the plums," said Jane. + +"It is rather decent," Cyril admitted. + +The Baby said, "Wanty go walky;" and the hack stopped with a last rattle +and jolt. + +Everyone got its legs kicked or its feet trodden on in the scramble to +get out of the carriage that very minute, but no one seemed to mind. +Mother, curiously enough, was in no hurry to get out; and even when she +had come down slowly and by the step, and with no jump at all, she +seemed to wish to see the boxes carried in, and even to pay the driver, +instead of joining in that first glorious rush round the garden and +orchard and the thorny, thistly, briery, brambly wilderness beyond the +broken gate and the dry fountain at the side of the house. But the +children were wiser, for once. It was not really a pretty house at all; +it was quite ordinary, and mother thought it was rather inconvenient, +and was quite annoyed at there being no shelves, to speak of, and hardly +a cupboard in the place. Father used to say that the iron-work on the +roof and coping was like an architect's nightmare. But the house was +deep in the country, with no other house in sight, and the children had +been in London for two years, without so much as once going to the +seaside even for a day by an excursion train, and so the White House +seemed to them a sort of Fairy Palace set down in an Earthly Paradise. +For London is like prison for children, especially if their relations +are not rich. + +[Illustration: That first glorious rush round the garden] + +Of course there are the shops and theatres, and entertainments and +things, but if your people are rather poor you don't get taken to the +theatres, and you can't buy things out of the shops; and London has none +of those nice things that children may play with without hurting the +things or themselves--such as trees and sand and woods and waters. And +nearly everything in London is the wrong sort of shape--all straight +lines and flat streets, instead of being all sorts of odd shapes, like +things are in the country. Trees are all different, as you know, and I +am sure some tiresome person must have told you that there are no two +blades of grass exactly alike. But in streets, where the blades of grass +don't grow, everything is like everything else. This is why many +children who live in the towns are so extremely naughty. They do not +know what is the matter with them, and no more do their fathers and +mothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, tutors, governesses, and nurses; but I +know. And so do you, now. Children in the country are naughty sometimes, +too, but that is for quite different reasons. + +The children had explored the gardens and the outhouses thoroughly +before they were caught and cleaned for tea, and they saw quite well +that they were certain to be happy at the White House. They thought so +from the first moment, but when they found the back of the house covered +with jasmine, all in white flower, and smelling like a bottle of the +most expensive perfume that is ever given for a birthday present; and +when they had seen the lawn, all green and smooth, and quite different +from the brown grass in the gardens at Camden Town; and when they found +the stable with a loft over it and some old hay still left, they were +almost certain; and when Robert had found the broken swing and tumbled +out of it and got a bump on his head the size of an egg, and Cyril had +nipped his finger in the door of a hutch that seemed made to keep +rabbits in, if you ever had any, they had no longer any doubts +whatever. + +[Illustration: Cyril had nipped his finger in the door of a hutch] + +The best part of it all was that there were no rules about not going to +places and not doing things. In London almost everything is labelled +"You mustn't touch," and though the label is invisible it's just as bad, +because you know it's there, or if you don't you very soon get told. + +The White House was on the edge of a hill, with a wood behind it--and +the chalk-quarry on one side and the gravel-pit on the other. Down at +the bottom of the hill was a level plain, with queer-shaped white +buildings where people burnt lime, and a big red brewery and other +houses; and when the big chimneys were smoking and the sun was setting, +the valley looked as if it was filled with golden mist, and the +limekilns and hop-drying houses glimmered and glittered till they were +like an enchanted city out of the _Arabian Nights_. + +Now that I have begun to tell you about the place, I feel that I could +go on and make this into a most interesting story about all the +ordinary things that the children did,--just the kind of things you do +yourself, you know, and you would believe every word of it; and when I +told about the children's being tiresome, as you are sometimes, your +aunts would perhaps write in the margin of the story with a pencil, "How +true!" or "How like life!" and you would see it and would very likely be +annoyed. So I will only tell you the really astonishing things that +happened, and you may leave the book about quite safely, for no aunts +and uncles either are likely to write "How true!" on the edge of the +story. Grown-up people find it very difficult to believe really +wonderful things, unless they have what they call proof. But children +will believe almost anything, and grown-ups know this. That is why they +tell you that the earth is round like an orange, when you can see +perfectly well that it is flat and lumpy; and why they say that the +earth goes round the sun, when you can see for yourself any day that the +sun gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night like a good sun as +it is, and the earth knows its place, and lies as still as a mouse. Yet +I daresay you believe all that about the earth and the sun, and if so +you will find it quite easy to believe that before Anthea and Cyril and +the others had been a week in the country they had found a fairy. At +least they called it that, because that was what it called itself; and +of course it knew best, but it was not at all like any fairy you ever +saw or heard of or read about. + +It was at the gravel-pits. Father had to go away suddenly on business, +and mother had gone away to stay with Granny, who was not very well. +They both went in a great hurry, and when they were gone the house +seemed dreadfully quiet and empty, and the children wandered from one +room to another and looked at the bits of paper and string on the floors +left over from the packing, and not yet cleared up, and wished they had +something to do. It was Cyril who said-- + +"I say, let's take our spades and dig in the gravel-pits. We can pretend +it's seaside." + +"Father says it was once," Anthea said; "he says there are shells there +thousands of years old." + +So they went. Of course they had been to the edge of the gravel-pit and +looked over, but they had not gone down into it for fear father should +say they mustn't play there, and it was the same with the chalk-quarry. +The gravel-pit is not really dangerous if you don't try to climb down +the edges, but go the slow safe way round by the road, as if you were a +cart. + +Each of the children carried its own spade, and took it in turns to +carry the Lamb. He was the baby, and they called him that because "Baa" +was the first thing he ever said. They called Anthea "Panther," which +seems silly when you read it, but when you say it it sounds a little +like her name. + +The gravel-pit is very large and wide, with grass growing round the +edges at the top, and dry stringy wildflowers, purple and yellow. It is +like a giant's washbowl. And there are mounds of gravel, and holes in +the sides of the bowl where gravel has been taken out, and high up in +the steep sides there are the little holes that are the little front +doors of the little bank-martins' little houses. + +The children built a castle, of course, but castle-building is rather +poor fun when you have no hope of the swishing tide ever coming in to +fill up the moat and wash away the drawbridge, and, at the happy last, +to wet everybody up to the waist at least. + +Cyril wanted to dig out a cave to play smugglers in, but the others +thought it might bury them alive, so it ended in all spades going to +work to dig a hole through the castle to Australia. These children, you +see, believed that the world was round, and that on the other side the +little Australian boys and girls were really walking wrong way up, like +flies on the ceiling, with their heads hanging down into the air. + +The children dug and they dug and they dug, and their hands got sandy +and hot and red, and their faces got damp and shiny. The Lamb had tried +to eat the sand, and had cried so hard when he found that it was not, +as he had supposed, brown sugar, that he was now tired out, and was +lying asleep in a warm fat bunch in the middle of the half-finished +castle. This left his brothers and sisters free to work really hard, and +the hole that was to come out in Australia soon grew so deep that Jane, +who was called Pussy for short, begged the others to stop. + +"Suppose the bottom of the hole gave way suddenly," said she, "and you +tumbled out among the little Australians, all the sand would get in +their eyes." + +"Yes," said Robert; "and they would hate us, and throw stones at us, and +not let us see the kangaroos, or opossums, or bluegums, or Emu Brand +birds, or anything." + +Cyril and Anthea knew that Australia was not quite so near as all that, +but they agreed to stop using the spades and to go on with their hands. +This was quite easy, because the sand at the bottom of the hole was very +soft and fine and dry, like sea-sand. And there were little shells in +it. + +"Fancy it having been wet sea here once, all sloppy and shiny," said +Jane, "with fishes and conger-eels and coral and mermaids." + +"And masts of ships and wrecked Spanish treasure. I wish we could find a +gold doubloon, or something," Cyril said. + +"How did the sea get carried away?" Robert asked. + +"Not in a pail, silly," said his brother. + +"Father says the earth got too hot underneath, as you do in bed +sometimes, so it just hunched up its shoulders, and the sea had to slip +off, like the blankets do us, and the shoulder was left sticking out, +and turned into dry land. Let's go and look for shells; I think that +little cave looks likely, and I see something sticking out there like a +bit of wrecked ship's anchor, and it's beastly hot in the Australian +hole." + +The others agreed, but Anthea went on digging. She always liked to +finish a thing when she had once begun it. She felt it would be a +disgrace to leave that hole without getting through to Australia. + +The cave was disappointing, because there were no shells, and the +wrecked ship's anchor turned out to be only the broken end of a pick-axe +handle, and the cave party were just making up their minds that sand +makes you thirstier when it is not by the seaside, and someone had +suggested that they all go home for lemonade, when Anthea suddenly +screamed-- + +"Cyril! Come here! Oh, come quick--It's alive! It'll get away! Quick!" + +They all hurried back. + +"It's a rat, I shouldn't wonder," said Robert. "Father says they infest +old places--and this must be pretty old if the sea was here thousands of +years ago"-- + +"Perhaps it is a snake," said Jane, shuddering. + +"Let's look," said Cyril, jumping into the hole. "I'm not afraid of +snakes. I like them. If it is a snake I'll tame it, and it will follow +me everywhere, and I'll let it sleep round my neck at night." + +"No, you won't," said Robert firmly. He shared Cyril's bedroom. "But +you may if it's a rat." + +[Illustration: Anthea suddenly screamed, "It's alive!"] + +"Oh, don't be silly!" said Anthea; "it's not a rat, it's _much_ bigger. +And it's not a snake. It's got feet; I saw them; and fur! No--not the +spade. You'll hurt it! Dig with your hands." + +"And let _it_ hurt _me_ instead! That's so likely, isn't it?" said +Cyril, seizing a spade. + +"Oh, don't!" said Anthea. "Squirrel, _don't_. I--it sounds silly, but it +said something. It really and truly did"-- + +"What?" + +"It said, 'You let me alone.'" + +But Cyril merely observed that his sister must have gone off her head, +and he and Robert dug with spades while Anthea sat on the edge of the +hole, jumping up and down with hotness and anxiety. They dug carefully, +and presently everyone could see that there really was something moving +in the bottom of the Australian hole. + +Then Anthea cried out, "_I'm_ not afraid. Let me dig," and fell on her +knees and began to scratch like a dog does when he has suddenly +remembered where it was that he buried his bone. + +"Oh, I felt fur," she cried, half laughing and half crying. "I did +indeed! I did!" when suddenly a dry husky voice in the sand made them +all jump back, and their hearts jumped nearly as fast as they did. + +"Let me alone," it said. And now everyone heard the voice and looked at +the others to see if they had heard it too. + +"But we want to see you," said Robert bravely. + +"I wish you'd come out," said Anthea, also taking courage. + +"Oh, well--if that's your wish," the voice said, and the sand stirred +and spun and scattered, and something brown and furry and fat came +rolling out into the hole, and the sand fell off it, and it sat there +yawning and rubbing the ends of its eyes with its hands. + +"I believe I must have dropped asleep," it said, stretching itself. + +The children stood round the hole in a ring, looking at the creature +they had found. It was worth looking at. Its eyes were on long horns +like a snail's eyes, and it could move them in and out like telescopes; +it had ears like a bat's ears, and its tubby body was shaped like a +spider's and covered with thick soft fur; its legs and arms were furry +too, and it had hands and feet like a monkey's. + +"What on earth is it?" Jane said. "Shall we take it home?" + +The thing turned its long eyes to look at her, and said-- + +"Does she always talk nonsense, or is it only the rubbish on her head +that makes her silly?" + +It looked scornfully at Jane's hat as it spoke. + +"She doesn't mean to be silly," Anthea said gently; "we none of us do, +whatever you may think! Don't be frightened; we don't want to hurt you, +you know." + +"Hurt _me_!" it said. "_Me_ frightened? Upon my word! Why, you talk as +if I were nobody in particular." All its fur stood out like a cat's when +it is going to fight. + +"Well," said Anthea, still kindly, "perhaps if we knew who you are in +particular we could think of something to say that wouldn't make you +angry. Everything we've said so far seems to have done so. Who are you? +And don't get angry! Because really we don't know." + +"You don't know?" it said. "Well, I knew the world had +changed--but--well, really--Do you mean to tell me seriously you don't +know a Psammead when you see one?" + +"A Sammyadd? That's Greek to me." + +"So it is to everyone," said the creature sharply. "Well, in plain +English, then, a _Sand-fairy_. Don't you know a Sand-fairy when you see +one?" + +It looked so grieved and hurt that Jane hastened to say, "Of course I +see you are, _now_. It's quite plain now one comes to look at you." + +"You came to look at me, several sentences ago," it said crossly, +beginning to curl up again in the sand. + +"Oh--don't go away again! Do talk some more," Robert cried. "I didn't +know you were a Sand-fairy, but I knew directly I saw you that you were +much the wonderfullest thing I'd ever seen." + +The Sand-fairy seemed a shade less disagreeable after this. + +"It isn't talking I mind," it said, "as long as you're reasonably civil. +But I'm not going to make polite conversation for you. If you talk +nicely to me, perhaps I'll answer you, and perhaps I won't. Now say +something." + +Of course no one could think of anything to say, but at last Robert +thought of "How long have you lived here?" and he said it at once. + +"Oh, ages--several thousand years," replied the Psammead. + +"Tell us about it. Do." + +"It's all in books." + +"_You_ aren't!" Jane said. "Oh, tell us everything you can about +yourself! We don't know anything about you, and you _are_ so nice." + +The Sand-fairy smoothed his long rat-like whiskers and smiled between +them. + +"Do please tell!" said the children all together. + +It is wonderful how quickly you get used to things, even the most +astonishing. Five minutes before, the children had had no more idea than +you had that there was such a thing as a Sand-fairy in the world, and +now they were talking to it as though they had known it all their lives. + +It drew its eyes in and said-- + +"How very sunny it is--quite like old times! Where do you get your +Megatheriums from now?" + +"What?" said the children all at once. It is very difficult always to +remember that "what" is not polite, especially in moments of surprise or +agitation. + +"Are Pterodactyls plentiful now?" the Sand-fairy went on. + +The children were unable to reply. + +"What do you have for breakfast?" the Fairy said impatiently, "and who +gives it to you?" + +"Eggs and bacon, and bread and milk, and porridge and things. +Mother gives it to us. What are Mega-what's-its-names and +Ptero-what-do-you-call-thems? And does anyone have them for breakfast?" + +"Why, almost everyone had Pterodactyl for breakfast in my time! +Pterodactyls were something like crocodiles and something like birds--I +believe they were very good grilled. You see, it was like this: of +course there were heaps of Sand-fairies then, and in the morning early +you went out and hunted for them, and when you'd found one it gave you +your wish. People used to send their little boys down to the seashore in +the morning before breakfast to get the day's wishes, and very often the +eldest boy in the family would be told to wish for a Megatherium, ready +jointed for cooking. It was as big as an elephant, you see, so there was +a good deal of meat on it. And if they wanted fish, the Ichthyosaurus +was asked for,--he was twenty to forty feet long, so there was plenty of +him. And for poultry there was the Plesiosaurus; there were nice +pickings on that too. Then the other children could wish for other +things. But when people had dinner-parties it was nearly always +Megatheriums; and Ichthyosaurus, because his fins were a great delicacy +and his tail made soup." + +"There must have been heaps and heaps of cold meat left over," said +Anthea, who meant to be a good housekeeper some day. + +"Oh no," said the Psammead, "that would never have done. Why, of course +at sunset what was left over turned into stone. You find the stone bones +of the Megatherium and things all over the place even now, they tell +me." + +"Who tell you?" asked Cyril; but the Sand-fairy frowned and began to dig +very fast with its furry hands. + +"Oh, don't go!" they all cried; "tell us more about when it was +Megatheriums for breakfast! Was the world like this then?" + +It stopped digging. + +"Not a bit," it said; "it was nearly all sand where I lived, and coal +grew on trees, and the periwinkles were as big as tea-trays--you find +them now; they're turned into stone. We Sand-fairies used to live on the +seashore, and the children used to come with their little flint-spades +and flint-pails and make castles for us to live in. That's thousands of +years ago, but I hear that children still build castles on the sand. +It's difficult to break yourself of a habit." + +"But why did you stop living in the castles?" asked Robert. + +"It's a sad story," said the Psammead gloomily. "It was because they +_would_ build moats to the castles, and the nasty wet bubbling sea used +to come in, and of course as soon as a Sand-fairy got wet it caught +cold, and generally died. And so there got to be fewer and fewer, and, +whenever you found a fairy and had a wish, you used to wish for a +Megatherium, and eat twice as much as you wanted, because it might be +weeks before you got another wish." + +"And did _you_ get wet?" Robert inquired. + +The Sand-fairy shuddered. "Only once," it said; "the end of the twelfth +hair of my top left whisker--I feel the place still in damp weather. It +was only once, but it was quite enough for me. I went away as soon as +the sun had dried my poor dear whisker. I scurried away to the back of +the beach, and dug myself a house deep in warm dry sand, and there I've +been ever since. And the sea changed its lodgings afterwards. And now +I'm not going to tell you another thing." + +"Just one more, please," said the children. "Can you give wishes now?" + +"Of course," said it; "didn't I give you yours a few minutes ago? You +said, 'I wish you'd come out,' and I did." + +"Oh, please, mayn't we have another?" + +"Yes, but be quick about it. I'm tired of you." + +I daresay you have often thought what you would do if you had three +wishes given you, and have despised the old man and his wife in the +black-pudding story, and felt certain that if you had the chance you +could think of three really useful wishes without a moment's hesitation. +These children had often talked this matter over, but, now the chance +had suddenly come to them, they could not make up their minds. + +"Quick," said the Sand-fairy crossly. No one could think of anything, +only Anthea did manage to remember a private wish of her own and Jane's +which they had never told the boys. She knew the boys would not care +about it--but still it was better than nothing. + +"I wish we were all as beautiful as the day," she said in a great hurry. + +The children looked at each other, but each could see that the others +were not any better-looking than usual. The Psammead pushed out his long +eyes, and seemed to be holding its breath and swelling itself out till +it was twice as fat and furry as before. Suddenly it let its breath go +in a long sigh. + +"I'm really afraid I can't manage it," it said apologetically; "I must +be out of practice." + +The children were horribly disappointed. + +"Oh, _do_ try again!" they said. + +"Well," said the Sand-fairy, "the fact is, I was keeping back a little +strength to give the rest of you your wishes with. If you'll be +contented with one wish a day among the lot of you I daresay I can +screw myself up to it. Do you agree to that?" + +"Yes, oh yes!" said Jane and Anthea. The boys nodded. They did not +believe the Sand-fairy could do it. You can always make girls believe +things much easier than you can boys. + +It stretched out its eyes farther than ever, and swelled and swelled and +swelled. + +"I do hope it won't hurt itself," said Anthea. + +"Or crack its skin," Robert said anxiously. + +Everyone was very much relieved when the Sand-fairy, after getting so +big that it almost filled up the hole in the sand, suddenly let out its +breath and went back to its proper size. + +"That's all right," it said, panting heavily. "It'll come easier +to-morrow." + +"Did it hurt much?" said Anthea. + +"Only my poor whisker, thank you," said he, "but you're a kind and +thoughtful child. Good day." + +It scratched suddenly and fiercely with its hands and feet, and +disappeared in the sand. + +Then the children looked at each other, and each child suddenly found +itself alone with three perfect strangers, all radiantly beautiful. + +They stood for some moments in silence. Each thought that its brothers +and sisters had wandered off, and that these strange children had stolen +up unnoticed while it was watching the swelling form of the Sand-fairy. +Anthea spoke first-- + +"Excuse me," she said very politely to Jane, who now had enormous blue +eyes and a cloud of russet hair, "but have you seen two little boys and +a little girl anywhere about?" + +"I was just going to ask you that," said Jane. And then Cyril cried-- + +"Why, it's _you_! I know the hole in your pinafore! You _are_ Jane, +aren't you? And you're the Panther; I can see your dirty handkerchief +that you forgot to change after you'd cut your thumb! The wish _has_ +come off, after all. I say, am I as handsome as you are?" + +"If you're Cyril, I liked you much better as you were before," said +Anthea decidedly. "You look like the picture of the young chorister, +with your golden hair; you'll die young, I shouldn't wonder. And if +that's Robert, he's like an Italian organ-grinder. His hair's all +black." + +"You two girls are like Christmas cards, then--that's all--silly +Christmas cards," said Robert angrily. "And Jane's hair is simply +carrots." + +It was indeed of that Venetian tint so much admired by artists. + +"Well, it's no use finding fault with each other," said Anthea; "let's +get the Lamb and lug it home to dinner. The servants will admire us most +awfully, you'll see." + +Baby was just waking up when they got to him, and not one of the +children but was relieved to find that he at least was not as beautiful +as the day, but just the same as usual. + +"I suppose he's too young to have wishes naturally," said Jane. "We +shall have to mention him specially next time." + +Anthea ran forward and held out her arms. + +"Come, then," she said. + +The Baby looked at her disapprovingly, and put a sandy pink thumb in his +mouth. Anthea was his favourite sister. + +"Come, then," she said. + +"G'way 'long!" said the Baby. + +"Come to own Pussy," said Jane. + +"Wants my Panty," said the Lamb dismally, and his lip trembled. + +"Here, come on, Veteran," said Robert, "come and have a yidey on Yobby's +back." + +"Yah, narky narky boy," howled the Baby, giving way altogether. Then the +children knew the worst. _The Baby did not know them!_ + +[Illustration: The baby did not know them!] + +They looked at each other in despair, and it was terrible to each, in +this dire emergency, to meet only the beautiful eyes of perfect +strangers, instead of the merry, friendly, commonplace, twinkling, jolly +little eyes of its own brothers and sisters. + +"This is most truly awful," said Cyril when he had tried to lift up the +Lamb, and the Lamb had scratched like a cat and bellowed like a bull! +"We've got to _make friends_ with him! I can't carry him home screaming +like that. Fancy having to make friends with our own baby!--it's too +silly." + +That, however, was exactly what they had to do. It took over an hour, +and the task was not rendered any easier by the fact that the Lamb was +by this time as hungry as a lion and as thirsty as a desert. + +At last he consented to allow these strangers to carry him home by +turns, but as he refused to hold on to such new acquaintances he was a +dead weight, and most exhausting. + +"Thank goodness, we're home!" said Jane, staggering through the iron +gate to where Martha, the nursemaid, stood at the front door shading her +eyes with her hand and looking out anxiously. "Here! Do take Baby!" + +Martha snatched the Baby from her arms. + +"Thanks be, _he's_ safe back," she said. "Where are the others, and +whoever to goodness gracious are all of you?" + +"We're _us_, of course," said Robert. + +"And who's Us, when you're at home?" asked Martha scornfully. + +"I tell you it's _us_, only we're beautiful as the day," said Cyril. +"I'm Cyril, and these are the others, and we're jolly hungry. Let us in, +and don't be a silly idiot." + +Martha merely dratted Cyril's impudence and tried to shut the door in +his face. + +"I know we _look_ different, but I'm Anthea, and we're so tired, and +it's long past dinner-time." + +"Then go home to your dinners, whoever you are; and if our children put +you up to this play-acting you can tell them from me they'll catch it, +so they know what to expect!" With that she did bang the door. Cyril +rang the bell violently. No answer. Presently cook put her head out of a +bedroom window and said-- + +"If you don't take yourselves off, and that precious sharp, I'll go and +fetch the police." And she slammed down the window. + +"It's no good," said Anthea. "Oh, do, do come away before we get sent to +prison!" + +The boys said it was nonsense, and the law of England couldn't put you +in prison for just being as beautiful as the day, but all the same they +followed the others out into the lane. + +"We shall be our proper selves after sunset, I suppose," said Jane. + +"I don't know," Cyril said sadly; "it mayn't be like that now--things +have changed a good deal since Megatherium times." + +"Oh," cried Anthea suddenly, "perhaps we shall turn into stone at +sunset, like the Megatheriums did, so that there mayn't be any of us +left over for the next day." + +She began to cry, so did Jane. Even the boys turned pale. No one had the +heart to say anything. + +It was a horrible afternoon. There was no house near where the children +could beg a crust of bread or even a glass of water. They were afraid to +go to the village, because they had seen Martha go down there with a +basket, and there was a local constable. True, they were all as +beautiful as the day, but that is a poor comfort when you are as hungry +as a hunter and as thirsty as a sponge. + +Three times they tried in vain to get the servants in the White House to +let them in and listen to their tale. And then Robert went alone, hoping +to be able to climb in at one of the back windows and so open the door +to the others. But all the windows were out of reach, and Martha emptied +a toilet-jug of cold water over him from a top window, and said-- + +"Go along with you, you nasty little Eye-talian monkey." + +It came at last to their sitting down in a row under the hedge, with +their feet in a dry ditch, waiting for sunset, and wondering whether, +when the sun _did_ set, they would turn into stone, or only into their +own old natural selves; and each of them still felt lonely and among +strangers, and tried not to look at the others, for, though their voices +were their own, their faces were so radiantly beautiful as to be quite +irritating to look at. + +"I don't believe we _shall_ turn to stone," said Robert, breaking a long +miserable silence, "because the Sand-fairy said he'd give us another +wish to-morrow, and he couldn't if we were stone, could he?" + +The others said "No," but they weren't at all comforted. + +Another silence, longer and more miserable, was broken by Cyril's +suddenly saying, "I don't want to frighten you girls, but I believe it's +beginning with me already. My foot's quite dead. I'm turning to stone, I +know I am, and so will you in a minute." + +"Never mind," said Robert kindly, "perhaps you'll be the only stone one, +and the rest of us will be all right, and we'll cherish your statue and +hang garlands on it." + +But when it turned out that Cyril's foot had only gone to sleep through +his sitting too long with it under him, and when it came to life in an +agony of pins and needles, the others were quite cross. + +"Giving us such a fright for nothing!" said Anthea. + +[Illustration: Martha emptied a toilet-jug of cold water over him] + +The third and miserablest silence of all was broken by Jane. She +said-- + +"If we _do_ come out of this all right, we'll ask the Sammyadd to make +it so that the servants don't notice anything different, no matter what +wishes we have." + +The others only grunted. They were too wretched even to make good +resolutions. + +At last hunger and fright and crossness and tiredness--four very nasty +things--all joined together to bring one nice thing, and that was sleep. +The children lay asleep in a row, with their beautiful eyes shut and +their beautiful mouths open. Anthea woke first. The sun had set, and the +twilight was coming on. + +Anthea pinched herself very hard, to make sure, and when she found she +could still feel pinching she decided that she was not stone, and then +she pinched the others. They, also, were soft. + +"Wake up," she said, almost in tears for joy; "it's all right, we're not +stone. And oh, Cyril, how nice and ugly you do look, with your old +freckles and your brown hair and your little eyes. And so do you all!" +she added, so that they might not feel jealous. + +When they got home they were very much scolded by Martha, who told them +about the strange children. + +"A good-looking lot, I must say, but that impudent." + +"I know," said Robert, who knew by experience how hopeless it would be +to try to explain things to Martha. + +"And where on earth have you been all this time, you naughty little +things, you?" + +"In the lane." + +"Why didn't you come home hours ago?" + +"We couldn't because of _them_," said Anthea. + +"Who?" + +"The children who were as beautiful as the day. They kept us there till +after sunset. We couldn't come back till they'd gone. You don't know how +we hated them! Oh, do, do give us some supper--we are so hungry." + +"Hungry! I should think so," said Martha angrily; "out all day like +this. Well, I hope it'll be a lesson to you not to go picking up with +strange children--down here after measles, as likely as not! Now mind, +if you see them again, don't you speak to them--not one word nor so +much as a look--but come straight away and tell me. I'll spoil their +beauty for them!" + +"If ever we _do_ see them again we'll tell you," Anthea said; and +Robert, fixing his eyes fondly on the cold beef that was being brought +in on a tray by cook, added in heartfelt undertones-- + +"And we'll take jolly good care we never _do_ see them again." + +And they never have. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +GOLDEN GUINEAS + + +Anthea woke in the morning from a very real sort of dream, in which she +was walking in the Zoological Gardens on a pouring wet day without an +umbrella. The animals seemed desperately unhappy because of the rain, +and were all growling gloomily. When she awoke, both the growling and +the rain went on just the same. The growling was the heavy regular +breathing of her sister Jane, who had a slight cold and was still +asleep. The rain fell in slow drops on to Anthea's face from the wet +corner of a bath-towel out of which her brother Robert was gently +squeezing the water, to wake her up, as he now explained. + +"Oh, drop it!" she said rather crossly; so he did, for he was not a +brutal brother, though very ingenious in apple-pie beds, booby-traps, +original methods of awakening sleeping relatives, and the other +little accomplishments which make home happy. + +[Illustration: The rain fell in slow drops on to Anthea's face] + +"I had such a funny dream," Anthea began. + +"So did I," said Jane, wakening suddenly and without warning. "I dreamed +we found a Sand-fairy in the gravel-pits, and it said it was a Sammyadd, +and we might have a new wish every day, and"---- + +"But that's what _I_ dreamed," said Robert; "I was just going to tell +you,--and we had the first wish directly it said so. And I dreamed you +girls were donkeys enough to ask for us all to be beautiful as day, and +we jolly well were, and it was perfectly beastly." + +"But _can_ different people all dream the same thing?" said Anthea, +sitting up in bed, "because I dreamed all that as well as about the Zoo +and the rain; and Baby didn't know us in my dream, and the servants shut +us out of the house because the radiantness of our beauty was such a +complete disguise, and"---- + +The voice of the eldest brother sounded from across the landing. + +"Come on, Robert," it said, "you'll be late for breakfast again--unless +you mean to shirk your bath as you did on Tuesday." + +"I say, come here a second," Robert replied; "I didn't shirk it; I had +it after brekker in father's dressing-room because ours was emptied +away." + +Cyril appeared in the doorway, partially clothed. + +"Look here," said Anthea, "we've all had such an odd dream. We've all +dreamed we found a Sand-fairy." + +Her voice died away before Cyril's contemptuous glance. + +"Dream?" he said; "you little sillies, it's _true_. I tell you it all +happened. That's why I'm so keen on being down early. We'll go up there +directly after brekker, and have another wish. Only we'll make up our +minds, solid, before we go, what it is we do want, and no one must ask +for anything unless the others agree first. No more peerless beauties +for this child, thank you. Not if I know it!" + +The other three dressed, with their mouths open. If all that dream about +the Sand-fairy was real, this real dressing seemed very like a dream, +the girls thought. Jane felt that Cyril was right, but Anthea was not +sure, till after they had seen Martha and heard her full and plain +reminders about their naughty conduct the day before. Then Anthea was +sure. + +"Because," said she, "servants never dream anything but the things in +the Dream-book, like snakes and oysters and going to a wedding--that +means a funeral, and snakes are a false female friend, and oysters are +babies." + +"Talking of babies," said Cyril, "where's the Lamb?" + +"Martha's going to take him to Rochester to see her cousins. Mother said +she might. She's dressing him now," said Jane, "in his very best coat +and hat. Bread-and-butter, please." + +"She seems to like taking him too," said Robert in a tone of wonder. + +"Servants _do_ like taking babies to see their relations," Cyril said; +"I've noticed it before--especially in their best clothes." + +"I expect they pretend they're their own babies, and that they're not +servants at all, but married to noble dukes of high degree, and they say +the babies are the little dukes and duchesses," Jane suggested dreamily, +taking more marmalade. "I expect that's what Martha'll say to her +cousin. She'll enjoy herself most frightfully." + +"She won't enjoy herself most frightfully carrying our infant duke to +Rochester," said Robert; "not if she's anything like me--she won't." + +"Fancy walking to Rochester with the Lamb on your back!" said Cyril in +full agreement. + +"She's gone by the carrier's cart," said Jane. "Let's see them off, then +we shall have done a polite and kindly act, and we shall be quite sure +we've got rid of them for the day." + +So they did. + +Martha wore her Sunday dress of two shades of purple, so tight in the +chest that it made her stoop, and her blue hat with the pink +cornflowers and white ribbon. She had a yellow-lace collar with a green +bow. And the Lamb had indeed his very best cream-colored silk coat and +hat. It was a smart party that the carrier's cart picked up at the Cross +Roads. When its white tilt and red wheels had slowly vanished in a swirl +of chalk-dust-- + +"And now for the Sammyadd!" said Cyril, and off they went. + +As they went they decided on the wish they would ask for. Although they +were all in a great hurry they did not try to climb down the sides of +the gravel-pit, but went round by the safe lower road, as if they had +been carts. + +They had made a ring of stones round the place where the Sand-fairy had +disappeared, so they easily found the spot. The sun was burning and +bright, and the sky was deep blue--without a cloud. The sand was very +hot to touch. + +"Oh--suppose it was only a dream, after all," Robert said as the boys +uncovered their spades from the sand-heap where they had buried them +and began to dig. + +"Suppose you were a sensible chap," said Cyril; "one's quite as likely +as the other!" + +"Suppose you kept a civil tongue in your head," Robert snapped. + +"Suppose we girls take a turn," said Jane, laughing. "You boys seem to +be getting very warm." + +"Suppose you don't come putting your silly oar in," said Robert, who was +now warm indeed. + +"We won't," said Anthea quickly. "Robert dear, don't be so grumpy--we +won't say a word, you shall be the one to speak to the Fairy and tell +him what we've decided to wish for. You'll say it much better than we +shall." + +"Suppose you drop being a little humbug," said Robert, but not crossly. +"Look out--dig with your hands, now!" + +So they did, and presently uncovered the spider-shaped brown hairy body, +long arms and legs, bat's ears and snail's eyes of the Sand-fairy +himself. Everyone drew a deep breath of satisfaction, for now of course +it couldn't have been a dream. + +The Psammead sat up and shook the sand out of its fur. + +"How's your left whisker this morning?" said Anthea politely. + +"Nothing to boast of," said it; "it had rather a restless night. But +thank you for asking." + +"I say," said Robert, "do you feel up to giving wishes to-day, because +we very much want an extra besides the regular one? The extra's a very +little one," he added reassuringly. + +"Humph!" said the Sand-fairy. (If you read this story aloud, please +pronounce "humph" exactly as it is spelt, for that is how he said it.) +"Humph! Do you know, until I heard you being disagreeable to each other +just over my head, and so loud too, I really quite thought I had dreamed +you all. I do have very odd dreams sometimes." + +"Do you?" Jane hurried to say, so as to get away from the subject of +disagreeableness. "I wish," she added politely, "you'd tell us about +your dreams--they must be awfully interesting"-- + +"Is that the day's wish?" said the Sand-fairy, yawning. + +Cyril muttered something about "just like a girl," and the rest stood +silent. If they said "Yes," then good-bye to the other wishes they had +decided to ask for. If they said "No," it would be very rude, and they +had all been taught manners, and had learned a little too, which is not +at all the same thing. A sigh of relief broke from all lips when the +Sand-fairy said-- + +"If I do, I shan't have strength to give you a second wish; not even +good tempers, or common-sense, or manners, or little things like that." + +"We don't want you to put yourself out at all about _these_ things, we +can manage them quite well ourselves," said Cyril eagerly; while the +others looked guiltily at each other, and wished the Fairy would not +keep all on about good tempers, but give them one good scolding if it +wanted to, and then have done with it. + +"Well," said the Psammead, putting out his long snail's eyes so suddenly +that one of them nearly went into the round boy's eye of Robert, "let's +have the little wish first." + +"We don't want the servants to notice the gifts you give us." + +"Are kind enough to give us," said Anthea in a whisper. + +"Are kind enough to give us, I mean," said Robert. + +The Fairy swelled himself out a bit, let his breath go, and said-- + +"I've done _that_ for you--it was quite easy. People don't notice things +much, anyway. What's the next wish?" + +"We want," said Robert slowly, "to be rich beyond the dreams of +something or other." + +"Avarice," said Jane. + +"So it is," said the Fairy unexpectedly. "But it won't do you much good, +that's one comfort," it muttered to itself. "Come--I can't go beyond +dreams, you know! How much do you want, and will you have it in gold or +notes?" + +"Gold, please--and millions of it"-- + +"This gravel-pit full be enough?" said the Fairy in an off-hand manner. + +"Oh _yes_"-- + +"Then go out before I begin, or you'll be buried alive in it." + +It made its skinny arms so long, and waved them so frighteningly, that +the children ran as hard as they could towards the road by which carts +used to come to the gravel-pits. Only Anthea had presence of mind enough +to shout a timid "Good-morning, I hope your whisker will be better +to-morrow," as she ran. + +On the road they turned and looked back, and they had to shut their +eyes, and open them very slowly, a little bit at a time, because the +sight was too dazzling for their eyes to be able to bear. It was +something like trying to look at the sun at high noon on Midsummer Day. +For the whole of the sand-pit was full, right up to the very top, with +new shining gold pieces, and all the little bank-martins' little front +doors were covered out of sight. Where the road for carts wound into the +gravel-pit the gold lay in heaps like stones lie by the roadside, and a +great bank of shining gold shelved down from where it lay flat and +smooth between the tall sides of the gravel-pit. And all the gleaming +heaps was minted gold. And on the sides and edges of these countless +coins the mid-day sun shone and sparkled, and glowed and gleamed till +the quarry looked like the mouth of a smelting furnace, or one of the +fairy halls that you see sometimes in the sky at sunset. + +The children stood with their mouths open, and no one said a word. + +At last Robert stooped and picked up one of the loose coins from the +edge of the heap by the cart-road, and looked at it. He looked on both +sides. Then he said in a low voice, quite different to his own, "It's +not sovereigns." + +"It's gold, anyway," said Cyril. And now they all began to talk at once. +They all picked up the golden treasure by handfuls and let it run +through their fingers like water, and the chink it made as it fell was +wonderful music. At first they quite forgot to think of spending the +money, it was so nice to play with. Jane sat down between two heaps of +the gold, and Robert began to bury her, as you bury your father in sand +when you are at the seaside and he has gone to sleep on the beach with +his newspaper over his face. But Jane was not half buried before she +cried out, "Oh stop, it's too heavy! It hurts!" + +Robert said "Bosh!" and went on. + +"Let me out, I tell you," cried Jane, and was taken out, very white, and +trembling a little. + +"You've no idea what it's like," said she; "it's like stones on you--or +like chains." + +"Look here," Cyril said, "if this is to do us any good, it's no good our +staying gasping at it like this. Let's fill our pockets and go and buy +things. Don't you forget, it won't last after sunset. I wish we'd asked +the Sammyadd why things don't turn to stone. Perhaps this will. I'll +tell you what, there's a pony and cart in the village." + +"Do you want to buy that?" asked Jane. + +"No, silly,--we'll _hire_ it. And then we'll go to Rochester and buy +heaps and heaps of things. Look here, let's each take as much as we can +carry. But it's not sovereigns. They've got a man's head on one side and +a thing like the ace of spades on the other. Fill your pockets with it, +I tell you, and come along. You can talk as we go--if you _must_ talk." + +Cyril sat down and began to fill his pockets. + +"You made fun of me for getting father to have nine pockets in my suit," +said he, "but now you see!" + +They did. For when Cyril had filled his nine pockets and his +handkerchief and the space between himself and his shirt front with the +gold coins, he had to stand up. But he staggered, and had to sit down +again in a hurry. + +"Throw out some of the cargo," said Robert. "You'll sink the ship, old +chap. That comes of nine pockets." + +And Cyril had to do so. + +Then they set off to walk to the village. It was more than a mile, and +the road was very dusty indeed, and the sun seemed to get hotter and +hotter, and the gold in their pockets got heavier and heavier. + +It was Jane who said, "I don't see how we're to spend it all. There must +be thousands of pounds among the lot of us. I'm going to leave some of +mine behind this stump in the hedge. And directly we get to the village +we'll buy some biscuits; I know it's long past dinner-time." She took +out a handful or two of gold and hid it in the hollows of an old +hornbeam. "How round and yellow they are," she said. "Don't you wish +they were made of gingerbread and we were going to eat them?" + +"Well, they're not, and we're not," said Cyril. "Come on!" + +But they came on heavily and wearily. Before they reached the village, +more than one stump in the hedge concealed its little hoard of hidden +treasure. Yet they reached the village with about twelve hundred guineas +in their pockets. But in spite of this inside wealth they looked +quite ordinary outside, and no one would have thought they could have +more than a half-crown each at the outside. The haze of heat, the blue +of the wood smoke, made a sort of dim misty cloud over the red roofs of +the village. The four sat down heavily on the first bench to which they +came. It happened to be outside the Blue Boar Inn. + +[Illustration: He staggered, and had to sit down again in a hurry] + +It was decided that Cyril should go into the Blue Boar and ask for +ginger-beer, because, as Anthea said, "It was not wrong for men to go +into beer-saloons, only for children. And Cyril is nearer being a man +than us, because he is the eldest." So he went. The others sat in the +sun and waited. + +"Oh, how hot it is!" said Robert. "Dogs put their tongues out when +they're hot; I wonder if it would cool us at all to put out ours?" + +"We might try," Jane said; and they all put their tongues out as far as +ever they could go, so that it quite stretched their throats, but it +only seemed to make them thirstier than ever, besides annoying everyone +who went by. So they took their tongues in again, just as Cyril came +back with ginger-beer. + +"I had to pay for it out of my own money, though, that I was going to +buy rabbits with," he said. "They wouldn't change the gold. And when I +pulled out a handful the man just laughed and said it was card-counters. +And I got some sponge-cakes too, out of a glass jar on the bar-counter. +And some biscuits with caraways in." + +The sponge-cakes were both soft and dry and the biscuits were dry too, +and yet soft, which biscuits ought not to be. But the ginger-beer made +up for everything. + +"It's my turn now to try to buy something with the money," Anthea said; +"I'm next eldest. Where is the pony-cart kept?" + +It was at The Chequers, and Anthea went in the back way to the yard, +because they all knew that little girls ought not to go into the bars of +beer-saloons. She came out, as she herself said, "pleased but not +proud." + +"He'll be ready in a brace of shakes, he says," she remarked, "and he's +to have one sovereign--or whatever it is--to drive us into Rochester and +back, besides waiting there till we've got everything we want. I think I +managed very well." + +"You think yourself jolly clever, I daresay," said Cyril moodily. "How +did you do it?" + +"I wasn't jolly clever enough to go taking handfuls of money out of my +pocket, to make it seem cheap, anyway," she retorted. "I just found a +young man doing something to a horse's legs with a sponge and a pail. +And I held out one sovereign, and I said--'Do you know what this is?' He +said 'No,' and he'd call his father. And the old man came, and he said +it was a spade guinea; and he said was it my own to do as I liked with, +and I said 'Yes'; and I asked about the pony-cart, and I said he could +have the guinea if he'd drive us into Rochester. And his name is S. +Crispin. And he said, 'Right oh.'" + +It was a new sensation to be driven in a smart pony-trap along pretty +country roads; it was very pleasant too (which is not always the case +with new sensations), quite apart from the beautiful plans of spending +the money which each child made as they went along, silently of course +and quite to itself, for they felt it would never have done to let the +old innkeeper hear them talk in the affluent sort of way in which they +were thinking. The old man put them down by the bridge at their request. + +"If you were going to buy a carriage and horses, where would you go?" +asked Cyril, as if he were only asking for the sake of something to say. + +"Billy Peasemarsh, at the Saracen's Head," said the old man promptly. +"Though all forbid I should recommend any man where it's a question of +horses, no more than I'd take anybody else's recommending if I was +a-buying one. But if your pa's thinking of a rig of any sort, there +ain't a straighter man in Rochester, nor civiller spoken, than Billy, +though I says it." + +"Thank you," said Cyril. "The Saracen's Head." + +And now the children began to see one of the laws of nature turn upside +down and stand on its head like an acrobat. Any grown-up person would +tell you that money is hard to get and easy to spend. But the fairy +money had been easy to get, and spending it was not only hard, it was +almost impossible. The trades-people of Rochester seemed to shrink, to a +trades-person, from the glittering fairy gold ("furrin money" they +called it, for the most part). + +To begin with, Anthea, who had had the misfortune to sit on her hat +earlier in the day, wished to buy another. She chose a very beautiful +one, trimmed with pink roses and the blue breasts of peacocks. It was +marked in the window, "Paris Model, three guineas." + +"I'm glad," she said, "because it says guineas, and not sovereigns, +which we haven't got." + +But when she took three of the spade guineas in her hand, which was by +this time rather dirty owing to her not having put on gloves before +going to the gravel-pit, the black-silk young lady in the shop looked +very hard at her, and went and whispered something to an older and +uglier lady, also in black silk, and then they gave her back the money +and said it was not current coin. + +"It's good money," said Anthea, "and it's my own." + +"I daresay," said the lady, "but it's not the kind of money that's +fashionable now, and we don't care about taking it." + +"I believe they think we've stolen it," said Anthea, rejoining the +others in the street; "if we had gloves they wouldn't think we were so +dishonest. It's my hands being so dirty fills their minds with doubts." + +So they chose a humble shop, and the girls bought cotton gloves, the +kind at a shilling, but when they offered a guinea the woman looked at +it through her spectacles and said she had no change; so the gloves had +to be paid for out of Cyril's money with which he meant to buy rabbits +and so had the green imitation crocodile-skin purse at nine-pence which +had been bought at the same time. They tried several more shops, the +kinds where you buy toys and perfume and silk handkerchiefs and books, +and fancy boxes of stationery, and photographs of objects of interest in +the vicinity. But nobody cared to change a guinea that day in Rochester, +and as they went from shop to shop they got dirtier and dirtier, and +their hair got more and more untidy, and Jane slipped and fell down on a +part of the road where a water cart had just gone by. Also they got very +hungry, but they found no one would give them anything to eat for their +guineas. + +After trying two baker shops in vain, they became so hungry, perhaps +from the smell of the cake in the shops, as Cyril suggested, that they +formed a plan of campaign in whispers and carried it out in desperation. +They marched into a third baker shop,--Beale was his name,--and before +the people behind the counter could interfere each child had seized +three new penny buns, clapped the three together between its dirty +hands, and taken a big bite out of the triple sandwich. Then they stood +at bay, with the twelve buns in their hands and their mouths very full +indeed. The shocked baker's man bounded round the corner. + +"Here," said Cyril, speaking as distinctly as he could, and holding out +the guinea he got ready before entering the shops, "pay yourself out of +that." + +Mr. Beale snatched the coin, bit it, and put it in his pocket. + +[Illustration: Mr. Beale snatched the coin, bit it, and put it in his +pocket] + +"Off you go," he said, brief and stern like the man in the song. + +"But the change?" said Anthea, who had a saving mind. + +"Change!" said the man, "I'll change you! Hout you goes; and you may +think yourselves lucky I don't send for the police to find out where you +got it!" + +In the Gardens of the Castle the millionaires finished the buns, and +though the curranty softness of these were delicious, and acted like a +charm in raising the spirits of the party, yet even the stoutest heart +quailed at the thought of venturing to sound Mr. Billy Peasemarsh at the +Saracen's Head on the subject of a horse and carriage. The boys would +have given up the idea, but Jane was always a hopeful child, and Anthea +generally an obstinate one, and their earnestness prevailed. + +The whole party, by this time indescribably dirty, therefore betook +itself to the Saracen's Head. The yard-method of attack having been +successful at The Chequers, was tried again here. Mr. Peasemarsh was in +the yard, and Robert opened the business in these terms-- + +"They tell me you have a lot of horses and carriages to sell." It had +been agreed that Robert should be spokesman, because in books it is +always gentlemen who buy horses, and not ladies, and Cyril had had his +go at the Blue Boar. + +"They tell you true, young man," said Mr. Peasemarsh. He was a long lean +man, with very blue eyes and a tight mouth and narrow lips. + +"We should like to buy some, please," said Robert politely. + +"I daresay you would." + +"Will you show us a few, please? To choose from." + +"Who are you a-kiddin of?" inquired Mr. Billy Peasemarsh. "Was you sent +here of a message?" + +"I tell you," said Robert, "we want to buy some horses and carriages, +and a man told us you were straight and civil spoken, but I shouldn't +wonder if he was mistaken"-- + +"Upon my sacred!" said Mr. Peasemarsh. "Shall I trot the whole stable +out for your Honor's worship to see? Or shall I send round to the +Bishop's to see if he's a nag or two to dispose of?" + +"Please do," said Robert, "if it's not too much trouble. It would be +very kind of you." + +Mr. Peasemarsh put his hands in his pockets and laughed, and they did +not like the way he did it. Then he shouted "Willum!" + +A stooping ostler appeared in a stable door. + +"Here, Willum, come and look at this 'ere young dook! Wants to buy the +whole stud, lock, stock, and bar'l. And ain't got tuppence in his +pocket to bless hisself with, I'll go bail!" + +Willum's eyes followed his master's pointing thumb with contemptuous +interest. + +"Do 'e, for sure?" he said. + +But Robert spoke, though both the girls were now pulling at his jacket +and begging him to "come along." He spoke, and he was very angry; he +said-- + +"I'm not a young duke, and I never pretended to be. And as for +tuppence--what do you call this?" And before the others could stop him +he had pulled out two fat handfuls of shining guineas, and held them out +for Mr. Peasemarsh to look at. He did look. He snatched one up in his +finger and thumb. He bit it, and Jane expected him to say, "The best +horse in my stables is at your service." But the others knew better. +Still it was a blow, even to the most desponding, when he said shortly-- + +"Willum, shut the yard doors;" and Willum grinned and went to shut them. + +"Good-afternoon," said Robert hastily; "we shan't buy any horses now, +whatever you say, and I hope it'll be a lesson to you." He had seen a +little side gate open, and was moving towards it as he spoke. But Billy +Peasemarsh put himself in the way. + +"Not so fast, you young off-scouring!" he said. "Willum, fetch the +pleece." + +Willum went. The children stood huddled together like frightened sheep, +and Mr. Peasemarsh spoke to them till the pleece arrived. He said many +things. Among other things he said-- + +"Nice lot you are, aren't you, coming tempting honest men with your +guineas!" + +"They _are_ our guineas," said Cyril boldly. + +"Oh, of course we don't know all about that, no more we don't--oh +no--course not! And dragging little gells into it, too. 'Ere--I'll let +the gells go if you'll come along to the pleece quiet." + +"We won't be let go," said Jane heroically; "not without the boys. It's +our money just as much as theirs, you wicked old man." + +"Where'd you get it, then?" said the man, softening slightly, which was +not at all what the boys expected when Jane began to call names. + +Jane cast a silent glance of agony at the others. + +"Lost your tongue, eh? Got it fast enough when it's for calling names +with. Come, speak up! Where'd you get it?" + +"Out of the gravel-pit," said truthful Jane. + +"Next article," said the man. + +"I tell you we did," Jane said. "There's a fairy there--all over brown +fur--with ears like a bat's and eyes like a snail's, and he gives you a +wish a day, and they all come true." + +"Touched in the head, eh?" said the man in a low voice; "all the more +shame to you boys dragging the poor afflicted child into your sinful +burglaries." + +"She's not mad; it's true," said Anthea; "there _is_ a fairy. If I ever +see him again I'll wish for something for you; at least I would if +vengeance wasn't wicked--so there!" + +"Lor' lumme," said Billy Peasemarsh, "if there ain't another on 'em!" + +And now Willum came back, with a spiteful grin on his face, and at his +back a policeman, with whom Mr. Peasemarsh spoke long in a hoarse +earnest whisper. + +"I daresay you're right," said the policeman at last. "Anyway, I'll take +'em up on a charge of unlawful possession, pending inquiries. And the +magistrate will deal with the case. Send the afflicted ones to a home, +as likely as not, and the boys to a reformatory. Now then, come along, +youngsters! No use making a fuss. You bring the gells along, Mr. +Peasemarsh, sir, and I'll shepherd the boys." + +Speechless with rage and horror, the four children were driven along the +streets of Rochester. Tears of anger and shame blinded them, so that +when Robert ran right into a passer-by he did not recognise her till a +well-known voice said, "Well, if ever I did! Oh, Master Robert, whatever +have you been a-doing of now?" And another voice, quite as well known, +said, "Panty; want go own Panty!" + +They had run into Martha and the Baby! + +[Illustration: They had run into Martha and the baby] + +Martha behaved admirably. She refused to believe a word of the +policeman's story, or of Mr. Peasemarsh's either, even when they made +Robert turn out his pockets in an archway and show the guineas. + +"I don't see nothing," she said. "You've gone out of your senses, you +two! There ain't any gold there--only the poor child's hands, all over +dirt, and like the very chimbley. Oh that I should ever see the day!" + +And the children thought this very noble of Martha, even if rather +wicked, till they remembered how the Fairy had promised that the +servants should never notice any of the fairy gifts. So of course Martha +couldn't see the gold, and so was only speaking the truth, and that was +quite right, of course, but not extra noble. + +It was getting dusk when they reached the police-station. The policeman +told his tale to an inspector, who sat in a large bare room with a thing +like a clumsy nursery-fender at one end to put prisoners in. Robert +wondered whether it was a cell or a dock. + +"Produce the coins, officer," said the inspector. + +"Turn out your pockets," said the constable. + +Cyril desperately plunged his hands in his pockets, stood still a +moment, and then began to laugh--an odd sort of laugh that hurt, and +that felt much more like crying. His pockets were empty. So were the +pockets of the others. For of course at sunset all the fairy gold had +vanished away. + +"Turn out your pockets, and stop that noise," said the inspector. + +Cyril turned out his pockets, every one of the nine which enriched his +suit. And every pocket was empty. + +"Well!" said the inspector. + +"I don't know how they done it--artful little beggars! They walked in +front of me the 'ole way, so as for me to keep my eye on them and not to +attract a crowd and obstruct the traffic." + +"It's very remarkable," said the inspector, frowning. + +"If you've done a-browbeating of the innocent children," said Martha, +"I'll hire a private carriage and we'll drive home to their papa's +mansion. You'll hear about this again, young man!--I told you they +hadn't got any gold, when you were pretending to see it in their poor +helpless hands. It's early in the day for a constable on duty not to be +able to trust his own eyes. As to the other one, the less said the +better; he keeps the Saracen's Head, and he knows best what his liquor's +like." + +[Illustration: He said, "Now then!" to the policeman and Mr. Peasemarsh] + +"Take them away, for goodness' sake," said the inspector crossly. But as +they left the police-station he said, "Now then!" to the policeman and +Mr. Peasemarsh, and he said it twenty times as crossly as he had spoken +to Martha. + + * * * * * + +Martha was as good as her word. She took them home in a very grand +carriage, because the carrier's cart was gone, and, though she had stood +by them so nobly with the police, she was so angry with them as soon as +they were alone for "trapesing into Rochester by themselves," that none +of them dared to mention the old man with the pony-cart from the +village who was waiting for them in Rochester. And so, after one day of +boundless wealth, the children found themselves sent to bed in deep +disgrace, and only enriched by two pairs of cotton gloves, dirty inside +because of the state of the hands they had been put on to cover, an +imitation crocodile-skin purse, and twelve penny buns, long since +digested. + +The thing that troubled them most was the fear that the old gentleman's +guinea might have disappeared at sunset with all the rest, so they went +down to the village next day to apologise for not meeting him in +Rochester, and to _see_. They found him very friendly. The guinea had +not disappeared, and he had bored a hole in it and hung it on his +watch-chain. As for the guinea the baker took, the children felt they +_could_ not care whether it had vanished or not, which was not perhaps +very honest, but on the other hand was not wholly unnatural. But +afterwards this preyed on Anthea's mind, and at last she secretly sent +twelve postage stamps by post to "Mr. Beale, Baker, Rochester." Inside +she wrote, "To pay for the buns." I hope the guinea did disappear, for +that baker was really not at all a nice man, and, besides, penny buns +are seven for sixpence in all really respectable shops. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +BEING WANTED + + +The morning after the children had been the possessors of boundless +wealth, and had been unable to buy anything really useful or enjoyable +with it, except two pairs of cotton gloves, twelve penny buns, an +imitation crocodile-skin purse, and a ride in a pony-cart, they awoke +without any of the enthusiastic happiness which they had felt on the +previous day when they remembered how they had had the luck to find a +Psammead, or Sand-fairy, and to receive its promise to grant them a new +wish every day. For now they had had two wishes, Beauty and Wealth, and +neither had exactly made them happy. But the happening of strange +things, even if they are not completely pleasant things, is more amusing +than those times when nothing happens but meals, and they are not always +completely pleasant, especially on the days when it is cold mutton or +hash. + +There was no chance of talking things over before breakfast, because +everyone overslept itself, as it happened, and it needed a vigorous and +determined struggle to get dressed so as to be only ten minutes late for +breakfast. During this meal some efforts were made to deal with the +question of the Psammead in an impartial spirit, but it is very +difficult to discuss anything thoroughly and at the same time to attend +faithfully to your baby brother's breakfast needs. The Baby was +particularly lively that morning. He not only wriggled his body through +the bar of his high chair, and hung by his head, choking and purple, but +he seized a tablespoon with desperate suddenness, hit Cyril heavily on +the head with it, and then cried because it was taken away from him. He +put his fat fist in his bread-and-milk, and demanded "nam," which was +only allowed for tea. He sang, he put his feet on the table--he +clamoured to "go walky." The conversation was something like this-- + +"Look here--about that Sand-fairy---- Look out!--he'll have the milk +over." + +Milk removed to a safe distance. + +"Yes--about that Fairy---- No, Lamb dear, give Panther the narky poon." + +Then Cyril tried. "Nothing we've had yet has turned out---- He nearly +had the mustard that time!" + +"I wonder whether we'd better wish---- Hullo!--you've done it now, my +boy!" And in a flash of glass and pink baby-paws, the bowl of golden +carp in the middle of the table rolled on its side and poured a flood of +mixed water and gold-fish into the Baby's lap and into the laps of the +others. + +Everyone was almost as much upset as the gold-fish; the Lamb only +remaining calm. When the pool on the floor had been mopped up, and the +leaping, gasping gold-fish had been collected and put back in the water, +the Baby was taken away to be entirely re-dressed by Martha, and most of +the others had to change completely. The pinafores and jackets that had +been bathed in gold-fish-and-water were hung out to dry, and then it +turned out that Jane must either mend the dress she had torn the day +before or appear all day in her best petticoat. It was white and soft +and frilly, and trimmed with lace, and very, very pretty, quite as +pretty as a frock, if not more so. Only it was _not_ a frock, and +Martha's word was law. She wouldn't let Jane wear her best frock, and +she refused to listen for a moment to Robert's suggestion that Jane +should wear her best petticoat and call it a dress. + +"It's not respectable," she said. And when people say that, it's no use +anyone's saying anything. You'll find this out for yourselves some day. + +So there was nothing for it but for Jane to mend her frock. The hole had +been torn the day before when she happened to tumble down in the High +Street of Rochester, just where a water-cart had passed on its silvery +way. She had grazed her knee, and her stocking was much more than +grazed, and her dress was cut by the same stone which had attended to +the knee and the stocking. Of course the others were not such sneaks as +to abandon a comrade in misfortune, so they all sat on the grass-plot +round the sun-dial, and Jane darned away for dear life. The Lamb was +still in the hands of Martha having its clothes changed, so conversation +was possible. + +Anthea and Robert timidly tried to conceal their inmost thought, which +was that the Psammead was not to be trusted; but Cyril said-- + +"Speak out--say what you've got to say--I hate hinting, and 'don't +know,' and sneakish ways like that." + +So then Robert said, as in honour bound, "Sneak yourself--Anthea and me +weren't so gold-fishy as you two were, so we got changed quicker, and +we've had time to think it over, and if you ask me"-- + +"I didn't ask you," said Jane, biting off a needleful of thread as she +had always been strictly forbidden to do. (Perhaps you don't know that +if you bite off ends of cotton and swallow them they wind tight round +your heart and kill you? My nurse told me this, and she told me also +about the earth going round the sun. Now what is one to believe--what +with nurses and science?) + +"I don't care who asks or who doesn't," said Robert, "but Anthea and I +think the Sammyadd is a spiteful brute. If it can give us our wishes I +suppose it can give itself its own, and I feel almost sure it wishes +every time that our wishes shan't do us any good. Let's let the tiresome +beast alone, and just go and have a jolly good game of forts, on our +own, in the chalk-pit." + +(You will remember that the happily-situated house where these children +were spending their holidays lay between a chalk-quarry and a +gravel-pit.) + +Cyril and Jane were more hopeful--they generally were. + +"I don't think the Sammyadd does it on purpose," Cyril said; "and, after +all, it _was_ silly to wish for boundless wealth. Fifty pounds in +two-shilling pieces would have been much more sensible. And wishing to +be beautiful as the day was simply donkeyish. I don't want to be +disagreeable, but it _was_. We must try to find a really useful wish, +and wish it." + +Jane dropped her work and said-- + +"I think so too, it's too silly to have a chance like this and not use +it. I never heard of anyone else outside a book who had such a chance; +there must be simply heaps of things we could wish for that wouldn't +turn out Dead Sea fish, like these two things have. Do let's think hard +and wish something nice, so that we can have a real jolly day--what +there is left of it." + +Jane darned away again like mad, for time was indeed getting on, and +everyone began to talk at once. If you had been there you could not +possibly have made head or tail of the talk, but these children were +used to talking "by fours," as soldiers march, and each of them could +say what it had to say quite comfortably, and listen to the agreeable +sound of its own voice, and at the same time have three-quarters of two +sharp ears to spare for listening to what the others said. That is an +easy example in multiplication of vulgar fractions, but, as I daresay +you can't do even that, I won't ask you to tell me whether 3/4 × 2 = +1-1/2, but I will ask you to believe me that this was the amount of ear +each child was able to lend to the others. Lending ears was common in +Roman times, as we learn from Shakespeare; but I fear I am getting too +instructive. + +When the frock was darned, the start for the gravel-pit was delayed by +Martha's insisting on everybody's washing its hands--which was nonsense, +because nobody had been doing anything at all, except Jane, and how can +you get dirty doing nothing? That is a difficult question, and I cannot +answer it on paper. In real life I could very soon show you--or you me, +which is much more likely. + +During the conversation in which the six ears were lent (there were four +children, so _that_ sum comes right), it had been decided that fifty +pounds in two-shilling pieces was the right wish to have. And the lucky +children, who could have anything in the wide world by just wishing for +it, hurriedly started for the gravel-pit to express their wishes to the +Psammead. Martha caught them at the gate, and insisted on their taking +the Baby with them. + +[Illustration: The lucky children ... hurriedly started for the gravel +pit] + +"Not want him indeed! Why, everybody 'ud want him, a duck! with all +their hearts they would; and you know you promised your ma to take him +out every blessed day," said Martha. + +"I know we did," said Robert in gloom, "but I wish the Lamb wasn't quite +so young and small. It would be much better fun taking him out." + +"He'll mend of his youngness with time," said Martha; "and as for +smallness, I don't think you'd fancy carrying of him any more, however +big he was. Besides he can walk a bit, bless his precious fat legs, a +ducky! He feels the benefit of the new-laid air, so he does, a pet!" + +With this and a kiss, she plumped the Lamb into Anthea's arms, and went +back to make new pinafores on the sewing-machine. She was a rapid +performer on this instrument. + +The Lamb laughed with pleasure, and said, "Walky wif Panty," and rode on +Robert's back with yells of joy, and tried to feed Jane with stones, +and altogether made himself so agreeable that nobody could long be sorry +that he was of the party. + +The enthusiastic Jane even suggested that they should devote a week's +wishes to assuring the Baby's future, by asking such gifts for him as +the good fairies give to Infant Princes in proper fairy-tales, but +Anthea soberly reminded her that as the Sand-fairy's wishes only lasted +till sunset they could not ensure any benefit to the Baby's later years; +and Jane owned that it would be better to wish for fifty pounds in +two-shilling pieces, and buy the Lamb a three-pound fifteen +rocking-horse, like those in the big stores, with a part of the money. + +It was settled that, as soon as they had wished for the money and got +it, they would get Mr. Crispin to drive them into Rochester again, +taking Martha with them if they could not get out of taking her. And +they would make a list of things they really wanted before they started. +Full of high hopes and excellent resolutions, they went round the safe +slow cart-road to the gravel-pits, and as they went in between the +mounds of gravel a sudden thought came to them, and would have turned +their ruddy cheeks pale if they had been children in a book. Being real +live children, it only made them stop and look at each other with rather +blank and silly expressions. For now they remembered that yesterday, +when they had asked the Psammead for boundless wealth, and it was +getting ready to fill the quarry with the minted gold of bright +guineas--millions of them--it had told the children to run along outside +the quarry for fear they should be buried alive in the heavy splendid +treasure. And they had run. And so it happened that they had not had +time to mark the spot where the Psammead was, with a ring of stones, as +before. And it was this thought that put such silly expressions on their +faces. + +"Never mind," said the hopeful Jane, "we'll soon find him." + +But this, though easily said, was hard in the doing. They looked and +they looked, and, though they found their seaside spades, nowhere could +they find the Sand-fairy. + +At last they had to sit down and rest--not at all because they were +weary or disheartened, of course, but because the Lamb insisted on being +put down, and you cannot look very carefully after anything you may have +happened to lose in the sand if you have an active baby to look after at +the same time. Get someone to drop your best knife in the sand next time +you go to the seashore and then take your baby brother with you when you +go to look for it, and you will see that I am right. + +The Lamb, as Martha had said, was feeling the benefit of the country +air, and he was as frisky as a sandhopper. The elder ones longed to go +on talking about the new wishes they would have when (or if) they found +the Psammead again. But the Lamb wished to enjoy himself. + +He watched his opportunity and threw a handful of sand into Anthea's +face, and then suddenly burrowed his own head in the sand and waved his +fat legs in the air. Then of course the sand got into his eyes, as it +had into Anthea's, and he howled. + +The thoughtful Robert had brought one solid brown bottle of ginger-beer +with him, relying on a thirst that had never yet failed him. This had to +be uncorked hurriedly--it was the only wet thing within reach, and it +was necessary to wash the sand out of the Lamb's eyes somehow. Of course +the ginger hurt horribly, and he howled more than ever. And, amid his +anguish of kicking, the bottle was upset and the beautiful ginger-beer +frothed out into the sand and was lost for ever. + +It was then that Robert, usually a very patient brother, so far forgot +himself as to say-- + +"Anybody would want him, indeed! Only they don't; Martha doesn't, not +really, or she'd jolly well keep him with her. He's a little nuisance, +that's what he is. It's too bad. I only wish everybody _did_ want him +with all their hearts; we might get some peace in our lives." + +The Lamb stopped howling now, because Jane had suddenly remembered that +there is only one safe way of taking things out of little children's +eyes, and that is with your own soft wet tongue. It is quite easy if you +love the Baby as much as you ought to do. + +Then there was a little silence. Robert was not proud of himself for +having been so cross, and the others were not proud of him either. You +often notice that sort of silence when someone has said something it +ought not to--and everyone else holds its tongue and waits for the one +who oughtn't to have said it is sorry. + +The silence was broken by a sigh--a breath suddenly let out. The +children's heads turned as if there had been a string tied to each nose, +and somebody had pulled all the strings at once. + +And everyone saw the Sand-fairy sitting quite close to them, with the +expression which it used as a smile on its hairy face. + +"Good-morning," it said; "I did that quite easily! Everyone wants him +now." + +"It doesn't matter," said Robert sulkily, because he knew he had been +behaving rather like a pig. "No matter who wants him--there's no one +here to--anyhow." + +"Ingratitude," said the Psammead, "is a dreadful vice." + +"We're not ungrateful," Jane made haste to say, "but we didn't _really_ +want that wish. Robert only just said it. Can't you take it back and +give us a new one?" + +"No--I can't," the Sand-fairy said shortly; "chopping and changing--it's +not business. You ought to be careful what you _do_ wish. There was a +little boy once, he'd wished for a Plesiosaurus instead of an +Ichthyosaurus, because he was too lazy to remember the easy names of +everyday things, and his father had been very vexed with him, and had +made him go to bed before tea-time, and wouldn't let him go out in the +nice flint boat along with the other children,--it was the annual +school-treat next day,--and he came and flung himself down near me on +the morning of the treat, and he kicked his little prehistoric legs +about and said he wished he was dead. And of course then he was." + +"How awful! said the children all together. + +"Only till sunset, of course," the Psammead said; "still it was quite +enough for his father and mother. And he caught it when he woke up--I +tell you. He didn't turn to stone--I forget why--but there must have +been some reason. They didn't know being dead is only being asleep, and +you're bound to wake up somewhere or other, either where you go to sleep +or in some better place. You may be sure he caught it, giving them such +a turn. Why, he wasn't allowed to taste Megatherium for a month after +that. Nothing but oysters and periwinkles, and common things like that." + +All the children were quite crushed by this terrible tale. They looked +at the Psammead in horror. Suddenly the Lamb perceived that something +brown and furry was near him. + +"Poof, poof, poofy," he said, and made a grab. + +[Illustration: "Poof, poof, poofy," he said, and made a grab] + +"It's not a pussy," Anthea was beginning, when the Sand-fairy leaped +back. + +"Oh, my left whisker!" it said; "don't let him touch me. He's wet." + +Its fur stood on end with horror--and indeed a good deal of the +ginger-beer had been spilt on the blue smock of the Lamb. + +The Psammead dug with its hands and feet, and vanished in an instant and +a whirl of sand. + +The children marked the spot with a ring of stones. + +"We may as well get along home," said Robert. "I'll say I'm sorry; but +anyway if it's no good it's no harm, and we know where the sandy thing +is for to-morrow." + +The others were noble. No one reproached Robert at all. Cyril picked up +the Lamb, who was now quite himself again, and off they went by the safe +cart-road. + +The cart-road from the gravel-pits joins the road almost directly. + +At the gate into the road the party stopped to shift the Lamb from +Cyril's back to Robert's. And as they paused a very smart open carriage +came in sight, with a coachman and a groom on the box, and inside the +carriage a lady--very grand indeed, with a dress all white lace and +red ribbons and a parasol all red and white--and a white fluffy dog on +her lap with a red ribbon round its neck. She looked at the children, +and particularly at the Baby, and she smiled at him. The children were +used to this, for the Lamb was, as all the servants said, a "very taking +child." So they waved their hands politely to the lady and expected her +to drive on. But she did not. Instead she made the coachman stop. And +she beckoned to Cyril, and when he went up to the carriage she said-- + +"What a dear darling duck of a baby! Oh, I _should_ so like to adopt it! +Do you think its mother would mind?" + +"She'd mind very much indeed," said Anthea shortly. + +"Oh, but I should bring it up in luxury, you know. I am Lady Chittenden. +You must have seen my photograph in the illustrated papers. They call me +a Beauty, you know, but of course that's all nonsense. Anyway"-- + +She opened the carriage door and jumped out. She had the wonderfullest +red high-heeled shoes with silver buckles. "Let me hold him a minute," +she said. And she took the Lamb and held him very awkwardly, as if she +was not used to babies. + +Then suddenly she jumped into the carriage with the Lamb in her arms and +slammed the door, and said, "Drive on!" + +The Lamb roared, the little white dog barked, and the coachman +hesitated. + +"Drive on, I tell you!" cried the lady; and the coachman did, for, as he +said afterwards, it was as much as his place was worth not to. + +The four children looked at each other, and then with one accord they +rushed after the carriage and held on behind. Down the dusty road went +the smart carriage, and after it, at double-quick time, ran the +twinkling legs of the Lamb's brothers and sisters. + +[Illustration: At double-quick time, ran the twinkling legs of the +Lamb's brothers and sisters] + +The Lamb howled louder and louder, but presently his howls changed by +slow degrees to hiccupy gurgles, and then all was still, and they knew +he had gone to sleep. + +The carriage went on, and the eight feet that twinkled through the +dust were growing quite stiff and tired before the carriage stopped at +the lodge of a grand park. The children crouched down behind the +carriage, and the lady got out. She looked at the Baby as it lay on the +carriage seat, and hesitated. + +"The darling--I won't disturb it," she said, and went into the lodge to +talk to the woman there about a setting of eggs that had not turned out +well. + +The coachman and footman sprang from the box and bent over the sleeping +Lamb. + +"Fine boy--wish he was mine," said the coachman. + +"He wouldn't favour _you_ much," said the groom sourly; "too 'andsome." + +The coachman pretended not to hear. He said-- + +"Wonder at her now--I do really! Hates kids. Got none of her own, and +can't abide other folkses'." + +The children, crouched in the white dust under the carriage, exchanged +uncomfortable glances. + +"Tell you what," the coachman went on firmly, "blowed if I don't hide +the little nipper in the hedge and tell her his brothers took 'im! Then +I'll come back for him afterwards." + +"No, you don't," said the footman. "I've took to that kid so as never +was. If anyone's to have him, it's me--so there!" + +"Stop your talk!" the coachman rejoined. "You don't want no kids, and, +if you did, one kid's the same as another to you. But I'm a married man +and a judge of breed. I knows a firstrate yearling when I sees him. I'm +a-goin' to 'ave him, an' least said soonest mended." + +"I should 'a' thought," said the footman sneeringly, "you'd a'most +enough. What with Alfred, an' Albert, an' Louise, an' Victor Stanley, +and Helena Beatrice, and another"-- + +The coachman hit the footman in the chin--the footman hit the coachman +in the waist-coat--the next minute the two were fighting here and there, +in and out, up and down, and all over everywhere, and the little dog +jumped on the box of the carriage and began barking like mad. + +[Illustration: The next minute the two were fighting] + +Cyril, still crouching in the dust, waddled on bent legs to the side of +the carriage farthest from the battlefield. He unfastened the door of +the carriage--the two men were far too much occupied with their quarrel +to notice anything--took the Lamb in his arms, and, still stooping, +carried the sleeping baby a dozen yards along the road to where a stile +led into a wood. The others followed, and there among the hazels and +young oaks and sweet chestnuts, covered by high strong-scented +brake-fern, they all lay hidden till the angry voices of the men were +hushed at the angry voice of the red-and-white lady, and, after a long +and anxious search, the carriage at last drove away. + +"My only hat!" said Cyril, drawing a deep breath as the sound of wheels +at last died away. "Everyone _does_ want him now--and no mistake! That +Sammyadd has done us again! Tricky brute! For any sake, let's get the +kid safe home." + +So they peeped out, and finding on the right hand only lonely white +road, and nothing but lonely white road on the left, they took courage, +and the road, Anthea carrying the sleeping Lamb. + +Adventures dogged their footsteps. A boy with a bundle of faggots on his +back dropped his bundle by the roadside and asked to look at the Baby, +and then offered to carry him; but Anthea was not to be caught that way +twice. They all walked on, but the boy followed, and Cyril and Robert +couldn't make him go away till they had more than once invited him to +smell their fists. Afterwards a little girl in a blue-and-white checked +pinafore actually followed them for a quarter of a mile crying for "the +precious Baby," and then she was only got rid of by threats of tying her +to a tree in the wood with all their pocket handkerchiefs. "So that +bears can come and eat you as soon as it gets dark," said Cyril +severely. Then she went off crying. It presently seemed wise, to the +brothers and sisters of the Baby who was wanted by everyone, to hide in +the hedge whenever they saw anyone coming, and thus they managed to +prevent the Lamb from arousing the inconvenient affection of a milkman, +a stone-breaker, and a man who drove a cart with a paraffin barrel at +the back of it. They were nearly home when the worst thing of all +happened. Turning a corner suddenly they came upon two vans, a tent, and +a company of gipsies encamped by the side of the road. The vans were +hung all round with wicker chairs and cradles, and flower-stands and +feather brushes. A lot of ragged children were industriously making +dust-pies in the road, two men lay on the grass smoking, and three women +were doing the family washing in an old red watering-can with the top +broken off. + +In a moment every gipsy, men, women, and children, surrounded Anthea and +the Baby. + +"Let me hold him, little lady," said one of the gipsy women, who had a +mahogany-coloured face and dust-coloured hair; "I won't hurt a hair of +his head, the little picture!" + +"I'd rather not," said Anthea. + +"Let _me_ have him," said the other woman, whose face was also of the +hue of mahogany, and her hair jet-black, in greasy curls. "I've nineteen +of my own, so I have"-- + +"No," said Anthea bravely, but her heart beat so that it nearly choked +her. + +Then one of the men pushed forward. + +"Swelp me if it ain't!" he cried, "my own long-lost cheild! Have he a +strawberry mark on his left ear? No? Then he's my own babby, stolen from +me in hinnocent hinfancy. 'And 'im over--and we'll not 'ave the law on +yer this time." + +He snatched the Baby from Anthea, who turned scarlet and burst into +tears of pure rage. + +[Illustration: He snatched the baby from Anthea] + +The others were standing quite still; this was much the most terrible +thing that had ever happened to them. Even being taken up by the police +in Rochester was nothing to this. Cyril was quite white, and his hands +trembled a little, but he made a sign to the others to shut up. He was +silent a minute, thinking hard. Then he said-- + +"We don't want to keep him if he's yours. But you see he's used to us. +You shall have him if you want him"-- + +"No, no!" cried Anthea,--and Cyril glared at her. + +"Of course we want him," said the women, trying to get the Baby out of +the man's arms. The Lamb howled loudly. + +"Oh, he's hurt!" shrieked Anthea; and Cyril, in a savage undertone, bade +her "stop it!" + +"You trust to me," he whispered. "Look here," he went on, "he's awfully +tiresome with people he doesn't know very well. Suppose we stay here a +bit till he gets used to you, and then when it's bedtime I give you my +word of honour we'll go away and let you keep him if you want to. And +then when we're gone you can decide which of you is to have him, as you +all want him so much." + +"That's fair enough," said the man who was holding the Baby, trying to +loosen the red neckerchief which the Lamb had caught hold of and drawn +round his mahogany throat so tight that he could hardly breathe. The +gipsies whispered together, and Cyril took the chance to whisper too. He +said, "Sunset! we'll get away then." + +And then his brothers and sisters were filled with wonder and admiration +at his having been so clever as to remember this. + +"Oh, do let him come to us!" said Jane. "See, we'll sit down here and +take care of him for you till he gets used to you." + +"What about dinner?" said Robert suddenly. The others looked at him with +scorn. "Fancy bothering about your beastly dinner when your br--I mean +when the Baby"--Jane whispered hotly. Robert carefully winked at her and +went on-- + +"You won't mind my just running home to get our dinner?" he said to the +gipsy; "I can bring it out here in a basket." + +His brothers and sisters felt themselves very noble and despised him. +They did not know his thoughtful secret intention. But the gipsies did +in a minute. + +"Oh yes!" they said; "and then fetch the police with a pack of lies +about it being your baby instead of ours! D'jever catch a weasel +asleep?" they asked. + +"If you're hungry you can pick a bit along of us," said the light-haired +gipsy-woman, not unkindly. "Here Levi, that blessed kid'll howl all his +buttons off. Give him to the little lady, and let's see if they can't +get him used to us a bit." + +So the Lamb was handed back; but the gipsies crowded so closely that he +could not possibly stop howling. Then the man with the red handkerchief +said-- + +"Here, Pharaoh, make up the fire; and you girls see to the pot. Give the +kid a chanst." So the gipsies, very much against their will, went off to +their work, and the children and the Lamb were left sitting on the +grass. + +"He'll be all right at sunset," Jane whispered. "But, oh, it is awful! +Suppose they are frightfully angry when they come to their senses! They +might beat us, or leave us tied to trees, or something." + +"No, they won't," Anthea said ("Oh, my Lamb, don't cry any more, it's +all right, Panty's got oo, duckie"); "they aren't unkind people, or they +wouldn't be going to give us any dinner." + +"Dinner?" said Robert; "I won't touch their nasty dinner. It would choke +me!" + +The others thought so too then. But when the dinner was ready--it turned +out to be supper, and happened between four and five--they were all glad +enough to take what they could get. It was boiled rabbit, with onions, +and some bird rather like a chicken, but stringier about its legs and +with a stronger taste. The Lamb had bread soaked in hot water and brown +sugar sprinkled on the top. He liked this very much, and consented to +let the two gipsy women feed him with it, as he sat on Anthea's lap. All +that long hot afternoon Robert and Cyril and Anthea and Jane had to keep +the Lamb amused and happy, while the gipsies looked eagerly on. By the +time the shadows grew long and black across the meadows he had really +"taken to" the woman with the light hair, and even consented to kiss +his hand to the children, and to stand up and bow, with his hand on his +chest--"like a gentleman"--to the two men. The whole gipsy camp was in +raptures with him, and his brothers and sisters could not help taking +some pleasure in showing off his accomplishments to an audience so +interested and enthusiastic. But they longed for sunset. + +[Illustration: He consented to let the two gypsy women feed him] + +"We're getting into the habit of longing for sunset," Cyril whispered. +"How I do wish we could wish something really sensible, that would be of +some use, so that we should be quite sorry when sunset came." + +The shadows got longer and longer, and at last there were no separate +shadows any more, but one soft glowing shadow over everything; for the +sun was out of sight--behind the hill--but he had not really set yet. +The people who make the laws about lighting bicycle lamps are the people +who decide when the sun sets; she has to do it too, to the minute, or +they would know the reason why! + +But the gipsies were getting impatient. + +"Now, young uns," the red-handkerchief man said, "it's time you were +laying of your heads on your pillowses--so it is! The kid's all right +and friendly with us now--so you just hand him over and get home like +you said." + +The women and children came crowding round the Lamb, arms were held out, +fingers snapped invitingly, friendly faces beaming with admiring smiles; +but all failed to tempt the loyal Lamb. He clung with arms and legs to +Jane, who happened to be holding him, and uttered the gloomiest roar of +the whole day. + +"It's no good," the woman said, "hand the little poppet over, miss. +We'll soon quiet him." + +And still the sun would not set. + +"Tell her about how to put him to bed," whispered Cyril; "anything to +gain time--and be ready to bolt when the sun really does make up its +silly old mind to set." + +"Yes, I'll hand him over in just one minute," Anthea began, talking very +fast,--"but do let me just tell you he has a warm bath every night and +cold in the morning, and he has a crockery rabbit to go into the warm +bath with him, and little Samuel saying his prayers in white china on a +red cushion for the cold bath; and he hates you to wash his ears, but +you must; and if you let the soap get into his eyes, the Lamb"-- + +"Lamb kyes," said he--he had stopped roaring to listen. + +The woman laughed. "As if I hadn't never bath'd a babby!" she said. +"Come--give us a hold of him. Come to 'Melia, my precious"-- + +"G'way, ugsie!" replied the Lamb at once. + +"Yes, but," Anthea went on, "about his meals; you really _must_ let me +tell you he has an apple or banana every morning, and bread and milk for +breakfast, and an egg for his tea sometimes, and"-- + +"I've brought up ten," said the black ringleted woman, "besides the +others. Come, miss, 'and 'im over--I can't bear it no longer. I just +must give him a hug." + +"We ain't settled yet whose he's to be, Esther," said one of the men. + +"It won't be you, Esther, with seven of 'em at your tail a'ready." + +"I ain't so sure of that," said Esther's husband. + +"And ain't I nobody, to have a say neither?" said the husband of 'Melia. + +Zillah, the girl, said, "An' me? I'm a single girl--and no one but 'im +to look after--I ought to have him." + +"Hold your tongue!" + +"Shut your mouth!" + +"Don't you show me no more of your imperence!" + +Everyone was getting very angry. The dark gipsy faces were frowning and +anxious-looking. Suddenly a change swept over them, as if some invisible +sponge had wiped away these cross and anxious expressions, and left only +a blank. + +The children saw that the sun really _had_ set. But they were afraid to +move. And the gipsies were feeling so muddled because of the invisible +sponge that had washed all the feelings of the last few hours out of +their hearts, that they could not say a word. + +The children hardly dared to breathe. Suppose the gipsies, when they +recovered speech, should be furious to think how silly they had been all +day? + +It was an awkward moment. Suddenly Anthea, greatly daring, held out the +Lamb to the red-handkerchief man. + +"Here he is!" she said. + +The man drew back. "I shouldn't like to deprive you, miss," he said +hoarsely. + +"Anyone who likes can have my share of him," said the other man. + +"After all, I've got enough of my own," said Esther. + +"He's a nice little chap, though," said Amelia. She was the only one who +now looked affectionately at the whimpering Lamb. + +Zillah said, "If I don't think I must have had a touch of the sun. _I_ +don't want him." + +"Then shall we take him away?" said Anthea. + +"Well--suppose you do," said Pharaoh heartily, "and we'll say no more +about it!" + +And with great haste all the gipsies began to be busy about their tents +for the night. All but Amelia. She went with the children as far as the +bend in the road--and there she said-- + +"Let me give him a kiss, miss,--I don't know what made us go for to +behave so silly. Us gipsies don't steal babies, whatever they may tell +you when you're naughty. We've enough of our own, mostly. But I've lost +all mine." + +She leaned towards the Lamb; and he, looking in her eyes, unexpectedly +put up a grubby soft paw and stroked her face. + +"Poor, poor!" said the Lamb. And he let the gipsy woman kiss him, and, +what is more, he kissed her brown cheek in return--a very nice kiss, as +all his kisses are, and not a wet one like some babies give. The gipsy +woman moved her finger about on his forehead as if she had been writing +something there, and the same with his chest and his hands and his +feet; then she said-- + +"May he be brave, and have the strong head to think with, and the strong +heart to love with, and the strong arms to work with, and the strong +feet to travel with, and always come safe home to his own." Then she +said something in a strange language no one could understand, and +suddenly added-- + +"Well, I must be saying 'so long'--and glad to have made your +acquaintance." And she turned and went back to her home--the tent by the +grassy roadside. + +The children looked after her till she was out of sight. Then Robert +said, "How silly of her! Even sunset didn't put _her_ right. What rot +she talked!" + +"Well," said Cyril, "if you ask me, I think it was rather decent of +her"-- + +"Decent?" said Anthea; "it was very nice indeed of her. I think she's a +dear"-- + +"She's just too frightfully nice for anything," said Jane. + +And they went home--very late for tea and unspeakably late for dinner. +Martha scolded, of course. But the Lamb was safe. + +"I say--it turned out we wanted the Lamb as much as anyone," said +Robert, later. + +"Of course." + +"But do you feel different about it now the sun's set?" + +"_No_," said all the others together. + +"Then it's lasted over sunset with us." + +"No, it hasn't," Cyril explained. "The wish didn't do anything to _us_. +We always wanted him with all our hearts when we were our proper selves, +only we were all pigs this morning; especially you, Robert." Robert bore +this much with a strange calm. + +"I certainly _thought_ I didn't want him this morning," said he. +"Perhaps I _was_ a pig. But everything looked so different when we +thought we were going to lose him." + +And that, my dear children, is the moral of this chapter. I did not mean +it to have a moral, but morals are nasty forward beings, and will keep +putting in their oars where they are not wanted. And since the moral has +crept in, quite against my wishes, you might as well think of it next +time you feel piggy yourself and want to get rid of any of your brothers +and sisters. I hope this doesn't often happen, but I daresay it has +happened sometimes, even to you! + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +WINGS + + +The next day was very wet--too wet to go out, and far too wet to think +of disturbing a Sand-fairy so sensitive to water that he still, after +thousands of years, felt the pain of once having his left whisker +wetted. It was a long day, and it was not till the afternoon that all +the children suddenly decided to write letters to their mother. It was +Robert who had the misfortune to upset the ink well--an unusually deep +and full one--straight into that part of Anthea's desk where she had +long pretended that an arrangement of mucilage and cardboard painted +with Indian ink was a secret drawer. It was not exactly Robert's fault; +it was only his misfortune that he chanced to be lifting the ink across +the desk just at the moment when Anthea had got it open, and that that +same moment should have been the one chosen by the Lamb to get under +the table and break his squeaking bird. There was a sharp convenient +wire inside the bird, and of course the Lamb ran the wire into Robert's +leg at once; and so, without anyone's meaning to do it the secret drawer +was flooded with ink. At the same time a stream was poured over Anthea's +half-finished letter. + +So that her letter was something like this-- + + "DARLING MOTHER,--I hope you are quite well, and I + hope Granny is better. The other day we...." + +Then came a flood of ink, and at the bottom these words in pencil-- + + "It was not me upset the ink, but it took such a + time clearing up, so no more as it is + post-time.--From your loving daughter "ANTHEA." + +Robert's letter had not even been begun. He had been drawing a ship on +the blotting paper while he was trying to think of what to say. And of +course after the ink was upset he had to help Anthea to clean out her +desk, and he promised to make her another secret drawer, better than +the other. And she said, "Well, make it now." So it was post-time and +his letter wasn't done. And the secret drawer wasn't done either. + +Cyril wrote a long letter, very fast, and then went to set a trap for +slugs that he had read about in the _Home-made Gardener_, and when it +was post-time the letter could not be found, and it was never found. +Perhaps the slugs ate it. + +Jane's letter was the only one that went. She meant to tell her mother +all about the Psammead,--in fact they had all meant to do this,--but she +spent so long thinking how to spell the word that there was no time to +tell the story properly, and it is useless to tell a story unless you +_do_ tell it properly, so she had to be contented with this-- + + "MY DEAR MOTHER DEAR,--We are all as good as we + can, like you told us to, and the Lamb has a + little cold, but Martha says it is nothing, only + he upset the gold-fish into himself yesterday + morning. When we were up at the sand-pit the other + day we went round by the safe way where carts go, + and we found a"-- + +Half an hour went by before Jane felt quite sure that they could none of +them spell Psammead. And they could not find it in the dictionary +either, though they looked. Then Jane hastily finished her letter-- + + "We found a strange thing, but it is nearly + post-time, so no more at present from your little + girl, + + "JANE. + + "P.S.--If you could have a wish come true what + would you have?" + +Then the postman was heard blowing his horn, and Robert rushed out in +the rain to stop his cart and give him the letters. And that was how it +happened that, though all the children meant to tell their mother about +the Sand-fairy, somehow or other she never got to know. There were other +reasons why she never got to know, but these come later. + +The next day Uncle Richard came and took them all to Maidstone in a +wagonette--all except the Lamb. Uncle Richard was the very best kind of +uncle. He bought them toys at Maidstone. He took them into a shop and +let them all choose exactly what they wanted, without any restrictions +about price, and no nonsense about things being instructive. It is very +wise to let children choose exactly what they like, because they are +very foolish and inexperienced, and sometimes they will choose a really +instructive thing without meaning to do so. This happened to Robert, who +chose, at the last moment, and in a great hurry, a box with pictures on +it of winged bulls with men's heads and winged men with eagles' heads. +He thought there would be animals inside, the same as on the box. When +he got it home it was a Sunday puzzle about ancient Nineveh! The others +chose in haste, and were happy at leisure. Cyril had a model engine, and +the girls had two dolls, as well as a china tea-set with forget-me-nots +on it, to be "between them." The boys' "between them" was bow and arrow. + +Then Uncle Richard took them on the beautiful Medway in a boat, and then +they all had tea at a beautiful confectioner's and when they reached +home it was far too late to have any wishes that day. + +They did not tell Uncle Richard anything about the Psammead. I do not +know why. And they do not know why. But I daresay you can guess. + +The day after Uncle Richard had behaved so handsomely was a very hot day +indeed. The people who decide what the weather is to be, and put its +orders down for it in the newspapers every morning, said afterwards that +it was the hottest day there had been for years. They had ordered it to +be "warmer--some showers," and warmer it certainly was. In fact it was +so busy being warmer that it had no time to attend to the order about +showers, so there weren't any. + +Have you ever been up at five o'clock on a fine summer morning? It is +very beautiful. The sunlight is pinky and yellowy, and all the grass and +trees are covered with dew-diamonds. And all the shadows go the opposite +way to the way they do in the evening, which is very interesting and +makes you feel as though you were in a new other world. + +Anthea woke at five. She had made herself wake, and I must tell you how +it is done, even if it keeps you waiting for the story to go on. + +You get into bed at night, and lie down quite flat on your little back, +with your hands straight down by your sides. Then you say "I _must_ wake +up at five" (or six, or seven, or eight, or nine, or whatever the time +is that you want), and as you say it you push your chin down on your +chest and then whack your head back on the pillow. And you do this as +many times as there are ones in the time you want to wake up at. (It is +quite an easy sum.) Of course everything depends on your really wanting +to get up at five (or six, or seven, or eight, or nine); if you don't +really want to, it's all of no use. But if you do--well, try it and see. +Of course in this, as in doing Latin proses or getting into mischief, +practice makes perfect. + +Anthea was quite perfect. + +At the very moment when she opened her eyes she heard the black-and-gold +clock down in the dining-room strike eleven. So she knew it was three +minutes to five. The black-and-gold clock always struck wrong, but it +was all right when you knew what it meant. It was like a person talking +a foreign language. If you know the language it is just as easy to +understand as English. And Anthea knew the clock language. She was very +sleepy, but she jumped out of bed and put her face and hands into a +basin of cold water. This is a fairy charm that prevents your wanting to +get back into bed again. Then she dressed, and folded up her night +dress. She did not tumble it together by the sleeves, but folded it by +the seams from the hem, and that will show you the kind of +well-brought-up little girl she was. + +Then she took her shoes in her hand and crept softly down the stairs. +She opened the dining-room window and climbed out. It would have been +just as easy to go out by the door, but the window was more romantic, +and less likely to be noticed by Martha. + +"I will always get up at five," she said to herself. "It was quite too +awfully pretty for anything." + +Her heart was beating very fast, for she was carrying out a plan quite +her own. She could not be sure that it was a good plan, but she was +quite sure that it would not be any better if she were to tell the +others about it. And she had a feeling that, right or wrong, she would +rather go through with it alone. She put on her shoes under the iron +verandah, on the red-and-yellow shining tiles, and then she ran straight +to the sand-pit, and found the Psammead's place, and dug it out; it was +very cross indeed. + +"It's too bad," it said, fluffing up its fur as pigeons do their +feathers at Christmas time. "The weather's arctic, and it's the middle +of the night." + +"I'm so sorry," said Anthea gently, and she took off her white pinafore +and covered the Sand-fairy up with it, all but its head, its bat's ears, +and its eyes that were like a snail's eyes. + +"Thank you," it said, "that's better. What's the wish this morning?" + +"I don't know," she said; "that's just it. You see we've been very +unlucky, so far. I wanted to talk to you about it. But--would you mind +not giving me any wishes till after breakfast? It's so hard to talk to +anyone if they jump out at you with wishes you don't really want!" + +"You shouldn't say you wish for things if you don't wish for them. In +the old days people almost always knew whether it was Megatherium or +Ichthyosaurus they really wanted for dinner." + +"I'll try not to do so," said Anthea, "but I do wish"-- + +"Look out!" said the Psammead in a warning voice, and it began to blow +itself out. + +"Oh, this isn't a magic wish--it's just--I should be so glad if you'd +not swell yourself out and nearly burst to give me anything just now. +Wait till the others are here." + +"Well, well," it said indulgently, but it shivered. + +"Would you," asked Anthea kindly--"would you like to come and sit on my +lap? You'd be warmer, and I could turn the skirt of my frock up around +you. I'd be very careful." + +Anthea had never expected that it would, but it did. + +"Thank you," it said; "you really are rather thoughtful." It crept on to +her lap and snuggled down, and she put her arms round it with a rather +frightened gentleness. "Now then!" it said. + +"Well then," said Anthea, "everything we have wished has turned out +rather horrid. I wish you would advise us. You are so old, you must be +very wise." + +"I was always generous from a child," said the Sand-fairy. "I've spent +the whole of my waking hours in giving. But one thing I won't +give--that's advice." + +"You see," Anthea went on, "it's such a wonderful thing--such a +splendid, glorious chance. It's so good and kind and dear of you to give +us our wishes, and it seems such a pity it should all be wasted just +because we are too silly to know what to wish for." + +Anthea had meant to say that--and she had not wanted to say it before +the others. It's one thing to say you're silly, and quite another to +say that other people are. + +"Child," said the Sand-fairy sleepily, "I can only advise you to think +before you speak"-- + +"But I thought you never gave advice." + +"That piece doesn't count," it said. "You'll never take it! Besides, +it's not original. It's in all the copy-books." + +"But won't you just say if you think wings would be a silly wish?" + +"Wings?" it said. "I should think you might do worse. Only, take care +you aren't flying high at sunset. There was a little Ninevite boy I +heard of once. He was one of King Sennacherib's sons, and a traveller +brought him a Psammead. He used to keep it in a box of sand on the +palace terrace. It was a dreadful degradation for one of us, of course; +still the boy _was_ the Assyrian King's son. And one day he wished for +wings and got them. But he forgot that they would turn into stone at +sunset, and when they did he fell on to one of the winged lions at the +top of his father's great staircase; and what with _his_ stone wings +and the lion's stone wings--well it's not a very pretty story! But I +believe the boy enjoyed himself very much till then." + +"Tell me," said Anthea, "why don't our wishes turn into stone now? Why +do they just vanish?" + +"_Autre temps autres moeurs_," said the creature. + +"Is that the Ninevite language?" asked Anthea, who had learned no +foreign language at school except French. + +"What I mean is," the Psammead went on, "that in the old days people +wished for good solid everyday gifts,--Mammoths and Pterodactyls and +things,--and those could be turned into stone as easy as not. But people +wish such high-flying fanciful things nowadays. How are you going to +turn being beautiful as the day, or being wanted by everybody, into +stone? You see it can't be done. And it would never do to have two +rules, so they simply vanish. If being beautiful as the day _could_ be +turned into stone it would last an awfully long time, you know--much +longer than you would. Just look at the Greek statues. It's just as +well as it is. Good-bye. I _am_ so sleepy." + +It jumped off her lap--dug frantically, and vanished. + +Anthea was late for breakfast. It was Robert who quietly poured a +spoonful of molasses down the Lamb's frock, so that he had to be taken +away and washed thoroughly directly after breakfast. And it was of +course a very naughty thing to do; yet it served two purposes--it +delighted the Lamb, who loved above all things to be completely sticky, +and it engaged Martha's attention so that the others could slip away to +the sand-pit without the Lamb. + +They did it, and in the lane Anthea, breathless from the hurry of that +slipping, panted out-- + +"I want to propose we take turns to wish. Only, nobody's to have a wish +if the others don't think it's a nice wish. Do you agree?" + +"Who's to have first wish?" asked Robert cautiously. + +"Me, if you don't mind," said Anthea apologetically. "And I've thought +about it--and it's _wings_." + +There was a silence. The others rather wanted to find fault, but it was +hard, because the word "wings" raised a flutter of joyous excitement in +every breast. + +"Not so dusty," said Cyril generously; and Robert added, "Really, +Panther, you're not quite such a fool as you look." + +Jane said, "I think it would be perfectly lovely. It's like a bright +dream of delirium." + +They found the Sand-fairy easily. Anthea said-- + +"I wish we all had beautiful wings to fly with." + +The Sand-fairy blew himself out, and next moment each child felt a funny +feeling, half heaviness and half lightness, on its shoulders. The +Psammead put its head on one side and turned its snail eyes from one +side to the other. + +[Illustration: The Sand-fairy blew himself out] + +"Not so bad," it said dreamily. "But really, Robert, you're not quite +such an angel as you look." Robert almost blushed. + +The wings were very big, and more beautiful than you can possibly +imagine--for they were soft and smooth, and every feather lay neatly in +its place. And the feathers were of the most lovely mixed changing +colors, like the rainbow, or iridescent glass, or the beautiful scum +that sometimes floats on water that is not at all nice to drink. + +"Oh--but how can we fly?" Jane said, standing anxiously first on one +foot and then on the other. + +"Look out!" said Cyril; "you're treading on my wing." + +"Does it hurt?" asked Anthea with interest; but no one answered, for +Robert had spread his wings and jumped up, and now he was slowly rising +in the air. He looked very awkward in his knickerbocker suit--his boots +in particular hung helplessly, and seemed much larger than when he was +standing in them. But the others cared but little how he looked,--or how +they looked, for that matter. For now they all spread out their wings +and rose in the air. Of course you all know what flying feels like, +because everyone has dreamed about flying, and is seems so beautifully +easy--only, you can never remember how you did it; and as a rule you +have to do it without wings, in your dreams, which is more clever and +uncommon, but not so easy to remember the rule for. Now the four +children rose flapping from the ground, and you can't think how good the +air felt as it ran against their faces. Their wings were tremendously +wide when they were spread out, and they had to fly quite a long way +apart so as not to get in each other's way. But little things like this +are easily learned. + +All the words in the English Dictionary, and in the Greek Lexicon as +well, are, I find, of no use at all to tell you exactly what it feels +like to be flying, so I will not try. But I will say that to look _down_ +on the fields and woods instead of _along_ at them, is something like +looking at a beautiful live map, where, instead of silly colors on +paper, you have real moving sunny woods and green fields laid out one +after the other. As Cyril said, and I can't think where he got hold of +such a strange expression, "It does you a fair treat!" It was most +wonderful and more like real magic than any wish the children had had +yet. They flapped and flew and sailed on their great rainbow wings, +between green earth and blue sky; and they flew over Rochester and then +swerved round towards Maidstone, and presently they all began to feel +extremely hungry. Curiously enough, this happened when they were flying +rather low, and just as they were crossing an orchard where some early +plums shone red and ripe. + +[Illustration: They flew over Rochester] + +They paused on their wings. I cannot explain to you how this is done, +but it is something like treading water when you are swimming, and hawks +do it extremely well. + +"Yes, I daresay," said Cyril, though no one had spoken. "But stealing is +stealing even if you've got wings." + +"Do you really think so?" said Jane briskly. "If you've got wings you're +a bird, and no one minds birds breaking the commandments. At least, +they may _mind_, but the birds always do it, and no one scolds them or +sends them to prison." + +It was not so easy to perch on a plum-tree as you might think, because +the rainbow wings were so _very_ large; but somehow they all managed to +do it, and the plums were certainly very sweet and juicy. + +Fortunately, it was not till they had all had quite as many plums as +were good for them that they saw a stout man, who looked exactly as +though he owned the plum-trees, come hurrying through the orchard gate +with a thick stick, and with one accord they disentangled their wings +from the plum-laden branches and began to fly. + +The man stopped short, with his mouth open. For he had seen the boughs +of his trees moving and twitching, and he had said to himself, "Them +young varmint--at it again!" And he had come out at once, for the lads +of the village had taught him in past seasons that plums want looking +after. But when he saw the rainbow wings flutter up out of the +plum-tree he felt that he must have gone quite mad, and he did not like +the feeling at all. And when Anthea looked down and saw his mouth go +slowly open, and stay so, and his face become green and mauve in +patches, she called out-- + +"Don't be frightened," and felt hastily in her pocket for a +threepenny-bit with a hole in it, which she had meant to hang on a +ribbon round her neck, for luck. She hovered round the unfortunate +plum-owner, and said, "We have had some of your plums; we thought it +wasn't stealing, but now I am not so sure. So here's some money to pay +for them." + +She swooped down toward the terror-stricken grower of plums, and slipped +the coin into the pocket of his jacket, and in a few flaps she had +rejoined the others. + +The farmer sat down on the grass, suddenly and heavily. + +[Illustration: The farmer sat down on the grass suddenly and heavily] + +"Well--I'm blessed!" he said. "This here is what they call delusions, I +suppose. But this here threepenny"--he had pulled it out and bitten +it,--"_that's_ real enough. Well, from this day forth I'll be a better +man. It's the kind of thing to sober a chap for life, this is. I'm glad +it was only wings, though. I'd rather see the birds as aren't there, and +couldn't be, even if they pretend to talk, than some things as I could +name." + +He got up slowly and heavily, and went indoors, and he was so nice to +his wife that day that she felt quite happy, and said to herself, "Law, +whatever have a-come to the man!" and smartened herself up and put a +blue ribbon bow at the place where her collar fastened on, and looked so +pretty that he was kinder than ever. So perhaps the winged children +really did do one good thing that day. If so, it was the only one; for +really there is nothing like wings for getting you into trouble. But, on +the other hand, if you are in trouble, there is nothing like wings for +getting you out of it. + +This was the case in the matter of the fierce dog who sprang out at them +when they had folded up their wings as small as possible and were going +up to a farm door to ask for a crust of bread and cheese, for in +spite of the plums they were soon just as hungry as ever again. + +Now there is no doubt whatever that, if the four had been ordinary +wingless children, that black and fierce dog would have had a good bite +out of the brown-stockinged leg of Robert, who was the nearest. But at +its first growl there was a flutter of wings, and the dog was left to +strain at his chain and stand on his hind-legs as if he were trying to +fly too. + +They tried several other farms, but at those where there were no dogs +the people were far too frightened to do anything but scream; and at +last, when it was nearly four o'clock, and their wings were getting +miserably stiff and tired, they alighted on a church-tower and held a +council of war. + +"We can't possibly fly all the way home without dinner _or_ tea," said +Robert with desperate decision. + +"And nobody will give us any dinner, or even lunch, let alone tea," said +Cyril. + +"Perhaps the clergyman here might," suggested Anthea. "He must know all +about angels"-- + +"Anybody could see we're not that," said Jane. "Look at Robert's boots +and Squirrel's plaid necktie." + +"Well," said Cyril firmly, "if the country you're in won't _sell_ +provisions, you _take_ them. In wars I mean. I'm quite certain you do. +And even in other stories no good brother would allow his little sisters +to starve in the midst of plenty." + +"Plenty?" repeated Robert hungrily; and the others looked vaguely round +the bare leads of the church-tower, and murmured, "In the midst of?" + +"Yes," said Cyril impressively. "There is a larder window at the side of +the clergyman's house, and I saw things to eat inside--custard pudding +and cold chicken and tongue--and pies--and jam. It's rather a high +window--but with wings"-- + +"How clever of you!" said Jane. + +"Not at all," said Cyril modestly; "any born general--Napoleon or the +Duke of Marlborough--would have seen it just the same as I did." + +"It seems very wrong," said Anthea. + +"Nonsense," said Cyril. "What was it Sir Philip Sidney said when the +soldier wouldn't give him a drink?--'My necessity is greater than his.'" + +"We'll club together our money, though, and leave it to pay for the +things, won't we?" Anthea was persuasive, and very nearly in tears, +because it is most trying to feel enormously hungry and unspeakably +sinful at one and the same time. + +"Some of it," was the cautious reply. + +Everyone now turned out its pockets on the lead roof of the tower, where +visitors for the last hundred and fifty years had cut their own and +their sweethearts' initials with penknives in the soft lead. There was +five-and-seven-pence halfpenny altogether, and even the upright Anthea +admitted that that was too much to pay for four people's dinners. Robert +said he thought eighteenpence. + +[Illustration: Every one now turned out his pockets] + +And half-a-crown was finally agreed to be "handsome." + +So Anthea wrote on the back of her last term's report, which happened to +be in her pocket, and from which she first tore her own name and that of +the school, the following letter:-- + + "DEAR REVEREND CLERGYMAN,--We are very hungry + indeed because of having to fly all day, and we + think it is not stealing when you are starving to + death. We are afraid to ask you for fear you + should say 'No,' because of course you know about + angels, but you would not think we were angels. We + will only take the necessities of life, and no + pudding or pie, to show you it is not grediness + but true starvation that makes us make your larder + stand and deliver. But we are not highwaymen by + trade." + +"Cut it short," said the others with one accord. And Anthea hastily +added-- + + "Our intentions are quite honourable if you only + knew. And here is half-a-crown to show we are + sinseer and grateful. + + "Thank you for your kind hospitality. + + "FROM US FOUR." + +The half-crown was wrapped in this letter, and all the children felt +that when the clergyman had read it he would understand everything, as +well as anyone could who had not even seen the wings. + +"Now," said Cyril, "of course there's some risk; we'd better fly +straight down the other side of the tower and then flutter low across +the churchyard and in through the shrubbery. There doesn't seem to be +anyone about. But you never know. The window looks out into the +shrubbery. It is embowered in foliage, like a window in a story. I'll go +in and get the things. Robert and Anthea can take them as I hand them +out through the window; and Jane can keep watch,--her eyes are +sharp,--and whistle if she sees anyone about. Shut up, Robert! she can +whistle quite well enough for that, anyway. It ought not to be a very +good whistle--it'll sound more natural and birdlike. Now then--off we +go!" + +I cannot pretend that stealing is right. I can only say that on this +occasion it did not look like stealing to the hungry four, but appeared +in the light of a fair and reasonable business transaction. They had +never happened to learn that a tongue,--hardly cut into,--a chicken and +a half, a loaf of bread, and a syphon of soda-water cannot be bought in +the stores for half-a-crown. These were the necessaries of life, which +Cyril handed out of the larder window when, quite unobserved and without +hindrance or adventure, he had led the others to that happy spot. He +felt that to refrain from jam, apple pie, cake, and mixed candied peel, +was a really heroic act--and I agree with him. He was also proud of not +taking the custard pudding,--and there I think he was wrong,--because if +he had taken it there would have been a difficulty about returning the +dish; no one, however starving, has a right to steal china pie-dishes +with little pink flowers on them. The soda-water syphon was different. +They could not do without something to drink, and as the maker's name +was on it they felt sure it would be returned to him wherever they might +leave it. If they had time they would take it back themselves. The +man appeared to live in Rochester, which would not be much out of their +way home. + +[Illustration: These were the necessaries of life] + +Everything was carried up to the top of the tower, and laid down on a +sheet of kitchen paper which Cyril had found on the top shelf of the +larder. As he unfolded it, Anthea said, "I don't think _that's_ a +necessity of life." + +"Yes, it is," said he. "We must put the things down somewhere to cut +them up; and I heard father say the other day people got diseases from +germans in rain-water. Now there must be lots of rain-water here,--and +when it dries up the germans are left, and they'd get into the things, +and we should all die of scarlet fever." + +"What are germans?" + +"Little waggly things you see with microscopes," said Cyril, with a +scientific air. "They give you every illness you can think of. I'm sure +the paper was a necessary, just as much as the bread and meat and water. +Now then! Oh, I'm hungry!" + +I do not wish to describe the picnic party on the top of the tower. You +can imagine well enough what it is like to carve a chicken and a tongue +with a knife that has only one blade and that snapped off short about +half-way down. But it was done. Eating with your fingers is greasy and +difficult--and paper dishes soon get to look very spotty and horrid. But +one thing you _can't_ imagine, and that is how soda-water behaves when +you try to drink it straight out of a syphon--especially a quite full +one. But if imagination will not help you, experience will, and you can +easily try it for yourself if you can get a grown-up to give you the +syphon. If you want to have a really thorough experience, put the tube +in your mouth and press the handle very suddenly and very hard. You had +better do it when you are alone--and out of doors is best for this +experiment. + +However you eat them, tongue and chicken and new bread are very good +things, and no one minds being sprinkled a little with soda-water on a +really fine hot day. So that everyone enjoyed the dinner very much +indeed, and everyone ate as much as it possibly could: first, because it +was extremely hungry; and secondly, because, as I said, tongue and +chicken and new bread are very nice. + +Now, I daresay you will have noticed that if you have to wait for your +dinner till long after the proper time, and then eat a great deal more +dinner than usual, and sit in the hot sun on the top of a +church-tower--or even anywhere else--you become soon and strangely +sleepy. Now Anthea and Jane and Cyril and Robert were very like you in +many ways, and when they had eaten all they could, and drunk all there +was, they became sleepy, strangely and soon--especially Anthea, because +she had gotten up so early. + +[Illustration: The children were fast asleep] + +One by one they left off talking and leaned back, and before it was a +quarter of an hour after dinner they had all curled round and tucked +themselves up under their large soft warm wings and were fast asleep. +And the sun was sinking slowly in the west. (I must say it was in the +west, because it is usual in books to say so, for fear careless people +should think it was setting in the east. In point of fact, it was not +exactly in the west either--but that's near enough.) The sun, I repeat, +was sinking slowly in the west, and the children slept warmly and +happily on--for wings are cosier than eider-down quilts to sleep under. +The shadow of the church-tower fell across the churchyard, and across +the Vicarage, and across the field beyond; and presently there were no +more shadows, and the sun had set, and the wings were gone. And still +the children slept. But not for long. Twilight is very beautiful, but it +is chilly; and you know, however sleepy you are, you wake up soon enough +if your brother or sister happens to be up first and pulls your blankets +off you. The four wingless children shivered and woke. And there they +were,--on the top of a church-tower in the dusky twilight, with blue +stars coming out by ones and twos and tens and twenties over their +heads,--miles away from home, with three shillings and three-halfpence +in their pockets, and a doubtful act about the necessities of life to +be accounted for if anyone found them with the soda-water syphon. + +They looked at each other. Cyril spoke first, picking up the syphon-- + +"We'd better get along down and get rid of this beastly thing. It's dark +enough to leave it on the clergyman's doorstep, I should think. Come +on." + +There was a little turret at the corner of the tower, and the little +turret had a door in it. They had noticed this when they were eating, +but had not explored it, as you would have done in their place. Because, +of course, when you have wings and can explore the whole sky, doors seem +hardly worth exploring. + +Now they turned towards it. + +"Of course," said Cyril "this is the way down." + +It was. But the door was locked on the inside! + +And the world was growing darker and darker. And they were miles from +home. And there was the soda-water syphon. + +I shall not tell you whether anyone cried, nor, if so, how many cried, +nor who cried. You will be better employed in making up your minds what +you would have done if you had been in their place. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +NO WINGS + + +Whether anyone cried or not, there was certainly an interval during +which none of the party was quite itself. When they grew calmer, Anthea +put her handkerchief in her pocket and her arm round Jane, and said-- + +"It can't be for more than one night. We can signal with our +handkerchiefs in the morning. They'll be dry then. And someone will come +up and let us out"-- + +"And find the syphon," said Cyril gloomily; "and we shall be sent to +prison for stealing"-- + +"You said it wasn't stealing. You said you were sure it wasn't." + +"I'm not sure _now_" said Cyril shortly. + +"Let's throw the thing away among the trees," said Robert, "then no one +can do anything to us." + +"Oh yes,"--Cyril's laugh was not a light-hearted one,--"and hit some +chap on the head, and be murderers as well as--as the other thing." + +"But we can't stay up here all night," said Jane; "and I want my tea." + +"You _can't_ want your tea," said Robert; "you've only just had your +dinner." + +"But I _do_ want it," she said; "especially when you begin talking about +stopping up here all night. Oh, Panther--I want to go home! I want to go +home!" + +"Hush, hush," Anthea said. "Don't, dear. It'll be all right, somehow. +Don't, don't"-- + +"Let her cry," said Robert desperately; "if she howls loud enough, +someone may hear and come and let us out." + +"And see the soda-water thing," said Anthea swiftly. "Robert, don't be a +brute. Oh, Jane, do try to be a man! It's just the same for all of us." + +Jane did try to "be a man"--and reduced her howls to sniffs. + +There was a pause. Then Cyril said slowly, "Look here. We must risk that +syphon. I'll button it up inside my jacket--perhaps no one will notice +it. You others keep well in front of me. There are lights in the +clergyman's house. They've not gone to bed yet. We must just yell as +loud as ever we can. Now all scream when I say three. Robert, you do the +yell like a railway engine, and I'll do the coo-ee like father's. The +girls can do as they please. One, two, three!" + +A four-fold yell rent the silent peace of the evening, and a maid at one +of the Vicarage windows paused with her hand on the blind-cord. + +"One, two, three!" Another yell, piercing and complex, startled the owls +and starlings to a flutter of feathers in the belfry below. The maid +flew from the Vicarage window and ran down the Vicarage stairs and into +the Vicarage kitchen, and fainted as soon as she had explained to the +man-servant and the cook and the cook's cousin that she had seen a +ghost. It was quite untrue, of course, but I suppose the girl's nerves +were a little upset by the yelling. + +"One, two, three!" The Vicar was on his doorstep by this time, and there +was no mistaking the yell that greeted him. + +"Goodness me," he said to his wife, "my dear, someone's being murdered +in the church! Give me my hat and a thick stick, and tell Andrew to come +after me. I expect it's the lunatic who stole the tongue." + +The children had seen the flash of light when the Vicar opened his front +door. They had seen his dark form on his doorstep, and they had paused +for breath, and also to see what he would do. + +When he turned back for his hat, Cyril said hastily-- + +"He thinks he only fancied he heard something. You don't half yell! Now! +One, two, three!" + +It was certainly a whole yell this time, and the Vicar's wife flung her +arms round her husband and screamed a feeble echo of it. + +"You shan't go!" she said, "not alone. Jessie!"--the maid unfainted and +came out of the kitchen,--"send Andrew at once. There's a dangerous +lunatic in the church, and he must go immediately and catch him." + +"I expect he _will_ catch it too," said Jessie to herself as she went +through the kitchen door. "Here, Andrew," she said, "there's someone +screaming like mad in the church, and the missus says you're to go along +and catch it." + +"Not alone, I don't," said Andrew in low firm tones. To his master he +merely said, "Yis sir." + +"You heard those screams?" + +"I did think I noticed a sort of something," said Andrew. + +"Well, come on, then," said the Vicar. "My dear, I _must_ go!" He pushed +her gently into the sitting-room, banged the door, and rushed out, +dragging Andrew by the arm. + +A volley of yells greeted them. Then as it died into silence Andrew +shouted, "Hullo, you there! Did you call?" + +"Yes," shouted four far-away voices. + +"They seem to be in the air," said the Vicar. "Very remarkable." + +"Where are you?" shouted Andrew; and Cyril replied in his deepest +voice, very slow and loud-- + +"CHURCH! TOWER! TOP!" + +"Come down, then!" said Andrew; and the same voice replied-- + +"_Can't! Door locked!_" + +"My goodness!" said the Vicar. "Andrew, fetch the stable lantern. +Perhaps it would be as well to fetch another man from the village." + +"With the rest of the gang about, very likely. No, sir; if this 'ere +ain't a trap--well, may I never! There's cook's cousin at the back door +now. He's a keeper, sir, and used to dealing with vicious characters. +And he's got his gun, sir." + +"Hullo there!" shouted Cyril from the church-tower; "come up and let us +out." + +"We're a-coming," said Andrew. "I'm a-going to get a policeman and a +gun." + +"Andrew, Andrew," said the Vicar, "that's not the truth." + +"It's near enough, sir, for the likes of them." + +So Andrew fetched the lantern and the cook's cousin; and the Vicar's +wife begged them all to be very careful. + +They went across the churchyard--it was quite dark now--and as they went +they talked. The Vicar was certain a lunatic was on the +church-tower--the one who had written the mad letter, and taken the cold +tongue and things. Andrew thought it was a "trap"; the cook's cousin +alone was calm. "Great cry, little wool," said he; "dangerous chaps is +quieter." He was not at all afraid. But then he had a gun. That was why +he was asked to lead the way up the worn, steep, dark steps of the +church-tower. He did lead the way, with the lantern in one hand and the +gun in the other. Andrew went next. He pretended afterwards that this +was because he was braver than his master, but really it was because he +thought of traps and he did not like the idea of being behind the others +for fear someone should come softly up behind him and catch hold of his +legs in the dark. They went on and on, and round and round the little +corkscrew staircase--then through the bell-ringers' loft, where the +bell-ropes hung with soft furry ends like giant caterpillars--then up +another stair into the belfry, where the big quiet bells are--and then +on up a ladder with broad steps--and then up a little stone stair. And +at the top of that there was a little door. And the door was bolted on +the stair side. + +The cook's cousin, who was a gamekeeper, kicked at the door, and said-- + +"Hullo, you there!" + +The children were holding on to each other on the other side of the +door, and trembling with anxiousness--and very hoarse with their howls. +They could hardly speak, but Cyril managed to reply huskily-- + +"Hullo, you there!" + +"How did you get up there?" + +It was no use saying "We flew up," so Cyril said-- + +"We got up--and then we found the door was locked and we couldn't get +down. Let us out--do." + +"How many of you are there?" asked the keeper. + +"Only four," said Cyril. + +"Are you armed?" + +"Are we what?" + +"I've got my gun handy--so you'd best not try any tricks," said the +keeper. "If we open the door, will you promise to come quietly down, and +no nonsense?" + +"Yes--oh YES!" said all the children together. + +"Bless me," said the Vicar, "surely that was a female voice?" + +"Shall I open the door, sir?" said the keeper. Andrew went down a few +steps, "to leave room for the others" he said afterwards. + +"Yes," said the Vicar, "open the door. Remember," he said through the +keyhole, "we have come to release you. You will keep your promise to +refrain from violence?" + +"How this bolt do stick," said the keeper; "anyone 'ud think it hadn't +been drawed for half a year." As a matter of fact it hadn't. + +When all the bolts were drawn, the keeper spoke deep-chested words +through the keyhole. + +[Illustration: The keeper spoke deep-chested words through the keyhole] + +"I don't open," said he, "till you've gone over to the other side of the +tower. And if one of you comes at me I fire. Now!" + +"We're all over on the other side," said the voices. + +The keeper felt pleased with himself, and owned himself a bold man when +he threw open that door, and, stepping out into the leads, flashed the +full light of the stable lantern on the group of desperadoes standing +against the parapet on the other side of the tower. + +He lowered his gun, and he nearly dropped the lantern. + +"So help me," he cried, "if they ain't a pack of kiddies!" + +The Vicar now advanced. + +"How did you come here?" he asked severely. "Tell me at once." + +"Oh, take us down," said Jane, catching at his coat, "and we'll tell you +anything you like. You won't believe us, but it doesn't matter. Oh, take +us down!" + +The others crowded round him, with the same entreaty. All but Cyril. +He had enough to do with the soda-water syphon, which would keep +slipping down under his jacket. It needed both hands to keep it steady +in its place. + +But he said, standing as far out of the lantern light as possible-- + +"Please do take us down." + +So they were taken down. It is no joke to go down a strange church-tower +in the dark, but the keeper helped them--only, Cyril had to be +independent because of the soda-water syphon. It would keep trying to +get away. Half-way down the ladder it all but escaped. Cyril just caught +it by its spout, and as nearly as possible lost his footing. He was +trembling and pale when at last they reached the bottom of the winding +stair and stepped out on to the stones of the church-porch. + +Then suddenly the keeper caught Cyril and Robert each by an arm. + +"You bring along the gells, sir," said he; "you and Andrew can manage +them." + +"Let go!" said Cyril; "we aren't running away. We haven't hurt your old +church. Leave go!" + +"You just come along," said the keeper; and Cyril dared not oppose him +with violence, because just then the syphon began to slip again. + +So they were marched into the Vicarage study, and the Vicar's wife came +rushing in. + +"Oh, William, _are_ you safe?" she cried. + +Robert hastened to allay her anxiety. + +"Yes," he said, "he's quite safe. We haven't hurt them at all. And +please, we're very late, and they'll be anxious at home. Could you send +us home in your carriage?" + +"Or perhaps there's a hotel near where we could get a carriage," said +Anthea. "Martha will be very anxious as it is." + +The Vicar had sunk into a chair, overcome by emotion and amazement. + +Cyril had also sat down, and was leaning forward with his elbows on his +knees because of the soda-water syphon. + +"But how did you come to be locked up in the church-tower?" asked the +Vicar. + +"We went up," said Robert slowly, "and we were tired, and we all went to +sleep, and when we woke up we found the door was locked, so we yelled." + +"I should think you did!" said the Vicar's wife. "Frightening everybody +out of their wits like this! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves." + +"We _are_," said Jane gently. + +"But who locked the door?" asked the Vicar. + +"I don't know at all," said Robert, with perfect truth. "Do please send +us home." + +"Well, really," said the Vicar, "I suppose we'd better. Andrew, put the +horse to, and you can take them home." + +"Not alone, I don't," said Andrew to himself. + +And the Vicar went on, "let this be a lesson to you"---- He went on +talking, and the children listened miserably. But the keeper was not +listening. He was looking at the unfortunate Cyril. He knew all about +poachers, of course, so he knew how people look when they're hiding +something. The Vicar had just got to the part about trying to grow up +to be a blessing to your parents, and not a trouble and disgrace, when +the keeper suddenly said-- + +"Arst him what he's got there under his jacket;" and Cyril knew that +concealment was at an end. So he stood up, and squared his shoulders and +tried to look noble, like the boys in books that no one can look in the +face of and doubt that they come of brave and noble families, and will +be faithful to the death, and he pulled out the syphon and said-- + +"Well, there you are, then." + +There was silence. Cyril went on--there was nothing else for it-- + +"Yes, we took this out of your larder, and some chicken and tongue and +bread. We were very hungry, and we didn't take the custard or jam. We +only took bread and meat and water,--and we couldn't help its being soda +kind,--just the necessaries of life; and we left half-a-crown to pay for +it, and we left a letter. And we're very sorry. And my father will pay a +fine and anything you like, but don't send us to prison. Mother would +be so vexed. You know what you said about not being a disgrace. Well, +don't you go and do it to us--that's all! We're as sorry as we can be. +There!" + +"However did you get up to the larder window?" said Mrs. Vicar. + +"I can't tell you that," said Cyril firmly. + +"Is this the whole truth you've been telling me?" asked the clergyman. + +"No," answered Jane suddenly; "it's all true, but it's not the whole +truth. We can't tell you that. It's no good asking. Oh, do forgive us +and take us home!" She ran to the Vicar's wife and threw her arms round +her. The Vicar's wife put her arms round Jane, and the keeper whispered +behind his hand to the Vicar-- + +"They're all right, sir--I expect it's a pal they're standing by. +Someone put 'em up to it, and they won't peach. Game little kids." + +"Tell me," said the Vicar kindly, "are you screening someone else? Had +anyone else anything to do with this?" + +"Yes," said Anthea, thinking of the Psammead; "but it wasn't their +fault." + +"Very well, my dears," said the Vicar, "then let's say no more about it. +Only just tell us why you wrote such an odd letter." + +"I don't know," said Cyril. "You see, Anthea wrote it in such a hurry, +and it really didn't seem like stealing then. But afterwards, when we +found we couldn't get down off the church-tower, it seemed just exactly +like it. We are all very sorry"-- + +"Say no more about it," said the Vicar's wife; "but another time just +think before you take other people's tongues. Now--some cake and milk +before you go home?" + +When Andrew came to say that the horse was put to, and was he expected +to be led alone into the trap that he had plainly seen from the first, +he found the children eating cake and drinking milk and laughing at the +Vicar's jokes. Jane was sitting on the Vicar's wife's lap. + +So you see they got off better than they deserved. + +The gamekeeper, who was the cook's cousin, asked leave to drive home +with them, and Andrew was only too glad to have someone to protect him +from that trap he was so certain of. + +When the wagonette reached their own house, between the chalk-quarry and +the gravel-pit, the children were very sleepy, but they felt that they +and the keeper were friends for life. + +Andrew dumped the children down at the iron gate without a word. + +"You get along home," said the Vicarage cook's cousin, who was a +gamekeeper. "I'll get me home on shanks' mare." + +So Andrew had to drive off alone, which he did not like at all, and it +was the keeper that was cousin to the Vicarage cook who went with the +children to the door, and, when they had been swept to bed in a +whirlwind of reproaches, remained to explain to Martha and the cook and +the housemaid exactly what had happened. He explained so well that +Martha was quite amicable the next morning. + +After that he often used to come over and see Martha, and in the +end--but that is another story, as dear Mr. Kipling says. + +Martha was obliged to stick to what she had said the night before about +keeping the children indoors the next day for a punishment. But she +wasn't at all ugly about it, and agreed to let Robert go out for half an +hour to get something he particularly wanted. + +This, of course, was the day's wish. + +Robert rushed to the gravel-pit, found the Psammead, and presently +wished for-- + +But that, too, is another story. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A CASTLE AND NO DINNER + + +The others were to be kept in as a punishment for the misfortunes of the +day before. Of course Martha thought it was naughtiness, and not +misfortune--so you must not blame her. She only thought she was doing +her duty. You know, grown-up people often say they do not like to punish +you, and that they only do it for your own good, and that it hurts them +as much as it hurts you--and this is really very often the truth. + +Martha certainly hated having to punish the children quite as much as +they hated to be punished. For one thing, she knew what a noise there +would be in the house all day. And she had other reasons. + +"I declare," she said to the cook, "it seems almost a shame keeping of +them indoors this lovely day; but they are that audacious, they'll be +walking in with their heads knocked off some of these days, if I don't +put my foot down. You make them a cake for tea to-morrow, dear. And +we'll have Baby along of us soon as we've got a bit forrard with our +work. Then they can have a good romp with him, out of the way. Now, +Eliza, come, get on with them beds. Here's ten o'clock nearly, and no +rabbits caught!" + +People say that in Kent when they mean "and no work done." + +So all the others were kept in, but Robert, as I have said, was allowed +to go out for half an hour to get something they all wanted. And that, +of course, was the day's wish. + +He had no difficulty in finding the Sand-fairy, for the day was already +so hot that it had actually, for the first time, come out of its own +accord, and was sitting in a sort of pool of soft sand, stretching +itself, and trimming its whiskers, and turning its snail's eyes round +and round. + +"Ha!" it said when its left eye saw Robert; "I've been looking for you. +Where are the rest of you? Not smashed themselves up with those wings, +I hope?" + +"No," said Robert; "but the wings got us into a row, just like all the +wishes always do. So the others are kept indoors, and I was only let out +for half an hour--to get the wish. So please let me wish as quickly as I +can." + +"Wish away," said the Psammead, twisting itself round in the sand. But +Robert couldn't wish away. He forgot all the things he had been thinking +about, and nothing would come into his head but little things for +himself, like candy, a foreign stamp album, or a knife with three blades +and a corkscrew. He sat down to think better of things the others would +not have cared for--such as a football, or a pair of leg-guards, or to +be able to lick Simpkins Minor thoroughly when he went back to school. + +"Well," said the Psammead at last, "you'd better hurry up with that wish +of yours. Time flies." + +"I know it does," said Robert. "_I_ can't think what to wish for. I wish +you could give one of the others their wish without their having to +come here to ask for it. Oh, _don't_!" + +But it was too late. The Psammead had blown itself out to about three +times its proper size, and now it collapsed like a pricked bubble, and +with a deep sigh leaned back against the edge of the sand-pool, quite +faint with the effort. + +"There!" it said in a weak voice; "it was tremendously hard--but I did +it. Run along home, or they're sure to wish for something silly before +you get there." + +They were--quite sure; Robert felt this, and as he ran home his mind was +deeply occupied with the sort of wishes he might find they had wished in +his absence. They might wish for rabbits, or white mice, or chocolate, +or a fine day to-morrow, or even--and that was most likely--someone +might have said, "I do wish to goodness Robert would hurry up." Well, he +_was_ hurrying up, and so they would have had their wish, and the day +would be wasted. Then he tried to think what they could wish +for--something that would be amusing indoors. That had been his own +difficulty from the beginning. So few things are amusing indoors when +the sun is shining outside and you mayn't go out, however much you want +to do so. + +Robert was running as fast as he could, but when he turned the corner +that ought to have brought him within sight of the architect's +nightmare--the ornamental iron-work on the top of the house--he opened +his eyes so wide that he had to drop into a walk; for you cannot run +with your eyes wide open. Then suddenly he stopped short, for there was +no house to be seen. The front garden railings were gone too, and where +the house had stood--Robert rubbed his eyes and looked again. Yes, the +others _had_ wished,--there was no doubt about it,--and they must have +wished that they lived in a castle; for there the castle stood, black +and stately, and very tall and broad, with battlements and lancet +windows, and eight great towers; and, where the garden and the orchard +had been, there were white things dotted like mushrooms. Robert walked +slowly on, and as he got nearer he saw that these were tents, and men in +armor were walking about among the tents--crowds and crowds of them. + +[Illustration: There the castle stood, black and stately] + +"Oh!" said Robert fervently. "They _have_! They've wished for a castle, +and it's being besieged! It's just like that Sand-fairy! I wish we'd +never seen the beastly thing!" + +At the little window above the great gateway, across the moat that now +lay where the garden had been but half an hour ago, someone was waving +something pale dust-colored. Robert thought it was one of Cyril's +handkerchiefs. They had never been white since the day when he had upset +the bottle of "Combined Toning and Fixing Solution" into the drawer +where they were. Robert waved back, and immediately felt that he had +been unwise. For this signal had been seen by the besieging force, and +two men in steel-caps were coming towards him. They had high brown boots +on their long legs, and they came towards him with such great strides +that Robert remembered the shortness of his own legs and did not run +away. He knew it would be useless to himself, and he feared it might be +irritating to the foe. So he stood still--and the two men seemed quite +pleased with him. + +"By my halidom," said one, "a brave varlet this!" + +Robert felt pleased at being _called_ brave, and somehow it made him +_feel_ brave. He passed over the "varlet." It was the way people talked +in historical romances for the young, he knew, and it was evidently not +meant for rudeness. He only hoped he would be able to understand what +they said to him. He had not been always able quite to follow the +conversations in the historical romances for the young. + +"His garb is strange," said the other. "Some outlandish treachery, +belike." + +"Say, lad, what brings thee hither?" + +Robert knew this meant, "Now then, youngster, what are you up to here, +eh?"--so he said-- + +"If you please, I want to go home." + +"Go, then!" said the man in the longest boots; "none hindereth, and +nought lets us to follow. Zooks!" he added in a cautious undertone, "I +misdoubt me but he beareth tidings to the besieged." + +"Where dwellest thou, young knave?" inquired the man with the largest +steel-cap. + +"Over there," said Robert; and directly he had said it he knew he ought +to have said "Yonder!" + +"Ha--sayest so?" rejoined the longest boots. "Come hither, boy. This is +matter for our leader." + +And to the leader Robert was dragged forthwith--by the reluctant ear. + +[Illustration: Robert was dragged forthwith--by the reluctant ear] + +The leader was the most glorious creature Robert had ever seen. He was +exactly like the pictures Robert had so often admired in the historical +romances. He had armor, and a helmet, and a horse, and a crest, and +feathers, and a shield and a lance and a sword. His armor and his +weapons were all, I am almost sure, of quite different periods. The +shield was thirteenth century, while the sword was of the pattern +used in the Peninsular War. The cuirass was of the time of Charles I., +and the helmet dated from the Second Crusade. The arms on the shield +were very grand--three red running lions on a blue ground. The tents +were of the latest brand approved of by our modern War Office, and the +whole appearance of camp, army, and leader might have been a shock to +some. But Robert was dumb with admiration, and it all seemed to him +perfectly correct, because he knew no more of heraldry or archæology +than the gifted artists who usually drew the pictures for the historical +romances. The scene was indeed "exactly like a picture." He admired it +all so much that he felt braver than ever. + +"Come hither, lad," said the glorious leader, when the men in +Cromwellian steel-caps had said a few low eager words. And he took off +his helmet, because he could not see properly with it on. He had a kind +face, and long fair hair. "Have no fear; thou shalt take no scathe," he +said. + +Robert was glad of that. He wondered what "scathe" was, and if it was +nastier than the medicine which he had to take sometimes. + +"Unfold thy tale without alarm," said the leader kindly. "Whence comest +thou, and what is thine intent?" + +"My what?" said Robert. + +"What seekest thou to accomplish? What is thine errand, that thou +wanderest here alone among these rough men-at-arms? Poor child, thy +mother's heart aches for thee e'en now, I'll warrant me." + +"I don't think so," said Robert; "you see, she doesn't know I'm out." + +[Illustration: He wiped away a manly tear] + +The leader wiped away a manly tear, exactly as a leader in a historical +romance would have done, and said-- + +"Fear not to speak the truth, my child; thou hast nought to fear from +Wulfric de Talbot." + +Robert had a wild feeling that this glorious leader of the besieging +party--being himself part of a wish--would be able to understand better +than Martha, or the gipsies, or the policeman in Rochester, or the +clergyman of yesterday, the true tale of the wishes and the Psammead. +The only difficulty was that he knew he could never remember enough +"quothas" and "beshrew me's," and things like that, to make his talk +sound like the talk of a boy in a historical romance. However, he began +boldly enough, with a sentence straight out of _Ralph de Courcy; or, The +Boy Crusader_. He said-- + +"Grammercy for thy courtesy, fair sir knight. The fact is, it's like +this--and I hope you're not in a hurry, because the story's rather a +breather. Father and mother are away, and when we went down playing in +the sand-pits we found a Psammead." + +"I cry thee mercy! A Sammyadd?" said the knight. + +"Yes, a sort of--of fairy, or enchanter--yes, that's it, an enchanter; +and he said we could have a wish every day, and we wished first to be +beautiful." + +"Thy wish was scarce granted," muttered one of the men-at-arms, looking +at Robert, who went on as if he had not heard, though he thought the +remark very rude indeed. + +"And then we wished for money--treasure, you know; but we couldn't spend +it. And yesterday we wished for wings, and we got them, and we had a +ripping time to begin with"-- + +"Thy speech is strange and uncouth," said Sir Wulfric de Talbot. "Repeat +thy words--what hadst thou?" + +"A ripping--I mean a jolly--no--we were contented with our lot--that's +what I mean; only, after we got into an awful fix." + +"What is a fix? A fray, mayhap?" + +"No--not a fray. A--a--a tight place." + +"A dungeon? Alas for thy youthful fettered limbs!" said the knight, with +polite sympathy. + +"It wasn't a dungeon. We just--just encountered undeserved misfortunes," +Robert explained, "and to-day we are punished by not being allowed to go +out. That's where I live,"--he pointed to the castle. "The others are in +there, and they're not allowed to go out. It's all the Psammead's--I +mean the enchanter's fault. I wish we'd never seen him." + +"He is an enchanter of might?" + +"Oh yes--of might and main. Rather!" + +"And thou deemest that it is the spells of the enchanter whom thou hast +angered that have lent strength to the besieging party," said the +gallant leader; "but know thou that Wulfric de Talbot needs no +enchanter's aid to lead his followers to victory." + +"No, I'm sure you don't," said Robert, with hasty courtesy; "of course +not--you wouldn't, you know. But, all the same, it's partly his fault, +but we're most to blame. You couldn't have done anything if it hadn't +been for us." + +"How now, bold boy?" asked Sir Wulfric haughtily. "Thy speech is dark, +and eke scarce courteous. Unravel me this riddle!" + +"Oh," said Robert desperately, "of course you don't know it, but you're +not _real_ at all. You're only here because the others must have been +idiots enough to wish for a castle--and when the sun sets you'll just +vanish away, and it'll be all right." + +The captain and the men-at-arms exchanged glances at first pitying, and +then sterner, as the longest-booted man said, "Beware, my noble lord; +the urchin doth but feign madness to escape from our clutches. Shall we +not bind him?" + +"I'm no more mad than you are," said Robert angrily, "perhaps not so +much--Only, I was an idiot to think you'd understand anything. Let me +go--I haven't done anything to you." + +"Whither?" asked the knight, who seemed to have believed all the +enchanter story till it came to his own share in it. "Whither wouldst +thou wend?" + +"Home, of course." Robert pointed to the castle. + +"To carry news of succor? Nay!" + +"All right, then," said Robert, struck by a sudden idea; "then let me go +somewhere else." His mind sought eagerly among the memories of the +historical romance. + +"Sir Wulfric de Talbot," he said slowly, "should think foul scorn to--to +keep a chap--I mean one who has done him no hurt--when he wants to cut +off quietly--I mean to depart without violence." + +"This to my face! Beshrew thee for a knave!" replied Sir Wulfric. But +the appeal seemed to have gone home. "Yet thou sayest sooth," he added +thoughtfully. "Go where thou wilt," he added nobly, "thou art free. +Wulfric de Talbot warreth not with babes, and Jakin here shall bear thee +company." + +"All right," said Robert wildly. "Jakin will enjoy himself, I think. +Come on, Jakin. Sir Wulfric, I salute thee." + +He saluted after the modern military manner, and set off running to the +sand-pit, Jakin's long boots keeping up easily. + +He found the Fairy. He dug it up, he woke it up, he implored it to give +him one more wish. + +"I've done two to-day already," it grumbled, "and one was as stiff a bit +of work as ever I did." + +"Oh, do, do, do, do, _do_!" said Robert, while Jakin looked on with an +expression of open-mouthed horror at the strange beast that talked, and +gazed with its snail's eyes at him. + +[Illustration: "Oh, do, do, _do_!" said Robert] + +"Well, what is it?" snapped the Psammead, with cross sleepiness. + +"I wish I was with the others," said Robert. And the Psammead began to +swell. Robert never thought of wishing the castle and the siege away. Of +course he knew they had all come out of a wish, but swords and daggers +and pikes and lances seemed much too real to be wished away. Robert lost +consciousness for an instant. When he opened his eyes the others were +crowding round him. + +"We never heard you come in," they said. "How awfully jolly of you to +wish it to give us our wish!" + +"Of course we understood that was what you'd done." + +"But you ought to have told us. Suppose we'd wished something silly." + +"Silly?" said Robert, very crossly indeed. "How much sillier could you +have been, I'd like to know? You nearly settled _me_--I can tell +you." + +Then he told his story, and the others admitted that it certainly had +been rough on him. But they praised his courage and cleverness so much +that he presently got back his lost temper, and felt braver than ever, +and consented to be captain of the besieged force. + +"We haven't done anything yet," said Anthea comfortably; "we waited for +you. We're going to shoot at them through these little loopholes with +the bow and arrows uncle gave you, and you shall have first shot." + +"I don't think I would," said Robert cautiously; "you don't know what +they're like near to. They've got _real_ bows and arrows--an awful +length--and swords and pikes and daggers, and all sorts of sharp things. +They're all quite, quite real. It's not just a--a picture, or a vision +or anything; they can _hurt us_--or kill us even, I shouldn't wonder. I +can feel my ear all sore yet. Look here--have you explored the castle? +Because I think we'd better let them alone as long as they let us alone. +I heard that Jakin man say they weren't going to attack till just +before sundown. We can be getting ready for the attack. Are there any +soldiers in the castle to defend it?" + +"We don't know," said Cyril. "You see, directly I'd wished we were in a +besieged castle, everything seemed to go upside down, and when it came +straight we looked out of the window, and saw the camp and things and +you--and of course we kept on looking at everything. Isn't this room +jolly? It's as real as real!" + +It was. It was square, with stone walls four feet thick, and great beams +for ceiling. A low door at the corner led to a flight of steps, up and +down. The children went down; they found themselves in a great arched +gate-house--the enormous doors were shut and barred. There was a window +in a little room at the bottom of the round turret up which the stair +wound, rather larger than the other windows, and looking through it they +saw that the drawbridge was up and the portcullis down; the moat looked +very wide and deep. Opposite the great door that led to the moat was +another great door, with a little door in it. The children went through +this, and found themselves in a big courtyard, with the great grey walls +of the castle rising dark and heavy on all four sides. + +Near the middle of the courtyard stood Martha, moving her right hand +backwards and forwards in the air. The cook was stooping down and moving +her hands, also in a very curious way. But the oddest and at the same +time most terrible thing was the Lamb, who was sitting on nothing, about +three feet from the ground, laughing happily. + +The children ran towards him. Just as Anthea was reaching out her arms +to take him, Martha said crossly, "Let him alone--do, miss, when he _is_ +good." + +"But what's he _doing_?" said Anthea. + +"Doing? Why, a-setting in his high chair as good as gold, a precious, +watching me doing of the ironing. Get along with you, do--my iron's cold +again." + +She went towards the cook, and seemed to poke an invisible fire with an +unseen poker--the cook seemed to be putting an unseen dish into an +invisible oven. + +"Run along with you, do," she said; "I'm behindhand as it is. You won't +get no dinner if you come a-hindering of me like this. Come, off you +goes, or I'll pin a discloth to some of your tails." + +"You're _sure_ the Lamb's all right?" asked Jane anxiously. + +"Right as ninepence, if you don't come unsettling of him. I thought +you'd like to be rid of him for to-day; but take him, if you want him, +for gracious' sake." + +"No, no," they said, and hastened away. They would have to defend the +castle presently, and the Lamb was safer even suspended in mid air in an +invisible kitchen than in the guard-room of the besieged castle. They +went through the first doorway they came to, and sat down helplessly on +a wooden bench that ran along the room inside. + +"How awful!" said Anthea and Jane together; and Jane added, "I feel as +if I was in a lunatic asylum." + +"What does it mean?" Anthea said. "It's creepy; I don't like it. I wish +we'd wished for something plain--a rocking-horse, or a donkey, or +something." + +"It's no use wishing _now_," said Robert bitterly; and Cyril said-- + +"Do be quiet; I want to think." + +He buried his face in his hands, and the others looked about them. They +were in a long room with an arched roof. There were wooden tables along +it, and one across at the end of the room, on a sort of raised platform. +The room was very dim and dark. The floor was strewn with dry things +like sticks, and they did not smell nice. + +Cyril sat up suddenly and said-- + +"Look here--it's all right. I think it's like this. You know, we wished +that the servants shouldn't notice any difference when we got wishes. +And nothing happens to the Lamb unless we specially wish it to. So of +course they don't notice the castle or anything. But then the castle is +on the same place where our house was--is, I mean--and the servants have +to go on being in the house, or else they _would_ notice. But you can't +have a castle mixed up with our house--and so _we_ can't see the house, +because we see the castle; and they can't see the castle, because they +go on seeing the house; and so"-- + +"Oh, _don't_," said Jane; "you make my head go all swimmy, like being on +a roundabout. It doesn't matter! Only, I hope we shall be able to see +our dinner, that's all--because if it's invisible it'll be unfeelable as +well, and then we can't eat it! I _know_ it will, because I tried to +feel if I could feel the Lamb's chair and there was nothing under him at +all but air. And we can't eat air, and I feel just as if I hadn't had +any breakfast for years and years." + +"It's no use thinking about it," said Anthea. "Let's go on exploring. +Perhaps we might find something to eat." + +This lighted hope in every breast, and they went on exploring the +castle. But though it was the most perfect and delightful castle you can +possibly imagine, and furnished in the most complete and beautiful +manner, neither food nor men-at-arms were to be found in it. + +"If you'd only thought of wishing to be besieged in a castle thoroughly +garrisoned and provisioned!" said Jane reproachfully. + +"You can't think of everything, you know," said Anthea. "I should think +it must be nearly dinner-time by now." + +It wasn't; but they hung about watching the strange movements of the +servants in the middle of the courtyard, because, of course, they +couldn't be sure where the dining-room of the invisible house was. +Presently they saw Martha carrying an invisible tray across the +courtyard, for it seemed that, by the most fortunate accident, the +dining-room of the house and the banqueting-hall of the castle were in +the same place. But oh, how their hearts sank when they perceived that +the tray _was_ invisible! + +They waited in wretched silence while Martha went through the form of +carving an unseen leg of mutton and serving invisible greens and +potatoes with a spoon that no one could see. When she had left the room, +the children looked at the empty table, and then at each other. + +"This is worse than anything," said Robert, who had not till now been +particularly keen on his dinner. + +"I'm not so very hungry," said Anthea, trying to make the best of +things, as usual. + +Cyril tightened his belt ostentatiously. Jane burst into tears. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A SIEGE AND BED + + +The children were sitting in the gloomy banqueting-hall, at the end of +one of the long bare wooden tables. There was now no hope. Martha had +brought in the dinner, and the dinner was invisible, and unfeelable too; +for, when they rubbed their hands along the table, they knew but too +well that for them there was nothing there _but_ table. + +Suddenly Cyril felt in his pocket. + +"Right, _oh_!" he cried. "Look here! Biscuits." + +Somewhat broken and crumbled, certainly, but still biscuits. Three whole +ones, and a generous handful of crumbs and fragments. + +"I got them this morning--cook--and I'd quite forgotten," he explained +as he divided them with scrupulous fairness into four heaps. + +They were eaten in a happy silence, though they had an odd taste, +because they had been in Cyril's pocket all the morning with a hank of +tarred twine, some green fir-cones, and a ball of cobbler's wax. + +"Yes, but look here, Squirrel," said Robert; "you're so clever at +explaining about invisibleness and all that. How is it the biscuits are +here, and all the bread and meat and things have disappeared?" + +"I don't know," said Cyril after a pause, "unless it's because _we_ had +them. Nothing about _us_ has changed. Everything's in my pocket all +right." + +"Then if we _had_ the mutton it would be real," said Robert. "Oh, don't +I wish we could find it!" + +"But we can't find it. I suppose it isn't ours till we've got it in our +mouths." + +"Or in our pockets," said Jane, thinking of the biscuits. + +"Who puts mutton in their pockets, goose-girl?" said Cyril. "But I +know--at any rate, I'll try it!" + +He leaned over the table with his face about an inch from it, and kept +opening and shutting his mouth as if he were taking bites out of air. + +"It's no good," said Robert in deep dejection. "You'll only---- Hullo!" + +Cyril stood up with a grin of triumph, holding a square piece of bread +in his mouth. It was quite real. Everyone saw it. It is true that, +directly he bit a piece off, the rest vanished; but it was all right, +because he knew he had it in his hand though he could neither see nor +feel it. He took another bite from the air between his fingers, and it +turned into bread as he bit. The next moment all the others were +following his example, and opening and shutting their mouths an inch or +so from the bare-looking table. Robert captured a slice of mutton, +and--but I think I will draw a veil over the rest of this painful scene. +It is enough to say that they all had enough mutton, and that when +Martha came to change the plates she said she had never seen such a mess +in all her born days. + +The pudding was, fortunately, a plain suet one, and in answer to +Martha's questions the children all with one accord said that they would +_not_ have molasses on it--nor jam, nor sugar--"Just plain, please," +they said. Martha said, "Well, I never--what next, I wonder!" and went +away. + +Then ensued another scene on which I will not dwell, for nobody looks +nice picking up slices of suet pudding from the table in its mouth, like +a dog. + +The great thing, after all, was that they had had dinner; and now +everyone felt more courage to prepare for the attack that was to be +delivered before sunset. Robert, as captain, insisted on climbing to the +top of one of the towers to reconnoitre, so up they all went. And now +they could see all round the castle, and could see, too, that beyond the +moat, on every side, tents of the besieging party were pitched. Rather +uncomfortable shivers ran down the children's backs as they saw that all +the men were very busy cleaning or sharpening their arms, re-stringing +their bows, and polishing their shields. A large party came along the +road, with horses dragging along the great trunk of a tree; and Cyril +felt quite pale, because he knew this was for a battering-ram. + +"What a good thing we've got a moat," he said; "and what a good thing +the drawbridge is up--I should never have known how to work it." + +"Of course it would be up in a besieged castle." + +"You'd think there ought to have been soldiers in it, wouldn't you?" +said Robert. + +"You see you don't know how long it's been besieged," said Cyril darkly; +"perhaps most of the brave defenders were killed early in the siege and +all the provisions eaten, and now there are only a few intrepid +survivors,--that's us, and we are going to defend it to the death." + +"How do you begin--defending to the death, I mean?" asked Anthea. + +"We ought to be heavily armed--and then shoot at them when they advance +to the attack." + +"They used to pour boiling lead down on besiegers when they got too +close," said Anthea. "Father showed me the holes on purpose for pouring +it down through at Bodiam Castle. And there are holes like it in the +gate-tower here." + +"I think I'm glad it's only a game; it _is_ only a game, isn't it?" said +Jane. + +But no one answered. + +The children found plenty of strange weapons in the castle, and if they +were armed at all it was soon plain that they would be, as Cyril said, +"armed heavily"--for these swords and lances and crossbows were far too +weighty even for Cyril's manly strength; and as for the longbows, none +of the children could even begin to bend them. The daggers were better; +but Jane hoped that the besiegers would not come close enough for +daggers to be of any use. + +"Never mind, we can hurl them like javelins," said Cyril, "or drop them +on people's heads. I say--there are lots of stones on the other side of +the courtyard. If we took some of those up? Just to drop on their heads +if they were to try swimming the moat." + +So a heap of stones grew apace, up in the room above the gate; and +another heap, a shiny spiky dangerous-looking heap, of daggers and +knives. + +As Anthea was crossing the courtyard for more stones, a sudden and +valuable idea came to her. + +She went to Martha and said, "May we have just biscuits for tea? We're +going to play at besieged castles, and we'd like the biscuits to +provision the garrison. Put mine in my pocket, please, my hands are so +dirty. And I'll tell the others to fetch theirs." + +This was indeed a happy thought, for now with four generous handfuls of +air, which turned to biscuits as Martha crammed it into their pockets, +the garrison was well provisioned till sundown. + +They brought up some iron pots of cold water to pour on the besiegers +instead of hot lead, with which the castle did not seem to be provided. + +The afternoon passed with wonderful quickness. It was very exciting; but +none of them, except Robert, could feel all the time that this was real +deadly dangerous work. To the others, who had only seen the camp and the +besiegers from a distance, the whole thing seemed half a game of +make-believe, and half a splendidly distinct and perfectly safe dream. +But it was only now and then that Robert could feel this. + +When it seemed to be tea-time the biscuits were eaten, with water from +the deep well in the courtyard, drunk out of horns. Cyril insisted on +putting by eight of the biscuits, in case anyone should feel faint in +stress of battle. + +Just as he was putting away the reserve biscuits in a sort of little +stone cupboard without a door, a sudden sound made him drop three. It +was the loud fierce cry of a trumpet. + +"You see it _is_ real," said Robert, "and they are going to attack." + +All rushed to the narrow windows. + +"Yes," said Robert, "they're all coming out of their tents and moving +about like ants. There's that Jakin dancing about where the bridge +joins on. I wish he could see me put my tongue out at him! Yah!" + +The others were far too pale to wish to put their tongues out at +anybody. They looked at Robert with surprised respect. Anthea said-- + +"You really _are_ brave, Robert." + +"Rot!" Cyril's pallor turned to redness now, all in a minute. "He's been +getting ready to be brave all the afternoon. And I wasn't ready, that's +all. I shall be braver than he is in half a jiffy." + +"Oh dear!" said Jane, "what does it matter which of you is the bravest? +I think Cyril was a perfect silly to wish for a castle, and I don't want +to play." + +"It _isn't_"--Robert was beginning sternly, but Anthea interrupted-- + +"Oh yes, you do," she said coaxingly; "it's a very nice game, really, +because they can't possibly get in, and if they do the women and +children are always spared by civilised armies." + +"But are you quite, quite sure they _are_ civilised?" asked Jane, +panting. "They seem to be such a long time ago." + +"Of course they are." Anthea pointed cheerfully through the narrow +window. "Why, look at the little flags on their lances, how bright they +are--and how fine the leader is! Look, that's him--isn't it, Robert?--on +the gray horse." + +Jane consented to look, and the scene was almost too pretty to be +alarming. The green turf, the white tents, the flash of pennoned lances, +the gleam of armour, and the bright colours of scarf and tunic--it was +just like a splendid coloured picture. The trumpets were sounding, and +when the trumpeters stopped for breath the children could hear the +cling-clang of armour and the murmur of voices. + +A trumpeter came forward to the edge of the moat, which now seemed very +much narrower than at first, and blew the longest and loudest blast they +had yet heard. When the blaring noise had died away, a man who was with +the trumpeter shouted-- + +"What ho, within there!" and his voice came plainly to the garrison in +the gate-house. + +"Hullo there!" Robert bellowed back at once. + +"In the name of our Lord the King, and of our good lord and trusty +leader Sir Wulfric de Talbot, we summon this castle to surrender--on +pain of fire and sword and no quarter. Do ye surrender?" + +"_No_" bawled Robert; "of course we don't! Never, _Never, NEVER_!" + +The man answered back-- + +"Then your fate be on your own heads." + +"Cheer," said Robert in a fierce whisper. "Cheer to show them we aren't +afraid, and rattle the daggers to make more noise. One, two, three! Hip, +hip, hooray! Again--Hip, hip, hooray! One more--Hip, hip, hooray!" The +cheers were rather high and weak, but the rattle of the daggers lent +them strength and depth. + +There was another shout from the camp across the moat--and then the +beleaguered fortress felt that the attack had indeed begun. + +It was getting rather dark in the room above the great gate, and Jane +took a very little courage as she remembered that sunset _couldn't_ be +far off now. + +"The moat is dreadfully thin," said Anthea. + +"But they can't get into the castle even if they do swim over," said +Robert. And as he spoke he heard feet on the stair outside--heavy feet +and the clang of steel. No one breathed for a moment. The steel and the +feet went on up the turret stairs. Then Robert sprang softly to the +door. He pulled off his shoes. + +"Wait here," he whispered, and stole quickly and softly after the boots +and the spur-clank. He peeped into the upper room. The man was +there--and it was Jakin, all dripping with moat-water, and he was +fiddling about with the machinery which Robert felt sure worked the +drawbridge. Robert banged the door suddenly, and turned the great key in +the lock, just as Jakin sprang to the inside of the door. Then he tore +downstairs and into the little turret at the foot of the tower where the +biggest window was. + +"We ought to have defended _this_!" he cried to the others as they +followed him. He was just in time. Another man had swum over, and his +fingers were on the window-ledge. Robert never knew how the man had +managed to climb up out of the water. But he saw the clinging fingers, +and hit them as hard as he could with an iron bar that he caught up from +the floor. The man fell with a splash into the moat-water. In another +moment Robert was outside the little room, had banged its door and was +shooting home the enormous bolts, and calling to Cyril to lend a hand. + +[Illustration: The man fell with a splash into the moat-water] + +Then they stood in the arched gate-house, breathing hard and looking at +each other. + +Jane's mouth was open. + +"Cheer up, Jenny," said Robert,--"it won't last much longer." + +There was a creaking above, and something rattled and shook. The +pavement they stood on seemed to tremble. Then a crash told them that +the drawbridge had been lowered to its place. + +"That's that beast Jakin," said Robert. "There's still the portcullis; +I'm almost certain that's worked from lower down." + +And now the drawbridge rang and echoed hollowly to the hoofs of horses +and the tramp of armed men. + +"Up--quick!" cried Robert,--"let's drop things on them." + +Even the girls were feeling almost brave now. They followed Robert +quickly, and under his directions began to drop stones out through the +long narrow windows. There was a confused noise below, and some groans. + +"Oh dear!" said Anthea, putting down the stone she was just going to +drop out, "I'm afraid we've hurt somebody!" + +Robert caught up the stone in a fury. + +"I should hope we _had_!" he said; "I'd give something for a jolly good +boiling kettle of lead. Surrender, indeed!" + +And now came more tramping and a pause, and then the thundering thump of +the battering-ram. And the little room was almost pitch dark. + +"We've held it," cried Robert, "we _won't_ surrender! The sun _must_ set +in a minute. Here--they're all jawing underneath again. Pity there's no +time to get more stones! Here, pour that water down on them. It's no +good, of course, but they'll hate it." + +"Oh dear!" said Jane, "don't you think we'd better surrender?" + +"Never!" said Robert; "we'll have a parley if you like, but we'll never +surrender. Oh, I'll be a soldier when I grow up--you just see if I +don't. I won't go into the Civil Service, whatever anyone says." + +"Let's wave a handkerchief and ask for a parley," Jane pleaded. "I don't +believe the sun's going to set to-night at all." + +"Give them the water first--the brutes!" said the bloodthirsty Robert. +So Anthea tilted the pot over the nearest lead-hole, and poured. They +heard a splash below, but no one below seemed to have felt it. And again +the ram battered the great door. Anthea paused. + +[Illustration: Anthea tilted the pot over the nearest lead-hole] + +"How idiotic," said Robert, lying flat on the floor and putting one eye +to the lead-hole. "Of course the holes go straight down into the +gate-house--that's for when the enemy has got past the door and the +portcullis, and almost all is lost. Here, hand me the pot." He crawled +on to the three-cornered window-ledge in the middle of the wall, and, +taking the pot from Anthea, poured the water out through the arrow-slit. + +And as he began to pour, the noise of the battering-ram and the +trampling of the foe and the shouts of "Surrender!" and "De Talbot for +ever!" all suddenly stopped and went out like the snuff of a candle; the +little dark room seemed to whirl round and turn topsy-turvy, and when +the children came to themselves there they were, safe and sound, in the +big front bedroom of their own house--the house with the ornamental +nightmare iron-top to the roof. + +They all crowded to the window and looked out. The moat and the tents +and the besieging force were all gone--and there was the garden with its +tangle of dahlias and marigolds and asters and later roses, and the +spiky iron railings and the quiet white road. + +Everyone drew a deep breath. + +"And that's all right!" said Robert. "I told you so! And, I say, we +didn't surrender, did we?" + +"Aren't you glad now I wished for a castle?" asked Cyril. + +"I think I am _now_," said Anthea slowly. "But I wouldn't wish for it +again, I think, Squirrel dear!" + +"Oh, it was simply splendid!" said Jane unexpectedly. "I wasn't +frightened a bit." + +"Oh, I say!" Cyril was beginning, but Anthea stopped him. + +"Look here," she said, "it's just come into my head. This is the very +first thing we've wished for that hasn't got us into a row. And there +hasn't been the least little scrap of a row about this. Nobody's raging +downstairs, we're safe and sound, we've had an awfully jolly day--at +least, not jolly exactly, but you know what I mean. And we know now how +brave Robert is--and Cyril too, of course," she added hastily, "and +Jane as well. And we haven't got into a row with a single grown-up." + +The door was opened suddenly and fiercely. + +"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves," said the voice of Martha, and +they could tell by her voice that she was very angry indeed. "I thought +you couldn't last through the day without getting up to some mischief! A +person can't take a breath of air on the front doorstep but you must be +emptying the water jug on their heads! Off you go to bed, the lot of +you, and try to get up better children in the morning. Now then--don't +let me have to tell you twice. If I find any of you not in bed in ten +minutes I'll let you know it, that's all! A new cap, and everything!" + +She flounced out amid a disregarded chorus of regrets and apologies. The +children were very sorry, but really it was not their faults. + +You can't help it if you are pouring water on a besieging foe, and your +castle suddenly changes into your house--and everything changes with it +except the water, and that happens to fall on somebody else's clean cap. + +"I don't know why the water didn't change into nothing, though," said +Cyril. + +"Why should it?" asked Robert. "Water's water all the world over." + +"I expect the castle well was the same as ours in the stable-yard," said +Jane. And that was really the case. + +"I thought we couldn't get through a wish-day without a row," said +Cyril; "it was much too good to be true. Come on, Bobs, my military +hero. If we lick into bed sharp she won't be so furious, and perhaps +she'll bring us up some supper. I'm jolly hungry! Good-night, kids." + +"Good-night. I hope the castle won't come creeping back in the night," +said Jane. + +"Of course it won't," said Anthea briskly, "but Martha will--not in the +night, but in a minute. Here, turn round, I'll get that knot out of your +pinafore strings." + +"Wouldn't it have been degrading for Sir Wulfric de Talbot," said Jane +dreamily, "if he could have known that half the besieged garrison wore +pinafores?" + +"And the other half knickerbockers. Yes--frightfully. Do stand +still--you're only tightening the knot," said Anthea. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +BIGGER THAN THE BAKER'S BOY + + +"Look here," said Cyril. "I've got an idea." + +"Does it hurt much?" said Robert sympathetically. + +"Don't be a jackanape! I'm not humbugging." + +"Shut up, Bobs!" said Anthea. + +"Silence for the Squirrel's oration," said Robert. + +Cyril balanced himself on the edge of the water-butt in the backyard, +where they all happened to be, and spoke. + +"Friends, Romans, countrymen--and women--we found a Sammyadd. We have +had wishes. We've had wings, and being beautiful as the day--ugh!--that +was pretty jolly beastly if you like--and wealth and castles, and that +rotten gipsy business with the Lamb. But we're no forrarder. We haven't +really got anything worth having for our wishes." + +"We've had things happening," said Robert; "that's always something." + +"It's not enough, unless they're the right things," said Cyril firmly. +"Now I've been thinking"-- + +"Not really?" whispered Robert. + +"In the silent what's-its-names of the night. It's like suddenly being +asked something out of history--the date of the Conquest or something; +you know it all right all the time, but when you're asked it all goes +out of your head. Ladies and gentlemen, you know jolly well that when +we're all rotting about in the usual way heaps of things keep cropping +up, and then real earnest wishes come into the heads of the beholder"-- + +"Hear, hear!" said Robert. + +"--of the beholder, however, stupid he is," Cyril went on. "Why, even +Robert might happen to think of a really useful wish if he didn't injure +his poor little brains trying so hard to think.--Shut up, Bobs, I tell +you!--You'll have the whole show over." + +A struggle on the edge of a water-butt is exciting but damp. When it was +over, and the boys were partially dried, Anthea said-- + +"It really was you began it, Bobs. Now honour is satisfied, do let +Squirrel go on. We're wasting the whole morning." + +"Well then," said Cyril, still wringing the water out of the tails of +his jacket, "I'll call it pax if Bobs will." + +"Pax then," said Robert sulkily. "But I've got a lump as big as a +cricket ball over my eye." + +Anthea patiently offered a dust-coloured handkerchief, and Robert bathed +his wounds in silence. "Now, Squirrel," she said. + +"Well then--let's just play bandits, or forts, or soldiers, or any of +the old games. We're dead sure to think of something if we try not to. +You always do." + +The others consented. Bandits was hastily chosen for the game. "It's as +good as anything else," said Jane gloomily. It must be owned that +Robert was at first but a half-hearted bandit, but when Anthea had +borrowed from Martha the red-spotted handkerchief in which the keeper +had brought her mushrooms that morning, and had tied up Robert's head +with it so that he could be the wounded hero who had saved the bandit +captain's life the day before, he cheered up wonderfully. All were soon +armed. Bows and arrows slung on the back look well; and umbrellas and +cricket stumps through the belt give a fine impression of the wearer's +being armed to the teeth. The white cotton hats that men wear in the +country nowadays have a very brigandish effect when a few turkey's +feathers are stuck in them. The Lamb's mail-cart was covered with a +red-and-blue checked table-cloth, and made an admirable baggage-wagon. +The Lamb asleep inside it was not at all in the way. So the banditti set +out along the road that led to the sand-pit. + +"We ought to be near the Sammyadd," said Cyril, "in case we think of +anything suddenly." + +It is all very well to make up your minds to play bandit--or chess, or +ping-pong, or any other agreeable game--but it is not easy to do it with +spirit when all the wonderful wishes you can think of, or can't think +of, are waiting for you round the corner. The game was dragging a +little, and some of the bandits were beginning to feel that the others +were disagreeable things, and were saying so candidly, when the baker's +boy came along the road with loaves in a basket. The opportunity was not +one to be lost. + +"Stand and deliver!" cried Cyril. + +"Your money or your life!" said Robert. + +And they stood on each side of the baker's boy. Unfortunately, he did +not seem to enter into the spirit of the thing at all. He was a baker's +boy of an unusually large size. He merely said-- + +"Chuck it now, d'ye hear!" and pushed the bandits aside most +disrespectfully. + +Then Robert lassoed him with Jane's skipping-rope, and instead of going +round his shoulders, as Robert intended, it went round his feet and +tripped him up. The basket was upset, the beautiful new loaves went +bumping and bouncing all over the dusty chalky road. The girls ran to +pick them up, and all in a moment Robert and the baker's boy were +fighting it out, man to man, with Cyril to see fair play, and the +skipping-rope twisting round their legs like an interesting snake that +wished to be a peace-maker. It did not succeed; indeed the way the +boxwood handles sprang up and hit the fighters on the shins and ankles +was not at all peace-making. I know this is the second fight--or +contest--in this chapter, but I can't help it. It was that sort of day. +You know yourself there are days when rows seem to keep on happening, +quite without your meaning them to. If I were a writer of tales of +adventure such as those which used to appear in _The Boys of England_ +when I was young of course I should be able to describe the fight, but I +cannot do it. I never can see what happens during a fight, even when it +is only dogs. Also, if I had been one of these _Boys of England_ +writers, Robert would have got the best of it. But I am like George +Washington--I cannot tell a lie, even about a cherry-tree, much less +about a fight, and I cannot conceal from you that Robert was badly +beaten, for the second time that day. The baker's boy blacked his other +eye, and being ignorant of the first rules of fair play and gentlemanly +behaviour, he also pulled Robert's hair, and kicked him on the knee. +Robert always used to say he could have licked the baker if it hadn't +been for the girls. But I am not sure. Anyway, what happened was this, +and very painful it was to self-respecting boys. + +[Illustration: He pulled Robert's hair] + +Cyril was just tearing off his coat so as to help his brother in proper +style, when Jane threw her arms round his legs and began to cry and ask +him not to go and be beaten too. That "too" was very nice for Robert, as +you can imagine--but it was nothing to what he felt when Anthea rushed +in between him and the baker's boy, and caught that unfair and degraded +fighter round the waist, imploring him not to fight any more. + +"Oh, don't hurt my brother any more!" she said in floods of tears. "He +didn't mean it--it's only play. And I'm sure he's very sorry." + +You see how unfair this was to Robert. Because, if the baker's boy had +had any right and chivalrous instincts, and had yielded to Anthea's +pleading and accepted her despicable apology, Robert could not, in +honour, have done anything to him at any future time. But Robert's +fears, if he had any, were soon dispelled. Chivalry was a stranger to +the breast of the baker's boy. He pushed Anthea away very roughly, and +he chased Robert with kicks and unpleasant conversation right down the +road to the sand-pit, and there, with one last kick, he landed him in a +heap of sand. + +"I'll larn you, you young varmint!" he said, and went off to pick up his +loaves and go about his business. Cyril, impeded by Jane, could do +nothing without hurting her, for she clung round his legs with the +strength of despair. The baker's boy went off red and damp about the +face; abusive to the last, he called them a pack of silly idiots, and +disappeared round the corner. Then Jane's grasp loosened. Cyril turned +away in silent dignity to follow Robert, and the girls followed him, +weeping without restraint. + +It was not a happy party that flung itself down in the sand beside the +sobbing Robert. For Robert was sobbing--mostly with rage. Though of +course I know that a really heroic boy is always dry-eyed after a fight. +But then he always wins, which had not been the case with Robert. + +Cyril was angry with Jane; Robert was furious with Anthea; the girls +were miserable; and not one of the four was pleased with the baker's +boy. There was, as French writers say, "a silence full of emotion." + +Then Robert dug his toes and his hands into the sand and wriggled in his +rage. "He'd better wait till I'm grown up--the cowardly brute! Beast!--I +hate him! But I'll pay him out. Just because he's bigger than me." + +"You began," said Jane incautiously. + +"I know I did, silly--but I was only jollying--and he kicked me--look +here"-- + +Robert tore down a stocking and showed a purple bruise touched up with +red. + +"I only wish I was bigger than him, that's all." + +He dug his fingers in the sand, and sprang up, for his hand had touched +something furry. It was the Psammead, of course--"On the look-out to +make sillies of them as usual," as Cyril remarked later. And of course +the next moment Robert's wish was granted, and he was bigger than the +baker's boy. Oh, but much, much bigger! He was bigger than the big +policeman who used to be at the crossing at the Mansion House years +ago,--the one who was so kind in helping old ladies over the +crossing,--and he was the biggest man _I_ have ever seen, as well as the +kindest. No one had a foot-rule in its pocket, so Robert could not be +measured--but he was taller than your father would be if he stood on +your mother's head, which I am sure he would never be unkind enough to +do. He must have been ten or eleven feet high, and as broad as a boy of +that height ought to be. His suit had fortunately grown too, and now he +stood up in it--with one of his enormous stockings turned down to show +the gigantic bruise on his vast leg. Immense tears of fury still stood +on his flushed giant face. He looked so surprised, and he was so large +to be wearing a turned down collar outside of his jacket that the others +could not help laughing. + +"The Sammyadd's done us again," said Cyril. + +[Illustration: "The Sammyadd's done us again," said Cyril] + +"Not us--_me_," said Robert. "If you'd got any decent feeling you'd try +to make it make you the same size. You've no idea how silly it feels," +he added thoughtlessly. + +"And I don't want to; I can jolly well see how silly it looks," Cyril +was beginning; but Anthea said-- + +"Oh, _don't_! I don't know what's the matter with you boys to-day. Look +here, Squirrel, let's play fair. It is hateful for poor old Bobs, all +alone up there. Let's ask the Sammyadd for another wish, and, if it +will, I do really think we ought all to be made the same size." + +The others agreed, but not gaily; but when they found the Psammead, it +wouldn't. + +"Not I," it said crossly, rubbing its face with its feet. "He's a rude +violent boy, and it'll do him good to be the wrong size for a bit. What +did he want to come digging me out with his nasty wet hands for? He +nearly touched me! He's a perfect savage. A boy of the Stone Age would +have had more sense." + +Robert's hands had indeed been wet--with tears. + +"Go away and leave me in peace, do," the Psammead went on. "I can't +think why you don't wish for something sensible--something to eat or +drink, or good manners, or good tempers. Go along with you, do!" + +It almost snarled as it shook its whiskers, and turned a sulky brown +back on them. The most hopeful felt that further parley was vain. + +They turned again to the colossal Robert. + +"What ever shall we do?" they said; and they all said it. + +"First," said Robert grimly, "I'm going to reason with that baker's boy. +I shall catch him at the end of the road." + +"Don't hit a chap smaller than yourself, old man," said Cyril. + +"Do I look like hitting him?" said Robert scornfully. "Why, I should +_kill_ him. But I'll give him something to remember. Wait till I pull up +my stocking." He pulled up his stocking, which was as large as a small +bolster-case, and strode off. His strides were six or seven feet long, +so that it was quite easy for him to be at the bottom of the hill, ready +to meet the baker's boy when he came down swinging the empty basket to +meet his master's cart, which had been leaving bread at the cottages +along the road. + +Robert crouched behind a haystack in the farmyard, that is at the +corner, and when he heard the boy come whistling along he jumped out at +him and caught him by the collar. + +"Now," he said, and his voice was about four times its usual size, just +as his body was four times its, "I'm going to teach you to kick boys +smaller than you." + +He lifted up the baker's boy and set him on the top of the haystack, +which was about sixteen feet from the ground, and then he sat down on +the roof of the barn and told the baker's boy exactly what he thought of +him. I don't think the boy heard it all--he was in a sort of trance of +terror. When Robert had said everything he could think of, and some +things twice over, he shook the boy and said-- + +[Illustration: He lifted up the baker's boy and set him on top of the +haystack] + +"And now get down the best way you can," and left him. + +I don't know how the baker's boy got down, but I do know that he missed +the cart and got into the very hottest of hot water when he turned up at +last at the bakehouse. I am sorry for him, but after all, it was quite +right that he should be taught that boys mustn't use their feet when +they fight, but their fists. Of course the water he got into only became +hotter when he tried to tell his master about the boy he had licked +and the giant as high as a church, because no one could possibly believe +such a tale as that. Next day the tale was believed--but that was too +late to be of any use to the baker's boy. + +When Robert rejoined the others he found them in the garden. Anthea had +thoughtfully asked Martha to let them have dinner out there--because the +dining-room was rather small, and it would have been so awkward to have +a brother the size of Robert in there. The Lamb, who had slept +peacefully during the whole stormy morning, was now found to be +sneezing, and Martha said he had a cold and would be better indoors. + +"And really it's just as well," said Cyril, "for I don't believe he'd +ever have stopped screaming if he'd once seen you, the awful size you +are!" + +Robert was indeed what a draper would call an "out-size" in boys. He +found himself able to step right over the iron gate in the front +garden. + +Martha brought out the dinner--it was cold veal and baked potatoes, with +sago pudding and stewed plums to follow. + +She of course did not notice that Robert was anything but the usual +size, and she gave him as much meat and potatoes as usual and no more. +You have no idea how small your usual helping of dinner looks when you +are many times your proper size. Robert groaned, and asked for more +bread. But Martha would not go on giving more bread for ever. She was in +a hurry, because the keeper intended to call on his way to Benenhurst +Fair, and she wished to be smartly dressed before he came. + +"I wish _we_ were going to the Fair," said Robert. + +"You can't go anywhere that size," said Cyril. + +"Why not?" said Robert. "They have giants at fairs, much bigger ones +than me." + +"Not much, they don't," Cyril was beginning, when Jane screamed "Oh!" +with such loud suddenness that they all thumped her on the back and +asked whether she had swallowed a plum-stone. + +"No," she said, breathless from being thumped, "it's--it's not a +plum-stone. It's an idea. Let's take Robert to the Fair, and get them to +give us money for showing him! Then we really _shall_ get something out +of the old Sammyadd at last!" + +"Take me, indeed!" said Robert indignantly. "Much more likely me take +you!" + +And so it turned out. The idea appealed irresistibly to everyone but +Robert, and even he was brought round by Anthea's suggestion that he +should have a double share of any money they might make. There was a +little old pony-cart in the coach-house--the kind that is called a +governess-cart. It seemed desirable to get to the Fair as quickly as +possible, so Robert--who could now take enormous steps and so go very +fast indeed--consented to wheel the others in this. It was as easy to +him now as wheeling the Lamb in the mail-cart had been in the morning. +The Lamb's cold prevented his being of the party. + +It was a strange sensation being wheeled in a pony-carriage by a giant. +Everyone enjoyed the journey except Robert and the few people they +passed on the way. These mostly went into what looked like some kind of +standing-up fits by the roadside, as Anthea said. Just outside +Benenhurst, Robert hid in a barn, and the others went on to the Fair. + +[Illustration: It was a strange sensation being wheeled in a +pony-carriage by a giant] + +There were some swings, and a hooting-tooting blaring merry-go-round, +and a shooting-gallery and Aunt Sallies. Resisting an impulse to win a +cocoanut,--or at least to attempt the enterprise,--Cyril went up to the +woman who was loading little guns before the array of glass bottles on +strings against a sheet of canvas. + +"Here you are, little gentleman!" she said. "Penny a shot!" + +"No, thank you," said Cyril, "we are here on business, not on pleasure. +Who's the master?" + +"The what?" + +"The master--the head--the boss of the show." + +"Over there," she said, pointing to a stout man in a dirty linen jacket +who was sleeping in the sun; "but I don't advise you to wake him sudden. +His temper's contrairy, especially these hot days. Better have a shot +while you're waiting." + +"It's rather important," said Cyril. "It'll be very profitable to him. I +think he'll be sorry if we take it away." + +"Oh, if it's money in his pocket," said the woman. "No kid now? What is +it?" + +"It's a _giant_." + +"You _are_ kidding?" + +"Come along and see," said Anthea. + +The woman looked doubtfully at them, then she called to a ragged little +girl in striped stockings and a dingy white petticoat that came below +her brown frock, and leaving her in charge of the "shooting-gallery" she +turned to Anthea and said, "Well, hurry up! But if you _are_ kidding, +you'd best say so. I'm as mild as milk myself, but my Bill he's a fair +terror and"-- + +Anthea led the way to the barn. "It really _is_ a giant," she said. +"He's a giant little boy--in a suit like my brother's there. And we +didn't bring him up to the Fair because people do stare so, and they +seem to go into kind of standing-up fits when they see him. And we +thought perhaps you'd like to show him and get pennies; and if you like +to pay us something, you can--only, it'll have to be rather a lot, +because we promised him he should have a double share of whatever we +made." + +The woman murmured something indistinct, of which the children could +only hear the words, "Swelp me!" "balmy," and "crumpet," which conveyed +no definite idea to their minds. + +She had taken Anthea's hand, and was holding it very firmly; and Anthea +could not help wondering what would happen if Robert should have +wandered off or turned his proper size during the interval. But she knew +that the Psammead's gifts really did last till sunset, however +inconvenient their lasting might be; and she did not think, somehow, +that Robert would care to go out alone while he was that size. + +When they reached the barn and Cyril called "Robert!" there was a stir +among the loose hay, and Robert began to come out. His hand and arm came +first--then a foot and leg. When the woman saw the hand she said "My!" +but when she saw the foot she said "Upon my word!" and when, by slow and +heavy degrees, the whole of Robert's enormous bulk was at last +disclosed, she drew a long breath and began to say many things, compared +with which "balmy" and "crumpet" seemed quite ordinary. She dropped into +understandable English at last. + +"What'll you take for him?" she said excitedly. "Anything in reason. +We'd have a special van built--leastways, I know where there's a +second-hand one would do up handsome--what a baby elephant had, as died. +What'll you take? He's soft, ain't he? Them giants mostly is--but I +never see--no, never! What'll you take? Down on the nail. We'll treat +him like a king, and give him first-rate grub and a doss fit for a +bloomin' dook. He must be dotty or he wouldn't need you kids to cart him +about. What'll you take for him?" + +"They won't take anything," said Robert sternly. "I'm no more soft than +you are--not so much, I shouldn't wonder. I'll come and be a show for +to-day if you'll give me,"--he hesitated at the enormous price he was +about to ask,--"if you'll give me fifteen shillings." + +"Done," said the woman, so quickly that Robert felt he had been unfair +to himself, and wished he had asked thirty. "Come on now--and see my +Bill--and we'll fix a price for the season. I dessay you might get as +much as two pounds a week reg'lar. Come on--and make yourself as small +as you can for gracious' sake!" + +This was not very small, and a crowd gathered quickly, so that it was at +the head of an enthusiastic procession that Robert entered the trampled +meadow where the Fair was held, and passed over the stubby yellow dusty +grass to the door of the biggest tent. He crept in, and the woman went +to call her Bill. He was the big sleeping man, and he did not seem at +all pleased at being awakened. Cyril, watching through a slit in the +tent, saw him scowl and shake a heavy fist and a sleepy head. Then the +woman went on speaking very fast. Cyril heard "Strewth," and "biggest +draw you ever, so help me!" and he began to share Robert's feeling that +fifteen shillings was indeed far too little. Bill slouched up to the +tent and entered. When he beheld the magnificent proportions of Robert +he said but little,--"Strike me pink!" were the only words the children +could afterwards remember,--but he produced fifteen shillings, mainly in +sixpences and coppers, and handed it to Robert. + +"We'll fix up about what you're to draw when the show's over to-night," +he said with hoarse heartiness. "Lor' love a duck! you'll be that happy +with us you'll never want to leave us. Can you do a song now--or a bit +of a breakdown?" + +"Not to-day," said Robert, rejecting the idea of trying to sing "As once +in May," a favourite of his mother's, and the only song he could think +of at the moment. + +"Get Levi and clear them bloomin' photos out. Clear the tent. Stick out +a curtain or suthink," the man went on. "Lor', what a pity we ain't got +no tights his size! But we'll have 'em before the week's out. Young man, +your fortune's made. It's a good thing you came to me, and not to some +chaps as I could tell you on. I've known blokes as beat their giants, +and starved 'em too; so I'll tell you straight, you're in luck this day +if you never was afore. 'Cos I'm a lamb, I am--and I don't deceive you." + +"I'm not afraid of anyone beating me," said Robert, looking down on the +"lamb." Robert was crouched on his knees, because the tent was not big +enough for him to stand upright in, but even in that position he could +still look down on most people. "But I'm awfully hungry--I wish you'd +get me something to eat." + +"Here, 'Becca," said the hoarse Bill. "Get him some grub--the best +you've got, mind!" Another whisper followed, of which the children only +heard, "Down in black and white--first thing to-morrow." + +Then the woman went to get the food--it was only bread and cheese when +it came, but it was delightful to the large and empty Robert; and the +man went to post sentinels round the tent, to give the alarm if Robert +should attempt to escape with his fifteen shillings. + +"As if we weren't honest," said Anthea indignantly when the meaning of +the sentinels dawned on her. + +Then began a very strange and wonderful afternoon. + +Bill was a man who knew his business. In a very little while, the +photographic views, the spyglasses you look at them through so that they +really seem rather real, and the lights you see them by, were all packed +away. A curtain--it was an old red-and-black carpet really--was run +across the tent. Robert was concealed behind, and Bill was standing on a +trestle-table outside the tent making a speech. It was rather a good +speech. It began by saying that the giant it was his privilege to +introduce to the public that day was the eldest son of the Emperor of +San Francisco, compelled through an unfortunate love affair with the +Duchess of the Fiji Islands to leave his own country and take refuge in +England--the land of liberty--where freedom was the right of every man, +no matter how big he was. It ended by the announcement that the first +twenty who came to the tent door should see the giant for threepence +apiece. "After that," said Bill, "the price is riz, and I don't +undertake to say what it won't be riz to. So now's yer time." + +A young man with his sweetheart on her afternoon out was the first to +come forward. For this occasion his was the princely attitude--no +expense spared--money no object. His girl wished to see the giant? Well, +she should see the giant, even though seeing the giant cost threepence +each and the other entertainments were all penny ones. + +The flap of the tent was raised--the couple entered. Next moment a wild +shriek from the girl thrilled through all present. Bill slapped his leg. +"That's done the trick!" he whispered to 'Becca. It was indeed a +splendid advertisement of the charms of Robert. + +When the young girl came out she was pale and trembling, and a crowd was +round the tent. + +[Illustration: When the girl came out she was pale and trembling] + +"What was it like?" asked a farm-hand. + +"Oh!--horrid!--you wouldn't believe," she said. "It's as big as a barn, +and that fierce. It froze the blood in my bones. I wouldn't ha' missed +seeing it for anything." + +The fierceness was only caused by Robert's trying not to laugh. But the +desire to do that soon left him, and before sunset he was more inclined +to cry than laugh, and more inclined to sleep than either. For, by ones +and twos and threes, people kept coming in all the afternoon, and Robert +had to shake hands with those who wished it, and to allow himself to be +punched and pulled and patted and thumped, so that people might make +sure he was really real. + +The other children sat on a bench and watched and waited, and were very +bored indeed. It seemed to them that this was the hardest way of earning +money that could have been invented. And only fifteen shillings! Bill +had taken four times that already, for the news of the giant had spread, +and trades-people in carts, and gentlepeople in carriages, came from far +and near. One gentleman with an eyeglass, and a very large yellow rose +in his buttonhole, offered Robert, in an obliging whisper, ten pounds a +week to appear at the Crystal Palace. Robert had to say "No." + +"I can't," he said regretfully. "It's no use promising what you can't +do." + +"Ah, poor fellow, bound for a term of years, I suppose! Well, here's my +card; when your time's up come to me." + +[Illustration: "When your time's up come to me"] + +"I will--if I'm the same size then," said Robert truthfully. + +"If you grow a bit, so much the better," said the gentleman. + +When he had gone, Robert beckoned Cyril and said-- + +"Tell them I must and will have a rest. And I want my tea." + +Tea was provided, and a paper hastily pinned on the tent. It said-- + + CLOSED FOR HALF AN HOUR + WHILE THE GIANT GETS HIS TEA + +Then there was a hurried council. + +"How am I to get away?" said Robert. + +"I've been thinking about it all the afternoon." + +"Why, walk out when the sun sets and you're your right size. They can't +do anything to us." + +Robert opened his eyes. "Why, they'd nearly kill us," he said, "when +they saw me get my right size. No, we must think of some other way. We +_must_ be alone when the sun sets." + +"I know," said Cyril briskly, and he went to the door, outside which +Bill was smoking a clay pipe and talking in a low voice to 'Becca. +Cyril heard him say--"Good as havin' a fortune left you." + +"Look here," said Cyril, "you can let people come in again in a minute. +He's nearly finished tea. But he _must_ be left alone when the sun sets. +He's very queer at that time of day, and if he's worried I won't answer +for the consequences." + +"Why--what comes over him?" asked Bill. + +"I don't know; it's--it's sort of a _change_," said Cyril candidly. "He +isn't at all like himself--you'd hardly know him. He's very queer +indeed. Someone'll get hurt if he's not alone about sunset." This was +true. + +"He'll pull round for the evening, I s'pose?" + +"Oh yes--half an hour after sunset he'll be quite himself again." + +"Best humour him," said the woman. + +And so, at what Cyril judged was about half an hour before sunset, the +tent was again closed "whilst the giant gets his supper." + +The crowd was very merry about the giant's meals and their coming so +close together. + +"Well, he can pick a bit," Bill owned. "You see he has to eat hearty, +being the size he is." + +Inside the tent the four children breathlessly arranged a plan of +retreat. + +"You go _now_," said Cyril to the girls, "and get along home as fast as +you can. Oh, never mind the pony-cart; we'll get that to-morrow. Robert +and I are dressed the same. We'll manage somehow, like Sydney Carton +did. Only, you girls _must_ get out, or it's all no go. We can run, but +you can't--whatever you may think. No, Jane, it's no good Robert going +out and knocking people down. The police would follow him till he turned +his proper size, and then arrest him like a shot. Go you must! If you +don't, I'll never speak to you again. It was you got us into this mess +really, hanging round people's legs the way you did this morning. _Go_, +I tell you!" + +And Jane and Anthea went. + +"We're going home," they said to Bill. "We're leaving the giant with +you. Be kind to him." And that, as Anthea said afterwards, was very +deceitful, but what were they to do? + +When they had gone, Cyril went to Bill. + +"Look here," he said, "he wants some ears of corn--there's some in the +next field but one. I'll just run and get it. Oh, and he says can't you +loop up the tent at the back a bit? He says he's stifling for a breath +of air. I'll see no one peeps in at him. I'll cover him up, and he can +take a nap while I go for the corn. He _will_ have it--there's no +holding him when he gets like this." + +The giant was made comfortable with a heap of sacks and an old +tarpaulin. The curtain was looped up, and the brothers were left alone. +They matured their plan in whispers. Outside, the merry-go-round blared +out its comic tunes, screaming now and then to attract public notice. + +Half a minute after the sun had set, a boy came out past Bill. + +"I'm off for the corn," he said, and mingled quickly with the crowd. + +At the same instant a boy came out of the back of the tent past 'Becca, +posted there as sentinel. + +"I'm off after the corn," said this boy also. And he, too, moved away +quietly and was lost in the crowd. The front-door boy was Cyril; the +back-door was Robert--now, since sunset, once more his proper size. They +walked quickly through the field, along the road, where Robert caught +Cyril up. Then they ran. They were home as soon as the girls were, for +it was a long way, and they ran most of it. It was indeed a _very_ long +way, as they found when they had to go and drag the pony-cart home next +morning, with no enormous Robert to wheel them in it as if it were a +mail-cart, and they were babies and he was their gigantic nursemaid. + + * * * * * + +I cannot possibly tell you what Bill and 'Becca said when they found +that the giant had gone. For one thing, I do not know. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +GROWN UP + + +Cyril had once pointed out that ordinary life is full of occasions on +which a wish would be most useful. And this thought filled his mind when +he happened to wake early on the morning after the morning after Robert +had wished to be bigger than the baker's boy, and had been it. The day +that lay between these two days had been occupied entirely by getting +the governess-cart home from Benenhurst. + +Cyril dressed hastily; he did not take a bath, because tin baths are so +noisy, and he had no wish to rouse Robert, and he slipped off alone, as +Anthea had once done, and ran through the dewy morning to the sand-pit. +He dug up the Psammead very carefully and kindly, and began the +conversation by asking it whether it still felt any ill effects from +the contact with the tears of Robert the day before yesterday. The +Psammead was in good temper. It replied politely. + +"And now, what can I do for you?" it said. "I suppose you've come here +so early to ask for something for yourself--something your brothers and +sisters aren't to know about, eh? Now, do be persuaded for your own +good! Ask for a good fat Megatherium and have done with it." + +"Thank you--not to-day, I think," said Cyril cautiously. "What I really +wanted to say was--you know how you're always wishing for things when +you're playing at anything?" + +"I seldom play," said the Psammead coldly. + +"Well, you know what I mean," Cyril went on impatiently. "What I want to +say is: won't you let us have our wish just when we think of it, and +just where we happen to be? So that we don't have to come and disturb +you again," added the crafty Cyril. + +"It'll only end in your wishing for something you don't really want, as +you did about the castle," said the Psammead, stretching its brown arms +and yawning. "It's always the same since people left off eating really +wholesome things. However, have it your own way. Good-bye." + +"Good-bye," said Cyril politely. + +"I'll tell you what," said the Psammead suddenly, shooting out its long +snail's eyes,--"I'm getting tired of you--all of you. You have no more +sense than so many oysters. Go along with you!" + +And Cyril went. + +"What an awful long time babies _stay_ babies," said Cyril after the +Lamb had taken his watch out of his pocket while he wasn't noticing, and +with coos and clucks of naughty rapture had opened the case and used the +whole thing as a garden spade, and when even immersion in a wash basin +had failed to wash the mould from the works and make the watch go again. +Cyril had said several things in the heat of the moment; but now he was +calmer, and had even consented to carry the Lamb part of the way to +the woods. Cyril had persuaded the others to agree to his plan, and not +to wish for anything more till they really did wish it. Meantime it +seemed good to go to the woods for nuts, and on the mossy grass under a +sweet chestnut tree the five were sitting. The Lamb was pulling up the +moss by fat handfuls, and Cyril was gloomily contemplating the ruins of +his watch. + +[Illustration: He opened the case and used the whole thing as a garden +spade] + +"He does grow," said Anthea. "Doesn't 'oo, precious?" + +"Me grow," said the Lamb cheerfully--"me grow big boy, have guns' an' +mouses--an'--an'"---- Imagination or vocabulary gave out here. But +anyway it was the longest speech the Lamb had ever made, and it charmed +everyone, even Cyril, who tumbled the Lamb over and rolled him in the +moss to the music of delighted squeals. + +"I suppose he'll be grown up some day," Anthea was saying, dreamily +looking up at the blue of the sky that showed between the long straight +chestnut-leaves. But at that moment the Lamb, struggling gaily with +Cyril, thrust a stout-shod little foot against his brother's chest; +there was a crack!--the innocent Lamb had broken the glass of father's +second-best Waterbury watch, which Cyril had borrowed without leave. + +"Grow up some day!" said Cyril bitterly, plumping the Lamb down on the +grass. "I daresay he will--when nobody wants him to. I wish to goodness +he would"-- + +"_Oh_, take care!" cried Anthea in an agony of apprehension. But it was +too late--like music to a song her words and Cyril's came out together-- + +Anthea--"Oh, take care!" + +Cyril--"Grow up now!" + +The faithful Psammead was true to its promise, and there, before the +horrified eyes of its brothers and sisters, the Lamb suddenly and +violently grew up. It was the most terrible moment. The change was not +so sudden as the wish-changes usually were. The Baby's face changed +first. It grew thinner and larger, lines came in the forehead, the eyes +grew more deep-set and darker in colour, the mouth grew longer and +thinner; most terrible of all, a little dark mustache appeared on the +lip of one who was still--except as to the face--a two-year-old baby in +a linen smock and white open-work socks. + +"Oh, I wish it wouldn't! Oh, I wish it wouldn't! You boys might wish as +well!" + +They all wished hard, for the sight was enough to dismay the most +heartless. They all wished so hard, indeed, that they felt quite giddy +and almost lost consciousness; but the wishing was quite vain, for, when +the wood ceased to whirl round, their dazed eyes were riveted at once by +the spectacle of a very proper-looking young man in flannels and a straw +hat--a young man who wore the same little black mustache which just +before they had actually seen growing upon the Baby's lip. This, then, +was the Lamb--grown up! Their own Lamb! It was a terrible moment. The +grown-up Lamb moved gracefully across the moss and settled himself +against the trunk of the sweet chestnut. He tilted the straw hat over +his eyes. He was evidently weary. He was going to sleep. The Lamb--the +original little tiresome beloved Lamb often went to sleep at odd times +and in unexpected places. Was this new Lamb in the grey flannel suit and +the pale green necktie like the other Lamb? or had his mind grown up +together with his body? + +That was the question which the others, in a hurried council held among +the yellowing brake-fern a few yards from the sleeper, debated eagerly. + +"Whichever it is, it'll be just as awful," said Anthea. "If his inside +senses are grown up too, he won't stand our looking after him; and if +he's still a baby inside of him how on earth are we to get him to do +anything? And it'll be getting on for dinner-time in a minute." + +"And we haven't got any nuts," said Jane. + +"Oh bother nuts!" said Robert, "but dinner's different--I didn't have +half enough dinner yesterday. Couldn't we tie him to the tree and go +home to our dinner and come back afterwards?" + +"A fat lot of dinner we should get if we went back without the Lamb!" +said Cyril in scornful misery. "And it'll be just the same if we go back +with him in the state he is now. Yes, I know it's my doing; don't rub it +in! I know I'm a beast, and not fit to live; you can take that for +settled, and say no more about it. The question is, what are we going to +do?" + +"Let's wake him up, and take him into Rochester or Maidstone and get +something to eat at a baker's shop," said Robert hopefully. + +"Take him?" repeated Cyril. "Yes--do! It's all my fault--I don't deny +that--but you'll find you've got your work cut out for you if you try to +take that young man anywhere. The Lamb always was spoilt, but now he's +grown up he's a demon--simply. I can see it. Look at his mouth." + +"Well then," said Robert, "let's wake him up and see what _he'll_ do. +Perhaps _he'll_ take _us_ to Maidstone and stand treat. He ought to have +a lot of money in the pockets of those extra-special pants. We _must_ +have dinner, anyway." + +They drew lots with little bits of brake fern. It fell to Jane's lot to +waken the grown-up Lamb. + +She did it gently by tickling his nose with a twig of honeysuckle. He +said "Bother the flies!" twice, and then opened his eyes. + +[Illustration: She did it gently by tickling his nose with a twig of +honeysuckle] + +"Hullo, kiddies!" he said in a languid tone, "still here? What's the +giddy hour? You'll be late for your grub!" + +"I know we shall," said Robert bitterly. + +"Then cut along home," said the grown-up Lamb. + +"What about your grub, though?" asked Jane. + +"Oh, how far is it to the station, do you think? I've a sort of a notion +that I'll run up to town and have some lunch at the club." + +Blank misery fell like a pall on the four others. The +Lamb--alone--unattended--would go to town and have lunch at a club! +Perhaps he would also have tea there. Perhaps sunset would come upon him +amid the dazzling luxury of club-land, and a helpless cross sleepy +baby would find itself alone amid unsympathetic waiters, and would wail +miserably for "Panty" from the depths of a club arm-chair! The picture +moved Anthea almost to tears. + +"Oh no, Lamb ducky, you mustn't do that!" she cried incautiously. + +The grown-up Lamb frowned. "My dear Anthea," he said, "how often am I to +tell you that my name is Hilary or St. Maur or Devereux?--any of my +baptismal names are free to my little brothers and sisters, but _not_ +'Lamb'--a relic of foolishness and far-off childhood." + +This was awful. He was their elder brother now, was he? Well of course +he was, if he was grown-up--since they weren't. Thus, in whispers, +Anthea and Robert. + +But the almost daily adventures resulting from the Psammead's wishes +were making the children wise beyond their years. + +"Dear Hilary," said Anthea, and the others choked at the name, "you know +father didn't wish you to go to London. He wouldn't like us to be left +alone without you to take care of us. Oh, deceitful thing that I am!" +she added to herself. + +"Look here," said Cyril, "if you're our elder brother, why not behave as +sich and take us over to Maidstone and give us a jolly good blow-out, +and we'll go on the river afterwards?" + +"I'm infinitely obliged to you," said the Lamb courteously, "but I +should prefer solitude. Go home to your lunch--I mean your dinner. +Perhaps I may look in about tea-time--or I may not be home till after +you are in your beds." + +Their beds! Speaking glances flashed between the wretched four. Much bed +there would be for them if they went home without the Lamb. + +"We promised mother not to lose sight of you if we took you out," Jane +said before the others could stop her. + +"Look here, Jane," said the grown-up Lamb, putting his hands in his +pockets and looking down at her, "little girls should be seen and not +heard. You kids must learn not to make yourselves a nuisance. Run along +home now--and perhaps, if you're good, I'll give you each a penny +to-morrow." + +"Look here," said Cyril, in the best "man to man" tone at his command, +"where are you going, old man? You might let Bobs and me come with +you--even if you don't want the girls." + +This was really rather noble of Cyril, for he never did care much about +being seen in public with the Lamb, who of course after sunset would be +a baby again. + +The "man to man" tone succeeded. + +"I shall run over to Maidstone on my bike," said the new Lamb airily, +fingering the little black mustache. "I can lunch at The Crown--and +perhaps I'll have a pull on the river; but I can't take you all on the +machine--now, can I? Run along home, like good children." + +The position was desperate. Robert exchanged a despairing look with +Cyril. Anthea detached a pin from her waistband, a pin whose withdrawal +left a gaping chasm between skirt and bodice, and handed it furtively to +Robert--with a grimace of the darkest and deepest meaning. Robert +slipped away to the road. There, sure enough, stood a bicycle--a +beautiful new one. Of course Robert understood at once that if the Lamb +was grown up he _must_ have a bicycle. + +[Illustration: There, sure enough, stood a bicycle] + +This had always been one of Robert's own reasons for wishing to be +grown-up. He hastily began to use the pin--eleven punctures in the back +tyre, seven in the front. He would have made the total twenty-two but +for the rustling of the yellow hazel-leaves, which warned him of the +approach of the others. He hastily leaned a hand on each wheel, and was +rewarded by the "whish" of the what was left of air escaping from +eighteen neat pin-holes. + +"Your bike's run down," said Robert, wondering how he could so soon have +learned to deceive. + +"So it is," said Cyril. + +"It's a puncture," said Anthea, stooping down, and standing up again +with a thorn which she had got ready for the purpose. + +"Look here." + +The grown-up Lamb (or Hilary, as I suppose one must now call him) fixed +his pump and blew up the tyre. The punctured state of it was soon +evident. + +[Illustration: The punctured state of it was soon evident] + +"I suppose there's a cottage somewhere near--where one could get a pail +of water?" said the Lamb. + +There was; and when the number of punctures had been made manifest, it +was felt to be a special blessing that the cottage provided "teas for +cyclists." It provided an odd sort of tea-and-hammy meal for the Lamb +and his brothers. This was paid for out of the fifteen shillings which +had been earned by Robert when he was a giant--for the Lamb, it +appeared, had unfortunately no money about him. This was a great +disappointment for the others; but it is a thing that will happen, even +to the most grown-up of us. However, Robert had enough to eat, and that +was something. Quietly but persistently the miserable four took it in +turns to try and persuade the Lamb (or St. Maur) to spend the rest of +the day in the woods. There was not very much of the day left by the +time he had mended the eighteenth puncture. He looked up from the +completed work with a sigh of relief, and suddenly put his tie straight. + +"There's a lady coming," he said briskly,--"for goodness' sake, get out +of the way. Go home--hide--vanish somehow! I can't be seen with a pack +of dirty kids." His brothers and sisters were indeed rather dirty, +because, earlier in the day, the Lamb, in his infant state, had +sprinkled a good deal of garden soil over them. The grown-up Lamb's +voice was so tyrant-like, as Jane said afterwards, that they actually +retreated to the back garden, and left him with his little mustache and +his flannel suit to meet alone the young lady, who now came up the front +garden wheeling a bicycle. + +The woman of the house came out, and the young lady spoke to her,--the +Lamb raised his hat as she passed him,--and the children could not hear +what she said, though they were craning round the corner and listening +with all their ears. They felt it to be "perfectly fair," as Robert +said, "with that wretched Lamb in that condition." + +When the Lamb spoke, in a languid voice heavy with politeness, they +heard well enough. + +"A puncture?" he was saying. "Can I not be of any assistance? If you +could allow me----?" + +There was a stifled explosion of laughter and the grown-up Lamb +(otherwise Devereux) turned the tail of an angry eye in its direction. + +"You're very kind," said the lady, looking at the Lamb. She looked +rather shy, but, as the boys put it, there didn't seem to be any +nonsense about her. + +"But oh," whispered Cyril, "I should have thought he'd had enough +bicycle-mending for one day--and if she only knew that really and truly +he's only a whiny-piny, silly little baby!" + +"He's _not_," Anthea murmured angrily. "He's a dear--if people only let +him alone. It's our own precious Lamb still, whatever silly idiots may +turn him into--isn't he, Pussy?" + +Jane doubtfully supposed so. + +Now, the Lamb--whom I must try to remember to call St. Maur--was +examining the lady's bicycle and talking to her with a very grown-up +manner indeed. No one could possibly have supposed, to see and hear him, +that only that very morning he had been a chubby child of two years +breaking other people's Waterbury watches. Devereux (as he ought to be +called for the future) took out a gold watch when he had mended the +lady's bicycle, and all the hidden onlookers said "Oh!"--because it +seemed so unfair that the Baby, who had only that morning destroyed two +cheap but honest watches, should now, in the grown-upness to which +Cyril's folly had raised him, have a real gold watch--with a chain and +seals! + +Hilary (as I will now term him) withered his brothers and sisters with a +glance, and then said to the lady--with whom he seemed to be quite +friendly-- + +"If you will allow me, I will ride with you as far as the Cross Roads; +it is getting late, and there are tramps about." + +No one will ever know what answer the young lady intended to give to +this gallant offer, for, directly Anthea heard it made, she rushed out, +knocking against a swill pail, which overflowed in a turbid stream, and +caught the Lamb (I suppose I ought to say Hilary) by the arm. The others +followed, and in an instant the four dirty children were visible beyond +disguise. + +"Don't let him," said Anthea to the lady, and she spoke with intense +earnestness; "he's not fit to go with anyone!" + +"Go away, little girl!" said St. Maur (as we will now call him) in a +terrible voice. + +"Go home at once!" + +"You'd much better not have anything to do with him," the now reckless +Anthea went on. "He doesn't know who he is. He's something very +different from what you think he is." + +"What do you mean?" asked the lady, not unnaturally, while Devereux (as +I must term the grown-up Lamb) tried vainly to push Anthea away. The +others backed her up, and she stood solid as a rock. + +"You just let him go with you," said Anthea, "you'll soon see what I +mean! How would you like to suddenly see a poor little helpless baby +spinning along downhill beside you with its feet up on a bicycle it had +lost control of?" + +The lady had turned rather pale. + +"Who are these very dirty children?" she asked the grown-up Lamb +(sometimes called St. Maur in these pages). + +"I don't know," he lied miserably. + +"Oh, Lamb! how _can_ you?" cried Jane,--"when you know perfectly well +you're our own little baby brother that we're so fond of. We're his big +brothers and sisters," she explained, turning to the lady, who with +trembling hands was now turning her bicycle towards the gate, "and we've +got to take care of him. And we must get him home before sunset, or I +don't know whatever will become of us. You see, he's sort of under a +spell--enchanted--you know what I mean!" + +Again and again the Lamb (Devereux, I mean) had tried to stop Jane's +eloquence, but Robert and Cyril held him, one by each leg, and no proper +explanation was possible. The lady rode hastily away, and electrified +her relatives at dinner by telling them of her escape from a family of +dangerous lunatics. "The little girl's eyes were simply those of a +maniac. I can't think how she came to be at large," she said. + +When her bicycle had whizzed away down the road, Cyril spoke gravely. + +"Hilary, old chap," he said, "you must have had a sunstroke or +something. And the things you've been saying to that lady! Why, if we +were to tell you the things you've said when you are yourself again, +say to-morrow morning, you wouldn't ever understand them--let alone +believe them! You trust to me, old chap, and come home now, and if +you're not yourself in the morning we'll ask the milkman to ask the +doctor to come." + +The poor grown-up Lamb (St. Maur was really one of his Christian names) +seemed now too bewildered to resist. + +"Since you seem all to be as mad as the whole worshipful company of +hatters," he said bitterly, "I suppose I _had_ better take you home. But +you're not to suppose I shall pass this over. I shall have something to +say to you all to-morrow morning." + +"Yes, you will, my Lamb," said Anthea under her breath, "but it won't be +at all the sort of thing you think it's going to be." + +In her heart she could hear the pretty, soft little loving voice of the +baby Lamb--so different from the affected tones of the dreadful grown-up +Lamb (one of whose names was Devereux)--saying, "Me love Panty--wants to +come to own Panty." + +"Oh, let's go home, for goodness' sake," she said. "You shall say +whatever you like in the morning--if you can," she added in a whisper. + +It was a gloomy party that went home through the soft evening. During +Anthea's remarks Robert had again made play with the pin and the bicycle +tyre, and the Lamb (whom they had to call St. Maur or Devereux or +Hilary) seemed really at last to have had his fill of bicycle-mending. +So the machine was wheeled. + +The sun was just on the point of setting when they arrived at the White +House. The four elder children would have liked to linger in the lane +till the complete sunsetting turned the grown-up Lamb (whose Christian +names I will not further weary you by repeating) into their own dear +tiresome baby brother. But he, in his grown-upness, insisted on going +on, and thus he was met in the front garden by Martha. + +Now you remember that, as a special favour, the Psammead had arranged +that the servants in the house should never notice any change brought +about by the wishes of the children. Therefore Martha merely saw the +usual party, with the baby Lamb, about whom she had been desperately +anxious all the afternoon, trotting beside Anthea, on fat baby legs, +while the children, of course, still saw the grown-up Lamb (never mind +what names he was christened by), and Martha rushed at him and caught +him in her arms, exclaiming-- + +"Come to his own Martha, then--a precious poppet!" + +The grown-up Lamb (whose names shall now be buried in oblivion) +struggled furiously. An expression of intense horror and annoyance was +seen on his face. But Martha was stronger than he. She lifted him up and +carried him into the house. None of the children will ever forget that +picture. The neat grey-flannel-suited grown-up young man with the green +necktie and the little black mustache--fortunately, he was slightly +built, and not tall--struggling in the sturdy arms of Martha, who +bore him away helpless, imploring him, as she went, to be a good boy +now, and come and have his nice bremmink! Fortunately, the sun set as +they reached the doorstep, the bicycle disappeared, and Martha was seen +to carry into the house the real live darling sleepy two-year-old Lamb. +The grown-up Lamb (nameless henceforth) was gone for ever. + +[Illustration: The grown-up Lamb struggled] + +"For ever," said Cyril, "because, as soon as ever the Lamb's old enough +to be bullied, we must jolly well begin to bully him, for his own +sake--so that he mayn't grow up like _that_." + +"You shan't bully him," said Anthea stoutly,--"not if I can stop it." + +"We must tame him by kindness," said Jane. + +"You see," said Robert, "if he grows up in the usual way, there'll be +plenty of time to correct him as he goes along. The awful thing to-day +was his growing up so suddenly. There was no time to improve him at +all." + +"He doesn't want any improving," said Anthea as the voice of the Lamb +came cooing through the open door, just as she had heard it in her heart +that afternoon-- + +"Me loves Panty--wants to come to own Panty!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +SCALPS + + +Probably the day would have been a greater success if Cyril had not been +reading _The Last of the Mohicans_. The story was running in his head at +breakfast, and as he took his third cup of tea he said dreamily, "I wish +there were Red Indians in England--not big ones, you know, but little +ones, just about the right size for us to fight." + +Everyone disagreed with him at the time and no one attached any +importance to the incident. But when they went down to the sand-pit to +ask for a hundred pounds in two-shilling pieces with Queen Victoria's +head on, to prevent mistakes--which they had always felt to be a really +reasonable wish that must turn out well--they found out that they had +done it again! For the Psammead, which was very cross and sleepy, +said-- + +"Oh, don't bother me. You've had your wish." + +"I didn't know it," said Cyril. + +"Don't you remember yesterday?" said the Sand-fairy, still more +disagreeably. "You asked me to let you have your wishes wherever you +happened to be, and you wished this morning, and you've got it." + +"Oh, have we?" said Robert. "What is it?" + +"So you've forgotten?" said the Psammead, beginning to burrow. "Never +mind; you'll know soon enough. And I wish you joy of it! A nice thing +you've let yourselves in for!" + +"We always do somehow," said Jane sadly. + +And now the odd thing was that no one could remember anyone's having +wished for anything that morning. The wish about the Red Indians had not +stuck in anyone's head. It was a most anxious morning. Everyone was +trying to remember what had been wished for, and no one could, and +everyone kept expecting something awful to happen every minute. It was +most agitating; they knew from what the Psammead had said, that they +must have wished for something more than usually undesirable, and they +spent several hours in most agonizing uncertainty. It was not till +nearly dinner-time that Jane tumbled over _The Last of the +Mohicans_,--which had of course, been left face downwards on the +floor,--and when Anthea had picked her and the book up she suddenly +said, "I know!" and sat down flat on the carpet. + +"Oh, Pussy, how awful! It was Indians he wished for--Cyril--at +breakfast, don't you remember? He said, 'I wish there were Red Indians +in England,'--and now there are, and they're going about scalping people +all over the country, as likely as not." + +"Perhaps they're only in Northumberland and Durham," said Jane +soothingly. It was almost impossible to believe that it could really +hurt people much to be scalped so far away as that. + +"Don't you believe it!" said Anthea. "The Sammyadd said we'd let +ourselves in for a nice thing. That means they'll come _here_. And +suppose they scalped the Lamb!" + +"Perhaps the scalping would come right again at sunset," said Jane; but +she did not speak so hopefully as usual. + +"Not it!" said Anthea. "The things that grow out of the wishes don't go. +Look at the fifteen shillings! Pussy, I'm going to break something, and +you must let me have every penny of money you've got. The Indians will +come _here_, don't you see? That Spiteful Psammead as good as said so. +You see what my plan is? Come on!" + +Jane did not see at all. But she followed her sister meekly into +mother's bedroom. + +Anthea lifted down the heavy water-jug--it had a pattern of storks and +long grasses on it, which Anthea never forgot. She carried it into the +dressing-room, and carefully emptied the water out of it into the bath. +Then she took the jug back into the bedroom and dropped it on the floor. +You know how a jug always breaks if you happen to drop it by accident. +If you happen to drop it on purpose, it is quite different. Anthea +dropped that jug three times, and it was as unbroken as ever. So at last +she had to take her father's boot-tree and break the jug with that in +cold blood. It was heartless work. + +Next she broke open the missionary-box with the poker. Jane told her +that it was wrong, of course, but Anthea shut her lips very tight and +then said-- + +[Illustration: She broke open the missionary-box with the poker.] + +"Don't be silly--it's a matter of life and death." + +There was not very much in the missionary-box,--only +seven-and-fourpence,--but the girls between them had nearly four +shillings. This made over eleven shillings, as you will easily see. + +Anthea tied up the money in a corner of her pocket-handkerchief. "Come +on, Jane!" she said, and ran down to the farm. She knew that the farmer +was going into Rochester that afternoon. In fact it had been arranged +that he was to take the four children with him. They had planned this in +the happy hour when they believed that they we're going to get that +hundred pounds, in two-shilling pieces, out of the Psammead. They had +arranged to pay the farmer two shillings each for the ride. Now Anthea +hastily explained to him that they could not go, but would he take +Martha and the Baby instead? He agreed, but he was not pleased to get +only half-a-crown instead of eight shillings. + +Then the girls ran home again. Anthea was agitated, but not flurried. +When she came to think it over afterwards, she could not help seeing +that she had acted with the most far-seeing promptitude, just like a +born general. She fetched a little box from her corner drawer, and went +to find Martha, who was laying the cloth and not in the best of tempers. + +"Look here," said Anthea. "I've broken the water jug in mother's room." + +"Just like you--always up to some mischief," said Martha, dumping down a +salt-cellar with a bang. + +"Don't be cross, Martha dear," said Anthea. "I've got enough money to +pay for a new one--if only you'll be a dear and go and buy it for us. +Your cousins keep a china-shop, don't they? And I would like you to get +it to-day, in case mother comes home to-morrow. You know she said she +might perhaps." + +"But you're all going into town yourselves," said Martha. + +"We can't afford to, if we get the new jug," said Anthea; "but we'll pay +for you to go, if you'll take the Lamb. And I say, Martha, look +here--I'll give you my Liberty box, if you'll go. Look, it's most +awfully pretty--all inlaid with real silver and ivory and ebony, like +King Solomon's temple." + +"I see," said Martha,--"no, I don't want your box, miss. What you want +is to get the precious Lamb off your hands for the afternoon. Don't you +go for to think I don't see through you!" + +This was so true that Anthea longed to deny it at once. Martha had no +business to know so much. But she held her tongue. + +Martha set down the bread with a bang that made it jump off its +trencher. + +"I _do_ want the jug got," said Anthea softly. "You _will_ go, won't +you?" + +"Well, just for this once, I don't mind; but mind you don't get into +none of your outrageous mischief while I'm gone--that's all!" + +"He's going earlier than he thought," said Anthea eagerly. "You'd better +hurry and get dressed. Do put on that lovely purple frock, Martha, and +the hat with the pink cornflowers, and the yellow-lace collar. Jane'll +finish laying the cloth, and I'll wash the Lamb and get him ready." + +As she washed the unwilling Lamb and hurried him into his best clothes, +Anthea peeped out of the window from time to time; so far all was +well--she could see no Red Indians. When with a rush and a scurry and +some deepening of the damask of Martha's complexion she and the Lamb had +been got off, Anthea drew a deep breath. + +"_He's_ safe!" she said, and, to Jane's horror, flung herself down on +the floor and burst into floods of tears. Jane did not understand at all +how a person could be so brave and like a general, and then suddenly +give way and go flat like an air-balloon when you prick it. It is better +not to go flat, of course, but you will observe that Anthea did not give +way till her aim was accomplished. She had got the dear Lamb out of +danger--she felt certain that the Red Indians would be round the White +House or nowhere--the farmer's cart would not come back till after +sunset, so she could afford to cry a little. It was partly with joy that +she cried, because she had done what she meant to do. She cried for +about three minutes, while Jane hugged her miserably and said at +five-second intervals, "Don't cry, Panther dear!" + +Then she jumped up, rubbed her eyes hard with the corner of her +pinafore, so that they kept red for the rest of the day, and started to +tell the boys. But just at that moment cook rang the dinner-bell, and +nothing could be said till they had been helped to minced beef. Then +cook left the room, and Anthea told her tale. But it is a mistake to +tell a thrilling tale when people are eating minced beef and boiled +potatoes. There seemed somehow to be something about the food that made +the idea of Red Indians seem flat and unbelievable. The boys actually +laughed, and called Anthea a little silly. + +"Why," said Cyril, "I'm almost sure it was before I said that, that Jane +said she wished it would be a fine day." + +"It wasn't," said Jane briefly. + +"Why, if it was Indians," Cyril went on,--"salt, please, and mustard--I +must have something to make this mush go down,--if it was Indians, +they'd have been infesting the place long before this--you know they +would. I believe it's the fine day." + +"Then why did the Sammyadd say we'd let ourselves in for a nice thing?" +asked Anthea. She was feeling very cross. She knew she had acted with +nobility and discretion, and after that it was very hard to be called a +little silly, especially when she had the weight of a burglared +missionary-box and about seven-and-fourpence, mostly in coppers, lying +like lead upon her conscience. + +There was a silence, during which cook took away the mincy plates and +brought in the pudding. As soon as she had retired, Cyril began again. + +"Of course I don't mean to say," he admitted, "that it wasn't a good +thing to get Martha and the Lamb out of the way for the afternoon; but +as for Red Indians--why, you know jolly well the wishes always come that +very minute. If there was going to be Red Indians, they'd be here now." + +"I expect they are," said Anthea; "they're lurking amid the undergrowth, +for anything you know. I do think you're most unkind." + +"Indians almost always _do_ lurk, really, though, don't they?" put in +Jane, anxious for peace. + +"No, they don't," said Cyril tartly. "And I'm not unkind, I'm only +truthful. And I say it was utter rot breaking the water-jug; and as for +the missionary-box, I believe it's a treason-crime, and I shouldn't +wonder if you could be hanged for it, if any of us was to split"-- + +"Shut up, can't you?" said Robert; but Cyril couldn't. You see, he felt +in his heart that if there _should_ be Indians they would be entirely +his own fault, so he did not wish to believe in them. And trying not to +believe things when in your heart you are almost sure they are true, is +as bad for the temper as anything I know. + +"It's simply idiotic," he said, "talking about Indians, when you can see +for yourself that it's Jane who's got her wish. Look what a fine day it +is----_OH!_--" + +He had turned towards the window to point out the fineness of the +day--the others turned too--and a frozen silence caught at Cyril, and +none of the others felt at all like breaking it. For there, peering +round the corner of the window, among the red leaves of the Virginia +creeper, was a face--a brown face, with a long nose and a tight mouth +and very bright eyes. And the face was painted in coloured patches. It +had long black hair, and in the hair were feathers! + +Every child's mouth in the room opened, and stayed open. The pudding was +growing white and cold on their plates. No one could move. + +Suddenly the feathered head was cautiously withdrawn, and the spell was +broken. I am sorry to say that Anthea's first words were very like a +girl. + +"There, now!" she said. "I told you so!" + +The pudding had now definitely ceased to charm. Hastily wrapping their +portions in a _Spectator_ of the week before the week before last, they +hid them behind the crinkled paper stove-ornament, and fled upstairs to +reconnoitre and to hold a hurried council. + +"Pax," said Cyril handsomely when they reached their mother's bedroom. +"Panther, I'm sorry if I was a brute." + +"All right," said Anthea; "but you see now!" + +No further trace of Indians, however, could be discerned from the +windows. + +"Well," said Robert, "what are we to do?" + +"The only thing I can think of," said Anthea, who was now generally +admitted to be the heroine of the day, "is--if we dressed up as like +Indians as we can, and looked out of the windows, or even went out. They +might think we were the powerful leaders of a large neighbouring tribe, +and--and not do anything to us, you know, for fear of awful vengeance." + +"But Eliza, and the cook?" said Jane. + +"You forget--they can't notice anything," said Robert. "They wouldn't +notice anything out of the way, even if they were scalped or roasted at +a slow fire." + +"But would they come right at sunset?" + +"Of course. You can't be really scalped or burned to death without +noticing it, and you'd be sure to notice it next day, even if it escaped +your attention at the time," said Cyril. "I think Anthea's right, but we +shall want a most awful lot of feathers." + +"I'll go down to the hen-house," said Robert. "There's one of the +turkeys in there--it's not very well. I could cut its feathers without +it minding much. It's very bad--doesn't seem to care what happens to it. +Get me the cutting-out scissors." + +Earnest reconnoitring convinced them all that no Indians were in the +poultry-yard. Robert went. In five minutes he came back--pale, but with +many feathers. + +"Look here," he said, "this is jolly serious. I cut off the feathers, +and when I turned to come out there was an Indian squinting at me from +under the old hen-coop. I just brandished the feathers and yelled, and +got away before he could get the coop off top of himself. Panther, get +the coloured blankets off our beds, and look slippy, can't you?" + +It is wonderful how like an Indian you can make yourself with blankets +and feathers and coloured scarves. Of course none of the children +happened to have long black hair, but there was a lot of black calico +that had been bought to cover school-books with. They cut strips of this +into a sort of fine fringe, and fastened it round their heads with the +amber-coloured ribbons off the girls' Sunday dresses. Then they stuck +turkeys' feathers in the ribbons. The calico looked very like long black +hair, especially when the strips began to curl up a bit. + +"But our faces," said Anthea, "they're not at all the right colour. +We're all rather pale, and I'm sure I don't know why, but Cyril is the +colour of putty." + +"I'm not," said Cyril. + +"The real Indians outside seem to be brownish," said Robert hastily. "I +think we ought to be really _red_--it's sort of superior to have a red +skin, if you are one." + +The red ochre cook uses for the kitchen bricks seemed to be about the +reddest thing in the house. The children mixed some in a saucer with +milk, as they had seen cook do for the kitchen floor. Then they +carefully painted each other's faces and hands with it, till they were +quite as red as any Red Indian need be--if not redder. + +They knew at once that they must look very terrible when they met Eliza +in the passage, and she screamed aloud. This unsolicited testimonial +pleased them very much. Hastily telling her not to be a goose, and that +it was only a game, the four blanketed, feathered, really and truly +Redskins went boldly out to meet the foe. I say boldly. That is because +I wish to be polite. At any rate, they went. + +Along the hedge dividing the wilderness from the garden was a row of +dark heads, all highly feathered. + +"It's our only chance," whispered Anthea. "Much better than to wait for +their blood-freezing attack. We must pretend like mad. Like that game of +cards where you pretend you've got aces when you haven't. Fluffing they +call it, I think. Now then. Whoop!" + +With four wild war-whoops--or as near them as white children could be +expected to go without any previous practice--they rushed through the +gate and struck four war-like attitudes in face of the line of Red +Indians. These were all about the same height, and that height was +Cyril's. + +"I hope to goodness they can talk English," said Cyril through his +attitude. + +Anthea knew they could, though she never knew how she came to know it. +She had a white towel tied to a walking-stick. This was a flag of truce, +and she waved it, in the hope that the Indians would know what it was. +Apparently they did--for one who was browner than the others stepped +forward. + +"Ye seek a pow-wow?" he said in excellent English. "I am Golden Eagle, +of the mighty tribe of Rock-dwellers." + +[Illustration: "Ye seek a pow-wow?" he said] + +"And I," said Anthea, with a sudden inspiration, "am the Black +Panther--chief of the--the--the--Mazawattee tribe. My brothers--I don't +mean--yes, I do--the tribe--I mean the Mazawattees--are in ambush below +the brow of yonder hill." + +"And what mighty warriors be these?" asked Golden Eagle, turning to the +others. + +Cyril said he was the great chief Squirrel, of the Moning Congo tribe, +and, seeing that Jane was sucking her thumb and could evidently think of +no name for herself, he added, "This great warrior is Wild Cat--Pussy +Ferox we call it in this land--leader of the vast Phiteezi tribe." + +"And thou, valorous Redskin?" Golden Eagle inquired suddenly of Robert, +who, taken unawares, could only reply that he was Bobs--leader of the +Cape Mounted Police. + +"And now," said Black Panther, "our tribes, if we just whistle them up, +will far outnumber your puny forces; so resistance is useless. Return, +therefore, to your land, O brother, and smoke pipes of peace in your +wampums with your squaws and your medicine-men, and dress yourselves in +the gayest wigwams, and eat happily of the juicy fresh-caught +moccasins." + +"You've got it all wrong," murmured Cyril angrily. But Golden Eagle only +looked inquiringly at her. + +"Thy customs are other than ours, O Black Panther," he said. "Bring up +thy tribe, that we may hold pow-wow in state before them, as becomes +great chiefs." + +"We'll bring them up right enough," said Anthea, "with their bows and +arrows, and tomahawks and scalping-knives, and everything you can think +of, if you don't look sharp and go." + +She spoke bravely enough, but the hearts of all the children were +beating furiously, and their breath came in shorter and shorter gasps. +For the little real Red Indians were closing up round them--coming +nearer and nearer with angry murmurs--so that they were the centre of a +crowd of dark cruel faces. + +"It's no go," whispered Robert. "I knew it wouldn't be. We must make a +bolt for the Psammead. It might help us. If it doesn't--well, I suppose +we shall come alive again at sunset. I wonder if scalping hurts as much +as they say." + +"I'll wave the flag again," said Anthea. "If they stand back, we'll run +for it." + +She waved the towel, and the chief commanded his followers to stand +back. Then, charging wildly at the place where the line of Indians was +thinnest, the four children started to run. Their first rush knocked +down some half-dozen Indians, over whose blanketed bodies the children +leaped, and made straight for the sand-pit. This was no time for the +safe easy way by which carts go down--right over the edge of the +sand-pit they went, among the yellow and pale purple flowers and dried +grasses, past the little bank martins' little front doors, skipping, +clinging, bounding, stumbling, sprawling, and finally rolling. + +Yellow Eagle and his followers came up with them just at the very spot +where they had seen the Psammead that morning. + +Breathless and beaten, the wretched children now awaited their fate. +Sharp knives and axes gleamed round them, but worse than these was the +cruel light in the eyes of Golden Eagle and his followers. + +"Ye have lied to us, O Black Panther of the Mazawattees--and thou, too, +Squirrel of the Moning Congos. These also, Pussy Ferox of the Phiteezi, +and Bobs of the Cape Mounted Police,--these also have lied to us, if not +with their tongues, yet by their silence. Ye have lied under the cover +of the Truce-flag of the Pale-face. Ye have no followers. Your tribes +are far away--following the hunting trail. What shall be their doom?" he +concluded, turning with a bitter smile to the other Red Indians. + +"Build we the fire!" shouted his followers; and at once a dozen ready +volunteers started to look for fuel. The four children, each held +between two strong little Indians, cast despairing glances round them. +Oh, if they could only see the Psammead! + +"Do you mean to scalp us first and then roast us?" asked Anthea +desperately. + +"Of course!" Redskin opened his eyes at her. "It's always done." + +The Indians had formed a ring round the children, and now sat on the +ground gazing at their captives. There was a threatening silence. + +Then slowly, by twos and threes, the Indians who had gone to look for +firewood came back, and they came back empty-handed. They had not been +able to find a single stick of wood for a fire! No one ever can, as a +matter of fact, in that part of Kent. + +The children drew a deep breath of relief, but it ended in a moan of +terror. For bright knives were being brandished all about them. Next +moment each child was seized by an Indian; each closed its eyes and +tried not to scream. They waited for the sharp agony of the knife. It +did not come. Next moment they were released, and fell in a trembling +heap. Their heads did not hurt at all. They only felt strangely cool! +Wild war-whoops rang in their ears. When they ventured to open their +eyes they saw four of their foes dancing round them with wild leaps and +screams, and each of the four brandished in his hand a scalp of long +flowing black hair. They put their hands to their heads--their own +scalps were safe! The poor untutored savages had indeed scalped the +children. But they had only, so to speak, scalped them of the black +calico ringlets! + +[Illustration: Bright knives were being brandished all about them] + +The children fell into each other's arms, sobbing and laughing. + +"Their scalps are ours," chanted the chief; "ill-rooted were their +ill-fated hairs! They came off in the hands of the victors--without +struggle, without resistance, they yielded their scalps to the +conquering Rock-dwellers! Oh, how little a thing is a scalp so lightly +won!" + +"They'll take our real ones in a minute; you see if they don't," said +Robert, trying to rub some of the red ochre off his face and hands on to +his hair. + +"Cheated of our just and fiery revenge are we," the chant went on,--"but +there are other torments than the scalping-knife and the flames. Yet is +the slow fire the correct thing. O strange unnatural country, wherein a +man may find no wood to burn his enemy!--Ah for the boundless forests of +my native land, where the great trees for thousands of miles grow but to +furnish firewood wherewithal to burn our foes. Ah, would we were but in +our native forest once more!" + +Suddenly like a flash of lightning, the golden gravel shone all round +the four children instead of the dusky figures. For every single +Indian had vanished on the instant at their leader's word. The Psammead +must have been there all the time. And it had given the Indian chief his +wish. + + * * * * * + +Martha brought home a jug with a pattern of storks and long grasses on +it. Also she brought back all Anthea's money. + +"My cousin, she gave me the jug for luck; she said it was an odd one +what the basin of had got smashed." + +"Oh, Martha, you are a dear!" sighed Anthea, throwing her arms round +her. + +"Yes," giggled Martha, "you'd better make the most of me while you've +got me. I shall give your ma notice directly minute she comes back." + +"Oh, Martha, we haven't been so _very_ horrid to you, have we?" asked +Anthea, aghast. + +"Oh, it isn't that, miss." Martha giggled more than ever. "I'm a-goin' +to be married. It's Beale the gamekeeper. He's been a-proposin' to me +off and on ever since you come home from the clergyman's where you got +locked up on the church-tower. And to-day I said the word an' made him a +happy man." + + * * * * * + +Anthea put the seven-and-fourpence back in the missionary-box, and +pasted paper over the place where the poker had broken it. She was very +glad to be able to do this, and she does not know to this day whether +breaking open a missionary-box is or is not a hanging matter! + + + + +CHAPTER XI (AND LAST) + +THE LAST WISH + + +Of course you, who see above that this is the eleventh (and last) +chapter, know very well that the day of which this chapter tells must be +the last on which Cyril, Anthea, Robert, and Jane will have a chance of +getting anything out of the Psammead, or Sand-fairy. + +But the children themselves did not know this. They were full of rosy +visions, and, whereas on the other days they had often found it +extremely difficult to think of anything really nice to wish for, their +brains were now full of the most beautiful and sensible ideas. "This," +as Jane remarked afterwards, "is always the way." Everyone was up extra +early that morning, and these plans were hopefully discussed in the +garden before breakfast. The old idea of one hundred pounds in modern +florins was still first favourite, but there were others that ran it +close--the chief of these being the "pony-each" idea. This had a great +advantage. You could wish for a pony each during the morning, ride it +all day, have it vanish at sunset, and wish it back again next day. +Which would be an economy of litter and stabling. But at breakfast two +things happened. First, there was a letter from mother. Granny was +better, and mother and father hoped to be home that very afternoon. A +cheer arose. And of course this news at once scattered all the +before-breakfast wish-ideas. For everyone saw quite plainly that the +wish of the day must be something to please mother and not to please +themselves. + +"I wonder what she _would_ like," pondered Cyril. + +"She'd like us all to be good," said Jane primly. + +"Yes--but that's so dull for us," Cyril rejoined; "and besides, I should +hope we could be that without sand-fairies to help us. No; it must be +something splendid, that we couldn't possibly get without wishing for." + +"Look out," said Anthea in a warning voice; "don't forget yesterday. +Remember, we get our wishes now just wherever we happen to be when we +say 'I wish.' Don't let's let ourselves in for anything silly--to-day of +all days." + +"All right," said Cyril. "You needn't talk so much." + +Just then Martha came in with a jug full of hot water for the +tea-pot--and a face full of importance for the children. + +"A blessing we're all alive to eat our breakfast!" she said darkly. + +"Why, whatever's happened?" everybody asked. + +"Oh, nothing," said Martha, "only it seems nobody's safe from being +murdered in their beds nowadays." + +"Why," said Jane as an agreeable thrill of horror ran down her back and +legs and out at her toes, "_has_ anyone been murdered in their beds?" + +"Well--not exactly," said Martha; "but they might just as well. There's +been burglars over at Peasemarsh Place--Beale's just told me--and +they've took every single one of Lady Chittenden's diamonds and jewels +and things, and she's a-goin out of one fainting fit into another, with +hardly time to say 'Oh, my diamonds!' in between. And Lord Chittenden's +away in London." + +"Lady Chittenden," said Anthea; "we've seen her. She wears a +red-and-white dress, and she has no children of her own and can't abide +other folkses'." + +"That's her," said Martha. "Well, she's put all her trust in riches, and +you see how she's served. They say the diamonds and things was worth +thousands of pounds. There was a necklace and a river--whatever that +is--and no end of bracelets; and a tarrer and ever so many rings. But +there, I mustn't stand talking and all the place to clean down afore +your ma comes home." + +"I don't see why she should ever have had such lots of diamonds," said +Anthea when Martha had flounced off. "She was not at all a nice lady, I +thought. And mother hasn't any diamonds, and hardly any jewels--the +topaz necklace, and the sapphire ring daddy gave her when they were +engaged, and the garnet star, and the little pearl brooch with +great-grandpapa's hair in it,--that's about all." + +"When I'm grown up I'll buy mother no end of diamonds," said Robert, "if +she wants them. I shall make so much money exploring in Africa I shan't +know what to do with it." + +"Wouldn't it be jolly," said Jane dreamily, "if mother could find all +these lovely things, necklaces and rivers of diamonds and tarrers?" + +"_Ti--aras_," said Cyril. + +"Ti--aras, then,--and rings and everything in her room when she came +home. I wish she would"-- + +The others gazed at her in horror. + +"Well, she _will_," said Robert; "you've wished, my good Jane--and our +only chance now is to find the Psammead, and if it's in a good temper +it _may_ take back the wish and give us another. If not--well--goodness +knows what we're in for!--the police of course, and---- Don't cry, +silly! We'll stand by you. Father says we need never to be afraid if we +don't do anything wrong and always speak the truth." + +But Cyril and Anthea exchanged gloomy glances. They remembered how +convincing the truth about the Psammead had been once before when told +to the police. + +It was a day of misfortunes. Of course the Psammead could not be found. +Nor the jewels, though every one of the children searched the mother's +room again and again. + +"Of course," Robert said, "_we_ couldn't find them. It'll be mother +who'll do that. Perhaps she'll think they've been in the house for years +and years, and never know they are the stolen ones at all." + +"Oh yes!" Cyril was very scornful; "then mother will be a receiver of +stolen goods, and you know jolly well what _that's_ worse than." + +Another and exhaustive search of the sand-pit failed to reveal the +Psammead, so the children went back to the house slowly and sadly. + +"I don't care," said Anthea stoutly, "we'll tell mother the truth, and +she'll give back the jewels--and make everything all right." + +"Do you think so?" said Cyril slowly. "Do you think she'll believe us? +Could anyone believe about a Sammyadd unless they'd seen it? She'll +think we're pretending. Or else she'll think we're raving mad, and then +we shall be sent to the mad-house. How would you like it?"--he turned +suddenly on the miserable Jane,--"how would you like it, to be shut up +in an iron cage with bars and padded walls, and nothing to do but stick +straws in your hair all day, and listen to the howlings and ravings of +the other maniacs? Make up your minds to it, all of you. It's no use +telling mother." + +"But it's true," said Jane. + +"Of course it is, but it's not true enough for grown-up people to +believe it," said Anthea. + +"Cyril's right. Let's put flowers in all the vases, and try not to think +about the diamonds. After all, everything has come right in the end all +the other times." + +So they filled all the pots they could find with flowers--asters and +zinnias, and loose-leaved late red roses from the wall of the +stableyard, till the house was a perfect bower. + +And almost as soon as dinner was cleared away mother arrived, and was +clasped in eight loving arms. It was very difficult indeed not to tell +her all about the Psammead at once, because they had got into the habit +of telling her everything. But they did succeed in not telling her. + +[Illustration: She was clasped in eight loving arms] + +Mother, on her side, had plenty to tell them--about Granny, and Granny's +pigeons, and Auntie Emma's lame tame donkey. She was very delighted with +the flowery-boweryness of the house; and everything seemed so natural +and pleasant, now that she was home again, that the children almost +thought they must have dreamed the Psammead. + +But, when mother moved towards the stairs to go up to her bedroom and +take off her bonnet, the eight arms clung round her just as if she only +had two children, one the Lamb and the other an octopus. + +"Don't go up, mummy darling," said Anthea; "let me take your things up +for you." + +"Or I will," said Cyril. + +"We want you to come and look at the rose-tree," said Robert. + +"Oh, don't go up!" said Jane helplessly. + +"Nonsense, dears," said mother briskly, "I'm not such an old woman yet +that I can't take my bonnet off in the proper place. Besides I must wash +these black hands of mine." + +So up she went, and the children, following her, exchanged glances of +gloomy foreboding. + +Mother took off her bonnet,--it was a very pretty hat, really, with +white roses in it,--and when she had taken it off she went to the +dressing-table to do her pretty hair. + +On the table between the ring-stand and the pin-cushion lay a green +leather case. Mother opened it. + +"Oh, how lovely!" she cried. It was a ring, a large pearl with shining +many-lighted diamonds set round it. "Wherever did this come from?" +mother asked, trying it on her wedding finger, which it fitted +beautifully. "However did it come here?" + +"I don't know," said each of the children truthfully. + +"Father must have told Martha to put it here," mother said. "I'll run +down and ask her." + +"Let me look at it," said Anthea, who knew Martha would not be able to +see the ring. But when Martha was asked, of course she denied putting +the ring there, and so did Eliza and cook. + +Mother came back to her bedroom, very much interested and pleased about +the ring. But, when she opened the dressing-table drawer and found a +long case containing an almost priceless diamond necklace, she was more +interested still, though not so pleased. In the wardrobe, when she went +to put away her "bonnet," she found a tiara and several brooches, and +the rest of the jewellery turned up in various parts of the room during +the next half-hour. The children looked more and more uncomfortable, and +now Jane began to sniff. + +Mother looked at her gravely. + +"Jane," she said, "I am sure you know something about this. Now think +before you speak, and tell me the truth." + +"We found a Fairy," said Jane obediently. + +[Illustration: "We found a Fairy," said Jane obediently] + +"No nonsense, please," said her mother sharply. + +"Don't be silly, Jane," Cyril interrupted. Then he went on desperately. +"Look here, mother, we've never seen the things before, but Lady +Chittenden at Peasmarsh Place lost all her jewellery by wicked burglars +last night. Could this possibly be it?" + +All drew a deep breath. They were saved. + +"But how could they have put it here? And why should they?" asked +mother, not unreasonably. "Surely it would have been easier and safer to +make off with it?" + +"Suppose," said Cyril, "they thought it better to wait for--for +sunset--nightfall, I mean, before they went off with it. No one but us +knew that you were coming back to-day." + +"I must send for the police at once," said mother distractedly. "Oh, how +I wish daddy were here!" + +"Wouldn't it be better to wait till he _does_ come?" asked Robert, +knowing that his father would not be home before sunset. + +"No, no; I can't wait a minute with all this on my mind," cried mother. +"All this" was the heap of jewel-cases on the bed. They put them all in +the wardrobe, and mother locked it. Then mother called Martha. + +"Martha," she said, "has any stranger been into my room since I've been +away? Now, answer me truthfully." + +"No, mum," answered Martha; "leastways, what I mean to say"-- + +She stopped. + +"Come," said her mistress kindly, "I see someone has. You must tell me +at once. Don't be frightened. I'm sure _you_ haven't done anything +wrong." + +Martha burst into heavy sobs. + +"I was a-goin' to give you warning this very day, mum, to leave at the +end of my month, so I was,--on account of me being going to make a +respectable young man happy. A gamekeeper he is by trade, mum--and I +wouldn't deceive you--of the name of Beale. And it's as true as I stand +here, it was your coming home in such a hurry, and no warning given, out +of the kindness of his heart it was, as he says, 'Martha, my beauty,' he +says,--which I ain't, and never was, but you know how them men will go +on,--'I can't see you a-toiling and a-moiling and not lend a 'elping +'and; which mine is a strong arm, and it's yours Martha, my dear,' says +he. And so he helped me a-cleanin' of the windows--but outside, mum, the +whole time, and me in; if I never say another breathing word it's gospel +truth." + +"Were you with him the whole time?" asked her mistress. + +"Him outside and me in, I was," said Martha; "except for fetching up a +fresh pail and the leather that that slut of a Eliza'd hidden away +behind the mangle." + +"That will do," said the children's mother. "I am not pleased with you, +Martha, but you have spoken the truth, and that counts for something." + +When Martha had gone, the children clung round their mother. + +"Oh, mummy darling," cried Anthea, "it isn't Beale's fault, it isn't +really! He's a great dear; he is, truly and honourably, and as honest as +the day. Don't let the police take him, mummy! Oh, don't, don't, don't!" + +It was truly awful. Here was an innocent man accused of robbery through +that silly wish of Jane's, and it was absolutely useless to tell the +truth. All longed to, but they thought of the straws in the hair and the +shrieks of the other frantic maniacs, and they could not do it. + +"Is there a cart hereabouts?" asked the mother feverishly. "A trap of +any sort? I must drive in to Rochester and tell the police at once." + +All the children sobbed, "There's a cart at the farm, but, oh, don't +go!--don't go!--oh, don't go!--wait till daddy comes home!" + +Mother took not the faintest notice. When she had set her mind on a +thing she always went straight through with it; she was rather like +Anthea in this respect. + +"Look here, Cyril," she said, sticking on her hat with long sharp +violet-headed pins, "I leave you in charge. Stay in the dressing-room. +You can pretend to be swimming boats in the bath, or something. Say I +gave you leave. But stay there, with the door on the landing open; I've +locked the other. And don't let anyone go into my room. Remember, no one +knows the jewels are there except me, and all of you, and the wicked +thieves who put them there. Robert, you stay in the garden and watch the +windows. If anyone tries to get in you must run and tell the two farm +men that I'll send up to wait in the kitchen. I'll tell them there are +dangerous characters about--that's true enough. Now remember, I trust +you both. But I don't think they'll try it till after dark, so you're +quite safe. Good-bye, darlings." + +And she locked her bedroom door and went off with the key in her pocket. + +The children could not help admiring the dashing and decided way in +which she had acted. They thought how useful she would have been in +organising escape from some of the tight places in which they had found +themselves of late in consequence of their ill-timed wishes. + +"She's a born general," said Cyril,--"but _I_ don't know what's going to +happen to us. Even if the girls were to hunt for that old Sammyadd and +find it, and get it to take the jewels away again, mother would only +think we hadn't looked out properly and let the burglars sneak in and +get them--or else the police will think _we've_ got them--or else that +she's been fooling them. Oh, it's a pretty decent average ghastly mess +this time, and no mistake!" + +He savagely made a paper boat and began to float it in the bath, as he +had been told to do. + +Robert went into the garden and sat down on the worn yellow grass, with +his miserable head between his helpless hands. + +Anthea and Jane whispered together in the passage downstairs, where the +cocoanut matting was--with the hole in it that you always caught your +foot in if you were not careful. Martha's voice could be heard in the +kitchen,--grumbling loud and long. + +"It's simply quite too dreadfully awful," said Anthea. "How do you know +all the diamonds are there, too? If they aren't, the police will think +mother and father have got them, and that they've only given up some of +them for a kind of desperate blind. And they'll be put in prison, and we +shall be branded outcasts, the children of felons. And it won't be at +all nice for father and mother either," she added, by a candid +after-thought. + +"But what can we _do_?" asked Jane. + +"Nothing--at least we might look for the Psammead again. It's a very, +_very_ hot day. He may have come out to warm that whisker of his." + +"He won't give us any more beastly wishes to-day," said Jane flatly. "He +gets crosser and crosser every time we see him. I believe he hates +having to give wishes." + +Anthea had been shaking her head gloomily--now she stopped shaking it so +suddenly that it really looked as though she were pricking up her ears. + +"What is it?" asked Jane. "Oh, have you thought of something?" + +"Our one chance," cried Anthea dramatically; "the last lone-lorn forlorn +hope. Come on." + +At a brisk trot she led the way to the sand-pit. Oh, joy!--there was the +Psammead, basking in a golden sandy hollow and preening its whiskers +happily in the glowing afternoon sun. The moment it saw them it whisked +round and began to burrow--it evidently preferred its own company to +theirs. But Anthea was too quick for it. She caught it by its furry +shoulders gently but firmly, and held it. + +"Here--none of that!" said the Psammead. "Leave go of me, will you?" + +But Anthea held him fast. + +"Dear kind darling Sammyadd," she said breathlessly. + +"Oh yes--it's all very well," it said; "you want another wish, I expect. +But I can't keep on slaving from morning till night giving people their +wishes. I must have _some_ time to myself." + +"Do you hate giving wishes?" asked Anthea gently, and her voice trembled +with excitement. + +"Of course I do," it said. "Leave go of me or I'll bite!--I really +will--I mean it. Oh, well, if you choose to risk it." + +Anthea risked it and held on. + +"Look here," she said, "don't bite me--listen to reason. If you'll only +do what we want to-day, we'll never ask you for another wish as long as +we live." + +The Psammead was much moved. + +"I'd do anything," it said in a tearful voice. "I'd almost burst myself +to give you one wish after another, as long as I held out, if you'd only +never, never ask me to do it after to-day. If you knew how I hate to +blow myself out with other people's wishes, and how frightened I am +always that I shall strain a muscle or something. And then to wake up +every morning and know you've _got_ to do it. You don't know what it +is--you don't know what it is, you don't!" Its voice cracked with +emotion, and the last "don't" was a squeak. + +Anthea set it down gently on the sand. + +"It's all over now," she said soothingly. "We promise faithfully never +to ask for another wish after to-day." + +"Well, go ahead," said the Psammead; "let's get it over." + +"How many can you do?" + +"I don't know--as long as I can hold out." + +"Well, first, I wish Lady Chittenden may find she's never lost her +jewels." + +The Psammead blew itself out, collapsed, and said, "Done." + +"I wish," said Anthea more slowly, "mother mayn't get to the police." + +"Done," said the creature after the proper interval. + +"I wish," said Jane suddenly, "mother could forget all about the +diamonds." + +"Done," said the Psammead; but its voice was weaker. + +"Would you like to rest a little?" asked Anthea considerately. + +"Yes, please," said the Psammead; "and, before we go any further, will +you wish something for me?" + +"Can't you do wishes for yourself?" + +"Of course not," it said; "we were always expected to give each other +our wishes--not that we had any to speak of in the good old Megatherium +days. Just wish, will you, that you may never be able, any of you, to +tell anyone a word about _Me_." + +"Why?" asked Jane. + +"Why, don't you see, if you told grown-ups I should have no peace of my +life. They'd get hold of me, and they wouldn't wish silly things like +you do, but real earnest things; and the scientific people would hit on +some way of making things last after sunset, as likely as not; and +they'd ask for a graduated income-tax, and old-age pensions, and manhood +suffrage, and free secondary education, and dull things like that; and +get them, and keep them, and the whole world would be turned +topsy-turvy. Do wish it! Quick!" + +Anthea repeated the Psammead's wish, and it blew itself out to a larger +size than they had yet seen it attain. + +"And now," it said as it collapsed, "can I do anything more for you?" + +"Just one thing; and I think that clears everything up, doesn't it, +Jane? I wish Martha to forget about the diamond ring, and mother to +forget about the keeper cleaning the windows." + +"It's like the 'Brass Bottle,'" said Jane. + +"Yes, I'm glad we read that or I should never have thought of it." + +"Now," said the Psammead faintly, "I'm almost worn out. Is there +anything else?" + +"No; only thank you kindly for all you've done for us, and I hope you'll +have a good long sleep, and I hope we shall see you again some day." + +"Is that a wish?" it said in a weak voice. + +"Yes, please," said the two girls together. + +[Illustration: It burrowed, and disappeared, scratching fiercely to the +last] + +Then for the last time in this story they saw the Psammead blow itself +out and collapse suddenly. It nodded to them, blinked its long snail's +eyes, burrowed, and disappeared, scratching fiercely to the last, and +the sand closed over it. + + * * * * * + +"I hope we've done right?" said Jane. + +"I'm sure we have," said Anthea. "Come on home and tell the boys." + +Anthea found Cyril glooming over his paper boats, and told him. Jane +told Robert. The two tales were only just ended when mother walked in, +hot and dusty. She explained that as she was being driven into Rochester +to buy the girls' autumn school-dresses the axle had broken, and but for +the narrowness of the lane and the high soft hedges she would have been +thrown out. As it was, she was not hurt, but she had had to walk home. +"And oh, my dearest dear chicks," she said, "I am simply dying for a cup +of tea! Do run and see if the water boils!" + +"So you see it's all right," Jane whispered. "She doesn't remember." + +"No more does Martha," said Anthea, who had been to ask after the state +of the kettle. + +As the servants sat at their tea, Beale the gamekeeper dropped in. He +brought the welcome news that Lady Chittenden's diamonds had not been +lost at all. Lord Chittenden had taken them to be re-set and cleaned, +and the maid who knew about it had gone for a holiday. So that was all +right. + +"I wonder if we ever shall see the Psammead again," said Jane wistfully +as they walked in the garden, while mother was putting the Lamb to bed. + +"I'm sure we shall," said Cyril, "if you really wished it." + +"We've promised never to ask it for another wish," said Anthea. + +"I never want to," said Robert earnestly. + +They did see it again, of course, but not in this story. And it was not +in a sand-pit either, but in a very, very, very different place. It was +in a---- But I must say no more. + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's notes: + +Varied hyphenation retained where a majority could not be found. +Exceptions noted. + +Page 60, "Peasemarch" changed to "Peasemarsh" to conform to rest of +text. "Billy Peasemarsh." + +Page 111, "hasily" changed to "hastily" in "Jane hastily finished". + +Page 116, extraneous " removed. "better. What" + +Page 179, Quotation mark added. "...Anthea said. "It's creepy..." + +Page 193, "gatehouse" changed to "gate-house" to conform to rest of +text, "in the gate-house." + +Page 290, "Peasmarsh" changed to "Peasemarsh" in "at Peasemarsh Place", +also on page 297, "Peasemarsh Place". + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Five Children and It, by E. 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Nesbit. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + .right {text-align: right; margin-right: 15%;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {text-align: center;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Five Children and It, 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: Five Children and It + +Author: E. Nesbit + +Illustrator: H.R. Millar + +Release Date: December 15, 2005 [EBook #17314] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIVE CHILDREN AND IT *** + + + + +Produced by Jason Isbell and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by the +Library of Congress) + + + + + +Character set for HTML: ISO-8859-1 + + +</pre> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p> + + +<h1>FIVE CHILDREN</h1> + +<h1>AND IT</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>E. NESBIT</h2> + +<div class="center"><span class="smcap">Author of "The Treasure-seekers,"</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">"The Would-be-goods," etc.</span><br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="center"><i>ILLUSTRATED</i><br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 81px;"> +<img src="images/emblem.png" width="81" height="100" alt="Emblem" title="Emblem" /> +</div> + + +<div class="center"><br /><br />NEW YORK<br /> +DODD, MEAD & COMPANY</div> + +<div class="center">1905 +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1905, by<br /> +Dodd, Mead and Company</span></div> + +<div class="center"><i>Published October, 1905</i> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 353px;"><a name="front" id="front"></a> +<img src="images/01.png" width="353" height="400" alt="The Psammead" title="The Psammead" /> +<span class="caption">The Psammead</span> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class='center'> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>TO</i></span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><big>JOHN BLAND</big></span> +<br /> +<br /></div> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="My Lamb"> +<tr><td align='left'><i>My Lamb, you are so very small,<br /> +You have not learned to read at all;<br /> +Yet never a printed book withstands<br /> +The urgence of your dimpled hands.<br /> +So, though this book is for yourself,<br /> +Let mother keep it on the shelf<br /> +Till you can read. O days that pass,<br /> +That day will come too soon, alas!</i><br /></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>NOTE</h2> + + +<div class='center'>Parts of this story have appeared in<br />the <i>Strand Magazine</i> under the +title of<br /><br /> + + +"THE PSAMMEAD."<br /></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span></p> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>I </td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">Beautiful as the Day</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'>II </td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">Golden Guineas</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href='#Page_36'>36</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'>III </td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">Being Wanted</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href='#Page_70'>70</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'>IV </td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">Wings</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href='#Page_108'>108</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'>V </td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">No Wings</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href='#Page_141'>141</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'>VI </td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Castle and No Dinner</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href='#Page_159'>159</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'>VII </td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Siege and Bed</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href='#Page_183'>183</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'>VIII </td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">Bigger than the Baker's Boy</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href='#Page_203'>203</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'>IX </td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">Grown Up</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href='#Page_236'>236</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'>X </td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">Scalps</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href='#Page_261'>261</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'>XI </td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Last Wish</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href='#Page_287'>287</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> +<tr><td align='left'>The Psammead</td> +<td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#front'><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>That First Glorious Rush Round the Garden</td> +<td align='left'><i>Facing</i></td> +<td align='left'><i>page</i></td> +<td align='right'><a href='#first'>2</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Cyril Had Nipped His Finger in the Door of a Hutch</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#cyril'>4</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Anthea Suddenly Screamed, "It's Alive!"</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#anthea'>12</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>The Baby Did Not Know Them!</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#baby'>28</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Martha Emptied a Toilet-jug of Cold Water Over Him</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#martha'>32</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>The Rain Fell in Slow Drops on to Anthea's Face</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#rain'>36</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>He Staggered, and Had to Sit Down Again in a Hurry</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#staggered'>50</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Mr. Beale Snatched the Coin, Bit It, and Put It in His Pocket</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#beale'>58</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>They Had Run Into Martha and the Baby</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#run'>64</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>He Said, "Now Then!" to the Policeman and Mr. Peasemarsh</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#now'>66</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>The Lucky Children Hurriedly Started for the Gravel Pit</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#lucky'>78</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"Poof, poof, poofy," He Said, and Made a Grab</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#poof'>86</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>At Double-quick Time Ran the Twinkling Legs of the Lamb's Brothers and Sisters</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#double'>88</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>The Next Minute the Two Were Fighting</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#next'>90</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>He Snatched the Baby from Anthea</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#snatched'>94</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>He Consented to Let the Two Gypsy Women Feed Him</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#consented'>98</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>The Sand-fairy Blew Himself Out</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#sand'>122</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>They Flew Over Rochester</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#flew'>126</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>The Farmer Sat Down on the Grass, Suddenly and Heavily</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#farmer'>128</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Everyone Now Turned Out His Pockets</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#every'>132</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>These Were the Necessaries of Life</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#these'>134</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>The Children Were Fast Asleep</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#children'>138</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>The Keeper Spoke Deep-Chested Words through the Keyhole</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#keeper'>150</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>There the Castle Stood, Black and Stately</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#castle'>164</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Robert Was Dragged Forthwith—by the Reluctant Ear</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#robert'>166</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>He Wiped Away a Manly Tear</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#wiped'>168</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"Oh, Do, Do, Do, <i>Do</i>!" Said Robert</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#do'>174</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>The Man Fell with a Splash Into the Moat-water</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#man'>196</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Anthea Tilted the Pot over the Nearest Leadhole</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#tilted'>198</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>He Pulled Robert's Hair</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#pulled'>210</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"The Sammyadd's Done Us Again," Said Cyril</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#done'>214</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>He Lifted Up the Baker's Boy and Set Him on Top of the Haystack</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#lifted'>216</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>It Was a Strange Sensation Being Wheeled in a Pony-carriage by a Giant</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#strange'>220</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>When the Girl Came Out She Was Pale and Trembling</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#when'>228</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"When Your Time's Up Come to Me"</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#time'>230</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>He Opened the Case and Used the Whole Thing as a Garden Spade</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#opened'>238</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>She Did It Gently by Tickling His Nose with a Twig of Honeysuckle</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#did'>244</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>There, Sure Enough, Stood a Bicycle</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#sure'>248</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>The Punctured State of It Was Soon Evident</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#punctured'>250</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>The Grown-up Lamb Struggled</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#grown'>258</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>She Broke Open the Missionary Box with the Poker</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#broke'>266</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"Ye Seek a Pow-wow?" He Said</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#ye'>278</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>Bright Knives Were Being Brandished All about Them</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#bright'>284</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>She Was Clasped in Eight Loving Arms</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#clasped'>294</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"We Found a Fairy," Said Jane, Obediently</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#found'>298</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>It Burrowed, and Disappeared, Scratching Fiercely to the Last</td> +<td align='center'>"</td><td align='center'>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href='#it'>308</a></td></tr> +</table></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>BEAUTIFUL AS THE DAY</h3> + + +<p>The house was three miles from the station, but, before the dusty hired +hack had rattled along for five minutes, the children began to put their +heads out of the carriage window and say, "Aren't we nearly there?" And +every time they passed a house, which was not very often, they all said, +"Oh, <i>is</i> this it?" But it never was, till they reached the very top of +the hill, just past the chalk-quarry and before you come to the +gravel-pit. And then there was a white house with a green garden and an +orchard beyond, and mother said, "Here we are!"</p> + +<p>"How white the house is," said Robert.</p> + +<p>"And look at the roses," said Anthea.</p> + +<p>"And the plums," said Jane.</p> + +<p>"It is rather decent," Cyril admitted.</p> + +<p>The Baby said, "Wanty go walky;" and the hack stopped with a last rattle +and jolt.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<p>Everyone got its legs kicked or its feet trodden on in the scramble to +get out of the carriage that very minute, but no one seemed to mind. +Mother, curiously enough, was in no hurry to get out; and even when she +had come down slowly and by the step, and with no jump at all, she +seemed to wish to see the boxes carried in, and even to pay the driver, +instead of joining in that first glorious rush round the garden and +orchard and the thorny, thistly, briery, brambly wilderness beyond the +broken gate and the dry fountain at the side of the house. But the +children were wiser, for once. It was not really a pretty house at all; +it was quite ordinary, and mother thought it was rather inconvenient, +and was quite annoyed at there being no shelves, to speak of, and hardly +a cupboard in the place. Father used to say that the iron-work on the +roof and coping was like an architect's nightmare. But the house was +deep in the country, with no other house in sight, and the children had +been in London for two years, without so much as once going to the +seaside even for a day by an excursion <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>train, and so the White House +seemed to them a sort of Fairy Palace set down in an Earthly Paradise. +For London is like prison for children, especially if their relations +are not rich.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="first" id="first"></a> +<img src="images/02.png" width="400" height="385" alt="That first glorious rush round the garden" title="That first glorious rush round the garden" /> +<span class="caption">That first glorious rush round the garden</span> +</div> + +<p>Of course there are the shops and theatres, and entertainments and +things, but if your people are rather poor you don't get taken to the +theatres, and you can't buy things out of the shops; and London has none +of those nice things that children may play with without hurting the +things or themselves—such as trees and sand and woods and waters. And +nearly everything in London is the wrong sort of shape—all straight +lines and flat streets, instead of being all sorts of odd shapes, like +things are in the country. Trees are all different, as you know, and I +am sure some tiresome person must have told you that there are no two +blades of grass exactly alike. But in streets, where the blades of grass +don't grow, everything is like everything else. This is why many +children who live in the towns are so extremely naughty. They do not +know what is the matter with them, and no more <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>do their fathers and +mothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, tutors, governesses, and nurses; but I +know. And so do you, now. Children in the country are naughty sometimes, +too, but that is for quite different reasons.</p> + +<p>The children had explored the gardens and the outhouses thoroughly +before they were caught and cleaned for tea, and they saw quite well +that they were certain to be happy at the White House. They thought so +from the first moment, but when they found the back of the house covered +with jasmine, all in white flower, and smelling like a bottle of the +most expensive perfume that is ever given for a birthday present; and +when they had seen the lawn, all green and smooth, and quite different +from the brown grass in the gardens at Camden Town; and when they found +the stable with a loft over it and some old hay still left, they were +almost certain; and when Robert had found the broken swing and tumbled +out of it and got a bump on his head the size of an egg, and Cyril had +nipped his finger in the door of a hutch that seemed made to keep +rab<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>bits in, if you ever had any, they had no longer any doubts +whatever.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 330px;"><a name="cyril" id="cyril"></a> +<img src="images/03.png" width="330" height="400" alt="Cyril had nipped his finger in the door of a hutch" title="Cyril had nipped his finger in the door of a hutch" /> +<span class="caption">Cyril had nipped his finger in the door of a hutch</span> +</div> + +<p>The best part of it all was that there were no rules about not going to +places and not doing things. In London almost everything is labelled +"You mustn't touch," and though the label is invisible it's just as bad, +because you know it's there, or if you don't you very soon get told.</p> + +<p>The White House was on the edge of a hill, with a wood behind it—and +the chalk-quarry on one side and the gravel-pit on the other. Down at +the bottom of the hill was a level plain, with queer-shaped white +buildings where people burnt lime, and a big red brewery and other +houses; and when the big chimneys were smoking and the sun was setting, +the valley looked as if it was filled with golden mist, and the +limekilns and hop-drying houses glimmered and glittered till they were +like an enchanted city out of the <i>Arabian Nights</i>.</p> + +<p>Now that I have begun to tell you about the place, I feel that I could +go on and make <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>this into a most interesting story about all the +ordinary things that the children did,—just the kind of things you do +yourself, you know, and you would believe every word of it; and when I +told about the children's being tiresome, as you are sometimes, your +aunts would perhaps write in the margin of the story with a pencil, "How +true!" or "How like life!" and you would see it and would very likely be +annoyed. So I will only tell you the really astonishing things that +happened, and you may leave the book about quite safely, for no aunts +and uncles either are likely to write "How true!" on the edge of the +story. Grown-up people find it very difficult to believe really +wonderful things, unless they have what they call proof. But children +will believe almost anything, and grown-ups know this. That is why they +tell you that the earth is round like an orange, when you can see +perfectly well that it is flat and lumpy; and why they say that the +earth goes round the sun, when you can see for yourself any day that the +sun gets up in the morning and goes to bed at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>night like a good sun as +it is, and the earth knows its place, and lies as still as a mouse. Yet +I daresay you believe all that about the earth and the sun, and if so +you will find it quite easy to believe that before Anthea and Cyril and +the others had been a week in the country they had found a fairy. At +least they called it that, because that was what it called itself; and +of course it knew best, but it was not at all like any fairy you ever +saw or heard of or read about.</p> + +<p>It was at the gravel-pits. Father had to go away suddenly on business, +and mother had gone away to stay with Granny, who was not very well. +They both went in a great hurry, and when they were gone the house +seemed dreadfully quiet and empty, and the children wandered from one +room to another and looked at the bits of paper and string on the floors +left over from the packing, and not yet cleared up, and wished they had +something to do. It was Cyril who said—</p> + +<p>"I say, let's take our spades and dig in the gravel-pits. We can pretend +it's seaside."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Father says it was once," Anthea said; "he says there are shells there +thousands of years old."</p> + +<p>So they went. Of course they had been to the edge of the gravel-pit and +looked over, but they had not gone down into it for fear father should +say they mustn't play there, and it was the same with the chalk-quarry. +The gravel-pit is not really dangerous if you don't try to climb down +the edges, but go the slow safe way round by the road, as if you were a +cart.</p> + +<p>Each of the children carried its own spade, and took it in turns to +carry the Lamb. He was the baby, and they called him that because "Baa" +was the first thing he ever said. They called Anthea "Panther," which +seems silly when you read it, but when you say it it sounds a little +like her name.</p> + +<p>The gravel-pit is very large and wide, with grass growing round the +edges at the top, and dry stringy wildflowers, purple and yellow. It is +like a giant's washbowl. And there are mounds of gravel, and holes in +the sides <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>of the bowl where gravel has been taken out, and high up in +the steep sides there are the little holes that are the little front +doors of the little bank-martins' little houses.</p> + +<p>The children built a castle, of course, but castle-building is rather +poor fun when you have no hope of the swishing tide ever coming in to +fill up the moat and wash away the drawbridge, and, at the happy last, +to wet everybody up to the waist at least.</p> + +<p>Cyril wanted to dig out a cave to play smugglers in, but the others +thought it might bury them alive, so it ended in all spades going to +work to dig a hole through the castle to Australia. These children, you +see, believed that the world was round, and that on the other side the +little Australian boys and girls were really walking wrong way up, like +flies on the ceiling, with their heads hanging down into the air.</p> + +<p>The children dug and they dug and they dug, and their hands got sandy +and hot and red, and their faces got damp and shiny. The Lamb had tried +to eat the sand, and had cried <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>so hard when he found that it was not, +as he had supposed, brown sugar, that he was now tired out, and was +lying asleep in a warm fat bunch in the middle of the half-finished +castle. This left his brothers and sisters free to work really hard, and +the hole that was to come out in Australia soon grew so deep that Jane, +who was called Pussy for short, begged the others to stop.</p> + +<p>"Suppose the bottom of the hole gave way suddenly," said she, "and you +tumbled out among the little Australians, all the sand would get in +their eyes."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Robert; "and they would hate us, and throw stones at us, and +not let us see the kangaroos, or opossums, or bluegums, or Emu Brand +birds, or anything."</p> + +<p>Cyril and Anthea knew that Australia was not quite so near as all that, +but they agreed to stop using the spades and to go on with their hands. +This was quite easy, because the sand at the bottom of the hole was very +soft and fine and dry, like sea-sand. And there were little shells in +it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Fancy it having been wet sea here once, all sloppy and shiny," said +Jane, "with fishes and conger-eels and coral and mermaids."</p> + +<p>"And masts of ships and wrecked Spanish treasure. I wish we could find a +gold doubloon, or something," Cyril said.</p> + +<p>"How did the sea get carried away?" Robert asked.</p> + +<p>"Not in a pail, silly," said his brother.</p> + +<p>"Father says the earth got too hot underneath, as you do in bed +sometimes, so it just hunched up its shoulders, and the sea had to slip +off, like the blankets do us, and the shoulder was left sticking out, +and turned into dry land. Let's go and look for shells; I think that +little cave looks likely, and I see something sticking out there like a +bit of wrecked ship's anchor, and it's beastly hot in the Australian +hole."</p> + +<p>The others agreed, but Anthea went on digging. She always liked to +finish a thing when she had once begun it. She felt it would be a +disgrace to leave that hole without getting through to Australia.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>The cave was disappointing, because there were no shells, and the +wrecked ship's anchor turned out to be only the broken end of a pick-axe +handle, and the cave party were just making up their minds that sand +makes you thirstier when it is not by the seaside, and someone had +suggested that they all go home for lemonade, when Anthea suddenly +screamed—</p> + +<p>"Cyril! Come here! Oh, come quick—It's alive! It'll get away! Quick!"</p> + +<p>They all hurried back.</p> + +<p>"It's a rat, I shouldn't wonder," said Robert. "Father says they infest +old places—and this must be pretty old if the sea was here thousands of +years ago"—</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is a snake," said Jane, shuddering.</p> + +<p>"Let's look," said Cyril, jumping into the hole. "I'm not afraid of +snakes. I like them. If it is a snake I'll tame it, and it will follow +me everywhere, and I'll let it sleep round my neck at night."</p> + +<p>"No, you won't," said Robert firmly. He <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>shared Cyril's bedroom. "But +you may if it's a rat."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 355px;"><a name="anthea" id="anthea"></a> +<img src="images/04.png" width="355" height="400" alt="Anthea suddenly screamed, "It's alive!"" title="Anthea suddenly screamed, "It's alive!"" /> +<span class="caption">Anthea suddenly screamed, "It's alive!"</span> +</div> + +<p>"Oh, don't be silly!" said Anthea; "it's not a rat, it's <i>much</i> bigger. +And it's not a snake. It's got feet; I saw them; and fur! No—not the +spade. You'll hurt it! Dig with your hands."</p> + +<p>"And let <i>it</i> hurt <i>me</i> instead! That's so likely, isn't it?" said +Cyril, seizing a spade.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't!" said Anthea. "Squirrel, <i>don't</i>. I—it sounds silly, but it +said something. It really and truly did"—</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"It said, 'You let me alone.'"</p> + +<p>But Cyril merely observed that his sister must have gone off her head, +and he and Robert dug with spades while Anthea sat on the edge of the +hole, jumping up and down with hotness and anxiety. They dug carefully, +and presently everyone could see that there really was something moving +in the bottom of the Australian hole.</p> + +<p>Then Anthea cried out, "<i>I'm</i> not afraid. Let me dig," and fell on her +knees and began <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>to scratch like a dog does when he has suddenly +remembered where it was that he buried his bone.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I felt fur," she cried, half laughing and half crying. "I did +indeed! I did!" when suddenly a dry husky voice in the sand made them +all jump back, and their hearts jumped nearly as fast as they did.</p> + +<p>"Let me alone," it said. And now everyone heard the voice and looked at +the others to see if they had heard it too.</p> + +<p>"But we want to see you," said Robert bravely.</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd come out," said Anthea, also taking courage.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well—if that's your wish," the voice said, and the sand stirred +and spun and scattered, and something brown and furry and fat came +rolling out into the hole, and the sand fell off it, and it sat there +yawning and rubbing the ends of its eyes with its hands.</p> + +<p>"I believe I must have dropped asleep," it said, stretching itself.</p> + +<p>The children stood round the hole in a ring, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>looking at the creature +they had found. It was worth looking at. Its eyes were on long horns +like a snail's eyes, and it could move them in and out like telescopes; +it had ears like a bat's ears, and its tubby body was shaped like a +spider's and covered with thick soft fur; its legs and arms were furry +too, and it had hands and feet like a monkey's.</p> + +<p>"What on earth is it?" Jane said. "Shall we take it home?"</p> + +<p>The thing turned its long eyes to look at her, and said—</p> + +<p>"Does she always talk nonsense, or is it only the rubbish on her head +that makes her silly?"</p> + +<p>It looked scornfully at Jane's hat as it spoke.</p> + +<p>"She doesn't mean to be silly," Anthea said gently; "we none of us do, +whatever you may think! Don't be frightened; we don't want to hurt you, +you know."</p> + +<p>"Hurt <i>me</i>!" it said. "<i>Me</i> frightened? Upon my word! Why, you talk as +if I were nobody in particular." All its fur stood out like a cat's when +it is going to fight.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Anthea, still kindly, "perhaps <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>if we knew who you are in +particular we could think of something to say that wouldn't make you +angry. Everything we've said so far seems to have done so. Who are you? +And don't get angry! Because really we don't know."</p> + +<p>"You don't know?" it said. "Well, I knew the world had +changed—but—well, really—Do you mean to tell me seriously you don't +know a Psammead when you see one?"</p> + +<p>"A Sammyadd? That's Greek to me."</p> + +<p>"So it is to everyone," said the creature sharply. "Well, in plain +English, then, a <i>Sand-fairy</i>. Don't you know a Sand-fairy when you see +one?"</p> + +<p>It looked so grieved and hurt that Jane hastened to say, "Of course I +see you are, <i>now</i>. It's quite plain now one comes to look at you."</p> + +<p>"You came to look at me, several sentences ago," it said crossly, +beginning to curl up again in the sand.</p> + +<p>"Oh—don't go away again! Do talk some more," Robert cried. "I didn't +know you were a Sand-fairy, but I knew directly I saw <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>you that you were +much the wonderfullest thing I'd ever seen."</p> + +<p>The Sand-fairy seemed a shade less disagreeable after this.</p> + +<p>"It isn't talking I mind," it said, "as long as you're reasonably civil. +But I'm not going to make polite conversation for you. If you talk +nicely to me, perhaps I'll answer you, and perhaps I won't. Now say +something."</p> + +<p>Of course no one could think of anything to say, but at last Robert +thought of "How long have you lived here?" and he said it at once.</p> + +<p>"Oh, ages—several thousand years," replied the Psammead.</p> + +<p>"Tell us about it. Do."</p> + +<p>"It's all in books."</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> aren't!" Jane said. "Oh, tell us everything you can about +yourself! We don't know anything about you, and you <i>are</i> so nice."</p> + +<p>The Sand-fairy smoothed his long rat-like whiskers and smiled between +them.</p> + +<p>"Do please tell!" said the children all together.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<p>It is wonderful how quickly you get used to things, even the most +astonishing. Five minutes before, the children had had no more idea than +you had that there was such a thing as a Sand-fairy in the world, and +now they were talking to it as though they had known it all their lives.</p> + +<p>It drew its eyes in and said—</p> + +<p>"How very sunny it is—quite like old times! Where do you get your +Megatheriums from now?"</p> + +<p>"What?" said the children all at once. It is very difficult always to +remember that "what" is not polite, especially in moments of surprise or +agitation.</p> + +<p>"Are Pterodactyls plentiful now?" the Sand-fairy went on.</p> + +<p>The children were unable to reply.</p> + +<p>"What do you have for breakfast?" the Fairy said impatiently, "and who +gives it to you?"</p> + +<p>"Eggs and bacon, and bread and milk, and porridge and things. Mother +gives it to us. What are Mega-what's-its-names and +Ptero-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>what-do-you-call-thems? And does anyone have them for breakfast?"</p> + +<p>"Why, almost everyone had Pterodactyl for breakfast in my time! +Pterodactyls were something like crocodiles and something like birds—I +believe they were very good grilled. You see, it was like this: of +course there were heaps of Sand-fairies then, and in the morning early +you went out and hunted for them, and when you'd found one it gave you +your wish. People used to send their little boys down to the seashore in +the morning before breakfast to get the day's wishes, and very often the +eldest boy in the family would be told to wish for a Megatherium, ready +jointed for cooking. It was as big as an elephant, you see, so there was +a good deal of meat on it. And if they wanted fish, the Ichthyosaurus +was asked for,—he was twenty to forty feet long, so there was plenty of +him. And for poultry there was the Plesiosaurus; there were nice +pickings on that too. Then the other children could wish for other +things. But when people had dinner-parties it was nearly always +Megatheriums; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> Ichthyosaurus, because his fins were a great delicacy +and his tail made soup."</p> + +<p>"There must have been heaps and heaps of cold meat left over," said +Anthea, who meant to be a good housekeeper some day.</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said the Psammead, "that would never have done. Why, of course +at sunset what was left over turned into stone. You find the stone bones +of the Megatherium and things all over the place even now, they tell +me."</p> + +<p>"Who tell you?" asked Cyril; but the Sand-fairy frowned and began to dig +very fast with its furry hands.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't go!" they all cried; "tell us more about when it was +Megatheriums for breakfast! Was the world like this then?"</p> + +<p>It stopped digging.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit," it said; "it was nearly all sand where I lived, and coal +grew on trees, and the periwinkles were as big as tea-trays—you find +them now; they're turned into stone. We Sand-fairies used to live on the +seashore, and the children used to come with their little flint-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>spades +and flint-pails and make castles for us to live in. That's thousands of +years ago, but I hear that children still build castles on the sand. +It's difficult to break yourself of a habit."</p> + +<p>"But why did you stop living in the castles?" asked Robert.</p> + +<p>"It's a sad story," said the Psammead gloomily. "It was because they +<i>would</i> build moats to the castles, and the nasty wet bubbling sea used +to come in, and of course as soon as a Sand-fairy got wet it caught +cold, and generally died. And so there got to be fewer and fewer, and, +whenever you found a fairy and had a wish, you used to wish for a +Megatherium, and eat twice as much as you wanted, because it might be +weeks before you got another wish."</p> + +<p>"And did <i>you</i> get wet?" Robert inquired.</p> + +<p>The Sand-fairy shuddered. "Only once," it said; "the end of the twelfth +hair of my top left whisker—I feel the place still in damp weather. It +was only once, but it was quite enough for me. I went away as soon as +the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>sun had dried my poor dear whisker. I scurried away to the back of +the beach, and dug myself a house deep in warm dry sand, and there I've +been ever since. And the sea changed its lodgings afterwards. And now +I'm not going to tell you another thing."</p> + +<p>"Just one more, please," said the children. "Can you give wishes now?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," said it; "didn't I give you yours a few minutes ago? You +said, 'I wish you'd come out,' and I did."</p> + +<p>"Oh, please, mayn't we have another?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but be quick about it. I'm tired of you."</p> + +<p>I daresay you have often thought what you would do if you had three +wishes given you, and have despised the old man and his wife in the +black-pudding story, and felt certain that if you had the chance you +could think of three really useful wishes without a moment's hesitation. +These children had often talked this matter over, but, now the chance +had suddenly come to them, they could not make up their minds.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Quick," said the Sand-fairy crossly. No one could think of anything, +only Anthea did manage to remember a private wish of her own and Jane's +which they had never told the boys. She knew the boys would not care +about it—but still it was better than nothing.</p> + +<p>"I wish we were all as beautiful as the day," she said in a great hurry.</p> + +<p>The children looked at each other, but each could see that the others +were not any better-looking than usual. The Psammead pushed out his long +eyes, and seemed to be holding its breath and swelling itself out till +it was twice as fat and furry as before. Suddenly it let its breath go +in a long sigh.</p> + +<p>"I'm really afraid I can't manage it," it said apologetically; "I must +be out of practice."</p> + +<p>The children were horribly disappointed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>do</i> try again!" they said.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the Sand-fairy, "the fact is, I was keeping back a little +strength to give the rest of you your wishes with. If you'll be +contented with one wish a day among the lot <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>of you I daresay I can +screw myself up to it. Do you agree to that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, oh yes!" said Jane and Anthea. The boys nodded. They did not +believe the Sand-fairy could do it. You can always make girls believe +things much easier than you can boys.</p> + +<p>It stretched out its eyes farther than ever, and swelled and swelled and +swelled.</p> + +<p>"I do hope it won't hurt itself," said Anthea.</p> + +<p>"Or crack its skin," Robert said anxiously.</p> + +<p>Everyone was very much relieved when the Sand-fairy, after getting so +big that it almost filled up the hole in the sand, suddenly let out its +breath and went back to its proper size.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," it said, panting heavily. "It'll come easier +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Did it hurt much?" said Anthea.</p> + +<p>"Only my poor whisker, thank you," said he, "but you're a kind and +thoughtful child. Good day."</p> + +<p>It scratched suddenly and fiercely with its hands and feet, and +disappeared in the sand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then the children looked at each other, and each child suddenly found +itself alone with three perfect strangers, all radiantly beautiful.</p> + +<p>They stood for some moments in silence. Each thought that its brothers +and sisters had wandered off, and that these strange children had stolen +up unnoticed while it was watching the swelling form of the Sand-fairy. +Anthea spoke first—</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," she said very politely to Jane, who now had enormous blue +eyes and a cloud of russet hair, "but have you seen two little boys and +a little girl anywhere about?"</p> + +<p>"I was just going to ask you that," said Jane. And then Cyril cried—</p> + +<p>"Why, it's <i>you</i>! I know the hole in your pinafore! You <i>are</i> Jane, +aren't you? And you're the Panther; I can see your dirty handkerchief +that you forgot to change after you'd cut your thumb! The wish <i>has</i> +come off, after all. I say, am I as handsome as you are?"</p> + +<p>"If you're Cyril, I liked you much better as you were before," said +Anthea decidedly. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>"You look like the picture of the young chorister, with your golden +hair; you'll die young, I shouldn't wonder. And if that's Robert, he's +like an Italian organ-grinder. His hair's all black."</p> + +<p>"You two girls are like Christmas cards, then—that's all—silly +Christmas cards," said Robert angrily. "And Jane's hair is simply +carrots."</p> + +<p>It was indeed of that Venetian tint so much admired by artists.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's no use finding fault with each other," said Anthea; "let's +get the Lamb and lug it home to dinner. The servants will admire us most +awfully, you'll see."</p> + +<p>Baby was just waking up when they got to him, and not one of the +children but was relieved to find that he at least was not as beautiful +as the day, but just the same as usual.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he's too young to have wishes naturally," said Jane. "We +shall have to mention him specially next time."</p> + +<p>Anthea ran forward and held out her arms.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come, then," she said.</p> + +<p>The Baby looked at her disapprovingly, and put a sandy pink thumb in his +mouth. Anthea was his favourite sister.</p> + +<p>"Come, then," she said.</p> + +<p>"G'way 'long!" said the Baby.</p> + +<p>"Come to own Pussy," said Jane.</p> + +<p>"Wants my Panty," said the Lamb dismally, and his lip trembled.</p> + +<p>"Here, come on, Veteran," said Robert, "come and have a yidey on Yobby's +back."</p> + +<p>"Yah, narky narky boy," howled the Baby, giving way altogether. Then the +children knew the worst. <i>The Baby did not know them!</i></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="baby" id="baby"></a> +<img src="images/05.png" width="400" height="354" alt="The baby did not know them!" title="The baby did not know them!" /> +<span class="caption">The baby did not know them!</span> +</div> + +<p>They looked at each other in despair, and it was terrible to each, in +this dire emergency, to meet only the beautiful eyes of perfect +strangers, instead of the merry, friendly, commonplace, twinkling, jolly +little eyes of its own brothers and sisters.</p> + +<p>"This is most truly awful," said Cyril when he had tried to lift up the +Lamb, and the Lamb had scratched like a cat and bellowed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>like a bull! +"We've got to <i>make friends</i> with him! I can't carry him home screaming +like that. Fancy having to make friends with our own baby!—it's too +silly."</p> + +<p>That, however, was exactly what they had to do. It took over an hour, +and the task was not rendered any easier by the fact that the Lamb was +by this time as hungry as a lion and as thirsty as a desert.</p> + +<p>At last he consented to allow these strangers to carry him home by +turns, but as he refused to hold on to such new acquaintances he was a +dead weight, and most exhausting.</p> + +<p>"Thank goodness, we're home!" said Jane, staggering through the iron +gate to where Martha, the nursemaid, stood at the front door shading her +eyes with her hand and looking out anxiously. "Here! Do take Baby!"</p> + +<p>Martha snatched the Baby from her arms.</p> + +<p>"Thanks be, <i>he's</i> safe back," she said. "Where are the others, and +whoever to goodness gracious are all of you?"</p> + +<p>"We're <i>us</i>, of course," said Robert.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And who's Us, when you're at home?" asked Martha scornfully.</p> + +<p>"I tell you it's <i>us</i>, only we're beautiful as the day," said Cyril. +"I'm Cyril, and these are the others, and we're jolly hungry. Let us in, +and don't be a silly idiot."</p> + +<p>Martha merely dratted Cyril's impudence and tried to shut the door in +his face.</p> + +<p>"I know we <i>look</i> different, but I'm Anthea, and we're so tired, and +it's long past dinner-time."</p> + +<p>"Then go home to your dinners, whoever you are; and if our children put +you up to this play-acting you can tell them from me they'll catch it, +so they know what to expect!" With that she did bang the door. Cyril +rang the bell violently. No answer. Presently cook put her head out of a +bedroom window and said—</p> + +<p>"If you don't take yourselves off, and that precious sharp, I'll go and +fetch the police." And she slammed down the window.</p> + +<p>"It's no good," said Anthea. "Oh, do, do come away before we get sent to +prison!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + +<p>The boys said it was nonsense, and the law of England couldn't put you +in prison for just being as beautiful as the day, but all the same they +followed the others out into the lane.</p> + +<p>"We shall be our proper selves after sunset, I suppose," said Jane.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Cyril said sadly; "it mayn't be like that now—things +have changed a good deal since Megatherium times."</p> + +<p>"Oh," cried Anthea suddenly, "perhaps we shall turn into stone at +sunset, like the Megatheriums did, so that there mayn't be any of us +left over for the next day."</p> + +<p>She began to cry, so did Jane. Even the boys turned pale. No one had the +heart to say anything.</p> + +<p>It was a horrible afternoon. There was no house near where the children +could beg a crust of bread or even a glass of water. They were afraid to +go to the village, because they had seen Martha go down there with a +basket, and there was a local constable. True, they were all as +beautiful as the day, but that is a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>poor comfort when you are as hungry +as a hunter and as thirsty as a sponge.</p> + +<p>Three times they tried in vain to get the servants in the White House to +let them in and listen to their tale. And then Robert went alone, hoping +to be able to climb in at one of the back windows and so open the door +to the others. But all the windows were out of reach, and Martha emptied +a toilet-jug of cold water over him from a top window, and said—</p> + +<p>"Go along with you, you nasty little Eye-talian monkey."</p> + +<p>It came at last to their sitting down in a row under the hedge, with +their feet in a dry ditch, waiting for sunset, and wondering whether, +when the sun <i>did</i> set, they would turn into stone, or only into their +own old natural selves; and each of them still felt lonely and among +strangers, and tried not to look at the others, for, though their voices +were their own, their faces were so radiantly beautiful as to be quite +irritating to look at.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe we <i>shall</i> turn to stone," said Robert, breaking a long +miserable silence,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> "because the Sand-fairy said he'd give us another +wish to-morrow, and he couldn't if we were stone, could he?"</p> + +<p>The others said "No," but they weren't at all comforted.</p> + +<p>Another silence, longer and more miserable, was broken by Cyril's +suddenly saying, "I don't want to frighten you girls, but I believe it's +beginning with me already. My foot's quite dead. I'm turning to stone, I +know I am, and so will you in a minute."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Robert kindly, "perhaps you'll be the only stone one, +and the rest of us will be all right, and we'll cherish your statue and +hang garlands on it."</p> + +<p>But when it turned out that Cyril's foot had only gone to sleep through +his sitting too long with it under him, and when it came to life in an +agony of pins and needles, the others were quite cross.</p> + +<p>"Giving us such a fright for nothing!" said Anthea.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 242px;"><a name="martha" id="martha"></a> +<img src="images/06.png" width="242" height="400" alt="Martha emptied a toilet-jug of cold water over him" title="Martha emptied a toilet-jug of cold water over him" /> +<span class="caption">Martha emptied a toilet-jug of cold water over him</span> +</div> + +<p>The third and miserablest silence of all was broken by Jane. She +said—<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If we <i>do</i> come out of this all right, we'll ask the Sammyadd to make +it so that the servants don't notice anything different, no matter what +wishes we have."</p> + +<p>The others only grunted. They were too wretched even to make good +resolutions.</p> + +<p>At last hunger and fright and crossness and tiredness—four very nasty +things—all joined together to bring one nice thing, and that was sleep. +The children lay asleep in a row, with their beautiful eyes shut and +their beautiful mouths open. Anthea woke first. The sun had set, and the +twilight was coming on.</p> + +<p>Anthea pinched herself very hard, to make sure, and when she found she +could still feel pinching she decided that she was not stone, and then +she pinched the others. They, also, were soft.</p> + +<p>"Wake up," she said, almost in tears for joy; "it's all right, we're not +stone. And oh, Cyril, how nice and ugly you do look, with your old +freckles and your brown hair and your little eyes. And so do you all!" +she added, so that they might not feel jealous.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<p>When they got home they were very much scolded by Martha, who told them +about the strange children.</p> + +<p>"A good-looking lot, I must say, but that impudent."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Robert, who knew by experience how hopeless it would be +to try to explain things to Martha.</p> + +<p>"And where on earth have you been all this time, you naughty little +things, you?"</p> + +<p>"In the lane."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you come home hours ago?"</p> + +<p>"We couldn't because of <i>them</i>," said Anthea.</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"The children who were as beautiful as the day. They kept us there till +after sunset. We couldn't come back till they'd gone. You don't know how +we hated them! Oh, do, do give us some supper—we are so hungry."</p> + +<p>"Hungry! I should think so," said Martha angrily; "out all day like +this. Well, I hope it'll be a lesson to you not to go picking up with +strange children—down here after measles, as likely as not! Now mind, +if you see <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>them again, don't you speak to them—not one word nor so +much as a look—but come straight away and tell me. I'll spoil their +beauty for them!"</p> + +<p>"If ever we <i>do</i> see them again we'll tell you," Anthea said; and +Robert, fixing his eyes fondly on the cold beef that was being brought +in on a tray by cook, added in heartfelt undertones—</p> + +<p>"And we'll take jolly good care we never <i>do</i> see them again."</p> + +<p>And they never have.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>GOLDEN GUINEAS</h3> + + +<p>Anthea woke in the morning from a very real sort of dream, in which she +was walking in the Zoological Gardens on a pouring wet day without an +umbrella. The animals seemed desperately unhappy because of the rain, +and were all growling gloomily. When she awoke, both the growling and +the rain went on just the same. The growling was the heavy regular +breathing of her sister Jane, who had a slight cold and was still +asleep. The rain fell in slow drops on to Anthea's face from the wet +corner of a bath-towel out of which her brother Robert was gently +squeezing the water, to wake her up, as he now explained.</p> + +<p>"Oh, drop it!" she said rather crossly; so he did, for he was not a +brutal brother, though very ingenious in apple-pie beds, booby-traps, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>original methods of awakening sleeping relatives, and the other +little accomplishments which make home happy.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="rain" id="rain"></a> +<img src="images/07.png" width="400" height="316" alt="The rain fell in slow drops on to Anthea's face" title="The rain fell in slow drops on to Anthea's face" /> +<span class="caption">The rain fell in slow drops on to Anthea's face</span> +</div> + +<p>"I had such a funny dream," Anthea began.</p> + +<p>"So did I," said Jane, wakening suddenly and without warning. "I dreamed +we found a Sand-fairy in the gravel-pits, and it said it was a Sammyadd, +and we might have a new wish every day, and"——</p> + +<p>"But that's what <i>I</i> dreamed," said Robert; "I was just going to tell +you,—and we had the first wish directly it said so. And I dreamed you +girls were donkeys enough to ask for us all to be beautiful as day, and +we jolly well were, and it was perfectly beastly."</p> + +<p>"But <i>can</i> different people all dream the same thing?" said Anthea, +sitting up in bed, "because I dreamed all that as well as about the Zoo +and the rain; and Baby didn't know us in my dream, and the servants shut +us out of the house because the radiantness of our beauty was such a +complete disguise, and"——</p> + +<p>The voice of the eldest brother sounded from across the landing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come on, Robert," it said, "you'll be late for breakfast again—unless +you mean to shirk your bath as you did on Tuesday."</p> + +<p>"I say, come here a second," Robert replied; "I didn't shirk it; I had +it after brekker in father's dressing-room because ours was emptied +away."</p> + +<p>Cyril appeared in the doorway, partially clothed.</p> + +<p>"Look here," said Anthea, "we've all had such an odd dream. We've all +dreamed we found a Sand-fairy."</p> + +<p>Her voice died away before Cyril's contemptuous glance.</p> + +<p>"Dream?" he said; "you little sillies, it's <i>true</i>. I tell you it all +happened. That's why I'm so keen on being down early. We'll go up there +directly after brekker, and have another wish. Only we'll make up our +minds, solid, before we go, what it is we do want, and no one must ask +for anything unless the others agree first. No more peerless beauties +for this child, thank you. Not if I know it!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>The other three dressed, with their mouths open. If all that dream about +the Sand-fairy was real, this real dressing seemed very like a dream, +the girls thought. Jane felt that Cyril was right, but Anthea was not +sure, till after they had seen Martha and heard her full and plain +reminders about their naughty conduct the day before. Then Anthea was +sure.</p> + +<p>"Because," said she, "servants never dream anything but the things in +the Dream-book, like snakes and oysters and going to a wedding—that +means a funeral, and snakes are a false female friend, and oysters are +babies."</p> + +<p>"Talking of babies," said Cyril, "where's the Lamb?"</p> + +<p>"Martha's going to take him to Rochester to see her cousins. Mother said +she might. She's dressing him now," said Jane, "in his very best coat +and hat. Bread-and-butter, please."</p> + +<p>"She seems to like taking him too," said Robert in a tone of wonder.</p> + +<p>"Servants <i>do</i> like taking babies to see their <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>relations," Cyril said; +"I've noticed it before—especially in their best clothes."</p> + +<p>"I expect they pretend they're their own babies, and that they're not +servants at all, but married to noble dukes of high degree, and they say +the babies are the little dukes and duchesses," Jane suggested dreamily, +taking more marmalade. "I expect that's what Martha'll say to her +cousin. She'll enjoy herself most frightfully."</p> + +<p>"She won't enjoy herself most frightfully carrying our infant duke to +Rochester," said Robert; "not if she's anything like me—she won't."</p> + +<p>"Fancy walking to Rochester with the Lamb on your back!" said Cyril in +full agreement.</p> + +<p>"She's gone by the carrier's cart," said Jane. "Let's see them off, then +we shall have done a polite and kindly act, and we shall be quite sure +we've got rid of them for the day."</p> + +<p>So they did.</p> + +<p>Martha wore her Sunday dress of two shades of purple, so tight in the +chest that it made her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>stoop, and her blue hat with the pink +cornflowers and white ribbon. She had a yellow-lace collar with a green +bow. And the Lamb had indeed his very best cream-colored silk coat and +hat. It was a smart party that the carrier's cart picked up at the Cross +Roads. When its white tilt and red wheels had slowly vanished in a swirl +of chalk-dust—</p> + +<p>"And now for the Sammyadd!" said Cyril, and off they went.</p> + +<p>As they went they decided on the wish they would ask for. Although they +were all in a great hurry they did not try to climb down the sides of +the gravel-pit, but went round by the safe lower road, as if they had +been carts.</p> + +<p>They had made a ring of stones round the place where the Sand-fairy had +disappeared, so they easily found the spot. The sun was burning and +bright, and the sky was deep blue—without a cloud. The sand was very +hot to touch.</p> + +<p>"Oh—suppose it was only a dream, after all," Robert said as the boys +uncovered their <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>spades from the sand-heap where they had buried them +and began to dig.</p> + +<p>"Suppose you were a sensible chap," said Cyril; "one's quite as likely +as the other!"</p> + +<p>"Suppose you kept a civil tongue in your head," Robert snapped.</p> + +<p>"Suppose we girls take a turn," said Jane, laughing. "You boys seem to +be getting very warm."</p> + +<p>"Suppose you don't come putting your silly oar in," said Robert, who was +now warm indeed.</p> + +<p>"We won't," said Anthea quickly. "Robert dear, don't be so grumpy—we +won't say a word, you shall be the one to speak to the Fairy and tell +him what we've decided to wish for. You'll say it much better than we +shall."</p> + +<p>"Suppose you drop being a little humbug," said Robert, but not crossly. +"Look out—dig with your hands, now!"</p> + +<p>So they did, and presently uncovered the spider-shaped brown hairy body, +long arms and legs, bat's ears and snail's eyes of the Sand-fairy +himself. Everyone drew a deep breath <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>of satisfaction, for now of course +it couldn't have been a dream.</p> + +<p>The Psammead sat up and shook the sand out of its fur.</p> + +<p>"How's your left whisker this morning?" said Anthea politely.</p> + +<p>"Nothing to boast of," said it; "it had rather a restless night. But +thank you for asking."</p> + +<p>"I say," said Robert, "do you feel up to giving wishes to-day, because +we very much want an extra besides the regular one? The extra's a very +little one," he added reassuringly.</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said the Sand-fairy. (If you read this story aloud, please +pronounce "humph" exactly as it is spelt, for that is how he said it.) +"Humph! Do you know, until I heard you being disagreeable to each other +just over my head, and so loud too, I really quite thought I had dreamed +you all. I do have very odd dreams sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Do you?" Jane hurried to say, so as to get away from the subject of +disagreeableness. "I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>wish," she added politely, "you'd tell us about +your dreams—they must be awfully interesting"—</p> + +<p>"Is that the day's wish?" said the Sand-fairy, yawning.</p> + +<p>Cyril muttered something about "just like a girl," and the rest stood +silent. If they said "Yes," then good-bye to the other wishes they had +decided to ask for. If they said "No," it would be very rude, and they +had all been taught manners, and had learned a little too, which is not +at all the same thing. A sigh of relief broke from all lips when the +Sand-fairy said—</p> + +<p>"If I do, I shan't have strength to give you a second wish; not even +good tempers, or common-sense, or manners, or little things like that."</p> + +<p>"We don't want you to put yourself out at all about <i>these</i> things, we +can manage them quite well ourselves," said Cyril eagerly; while the +others looked guiltily at each other, and wished the Fairy would not +keep all on about good tempers, but give them one good <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>scolding if it +wanted to, and then have done with it.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the Psammead, putting out his long snail's eyes so suddenly +that one of them nearly went into the round boy's eye of Robert, "let's +have the little wish first."</p> + +<p>"We don't want the servants to notice the gifts you give us."</p> + +<p>"Are kind enough to give us," said Anthea in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Are kind enough to give us, I mean," said Robert.</p> + +<p>The Fairy swelled himself out a bit, let his breath go, and said—</p> + +<p>"I've done <i>that</i> for you—it was quite easy. People don't notice things +much, anyway. What's the next wish?"</p> + +<p>"We want," said Robert slowly, "to be rich beyond the dreams of +something or other."</p> + +<p>"Avarice," said Jane.</p> + +<p>"So it is," said the Fairy unexpectedly. "But it won't do you much good, +that's one comfort," it muttered to itself. "Come—I can't go beyond +dreams, you know! How much do <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>you want, and will you have it in gold or +notes?"</p> + +<p>"Gold, please—and millions of it"—</p> + +<p>"This gravel-pit full be enough?" said the Fairy in an off-hand manner.</p> + +<p>"Oh <i>yes</i>"—</p> + +<p>"Then go out before I begin, or you'll be buried alive in it."</p> + +<p>It made its skinny arms so long, and waved them so frighteningly, that +the children ran as hard as they could towards the road by which carts +used to come to the gravel-pits. Only Anthea had presence of mind enough +to shout a timid "Good-morning, I hope your whisker will be better +to-morrow," as she ran.</p> + +<p>On the road they turned and looked back, and they had to shut their +eyes, and open them very slowly, a little bit at a time, because the +sight was too dazzling for their eyes to be able to bear. It was +something like trying to look at the sun at high noon on Midsummer Day. +For the whole of the sand-pit was full, right up to the very top, with +new shining gold <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>pieces, and all the little bank-martins' little front +doors were covered out of sight. Where the road for carts wound into the +gravel-pit the gold lay in heaps like stones lie by the roadside, and a +great bank of shining gold shelved down from where it lay flat and +smooth between the tall sides of the gravel-pit. And all the gleaming +heaps was minted gold. And on the sides and edges of these countless +coins the mid-day sun shone and sparkled, and glowed and gleamed till +the quarry looked like the mouth of a smelting furnace, or one of the +fairy halls that you see sometimes in the sky at sunset.</p> + +<p>The children stood with their mouths open, and no one said a word.</p> + +<p>At last Robert stooped and picked up one of the loose coins from the +edge of the heap by the cart-road, and looked at it. He looked on both +sides. Then he said in a low voice, quite different to his own, "It's +not sovereigns."</p> + +<p>"It's gold, anyway," said Cyril. And now they all began to talk at once. +They all picked up the golden treasure by handfuls and let it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>run +through their fingers like water, and the chink it made as it fell was +wonderful music. At first they quite forgot to think of spending the +money, it was so nice to play with. Jane sat down between two heaps of +the gold, and Robert began to bury her, as you bury your father in sand +when you are at the seaside and he has gone to sleep on the beach with +his newspaper over his face. But Jane was not half buried before she +cried out, "Oh stop, it's too heavy! It hurts!"</p> + +<p>Robert said "Bosh!" and went on.</p> + +<p>"Let me out, I tell you," cried Jane, and was taken out, very white, and +trembling a little.</p> + +<p>"You've no idea what it's like," said she; "it's like stones on you—or +like chains."</p> + +<p>"Look here," Cyril said, "if this is to do us any good, it's no good our +staying gasping at it like this. Let's fill our pockets and go and buy +things. Don't you forget, it won't last after sunset. I wish we'd asked +the Sammyadd why things don't turn to stone. Perhaps this will. I'll +tell you what, there's a pony and cart in the village."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you want to buy that?" asked Jane.</p> + +<p>"No, silly,—we'll <i>hire</i> it. And then we'll go to Rochester and buy +heaps and heaps of things. Look here, let's each take as much as we can +carry. But it's not sovereigns. They've got a man's head on one side and +a thing like the ace of spades on the other. Fill your pockets with it, +I tell you, and come along. You can talk as we go—if you <i>must</i> talk."</p> + +<p>Cyril sat down and began to fill his pockets.</p> + +<p>"You made fun of me for getting father to have nine pockets in my suit," +said he, "but now you see!"</p> + +<p>They did. For when Cyril had filled his nine pockets and his +handkerchief and the space between himself and his shirt front with the +gold coins, he had to stand up. But he staggered, and had to sit down +again in a hurry.</p> + +<p>"Throw out some of the cargo," said Robert. "You'll sink the ship, old +chap. That comes of nine pockets."</p> + +<p>And Cyril had to do so.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then they set off to walk to the village. It was more than a mile, and +the road was very dusty indeed, and the sun seemed to get hotter and +hotter, and the gold in their pockets got heavier and heavier.</p> + +<p>It was Jane who said, "I don't see how we're to spend it all. There must +be thousands of pounds among the lot of us. I'm going to leave some of +mine behind this stump in the hedge. And directly we get to the village +we'll buy some biscuits; I know it's long past dinner-time." She took +out a handful or two of gold and hid it in the hollows of an old +hornbeam. "How round and yellow they are," she said. "Don't you wish +they were made of gingerbread and we were going to eat them?"</p> + +<p>"Well, they're not, and we're not," said Cyril. "Come on!"</p> + +<p>But they came on heavily and wearily. Before they reached the village, +more than one stump in the hedge concealed its little hoard of hidden +treasure. Yet they reached the village with about twelve hundred guineas +in their <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>pockets. But in spite of this inside wealth they looked +quite ordinary outside, and no one would have thought they could have +more than a half-crown each at the outside. The haze of heat, the blue +of the wood smoke, made a sort of dim misty cloud over the red roofs of +the village. The four sat down heavily on the first bench to which they +came. It happened to be outside the Blue Boar Inn.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 323px;"><a name="staggered" id="staggered"></a> +<img src="images/08.png" width="323" height="400" alt="He staggered, and had to sit down again in a hurry" title="He staggered, and had to sit down again in a hurry" /> +<span class="caption">He staggered, and had to sit down again in a hurry</span> +</div> + +<p>It was decided that Cyril should go into the Blue Boar and ask for +ginger-beer, because, as Anthea said, "It was not wrong for men to go +into beer-saloons, only for children. And Cyril is nearer being a man +than us, because he is the eldest." So he went. The others sat in the +sun and waited.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how hot it is!" said Robert. "Dogs put their tongues out when +they're hot; I wonder if it would cool us at all to put out ours?"</p> + +<p>"We might try," Jane said; and they all put their tongues out as far as +ever they could go, so that it quite stretched their throats, but it +only seemed to make them thirstier than ever, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>besides annoying everyone +who went by. So they took their tongues in again, just as Cyril came +back with ginger-beer.</p> + +<p>"I had to pay for it out of my own money, though, that I was going to +buy rabbits with," he said. "They wouldn't change the gold. And when I +pulled out a handful the man just laughed and said it was card-counters. +And I got some sponge-cakes too, out of a glass jar on the bar-counter. +And some biscuits with caraways in."</p> + +<p>The sponge-cakes were both soft and dry and the biscuits were dry too, +and yet soft, which biscuits ought not to be. But the ginger-beer made +up for everything.</p> + +<p>"It's my turn now to try to buy something with the money," Anthea said; +"I'm next eldest. Where is the pony-cart kept?"</p> + +<p>It was at The Chequers, and Anthea went in the back way to the yard, +because they all knew that little girls ought not to go into the bars of +beer-saloons. She came out, as she herself said, "pleased but not +proud."</p> + +<p>"He'll be ready in a brace of shakes, he says,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> she remarked, "and he's +to have one sovereign—or whatever it is—to drive us into Rochester and +back, besides waiting there till we've got everything we want. I think I +managed very well."</p> + +<p>"You think yourself jolly clever, I daresay," said Cyril moodily. "How +did you do it?"</p> + +<p>"I wasn't jolly clever enough to go taking handfuls of money out of my +pocket, to make it seem cheap, anyway," she retorted. "I just found a +young man doing something to a horse's legs with a sponge and a pail. +And I held out one sovereign, and I said—'Do you know what this is?' He +said 'No,' and he'd call his father. And the old man came, and he said +it was a spade guinea; and he said was it my own to do as I liked with, +and I said 'Yes'; and I asked about the pony-cart, and I said he could +have the guinea if he'd drive us into Rochester. And his name is S. +Crispin. And he said, 'Right oh.'"</p> + +<p>It was a new sensation to be driven in a smart pony-trap along pretty +country roads; it was very pleasant too (which is not always the case +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>with new sensations), quite apart from the beautiful plans of spending +the money which each child made as they went along, silently of course +and quite to itself, for they felt it would never have done to let the +old innkeeper hear them talk in the affluent sort of way in which they +were thinking. The old man put them down by the bridge at their request.</p> + +<p>"If you were going to buy a carriage and horses, where would you go?" +asked Cyril, as if he were only asking for the sake of something to say.</p> + +<p>"Billy Peasemarsh, at the Saracen's Head," said the old man promptly. +"Though all forbid I should recommend any man where it's a question of +horses, no more than I'd take anybody else's recommending if I was +a-buying one. But if your pa's thinking of a rig of any sort, there +ain't a straighter man in Rochester, nor civiller spoken, than Billy, +though I says it."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Cyril. "The Saracen's Head."</p> + +<p>And now the children began to see one of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>the laws of nature turn upside +down and stand on its head like an acrobat. Any grown-up person would +tell you that money is hard to get and easy to spend. But the fairy +money had been easy to get, and spending it was not only hard, it was +almost impossible. The trades-people of Rochester seemed to shrink, to a +trades-person, from the glittering fairy gold ("furrin money" they +called it, for the most part).</p> + +<p>To begin with, Anthea, who had had the misfortune to sit on her hat +earlier in the day, wished to buy another. She chose a very beautiful +one, trimmed with pink roses and the blue breasts of peacocks. It was +marked in the window, "Paris Model, three guineas."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad," she said, "because it says guineas, and not sovereigns, +which we haven't got."</p> + +<p>But when she took three of the spade guineas in her hand, which was by +this time rather dirty owing to her not having put on gloves before +going to the gravel-pit, the black-silk young lady in the shop looked +very hard at her, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>and went and whispered something to an older and +uglier lady, also in black silk, and then they gave her back the money +and said it was not current coin.</p> + +<p>"It's good money," said Anthea, "and it's my own."</p> + +<p>"I daresay," said the lady, "but it's not the kind of money that's +fashionable now, and we don't care about taking it."</p> + +<p>"I believe they think we've stolen it," said Anthea, rejoining the +others in the street; "if we had gloves they wouldn't think we were so +dishonest. It's my hands being so dirty fills their minds with doubts."</p> + +<p>So they chose a humble shop, and the girls bought cotton gloves, the +kind at a shilling, but when they offered a guinea the woman looked at +it through her spectacles and said she had no change; so the gloves had +to be paid for out of Cyril's money with which he meant to buy rabbits +and so had the green imitation crocodile-skin purse at nine-pence which +had been bought at the same time. They tried several more shops, the +kinds where <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>you buy toys and perfume and silk handkerchiefs and books, +and fancy boxes of stationery, and photographs of objects of interest in +the vicinity. But nobody cared to change a guinea that day in Rochester, +and as they went from shop to shop they got dirtier and dirtier, and +their hair got more and more untidy, and Jane slipped and fell down on a +part of the road where a water cart had just gone by. Also they got very +hungry, but they found no one would give them anything to eat for their +guineas.</p> + +<p>After trying two baker shops in vain, they became so hungry, perhaps +from the smell of the cake in the shops, as Cyril suggested, that they +formed a plan of campaign in whispers and carried it out in desperation. +They marched into a third baker shop,—Beale was his name,—and before +the people behind the counter could interfere each child had seized +three new penny buns, clapped the three together between its dirty +hands, and taken a big bite out of the triple sandwich. Then they stood +at bay, with the twelve buns <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>in their hands and their mouths very full +indeed. The shocked baker's man bounded round the corner.</p> + +<p>"Here," said Cyril, speaking as distinctly as he could, and holding out +the guinea he got ready before entering the shops, "pay yourself out of +that."</p> + +<p>Mr. Beale snatched the coin, bit it, and put it in his pocket.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="beale" id="beale"></a> +<img src="images/09.png" width="400" height="360" alt="Mr. Beale snatched the coin, bit it, and put it in his pocket" title="Mr. Beale snatched the coin, bit it, and put it in his pocket" /> +<span class="caption">Mr. Beale snatched the coin, bit it, and put it in his pocket</span> +</div> + +<p>"Off you go," he said, brief and stern like the man in the song.</p> + +<p>"But the change?" said Anthea, who had a saving mind.</p> + +<p>"Change!" said the man, "I'll change you! Hout you goes; and you may +think yourselves lucky I don't send for the police to find out where you +got it!"</p> + +<p>In the Gardens of the Castle the millionaires finished the buns, and +though the curranty softness of these were delicious, and acted like a +charm in raising the spirits of the party, yet even the stoutest heart +quailed at the thought of venturing to sound Mr. Billy Peasemarsh at the +Saracen's Head on the subject of a horse <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>and carriage. The boys would +have given up the idea, but Jane was always a hopeful child, and Anthea +generally an obstinate one, and their earnestness prevailed.</p> + +<p>The whole party, by this time indescribably dirty, therefore betook +itself to the Saracen's Head. The yard-method of attack having been +successful at The Chequers, was tried again here. Mr. Peasemarsh was in +the yard, and Robert opened the business in these terms—</p> + +<p>"They tell me you have a lot of horses and carriages to sell." It had +been agreed that Robert should be spokesman, because in books it is +always gentlemen who buy horses, and not ladies, and Cyril had had his +go at the Blue Boar.</p> + +<p>"They tell you true, young man," said Mr. Peasemarsh. He was a long lean +man, with very blue eyes and a tight mouth and narrow lips.</p> + +<p>"We should like to buy some, please," said Robert politely.</p> + +<p>"I daresay you would."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Will you show us a few, please? To choose from."</p> + +<p>"Who are you a-kiddin of?" inquired Mr. Billy <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Peasemarch'">Peasemarsh</ins>. "Was you sent +here of a message?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you," said Robert, "we want to buy some horses and carriages, +and a man told us you were straight and civil spoken, but I shouldn't +wonder if he was mistaken"—</p> + +<p>"Upon my sacred!" said Mr. Peasemarsh. "Shall I trot the whole stable +out for your Honor's worship to see? Or shall I send round to the +Bishop's to see if he's a nag or two to dispose of?"</p> + +<p>"Please do," said Robert, "if it's not too much trouble. It would be +very kind of you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Peasemarsh put his hands in his pockets and laughed, and they did +not like the way he did it. Then he shouted "Willum!"</p> + +<p>A stooping ostler appeared in a stable door.</p> + +<p>"Here, Willum, come and look at this 'ere young dook! Wants to buy the +whole stud, lock, stock, and bar'l. And ain't got tuppence <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>in his +pocket to bless hisself with, I'll go bail!"</p> + +<p>Willum's eyes followed his master's pointing thumb with contemptuous +interest.</p> + +<p>"Do 'e, for sure?" he said.</p> + +<p>But Robert spoke, though both the girls were now pulling at his jacket +and begging him to "come along." He spoke, and he was very angry; he +said—</p> + +<p>"I'm not a young duke, and I never pretended to be. And as for +tuppence—what do you call this?" And before the others could stop him +he had pulled out two fat handfuls of shining guineas, and held them out +for Mr. Peasemarsh to look at. He did look. He snatched one up in his +finger and thumb. He bit it, and Jane expected him to say, "The best +horse in my stables is at your service." But the others knew better. +Still it was a blow, even to the most desponding, when he said shortly—</p> + +<p>"Willum, shut the yard doors;" and Willum grinned and went to shut them.</p> + +<p>"Good-afternoon," said Robert hastily; "we <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>shan't buy any horses now, +whatever you say, and I hope it'll be a lesson to you." He had seen a +little side gate open, and was moving towards it as he spoke. But Billy +Peasemarsh put himself in the way.</p> + +<p>"Not so fast, you young off-scouring!" he said. "Willum, fetch the +pleece."</p> + +<p>Willum went. The children stood huddled together like frightened sheep, +and Mr. Peasemarsh spoke to them till the pleece arrived. He said many +things. Among other things he said—</p> + +<p>"Nice lot you are, aren't you, coming tempting honest men with your +guineas!"</p> + +<p>"They <i>are</i> our guineas," said Cyril boldly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course we don't know all about that, no more we don't—oh +no—course not! And dragging little gells into it, too. 'Ere—I'll let +the gells go if you'll come along to the pleece quiet."</p> + +<p>"We won't be let go," said Jane heroically; "not without the boys. It's +our money just as much as theirs, you wicked old man."</p> + +<p>"Where'd you get it, then?" said the man, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>softening slightly, which was +not at all what the boys expected when Jane began to call names.</p> + +<p>Jane cast a silent glance of agony at the others.</p> + +<p>"Lost your tongue, eh? Got it fast enough when it's for calling names +with. Come, speak up! Where'd you get it?"</p> + +<p>"Out of the gravel-pit," said truthful Jane.</p> + +<p>"Next article," said the man.</p> + +<p>"I tell you we did," Jane said. "There's a fairy there—all over brown +fur—with ears like a bat's and eyes like a snail's, and he gives you a +wish a day, and they all come true."</p> + +<p>"Touched in the head, eh?" said the man in a low voice; "all the more +shame to you boys dragging the poor afflicted child into your sinful +burglaries."</p> + +<p>"She's not mad; it's true," said Anthea; "there <i>is</i> a fairy. If I ever +see him again I'll wish for something for you; at least I would if +vengeance wasn't wicked—so there!"</p> + +<p>"Lor' lumme," said Billy Peasemarsh, "if there ain't another on 'em!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<p>And now Willum came back, with a spiteful grin on his face, and at his +back a policeman, with whom Mr. Peasemarsh spoke long in a hoarse +earnest whisper.</p> + +<p>"I daresay you're right," said the policeman at last. "Anyway, I'll take +'em up on a charge of unlawful possession, pending inquiries. And the +magistrate will deal with the case. Send the afflicted ones to a home, +as likely as not, and the boys to a reformatory. Now then, come along, +youngsters! No use making a fuss. You bring the gells along, Mr. +Peasemarsh, sir, and I'll shepherd the boys."</p> + +<p>Speechless with rage and horror, the four children were driven along the +streets of Rochester. Tears of anger and shame blinded them, so that +when Robert ran right into a passer-by he did not recognise her till a +well-known voice said, "Well, if ever I did! Oh, Master Robert, whatever +have you been a-doing of now?" And another voice, quite as well known, +said, "Panty; want go own Panty!"</p> + +<p>They had run into Martha and the Baby!</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 236px;"><a name="run" id="run"></a> +<img src="images/10.png" width="236" height="400" alt="They had run into Martha and the baby" title="They had run into Martha and the baby" /> +<span class="caption">They had run into Martha and the baby</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + +<p>Martha behaved admirably. She refused to believe a word of the +policeman's story, or of Mr. Peasemarsh's either, even when they made +Robert turn out his pockets in an archway and show the guineas.</p> + +<p>"I don't see nothing," she said. "You've gone out of your senses, you +two! There ain't any gold there—only the poor child's hands, all over +dirt, and like the very chimbley. Oh that I should ever see the day!"</p> + +<p>And the children thought this very noble of Martha, even if rather +wicked, till they remembered how the Fairy had promised that the +servants should never notice any of the fairy gifts. So of course Martha +couldn't see the gold, and so was only speaking the truth, and that was +quite right, of course, but not extra noble.</p> + +<p>It was getting dusk when they reached the police-station. The policeman +told his tale to an inspector, who sat in a large bare room with a thing +like a clumsy nursery-fender at one end to put prisoners in. Robert +wondered whether it was a cell or a dock.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Produce the coins, officer," said the inspector.</p> + +<p>"Turn out your pockets," said the constable.</p> + +<p>Cyril desperately plunged his hands in his pockets, stood still a +moment, and then began to laugh—an odd sort of laugh that hurt, and +that felt much more like crying. His pockets were empty. So were the +pockets of the others. For of course at sunset all the fairy gold had +vanished away.</p> + +<p>"Turn out your pockets, and stop that noise," said the inspector.</p> + +<p>Cyril turned out his pockets, every one of the nine which enriched his +suit. And every pocket was empty.</p> + +<p>"Well!" said the inspector.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how they done it—artful little beggars! They walked in +front of me the 'ole way, so as for me to keep my eye on them and not to +attract a crowd and obstruct the traffic."</p> + +<p>"It's very remarkable," said the inspector, frowning.</p> + +<p>"If you've done a-browbeating of the inno<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>cent children," said Martha, +"I'll hire a private carriage and we'll drive home to their papa's +mansion. You'll hear about this again, young man!—I told you they +hadn't got any gold, when you were pretending to see it in their poor +helpless hands. It's early in the day for a constable on duty not to be +able to trust his own eyes. As to the other one, the less said the +better; he keeps the Saracen's Head, and he knows best what his liquor's +like."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 346px;"><a name="now" id="now"></a> +<img src="images/11.png" width="346" height="400" alt="He said, "Now then!" to the policeman and Mr. Peasemarsh" title="e said, "Now then!" to the policeman and Mr. Peasemarsh" /> +<span class="caption">He said, "Now then!" to the policeman and Mr. Peasemarsh</span> +</div> + +<p>"Take them away, for goodness' sake," said the inspector crossly. But as +they left the police-station he said, "Now then!" to the policeman and +Mr. Peasemarsh, and he said it twenty times as crossly as he had spoken +to Martha.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Martha was as good as her word. She took them home in a very grand +carriage, because the carrier's cart was gone, and, though she had stood +by them so nobly with the police, she was so angry with them as soon as +they were alone for "trapesing into Rochester by themselves," that none +of them dared to men<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>tion the old man with the pony-cart from the +village who was waiting for them in Rochester. And so, after one day of +boundless wealth, the children found themselves sent to bed in deep +disgrace, and only enriched by two pairs of cotton gloves, dirty inside +because of the state of the hands they had been put on to cover, an +imitation crocodile-skin purse, and twelve penny buns, long since +digested.</p> + +<p>The thing that troubled them most was the fear that the old gentleman's +guinea might have disappeared at sunset with all the rest, so they went +down to the village next day to apologise for not meeting him in +Rochester, and to <i>see</i>. They found him very friendly. The guinea had +not disappeared, and he had bored a hole in it and hung it on his +watch-chain. As for the guinea the baker took, the children felt they +<i>could</i> not care whether it had vanished or not, which was not perhaps +very honest, but on the other hand was not wholly unnatural. But +afterwards this preyed on Anthea's mind, and at last she secretly sent +twelve postage stamps by post to "Mr. Beale,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> Baker, Rochester." Inside +she wrote, "To pay for the buns." I hope the guinea did disappear, for +that baker was really not at all a nice man, and, besides, penny buns +are seven for sixpence in all really respectable shops.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>BEING WANTED</h3> + + +<p>The morning after the children had been the possessors of boundless +wealth, and had been unable to buy anything really useful or enjoyable +with it, except two pairs of cotton gloves, twelve penny buns, an +imitation crocodile-skin purse, and a ride in a pony-cart, they awoke +without any of the enthusiastic happiness which they had felt on the +previous day when they remembered how they had had the luck to find a +Psammead, or Sand-fairy, and to receive its promise to grant them a new +wish every day. For now they had had two wishes, Beauty and Wealth, and +neither had exactly made them happy. But the happening of strange +things, even if they are not completely pleasant things, is more amusing +than those times when nothing happens but meals, and they are not always +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>completely pleasant, especially on the days when it is cold mutton or +hash.</p> + +<p>There was no chance of talking things over before breakfast, because +everyone overslept itself, as it happened, and it needed a vigorous and +determined struggle to get dressed so as to be only ten minutes late for +breakfast. During this meal some efforts were made to deal with the +question of the Psammead in an impartial spirit, but it is very +difficult to discuss anything thoroughly and at the same time to attend +faithfully to your baby brother's breakfast needs. The Baby was +particularly lively that morning. He not only wriggled his body through +the bar of his high chair, and hung by his head, choking and purple, but +he seized a tablespoon with desperate suddenness, hit Cyril heavily on +the head with it, and then cried because it was taken away from him. He +put his fat fist in his bread-and-milk, and demanded "nam," which was +only allowed for tea. He sang, he put his feet on the table—he +clamoured to "go walky." The conversation was something like this—<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Look here—about that Sand-fairy—— Look out!—he'll have the milk +over."</p> + +<p>Milk removed to a safe distance.</p> + +<p>"Yes—about that Fairy—— No, Lamb dear, give Panther the narky poon."</p> + +<p>Then Cyril tried. "Nothing we've had yet has turned out—— He nearly +had the mustard that time!"</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether we'd better wish—— Hullo!—you've done it now, my +boy!" And in a flash of glass and pink baby-paws, the bowl of golden +carp in the middle of the table rolled on its side and poured a flood of +mixed water and gold-fish into the Baby's lap and into the laps of the +others.</p> + +<p>Everyone was almost as much upset as the gold-fish; the Lamb only +remaining calm. When the pool on the floor had been mopped up, and the +leaping, gasping gold-fish had been collected and put back in the water, +the Baby was taken away to be entirely re-dressed by Martha, and most of +the others had to change completely. The pinafores and jackets that had +been bathed in gold-fish-and-water <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>were hung out to dry, and then it +turned out that Jane must either mend the dress she had torn the day +before or appear all day in her best petticoat. It was white and soft +and frilly, and trimmed with lace, and very, very pretty, quite as +pretty as a frock, if not more so. Only it was <i>not</i> a frock, and +Martha's word was law. She wouldn't let Jane wear her best frock, and +she refused to listen for a moment to Robert's suggestion that Jane +should wear her best petticoat and call it a dress.</p> + +<p>"It's not respectable," she said. And when people say that, it's no use +anyone's saying anything. You'll find this out for yourselves some day.</p> + +<p>So there was nothing for it but for Jane to mend her frock. The hole had +been torn the day before when she happened to tumble down in the High +Street of Rochester, just where a water-cart had passed on its silvery +way. She had grazed her knee, and her stocking was much more than +grazed, and her dress was cut by the same stone which had attended to +the knee and the stocking. Of course the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>others were not such sneaks as +to abandon a comrade in misfortune, so they all sat on the grass-plot +round the sun-dial, and Jane darned away for dear life. The Lamb was +still in the hands of Martha having its clothes changed, so conversation +was possible.</p> + +<p>Anthea and Robert timidly tried to conceal their inmost thought, which +was that the Psammead was not to be trusted; but Cyril said—</p> + +<p>"Speak out—say what you've got to say—I hate hinting, and 'don't +know,' and sneakish ways like that."</p> + +<p>So then Robert said, as in honour bound, "Sneak yourself—Anthea and me +weren't so gold-fishy as you two were, so we got changed quicker, and +we've had time to think it over, and if you ask me"—</p> + +<p>"I didn't ask you," said Jane, biting off a needleful of thread as she +had always been strictly forbidden to do. (Perhaps you don't know that +if you bite off ends of cotton and swallow them they wind tight round +your heart and kill you? My nurse told me this, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>and she told me also +about the earth going round the sun. Now what is one to believe—what +with nurses and science?)</p> + +<p>"I don't care who asks or who doesn't," said Robert, "but Anthea and I +think the Sammyadd is a spiteful brute. If it can give us our wishes I +suppose it can give itself its own, and I feel almost sure it wishes +every time that our wishes shan't do us any good. Let's let the tiresome +beast alone, and just go and have a jolly good game of forts, on our +own, in the chalk-pit."</p> + +<p>(You will remember that the happily-situated house where these children +were spending their holidays lay between a chalk-quarry and a +gravel-pit.)</p> + +<p>Cyril and Jane were more hopeful—they generally were.</p> + +<p>"I don't think the Sammyadd does it on purpose," Cyril said; "and, after +all, it <i>was</i> silly to wish for boundless wealth. Fifty pounds in +two-shilling pieces would have been much more sensible. And wishing to +be beautiful as the day was simply donkeyish. I don't <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>want to be +disagreeable, but it <i>was</i>. We must try to find a really useful wish, +and wish it."</p> + +<p>Jane dropped her work and said—</p> + +<p>"I think so too, it's too silly to have a chance like this and not use +it. I never heard of anyone else outside a book who had such a chance; +there must be simply heaps of things we could wish for that wouldn't +turn out Dead Sea fish, like these two things have. Do let's think hard +and wish something nice, so that we can have a real jolly day—what +there is left of it."</p> + +<p>Jane darned away again like mad, for time was indeed getting on, and +everyone began to talk at once. If you had been there you could not +possibly have made head or tail of the talk, but these children were +used to talking "by fours," as soldiers march, and each of them could +say what it had to say quite comfortably, and listen to the agreeable +sound of its own voice, and at the same time have three-quarters of two +sharp ears to spare for listening to what the others said. That is an +easy example in multiplication of vulgar fractions, but, as I daresay +you can't do even that, I won't <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>ask you to tell me whether 3/4 × 2 = +1-1/2, but I will ask you to believe me that this was the amount of ear +each child was able to lend to the others. Lending ears was common in +Roman times, as we learn from Shakespeare; but I fear I am getting too +instructive.</p> + +<p>When the frock was darned, the start for the gravel-pit was delayed by +Martha's insisting on everybody's washing its hands—which was nonsense, +because nobody had been doing anything at all, except Jane, and how can +you get dirty doing nothing? That is a difficult question, and I cannot +answer it on paper. In real life I could very soon show you—or you me, +which is much more likely.</p> + +<p>During the conversation in which the six ears were lent (there were four +children, so <i>that</i> sum comes right), it had been decided that fifty +pounds in two-shilling pieces was the right wish to have. And the lucky +children, who could have anything in the wide world by just wishing for +it, hurriedly started for the gravel-pit to express their wishes to the +Psammead. Martha caught them at the gate, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>and insisted on their taking +the Baby with them.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="lucky" id="lucky"></a> +<img src="images/12.png" width="400" height="280" alt="The lucky children ... hurriedly started for the gravel pit" title="The lucky children ... hurriedly started for the gravel pit" /> +<span class="caption">The lucky children ... hurriedly started for the gravel pit</span> +</div> + +<p>"Not want him indeed! Why, everybody 'ud want him, a duck! with all +their hearts they would; and you know you promised your ma to take him +out every blessed day," said Martha.</p> + +<p>"I know we did," said Robert in gloom, "but I wish the Lamb wasn't quite +so young and small. It would be much better fun taking him out."</p> + +<p>"He'll mend of his youngness with time," said Martha; "and as for +smallness, I don't think you'd fancy carrying of him any more, however +big he was. Besides he can walk a bit, bless his precious fat legs, a +ducky! He feels the benefit of the new-laid air, so he does, a pet!"</p> + +<p>With this and a kiss, she plumped the Lamb into Anthea's arms, and went +back to make new pinafores on the sewing-machine. She was a rapid +performer on this instrument.</p> + +<p>The Lamb laughed with pleasure, and said, "Walky wif Panty," and rode on +Robert's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>back with yells of joy, and tried to feed Jane with stones, +and altogether made himself so agreeable that nobody could long be sorry +that he was of the party.</p> + +<p>The enthusiastic Jane even suggested that they should devote a week's +wishes to assuring the Baby's future, by asking such gifts for him as +the good fairies give to Infant Princes in proper fairy-tales, but +Anthea soberly reminded her that as the Sand-fairy's wishes only lasted +till sunset they could not ensure any benefit to the Baby's later years; +and Jane owned that it would be better to wish for fifty pounds in +two-shilling pieces, and buy the Lamb a three-pound fifteen +rocking-horse, like those in the big stores, with a part of the money.</p> + +<p>It was settled that, as soon as they had wished for the money and got +it, they would get Mr. Crispin to drive them into Rochester again, +taking Martha with them if they could not get out of taking her. And +they would make a list of things they really wanted before they started. +Full of high hopes and excellent <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>resolutions, they went round the safe +slow cart-road to the gravel-pits, and as they went in between the +mounds of gravel a sudden thought came to them, and would have turned +their ruddy cheeks pale if they had been children in a book. Being real +live children, it only made them stop and look at each other with rather +blank and silly expressions. For now they remembered that yesterday, +when they had asked the Psammead for boundless wealth, and it was +getting ready to fill the quarry with the minted gold of bright +guineas—millions of them—it had told the children to run along outside +the quarry for fear they should be buried alive in the heavy splendid +treasure. And they had run. And so it happened that they had not had +time to mark the spot where the Psammead was, with a ring of stones, as +before. And it was this thought that put such silly expressions on their +faces.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said the hopeful Jane, "we'll soon find him."</p> + +<p>But this, though easily said, was hard in the doing. They looked and +they looked, and, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>though they found their seaside spades, nowhere could +they find the Sand-fairy.</p> + +<p>At last they had to sit down and rest—not at all because they were +weary or disheartened, of course, but because the Lamb insisted on being +put down, and you cannot look very carefully after anything you may have +happened to lose in the sand if you have an active baby to look after at +the same time. Get someone to drop your best knife in the sand next time +you go to the seashore and then take your baby brother with you when you +go to look for it, and you will see that I am right.</p> + +<p>The Lamb, as Martha had said, was feeling the benefit of the country +air, and he was as frisky as a sandhopper. The elder ones longed to go +on talking about the new wishes they would have when (or if) they found +the Psammead again. But the Lamb wished to enjoy himself.</p> + +<p>He watched his opportunity and threw a handful of sand into Anthea's +face, and then suddenly burrowed his own head in the sand and waved his +fat legs in the air. Then of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>course the sand got into his eyes, as it +had into Anthea's, and he howled.</p> + +<p>The thoughtful Robert had brought one solid brown bottle of ginger-beer +with him, relying on a thirst that had never yet failed him. This had to +be uncorked hurriedly—it was the only wet thing within reach, and it +was necessary to wash the sand out of the Lamb's eyes somehow. Of course +the ginger hurt horribly, and he howled more than ever. And, amid his +anguish of kicking, the bottle was upset and the beautiful ginger-beer +frothed out into the sand and was lost for ever.</p> + +<p>It was then that Robert, usually a very patient brother, so far forgot +himself as to say—</p> + +<p>"Anybody would want him, indeed! Only they don't; Martha doesn't, not +really, or she'd jolly well keep him with her. He's a little nuisance, +that's what he is. It's too bad. I only wish everybody <i>did</i> want him +with all their hearts; we might get some peace in our lives."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Lamb stopped howling now, because Jane had suddenly remembered that +there is only one safe way of taking things out of little children's +eyes, and that is with your own soft wet tongue. It is quite easy if you +love the Baby as much as you ought to do.</p> + +<p>Then there was a little silence. Robert was not proud of himself for +having been so cross, and the others were not proud of him either. You +often notice that sort of silence when someone has said something it +ought not to—and everyone else holds its tongue and waits for the one +who oughtn't to have said it is sorry.</p> + +<p>The silence was broken by a sigh—a breath suddenly let out. The +children's heads turned as if there had been a string tied to each nose, +and somebody had pulled all the strings at once.</p> + +<p>And everyone saw the Sand-fairy sitting quite close to them, with the +expression which it used as a smile on its hairy face.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning," it said; "I did that quite easily! Everyone wants him +now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter," said Robert sulkily, because he knew he had been +behaving rather like a pig. "No matter who wants him—there's no one +here to—anyhow."</p> + +<p>"Ingratitude," said the Psammead, "is a dreadful vice."</p> + +<p>"We're not ungrateful," Jane made haste to say, "but we didn't <i>really</i> +want that wish. Robert only just said it. Can't you take it back and +give us a new one?"</p> + +<p>"No—I can't," the Sand-fairy said shortly; "chopping and changing—it's +not business. You ought to be careful what you <i>do</i> wish. There was a +little boy once, he'd wished for a Plesiosaurus instead of an +Ichthyosaurus, because he was too lazy to remember the easy names of +everyday things, and his father had been very vexed with him, and had +made him go to bed before tea-time, and wouldn't let him go out in the +nice flint boat along with the other children,—it was the annual +school-treat next day,—and he came and flung himself down near me on +the morning of the treat, and he kicked his little prehistoric legs +about and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>said he wished he was dead. And of course then he was."</p> + +<p>"How awful! said the children all together.</p> + +<p>"Only till sunset, of course," the Psammead said; "still it was quite +enough for his father and mother. And he caught it when he woke up—I +tell you. He didn't turn to stone—I forget why—but there must have +been some reason. They didn't know being dead is only being asleep, and +you're bound to wake up somewhere or other, either where you go to sleep +or in some better place. You may be sure he caught it, giving them such +a turn. Why, he wasn't allowed to taste Megatherium for a month after +that. Nothing but oysters and periwinkles, and common things like that."</p> + +<p>All the children were quite crushed by this terrible tale. They looked +at the Psammead in horror. Suddenly the Lamb perceived that something +brown and furry was near him.</p> + +<p>"Poof, poof, poofy," he said, and made a grab.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="poof" id="poof"></a> +<img src="images/13.png" width="400" height="224" alt=""Poof, poof, poofy," he said, and made a grab" title=""Poof, poof, poofy," he said, and made a grab" /> +<span class="caption">"Poof, poof, poofy," he said, and made a grab</span> +</div> + +<p>"It's not a pussy," Anthea was beginning, when the Sand-fairy leaped +back.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, my left whisker!" it said; "don't let him touch me. He's wet."</p> + +<p>Its fur stood on end with horror—and indeed a good deal of the +ginger-beer had been spilt on the blue smock of the Lamb.</p> + +<p>The Psammead dug with its hands and feet, and vanished in an instant and +a whirl of sand.</p> + +<p>The children marked the spot with a ring of stones.</p> + +<p>"We may as well get along home," said Robert. "I'll say I'm sorry; but +anyway if it's no good it's no harm, and we know where the sandy thing +is for to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The others were noble. No one reproached Robert at all. Cyril picked up +the Lamb, who was now quite himself again, and off they went by the safe +cart-road.</p> + +<p>The cart-road from the gravel-pits joins the road almost directly.</p> + +<p>At the gate into the road the party stopped to shift the Lamb from +Cyril's back to Robert's. And as they paused a very smart open carriage +came in sight, with a coachman and a groom on the box, and inside the +carriage a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>lady—very grand indeed, with a dress all white lace and +red ribbons and a parasol all red and white—and a white fluffy dog on +her lap with a red ribbon round its neck. She looked at the children, +and particularly at the Baby, and she smiled at him. The children were +used to this, for the Lamb was, as all the servants said, a "very taking +child." So they waved their hands politely to the lady and expected her +to drive on. But she did not. Instead she made the coachman stop. And +she beckoned to Cyril, and when he went up to the carriage she said—</p> + +<p>"What a dear darling duck of a baby! Oh, I <i>should</i> so like to adopt it! +Do you think its mother would mind?"</p> + +<p>"She'd mind very much indeed," said Anthea shortly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I should bring it up in luxury, you know. I am Lady Chittenden. +You must have seen my photograph in the illustrated papers. They call me +a Beauty, you know, but of course that's all nonsense. Anyway"—</p> + +<p>She opened the carriage door and jumped <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>out. She had the wonderfullest +red high-heeled shoes with silver buckles. "Let me hold him a minute," +she said. And she took the Lamb and held him very awkwardly, as if she +was not used to babies.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly she jumped into the carriage with the Lamb in her arms and +slammed the door, and said, "Drive on!"</p> + +<p>The Lamb roared, the little white dog barked, and the coachman +hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Drive on, I tell you!" cried the lady; and the coachman did, for, as he +said afterwards, it was as much as his place was worth not to.</p> + +<p>The four children looked at each other, and then with one accord they +rushed after the carriage and held on behind. Down the dusty road went +the smart carriage, and after it, at double-quick time, ran the +twinkling legs of the Lamb's brothers and sisters.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 330px;"><a name="double" id="double"></a> +<img src="images/14.png" width="330" height="400" alt="At double-quick time, ran the twinkling legs of the Lamb's brothers and sisters" title="At double-quick time, ran the twinkling legs of the Lamb's brothers and sisters" /> +<span class="caption">At double-quick time, ran the twinkling legs of the Lamb's brothers and sisters</span> +</div> + +<p>The Lamb howled louder and louder, but presently his howls changed by +slow degrees to hiccupy gurgles, and then all was still, and they knew +he had gone to sleep.</p> + +<p>The carriage went on, and the eight feet that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>twinkled through the +dust were growing quite stiff and tired before the carriage stopped at +the lodge of a grand park. The children crouched down behind the +carriage, and the lady got out. She looked at the Baby as it lay on the +carriage seat, and hesitated.</p> + +<p>"The darling—I won't disturb it," she said, and went into the lodge to +talk to the woman there about a setting of eggs that had not turned out +well.</p> + +<p>The coachman and footman sprang from the box and bent over the sleeping +Lamb.</p> + +<p>"Fine boy—wish he was mine," said the coachman.</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't favour <i>you</i> much," said the groom sourly; "too 'andsome."</p> + +<p>The coachman pretended not to hear. He said—</p> + +<p>"Wonder at her now—I do really! Hates kids. Got none of her own, and +can't abide other folkses'."</p> + +<p>The children, crouched in the white dust under the carriage, exchanged +uncomfortable glances.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tell you what," the coachman went on firmly, "blowed if I don't hide +the little nipper in the hedge and tell her his brothers took 'im! Then +I'll come back for him afterwards."</p> + +<p>"No, you don't," said the footman. "I've took to that kid so as never +was. If anyone's to have him, it's me—so there!"</p> + +<p>"Stop your talk!" the coachman rejoined. "You don't want no kids, and, +if you did, one kid's the same as another to you. But I'm a married man +and a judge of breed. I knows a firstrate yearling when I sees him. I'm +a-goin' to 'ave him, an' least said soonest mended."</p> + +<p>"I should 'a' thought," said the footman sneeringly, "you'd a'most +enough. What with Alfred, an' Albert, an' Louise, an' Victor Stanley, +and Helena Beatrice, and another"—</p> + +<p>The coachman hit the footman in the chin—the footman hit the coachman +in the waist-coat—the next minute the two were fighting here and there, +in and out, up and down, and all over everywhere, and the little dog +jumped <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>on the box of the carriage and began barking like mad.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 372px;"><a name="next" id="next"></a> +<img src="images/15.png" width="372" height="400" alt="The next minute the two were fighting" title="The next minute the two were fighting" /> +<span class="caption">The next minute the two were fighting</span> +</div> + +<p>Cyril, still crouching in the dust, waddled on bent legs to the side of +the carriage farthest from the battlefield. He unfastened the door of +the carriage—the two men were far too much occupied with their quarrel +to notice anything—took the Lamb in his arms, and, still stooping, +carried the sleeping baby a dozen yards along the road to where a stile +led into a wood. The others followed, and there among the hazels and +young oaks and sweet chestnuts, covered by high strong-scented +brake-fern, they all lay hidden till the angry voices of the men were +hushed at the angry voice of the red-and-white lady, and, after a long +and anxious search, the carriage at last drove away.</p> + +<p>"My only hat!" said Cyril, drawing a deep breath as the sound of wheels +at last died away. "Everyone <i>does</i> want him now—and no mistake! That +Sammyadd has done us again! Tricky brute! For any sake, let's get the +kid safe home."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<p>So they peeped out, and finding on the right hand only lonely white +road, and nothing but lonely white road on the left, they took courage, +and the road, Anthea carrying the sleeping Lamb.</p> + +<p>Adventures dogged their footsteps. A boy with a bundle of faggots on his +back dropped his bundle by the roadside and asked to look at the Baby, +and then offered to carry him; but Anthea was not to be caught that way +twice. They all walked on, but the boy followed, and Cyril and Robert +couldn't make him go away till they had more than once invited him to +smell their fists. Afterwards a little girl in a blue-and-white checked +pinafore actually followed them for a quarter of a mile crying for "the +precious Baby," and then she was only got rid of by threats of tying her +to a tree in the wood with all their pocket handkerchiefs. "So that +bears can come and eat you as soon as it gets dark," said Cyril +severely. Then she went off crying. It presently seemed wise, to the +brothers and sisters of the Baby who was wanted by everyone, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>to hide in +the hedge whenever they saw anyone coming, and thus they managed to +prevent the Lamb from arousing the inconvenient affection of a milkman, +a stone-breaker, and a man who drove a cart with a paraffin barrel at +the back of it. They were nearly home when the worst thing of all +happened. Turning a corner suddenly they came upon two vans, a tent, and +a company of gipsies encamped by the side of the road. The vans were +hung all round with wicker chairs and cradles, and flower-stands and +feather brushes. A lot of ragged children were industriously making +dust-pies in the road, two men lay on the grass smoking, and three women +were doing the family washing in an old red watering-can with the top +broken off.</p> + +<p>In a moment every gipsy, men, women, and children, surrounded Anthea and +the Baby.</p> + +<p>"Let me hold him, little lady," said one of the gipsy women, who had a +mahogany-coloured face and dust-coloured hair; "I won't hurt a hair of +his head, the little picture!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'd rather not," said Anthea.</p> + +<p>"Let <i>me</i> have him," said the other woman, whose face was also of the +hue of mahogany, and her hair jet-black, in greasy curls. "I've nineteen +of my own, so I have"—</p> + +<p>"No," said Anthea bravely, but her heart beat so that it nearly choked +her.</p> + +<p>Then one of the men pushed forward.</p> + +<p>"Swelp me if it ain't!" he cried, "my own long-lost cheild! Have he a +strawberry mark on his left ear? No? Then he's my own babby, stolen from +me in hinnocent hinfancy. 'And 'im over—and we'll not 'ave the law on +yer this time."</p> + +<p>He snatched the Baby from Anthea, who turned scarlet and burst into +tears of pure rage.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 387px;"><a name="snatched" id="snatched"></a> +<img src="images/16.png" width="387" height="400" alt="He snatched the baby from Anthea" title="He snatched the baby from Anthea" /> +<span class="caption">He snatched the baby from Anthea</span> +</div> + +<p>The others were standing quite still; this was much the most terrible +thing that had ever happened to them. Even being taken up by the police +in Rochester was nothing to this. Cyril was quite white, and his hands +trembled a little, but he made a sign to the others to shut up. He was +silent a minute, thinking hard. Then he said—<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We don't want to keep him if he's yours. But you see he's used to us. +You shall have him if you want him"—</p> + +<p>"No, no!" cried Anthea,—and Cyril glared at her.</p> + +<p>"Of course we want him," said the women, trying to get the Baby out of +the man's arms. The Lamb howled loudly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's hurt!" shrieked Anthea; and Cyril, in a savage undertone, bade +her "stop it!"</p> + +<p>"You trust to me," he whispered. "Look here," he went on, "he's awfully +tiresome with people he doesn't know very well. Suppose we stay here a +bit till he gets used to you, and then when it's bedtime I give you my +word of honour we'll go away and let you keep him if you want to. And +then when we're gone you can decide which of you is to have him, as you +all want him so much."</p> + +<p>"That's fair enough," said the man who was holding the Baby, trying to +loosen the red neckerchief which the Lamb had caught hold of and drawn +round his mahogany throat so <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>tight that he could hardly breathe. The +gipsies whispered together, and Cyril took the chance to whisper too. He +said, "Sunset! we'll get away then."</p> + +<p>And then his brothers and sisters were filled with wonder and admiration +at his having been so clever as to remember this.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do let him come to us!" said Jane. "See, we'll sit down here and +take care of him for you till he gets used to you."</p> + +<p>"What about dinner?" said Robert suddenly. The others looked at him with +scorn. "Fancy bothering about your beastly dinner when your br—I mean +when the Baby"—Jane whispered hotly. Robert carefully winked at her and +went on—</p> + +<p>"You won't mind my just running home to get our dinner?" he said to the +gipsy; "I can bring it out here in a basket."</p> + +<p>His brothers and sisters felt themselves very noble and despised him. +They did not know his thoughtful secret intention. But the gipsies did +in a minute.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes!" they said; "and then fetch the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>police with a pack of lies +about it being your baby instead of ours! D'jever catch a weasel +asleep?" they asked.</p> + +<p>"If you're hungry you can pick a bit along of us," said the light-haired +gipsy-woman, not unkindly. "Here Levi, that blessed kid'll howl all his +buttons off. Give him to the little lady, and let's see if they can't +get him used to us a bit."</p> + +<p>So the Lamb was handed back; but the gipsies crowded so closely that he +could not possibly stop howling. Then the man with the red handkerchief +said—</p> + +<p>"Here, Pharaoh, make up the fire; and you girls see to the pot. Give the +kid a chanst." So the gipsies, very much against their will, went off to +their work, and the children and the Lamb were left sitting on the +grass.</p> + +<p>"He'll be all right at sunset," Jane whispered. "But, oh, it is awful! +Suppose they are frightfully angry when they come to their senses! They +might beat us, or leave us tied to trees, or something."</p> + +<p>"No, they won't," Anthea said ("Oh, my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> Lamb, don't cry any more, it's +all right, Panty's got oo, duckie"); "they aren't unkind people, or they +wouldn't be going to give us any dinner."</p> + +<p>"Dinner?" said Robert; "I won't touch their nasty dinner. It would choke +me!"</p> + +<p>The others thought so too then. But when the dinner was ready—it turned +out to be supper, and happened between four and five—they were all glad +enough to take what they could get. It was boiled rabbit, with onions, +and some bird rather like a chicken, but stringier about its legs and +with a stronger taste. The Lamb had bread soaked in hot water and brown +sugar sprinkled on the top. He liked this very much, and consented to +let the two gipsy women feed him with it, as he sat on Anthea's lap. All +that long hot afternoon Robert and Cyril and Anthea and Jane had to keep +the Lamb amused and happy, while the gipsies looked eagerly on. By the +time the shadows grew long and black across the meadows he had really +"taken to" the woman with the light hair, and even con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>sented to kiss +his hand to the children, and to stand up and bow, with his hand on his +chest—"like a gentleman"—to the two men. The whole gipsy camp was in +raptures with him, and his brothers and sisters could not help taking +some pleasure in showing off his accomplishments to an audience so +interested and enthusiastic. But they longed for sunset.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="consented" id="consented"></a> +<img src="images/17.png" width="400" height="351" alt="He consented to let the two gypsy women feed him" title="He consented to let the two gypsy women feed him" /> +<span class="caption">He consented to let the two gypsy women feed him</span> +</div> + +<p>"We're getting into the habit of longing for sunset," Cyril whispered. +"How I do wish we could wish something really sensible, that would be of +some use, so that we should be quite sorry when sunset came."</p> + +<p>The shadows got longer and longer, and at last there were no separate +shadows any more, but one soft glowing shadow over everything; for the +sun was out of sight—behind the hill—but he had not really set yet. +The people who make the laws about lighting bicycle lamps are the people +who decide when the sun sets; she has to do it too, to the minute, or +they would know the reason why!</p> + +<p>But the gipsies were getting impatient.</p> + +<p>"Now, young uns," the red-handkerchief <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>man said, "it's time you were +laying of your heads on your pillowses—so it is! The kid's all right +and friendly with us now—so you just hand him over and get home like +you said."</p> + +<p>The women and children came crowding round the Lamb, arms were held out, +fingers snapped invitingly, friendly faces beaming with admiring smiles; +but all failed to tempt the loyal Lamb. He clung with arms and legs to +Jane, who happened to be holding him, and uttered the gloomiest roar of +the whole day.</p> + +<p>"It's no good," the woman said, "hand the little poppet over, miss. +We'll soon quiet him."</p> + +<p>And still the sun would not set.</p> + +<p>"Tell her about how to put him to bed," whispered Cyril; "anything to +gain time—and be ready to bolt when the sun really does make up its +silly old mind to set."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll hand him over in just one minute," Anthea began, talking very +fast,—"but do let me just tell you he has a warm bath every <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>night and +cold in the morning, and he has a crockery rabbit to go into the warm +bath with him, and little Samuel saying his prayers in white china on a +red cushion for the cold bath; and he hates you to wash his ears, but +you must; and if you let the soap get into his eyes, the Lamb"—</p> + +<p>"Lamb kyes," said he—he had stopped roaring to listen.</p> + +<p>The woman laughed. "As if I hadn't never bath'd a babby!" she said. +"Come—give us a hold of him. Come to 'Melia, my precious"—</p> + +<p>"G'way, ugsie!" replied the Lamb at once.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but," Anthea went on, "about his meals; you really <i>must</i> let me +tell you he has an apple or banana every morning, and bread and milk for +breakfast, and an egg for his tea sometimes, and"—</p> + +<p>"I've brought up ten," said the black ringleted woman, "besides the +others. Come, miss, 'and 'im over—I can't bear it no longer. I just +must give him a hug."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We ain't settled yet whose he's to be, Esther," said one of the men.</p> + +<p>"It won't be you, Esther, with seven of 'em at your tail a'ready."</p> + +<p>"I ain't so sure of that," said Esther's husband.</p> + +<p>"And ain't I nobody, to have a say neither?" said the husband of 'Melia.</p> + +<p>Zillah, the girl, said, "An' me? I'm a single girl—and no one but 'im +to look after—I ought to have him."</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue!"</p> + +<p>"Shut your mouth!"</p> + +<p>"Don't you show me no more of your imperence!"</p> + +<p>Everyone was getting very angry. The dark gipsy faces were frowning and +anxious-looking. Suddenly a change swept over them, as if some invisible +sponge had wiped away these cross and anxious expressions, and left only +a blank.</p> + +<p>The children saw that the sun really <i>had</i> set. But they were afraid to +move. And the gipsies were feeling so muddled because of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>invisible +sponge that had washed all the feelings of the last few hours out of +their hearts, that they could not say a word.</p> + +<p>The children hardly dared to breathe. Suppose the gipsies, when they +recovered speech, should be furious to think how silly they had been all +day?</p> + +<p>It was an awkward moment. Suddenly Anthea, greatly daring, held out the +Lamb to the red-handkerchief man.</p> + +<p>"Here he is!" she said.</p> + +<p>The man drew back. "I shouldn't like to deprive you, miss," he said +hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"Anyone who likes can have my share of him," said the other man.</p> + +<p>"After all, I've got enough of my own," said Esther.</p> + +<p>"He's a nice little chap, though," said Amelia. She was the only one who +now looked affectionately at the whimpering Lamb.</p> + +<p>Zillah said, "If I don't think I must have had a touch of the sun. <i>I</i> +don't want him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then shall we take him away?" said Anthea.</p> + +<p>"Well—suppose you do," said Pharaoh heartily, "and we'll say no more +about it!"</p> + +<p>And with great haste all the gipsies began to be busy about their tents +for the night. All but Amelia. She went with the children as far as the +bend in the road—and there she said—</p> + +<p>"Let me give him a kiss, miss,—I don't know what made us go for to +behave so silly. Us gipsies don't steal babies, whatever they may tell +you when you're naughty. We've enough of our own, mostly. But I've lost +all mine."</p> + +<p>She leaned towards the Lamb; and he, looking in her eyes, unexpectedly +put up a grubby soft paw and stroked her face.</p> + +<p>"Poor, poor!" said the Lamb. And he let the gipsy woman kiss him, and, +what is more, he kissed her brown cheek in return—a very nice kiss, as +all his kisses are, and not a wet one like some babies give. The gipsy +woman moved her finger about on his forehead as if she had been writing +something there, and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>same with his chest and his hands and his +feet; then she said—</p> + +<p>"May he be brave, and have the strong head to think with, and the strong +heart to love with, and the strong arms to work with, and the strong +feet to travel with, and always come safe home to his own." Then she +said something in a strange language no one could understand, and +suddenly added—</p> + +<p>"Well, I must be saying 'so long'—and glad to have made your +acquaintance." And she turned and went back to her home—the tent by the +grassy roadside.</p> + +<p>The children looked after her till she was out of sight. Then Robert +said, "How silly of her! Even sunset didn't put <i>her</i> right. What rot +she talked!"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Cyril, "if you ask me, I think it was rather decent of +her"—</p> + +<p>"Decent?" said Anthea; "it was very nice indeed of her. I think she's a +dear"—</p> + +<p>"She's just too frightfully nice for anything," said Jane.</p> + +<p>And they went home—very late for tea and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>unspeakably late for dinner. +Martha scolded, of course. But the Lamb was safe.</p> + +<p>"I say—it turned out we wanted the Lamb as much as anyone," said +Robert, later.</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"But do you feel different about it now the sun's set?"</p> + +<p>"<i>No</i>," said all the others together.</p> + +<p>"Then it's lasted over sunset with us."</p> + +<p>"No, it hasn't," Cyril explained. "The wish didn't do anything to <i>us</i>. +We always wanted him with all our hearts when we were our proper selves, +only we were all pigs this morning; especially you, Robert." Robert bore +this much with a strange calm.</p> + +<p>"I certainly <i>thought</i> I didn't want him this morning," said he. +"Perhaps I <i>was</i> a pig. But everything looked so different when we +thought we were going to lose him."</p> + +<p>And that, my dear children, is the moral of this chapter. I did not mean +it to have a moral, but morals are nasty forward beings, and will keep +putting in their oars where they are not wanted. And since the moral has +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>crept in, quite against my wishes, you might as well think of it next +time you feel piggy yourself and want to get rid of any of your brothers +and sisters. I hope this doesn't often happen, but I daresay it has +happened sometimes, even to you!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>WINGS</h3> + + +<p>The next day was very wet—too wet to go out, and far too wet to think +of disturbing a Sand-fairy so sensitive to water that he still, after +thousands of years, felt the pain of once having his left whisker +wetted. It was a long day, and it was not till the afternoon that all +the children suddenly decided to write letters to their mother. It was +Robert who had the misfortune to upset the ink well—an unusually deep +and full one—straight into that part of Anthea's desk where she had +long pretended that an arrangement of mucilage and cardboard painted +with Indian ink was a secret drawer. It was not exactly Robert's fault; +it was only his misfortune that he chanced to be lifting the ink across +the desk just at the moment when Anthea had got it open, and that that +same moment should have been the one chosen by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> Lamb to get under +the table and break his squeaking bird. There was a sharp convenient +wire inside the bird, and of course the Lamb ran the wire into Robert's +leg at once; and so, without anyone's meaning to do it the secret drawer +was flooded with ink. At the same time a stream was poured over Anthea's +half-finished letter.</p> + +<p>So that her letter was something like this—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Darling Mother</span>,—I hope you are quite +well, and I hope Granny is better. The other day +we...." </p></div> + +<p>Then came a flood of ink, and at the bottom these words in pencil—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"It was not me upset the ink, but it took such a +time clearing up, so no more as it is +post-time.—From your loving daughter +"<span class="smcap">Anthea</span>." </p></div> + +<p>Robert's letter had not even been begun. He had been drawing a ship on +the blotting paper while he was trying to think of what to say. And of +course after the ink was upset he had to help Anthea to clean out her +desk, and he promised to make her another secret drawer, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>better than +the other. And she said, "Well, make it now." So it was post-time and +his letter wasn't done. And the secret drawer wasn't done either.</p> + +<p>Cyril wrote a long letter, very fast, and then went to set a trap for +slugs that he had read about in the <i>Home-made Gardener</i>, and when it +was post-time the letter could not be found, and it was never found. +Perhaps the slugs ate it.</p> + +<p>Jane's letter was the only one that went. She meant to tell her mother +all about the Psammead,—in fact they had all meant to do this,—but she +spent so long thinking how to spell the word that there was no time to +tell the story properly, and it is useless to tell a story unless you +<i>do</i> tell it properly, so she had to be contented with this—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Mother Dear</span>,—We are all as good +as we can, like you told us to, and the Lamb has a +little cold, but Martha says it is nothing, only +he upset the gold-fish into himself yesterday +morning. When we were up at the sand-pit the other +day we went round by the safe way where carts go, +and we found a"—</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>Half an hour went by before Jane felt quite sure that they could none of +them spell Psammead. And they could not find it in the dictionary +either, though they looked. Then Jane <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'hasily'">hastily</ins> finished her letter—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"We found a strange thing, but it is nearly +post-time, so no more at present from your little +girl,</p> + +<div class='right'>"<span class="smcap">Jane</span>.</div> + +<p>"P.S.—If you could have a wish come true what +would you have?" </p></div> + +<p>Then the postman was heard blowing his horn, and Robert rushed out in +the rain to stop his cart and give him the letters. And that was how it +happened that, though all the children meant to tell their mother about +the Sand-fairy, somehow or other she never got to know. There were other +reasons why she never got to know, but these come later.</p> + +<p>The next day Uncle Richard came and took them all to Maidstone in a +wagonette—all except the Lamb. Uncle Richard was the very best kind of +uncle. He bought them toys at Maidstone. He took them into a shop and +let them all choose exactly what they wanted, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>without any restrictions +about price, and no nonsense about things being instructive. It is very +wise to let children choose exactly what they like, because they are +very foolish and inexperienced, and sometimes they will choose a really +instructive thing without meaning to do so. This happened to Robert, who +chose, at the last moment, and in a great hurry, a box with pictures on +it of winged bulls with men's heads and winged men with eagles' heads. +He thought there would be animals inside, the same as on the box. When +he got it home it was a Sunday puzzle about ancient Nineveh! The others +chose in haste, and were happy at leisure. Cyril had a model engine, and +the girls had two dolls, as well as a china tea-set with forget-me-nots +on it, to be "between them." The boys' "between them" was bow and arrow.</p> + +<p>Then Uncle Richard took them on the beautiful Medway in a boat, and then +they all had tea at a beautiful confectioner's and when they reached +home it was far too late to have any wishes that day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>They did not tell Uncle Richard anything about the Psammead. I do not +know why. And they do not know why. But I daresay you can guess.</p> + +<p>The day after Uncle Richard had behaved so handsomely was a very hot day +indeed. The people who decide what the weather is to be, and put its +orders down for it in the newspapers every morning, said afterwards that +it was the hottest day there had been for years. They had ordered it to +be "warmer—some showers," and warmer it certainly was. In fact it was +so busy being warmer that it had no time to attend to the order about +showers, so there weren't any.</p> + +<p>Have you ever been up at five o'clock on a fine summer morning? It is +very beautiful. The sunlight is pinky and yellowy, and all the grass and +trees are covered with dew-diamonds. And all the shadows go the opposite +way to the way they do in the evening, which is very interesting and +makes you feel as though you were in a new other world.</p> + +<p>Anthea woke at five. She had made herself <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>wake, and I must tell you how +it is done, even if it keeps you waiting for the story to go on.</p> + +<p>You get into bed at night, and lie down quite flat on your little back, +with your hands straight down by your sides. Then you say "I <i>must</i> wake +up at five" (or six, or seven, or eight, or nine, or whatever the time +is that you want), and as you say it you push your chin down on your +chest and then whack your head back on the pillow. And you do this as +many times as there are ones in the time you want to wake up at. (It is +quite an easy sum.) Of course everything depends on your really wanting +to get up at five (or six, or seven, or eight, or nine); if you don't +really want to, it's all of no use. But if you do—well, try it and see. +Of course in this, as in doing Latin proses or getting into mischief, +practice makes perfect.</p> + +<p>Anthea was quite perfect.</p> + +<p>At the very moment when she opened her eyes she heard the black-and-gold +clock down in the dining-room strike eleven. So she knew it was three +minutes to five. The black-and-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>gold clock always struck wrong, but it +was all right when you knew what it meant. It was like a person talking +a foreign language. If you know the language it is just as easy to +understand as English. And Anthea knew the clock language. She was very +sleepy, but she jumped out of bed and put her face and hands into a +basin of cold water. This is a fairy charm that prevents your wanting to +get back into bed again. Then she dressed, and folded up her night +dress. She did not tumble it together by the sleeves, but folded it by +the seams from the hem, and that will show you the kind of +well-brought-up little girl she was.</p> + +<p>Then she took her shoes in her hand and crept softly down the stairs. +She opened the dining-room window and climbed out. It would have been +just as easy to go out by the door, but the window was more romantic, +and less likely to be noticed by Martha.</p> + +<p>"I will always get up at five," she said to herself. "It was quite too +awfully pretty for anything."</p> + +<p>Her heart was beating very fast, for she was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>carrying out a plan quite +her own. She could not be sure that it was a good plan, but she was +quite sure that it would not be any better if she were to tell the +others about it. And she had a feeling that, right or wrong, she would +rather go through with it alone. She put on her shoes under the iron +verandah, on the red-and-yellow shining tiles, and then she ran straight +to the sand-pit, and found the Psammead's place, and dug it out; it was +very cross indeed.</p> + +<p>"It's too bad," it said, fluffing up its fur as pigeons do their +feathers at Christmas time. "The weather's arctic, and it's the middle +of the night."</p> + +<p>"I'm so sorry," said Anthea gently, and she took off her white pinafore +and covered the Sand-fairy up with it, all but its head, its bat's ears, +and its eyes that were like a snail's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," it said, "that's better. What's the wish this morning?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she said; "that's just it. You see we've been very +unlucky, so far. I wanted to talk to you about it. But—would <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>you mind +not giving me any wishes till after breakfast? It's so hard to talk to +anyone if they jump out at you with wishes you don't really want!"</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't say you wish for things if you don't wish for them. In +the old days people almost always knew whether it was Megatherium or +Ichthyosaurus they really wanted for dinner."</p> + +<p>"I'll try not to do so," said Anthea, "but I do wish"—</p> + +<p>"Look out!" said the Psammead in a warning voice, and it began to blow +itself out.</p> + +<p>"Oh, this isn't a magic wish—it's just—I should be so glad if you'd +not swell yourself out and nearly burst to give me anything just now. +Wait till the others are here."</p> + +<p>"Well, well," it said indulgently, but it shivered.</p> + +<p>"Would you," asked Anthea kindly—"would you like to come and sit on my +lap? You'd be warmer, and I could turn the skirt of my frock up around +you. I'd be very careful."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + +<p>Anthea had never expected that it would, but it did.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," it said; "you really are rather thoughtful." It crept on to +her lap and snuggled down, and she put her arms round it with a rather +frightened gentleness. "Now then!" it said.</p> + +<p>"Well then," said Anthea, "everything we have wished has turned out +rather horrid. I wish you would advise us. You are so old, you must be +very wise."</p> + +<p>"I was always generous from a child," said the Sand-fairy. "I've spent +the whole of my waking hours in giving. But one thing I won't +give—that's advice."</p> + +<p>"You see," Anthea went on, "it's such a wonderful thing—such a +splendid, glorious chance. It's so good and kind and dear of you to give +us our wishes, and it seems such a pity it should all be wasted just +because we are too silly to know what to wish for."</p> + +<p>Anthea had meant to say that—and she had not wanted to say it before +the others. It's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>one thing to say you're silly, and quite another to +say that other people are.</p> + +<p>"Child," said the Sand-fairy sleepily, "I can only advise you to think +before you speak"—</p> + +<p>"But I thought you never gave advice."</p> + +<p>"That piece doesn't count," it said. "You'll never take it! Besides, +it's not original. It's in all the copy-books."</p> + +<p>"But won't you just say if you think wings would be a silly wish?"</p> + +<p>"Wings?" it said. "I should think you might do worse. Only, take care +you aren't flying high at sunset. There was a little Ninevite boy I +heard of once. He was one of King Sennacherib's sons, and a traveller +brought him a Psammead. He used to keep it in a box of sand on the +palace terrace. It was a dreadful degradation for one of us, of course; +still the boy <i>was</i> the Assyrian King's son. And one day he wished for +wings and got them. But he forgot that they would turn into stone at +sunset, and when they did he fell on to one of the winged lions at the +top of his father's great staircase; and what with <i>his</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> stone wings +and the lion's stone wings—well it's not a very pretty story! But I +believe the boy enjoyed himself very much till then."</p> + +<p>"Tell me," said Anthea, "why don't our wishes turn into stone now? Why +do they just vanish?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Autre temps autres mœurs</i>," said the creature.</p> + +<p>"Is that the Ninevite language?" asked Anthea, who had learned no +foreign language at school except French.</p> + +<p>"What I mean is," the Psammead went on, "that in the old days people +wished for good solid everyday gifts,—Mammoths and Pterodactyls and +things,—and those could be turned into stone as easy as not. But people +wish such high-flying fanciful things nowadays. How are you going to +turn being beautiful as the day, or being wanted by everybody, into +stone? You see it can't be done. And it would never do to have two +rules, so they simply vanish. If being beautiful as the day <i>could</i> be +turned into stone it would last an awfully long time, you know—much +longer <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>than you would. Just look at the Greek statues. It's just as +well as it is. Good-bye. I <i>am</i> so sleepy."</p> + +<p>It jumped off her lap—dug frantically, and vanished.</p> + +<p>Anthea was late for breakfast. It was Robert who quietly poured a +spoonful of molasses down the Lamb's frock, so that he had to be taken +away and washed thoroughly directly after breakfast. And it was of +course a very naughty thing to do; yet it served two purposes—it +delighted the Lamb, who loved above all things to be completely sticky, +and it engaged Martha's attention so that the others could slip away to +the sand-pit without the Lamb.</p> + +<p>They did it, and in the lane Anthea, breathless from the hurry of that +slipping, panted out—</p> + +<p>"I want to propose we take turns to wish. Only, nobody's to have a wish +if the others don't think it's a nice wish. Do you agree?"</p> + +<p>"Who's to have first wish?" asked Robert cautiously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Me, if you don't mind," said Anthea apologetically. "And I've thought +about it—and it's <i>wings</i>."</p> + +<p>There was a silence. The others rather wanted to find fault, but it was +hard, because the word "wings" raised a flutter of joyous excitement in +every breast.</p> + +<p>"Not so dusty," said Cyril generously; and Robert added, "Really, +Panther, you're not quite such a fool as you look."</p> + +<p>Jane said, "I think it would be perfectly lovely. It's like a bright +dream of delirium."</p> + +<p>They found the Sand-fairy easily. Anthea said—</p> + +<p>"I wish we all had beautiful wings to fly with."</p> + +<p>The Sand-fairy blew himself out, and next moment each child felt a funny +feeling, half heaviness and half lightness, on its shoulders. The +Psammead put its head on one side and turned its snail eyes from one +side to the other.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="sand" id="sand"></a> +<img src="images/18.png" width="400" height="251" alt="The Sand-fairy blew himself out" title="The Sand-fairy blew himself out" /> +<span class="caption">The Sand-fairy blew himself out</span> +</div> + +<p>"Not so bad," it said dreamily. "But really,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> Robert, you're not quite +such an angel as you look." Robert almost blushed.</p> + +<p>The wings were very big, and more beautiful than you can possibly +imagine—for they were soft and smooth, and every feather lay neatly in +its place. And the feathers were of the most lovely mixed changing +colors, like the rainbow, or iridescent glass, or the beautiful scum +that sometimes floats on water that is not at all nice to drink.</p> + +<p>"Oh—but how can we fly?" Jane said, standing anxiously first on one +foot and then on the other.</p> + +<p>"Look out!" said Cyril; "you're treading on my wing."</p> + +<p>"Does it hurt?" asked Anthea with interest; but no one answered, for +Robert had spread his wings and jumped up, and now he was slowly rising +in the air. He looked very awkward in his knickerbocker suit—his boots +in particular hung helplessly, and seemed much larger than when he was +standing in them. But the others cared but little how he looked,—or how +they looked, for that matter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> For now they all spread out their wings +and rose in the air. Of course you all know what flying feels like, +because everyone has dreamed about flying, and is seems so beautifully +easy—only, you can never remember how you did it; and as a rule you +have to do it without wings, in your dreams, which is more clever and +uncommon, but not so easy to remember the rule for. Now the four +children rose flapping from the ground, and you can't think how good the +air felt as it ran against their faces. Their wings were tremendously +wide when they were spread out, and they had to fly quite a long way +apart so as not to get in each other's way. But little things like this +are easily learned.</p> + +<p>All the words in the English Dictionary, and in the Greek Lexicon as +well, are, I find, of no use at all to tell you exactly what it feels +like to be flying, so I will not try. But I will say that to look <i>down</i> +on the fields and woods instead of <i>along</i> at them, is something like +looking at a beautiful live map, where, instead of silly colors on +paper, you have real moving <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>sunny woods and green fields laid out one +after the other. As Cyril said, and I can't think where he got hold of +such a strange expression, "It does you a fair treat!" It was most +wonderful and more like real magic than any wish the children had had +yet. They flapped and flew and sailed on their great rainbow wings, +between green earth and blue sky; and they flew over Rochester and then +swerved round towards Maidstone, and presently they all began to feel +extremely hungry. Curiously enough, this happened when they were flying +rather low, and just as they were crossing an orchard where some early +plums shone red and ripe.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 235px;"><a name="flew" id="flew"></a> +<img src="images/19.png" width="235" height="400" alt="They flew over Rochester" title="They flew over Rochester" /> +<span class="caption">They flew over Rochester</span> +</div> + +<p>They paused on their wings. I cannot explain to you how this is done, +but it is something like treading water when you are swimming, and hawks +do it extremely well.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I daresay," said Cyril, though no one had spoken. "But stealing is +stealing even if you've got wings."</p> + +<p>"Do you really think so?" said Jane briskly. "If you've got wings you're +a bird, and no one <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>minds birds breaking the commandments. At least, +they may <i>mind</i>, but the birds always do it, and no one scolds them or +sends them to prison."</p> + +<p>It was not so easy to perch on a plum-tree as you might think, because +the rainbow wings were so <i>very</i> large; but somehow they all managed to +do it, and the plums were certainly very sweet and juicy.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, it was not till they had all had quite as many plums as +were good for them that they saw a stout man, who looked exactly as +though he owned the plum-trees, come hurrying through the orchard gate +with a thick stick, and with one accord they disentangled their wings +from the plum-laden branches and began to fly.</p> + +<p>The man stopped short, with his mouth open. For he had seen the boughs +of his trees moving and twitching, and he had said to himself, "Them +young varmint—at it again!" And he had come out at once, for the lads +of the village had taught him in past seasons that plums want looking +after. But when he saw <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>the rainbow wings flutter up out of the +plum-tree he felt that he must have gone quite mad, and he did not like +the feeling at all. And when Anthea looked down and saw his mouth go +slowly open, and stay so, and his face become green and mauve in +patches, she called out—</p> + +<p>"Don't be frightened," and felt hastily in her pocket for a +threepenny-bit with a hole in it, which she had meant to hang on a +ribbon round her neck, for luck. She hovered round the unfortunate +plum-owner, and said, "We have had some of your plums; we thought it +wasn't stealing, but now I am not so sure. So here's some money to pay +for them."</p> + +<p>She swooped down toward the terror-stricken grower of plums, and slipped +the coin into the pocket of his jacket, and in a few flaps she had +rejoined the others.</p> + +<p>The farmer sat down on the grass, suddenly and heavily.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 266px;"><a name="farmer" id="farmer"></a> +<img src="images/20.png" width="266" height="400" alt="The farmer sat down on the grass suddenly and heavily" title="The farmer sat down on the grass suddenly and heavily" /> +<span class="caption">The farmer sat down on the grass suddenly and heavily</span> +</div> + +<p>"Well—I'm blessed!" he said. "This here is what they call delusions, I +suppose. But this here threepenny"—he had pulled it out <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>and bitten +it,—"<i>that's</i> real enough. Well, from this day forth I'll be a better +man. It's the kind of thing to sober a chap for life, this is. I'm glad +it was only wings, though. I'd rather see the birds as aren't there, and +couldn't be, even if they pretend to talk, than some things as I could +name."</p> + +<p>He got up slowly and heavily, and went indoors, and he was so nice to +his wife that day that she felt quite happy, and said to herself, "Law, +whatever have a-come to the man!" and smartened herself up and put a +blue ribbon bow at the place where her collar fastened on, and looked so +pretty that he was kinder than ever. So perhaps the winged children +really did do one good thing that day. If so, it was the only one; for +really there is nothing like wings for getting you into trouble. But, on +the other hand, if you are in trouble, there is nothing like wings for +getting you out of it.</p> + +<p>This was the case in the matter of the fierce dog who sprang out at them +when they had folded up their wings as small as possible and were going +up to a farm door to ask for a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>crust of bread and cheese, for in +spite of the plums they were soon just as hungry as ever again.</p> + +<p>Now there is no doubt whatever that, if the four had been ordinary +wingless children, that black and fierce dog would have had a good bite +out of the brown-stockinged leg of Robert, who was the nearest. But at +its first growl there was a flutter of wings, and the dog was left to +strain at his chain and stand on his hind-legs as if he were trying to +fly too.</p> + +<p>They tried several other farms, but at those where there were no dogs +the people were far too frightened to do anything but scream; and at +last, when it was nearly four o'clock, and their wings were getting +miserably stiff and tired, they alighted on a church-tower and held a +council of war.</p> + +<p>"We can't possibly fly all the way home without dinner <i>or</i> tea," said +Robert with desperate decision.</p> + +<p>"And nobody will give us any dinner, or even lunch, let alone tea," said +Cyril.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Perhaps the clergyman here might," suggested Anthea. "He must know all +about angels"—</p> + +<p>"Anybody could see we're not that," said Jane. "Look at Robert's boots +and Squirrel's plaid necktie."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Cyril firmly, "if the country you're in won't <i>sell</i> +provisions, you <i>take</i> them. In wars I mean. I'm quite certain you do. +And even in other stories no good brother would allow his little sisters +to starve in the midst of plenty."</p> + +<p>"Plenty?" repeated Robert hungrily; and the others looked vaguely round +the bare leads of the church-tower, and murmured, "In the midst of?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Cyril impressively. "There is a larder window at the side of +the clergyman's house, and I saw things to eat inside—custard pudding +and cold chicken and tongue—and pies—and jam. It's rather a high +window—but with wings"—</p> + +<p>"How clever of you!" said Jane.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Cyril modestly; "any born <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>general—Napoleon or the +Duke of Marlborough—would have seen it just the same as I did."</p> + +<p>"It seems very wrong," said Anthea.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said Cyril. "What was it Sir Philip Sidney said when the +soldier wouldn't give him a drink?—'My necessity is greater than his.'"</p> + +<p>"We'll club together our money, though, and leave it to pay for the +things, won't we?" Anthea was persuasive, and very nearly in tears, +because it is most trying to feel enormously hungry and unspeakably +sinful at one and the same time.</p> + +<p>"Some of it," was the cautious reply.</p> + +<p>Everyone now turned out its pockets on the lead roof of the tower, where +visitors for the last hundred and fifty years had cut their own and +their sweethearts' initials with penknives in the soft lead. There was +five-and-seven-pence halfpenny altogether, and even the upright Anthea +admitted that that was too much to pay for four people's dinners. Robert +said he thought eighteenpence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="every" id="every"></a> +<img src="images/21.png" width="400" height="286" alt="Every one now turned out his pockets" title="Every one now turned out his pockets" /> +<span class="caption">Every one now turned out his pockets</span> +</div> + +<p>And half-a-crown was finally agreed to be "handsome."</p> + +<p>So Anthea wrote on the back of her last term's report, which happened to +be in her pocket, and from which she first tore her own name and that of +the school, the following letter:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Reverend Clergyman</span>,—We are very +hungry indeed because of having to fly all day, +and we think it is not stealing when you are +starving to death. We are afraid to ask you for +fear you should say 'No,' because of course you +know about angels, but you would not think we were +angels. We will only take the necessities of life, +and no pudding or pie, to show you it is not +grediness but true starvation that makes us make +your larder stand and deliver. But we are not +highwaymen by trade." </p></div> + +<p>"Cut it short," said the others with one accord. And Anthea hastily +added—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Our intentions are quite honourable if you only +knew. And here is half-a-crown to show we are +sinseer and grateful.</p> + +<p>"Thank you for your kind hospitality. </p></div> + +<div class='right'> +"<span class="smcap">From Us Four</span>."<br /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> + +<p>The half-crown was wrapped in this letter, and all the children felt +that when the clergyman had read it he would understand everything, as +well as anyone could who had not even seen the wings.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Cyril, "of course there's some risk; we'd better fly +straight down the other side of the tower and then flutter low across +the churchyard and in through the shrubbery. There doesn't seem to be +anyone about. But you never know. The window looks out into the +shrubbery. It is embowered in foliage, like a window in a story. I'll go +in and get the things. Robert and Anthea can take them as I hand them +out through the window; and Jane can keep watch,—her eyes are +sharp,—and whistle if she sees anyone about. Shut up, Robert! she can +whistle quite well enough for that, anyway. It ought not to be a very +good whistle—it'll sound more natural and birdlike. Now then—off we +go!"</p> + +<p>I cannot pretend that stealing is right. I can only say that on this +occasion it did not look like stealing to the hungry four, but ap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>peared +in the light of a fair and reasonable business transaction. They had +never happened to learn that a tongue,—hardly cut into,—a chicken and +a half, a loaf of bread, and a syphon of soda-water cannot be bought in +the stores for half-a-crown. These were the necessaries of life, which +Cyril handed out of the larder window when, quite unobserved and without +hindrance or adventure, he had led the others to that happy spot. He +felt that to refrain from jam, apple pie, cake, and mixed candied peel, +was a really heroic act—and I agree with him. He was also proud of not +taking the custard pudding,—and there I think he was wrong,—because if +he had taken it there would have been a difficulty about returning the +dish; no one, however starving, has a right to steal china pie-dishes +with little pink flowers on them. The soda-water syphon was different. +They could not do without something to drink, and as the maker's name +was on it they felt sure it would be returned to him wherever they might +leave it. If they had time they would take it back themselves.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> The +man appeared to live in Rochester, which would not be much out of their +way home.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 277px;"><a name="these" id="these"></a> +<img src="images/22.png" width="277" height="400" alt="These were the necessaries of life" title="These were the necessaries of life" /> +<span class="caption">These were the necessaries of life</span> +</div> + +<p>Everything was carried up to the top of the tower, and laid down on a +sheet of kitchen paper which Cyril had found on the top shelf of the +larder. As he unfolded it, Anthea said, "I don't think <i>that's</i> a +necessity of life."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is," said he. "We must put the things down somewhere to cut +them up; and I heard father say the other day people got diseases from +germans in rain-water. Now there must be lots of rain-water here,—and +when it dries up the germans are left, and they'd get into the things, +and we should all die of scarlet fever."</p> + +<p>"What are germans?"</p> + +<p>"Little waggly things you see with microscopes," said Cyril, with a +scientific air. "They give you every illness you can think of. I'm sure +the paper was a necessary, just as much as the bread and meat and water. +Now then! Oh, I'm hungry!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + +<p>I do not wish to describe the picnic party on the top of the tower. You +can imagine well enough what it is like to carve a chicken and a tongue +with a knife that has only one blade and that snapped off short about +half-way down. But it was done. Eating with your fingers is greasy and +difficult—and paper dishes soon get to look very spotty and horrid. But +one thing you <i>can't</i> imagine, and that is how soda-water behaves when +you try to drink it straight out of a syphon—especially a quite full +one. But if imagination will not help you, experience will, and you can +easily try it for yourself if you can get a grown-up to give you the +syphon. If you want to have a really thorough experience, put the tube +in your mouth and press the handle very suddenly and very hard. You had +better do it when you are alone—and out of doors is best for this +experiment.</p> + +<p>However you eat them, tongue and chicken and new bread are very good +things, and no one minds being sprinkled a little with soda-water on a +really fine hot day. So that every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>one enjoyed the dinner very much +indeed, and everyone ate as much as it possibly could: first, because it +was extremely hungry; and secondly, because, as I said, tongue and +chicken and new bread are very nice.</p> + +<p>Now, I daresay you will have noticed that if you have to wait for your +dinner till long after the proper time, and then eat a great deal more +dinner than usual, and sit in the hot sun on the top of a +church-tower—or even anywhere else—you become soon and strangely +sleepy. Now Anthea and Jane and Cyril and Robert were very like you in +many ways, and when they had eaten all they could, and drunk all there +was, they became sleepy, strangely and soon—especially Anthea, because +she had gotten up so early.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 386px;"><a name="children" id="children"></a> +<img src="images/23.png" width="386" height="400" alt="The children were fast asleep" title="The children were fast asleep" /> +<span class="caption">The children were fast asleep</span> +</div> + +<p>One by one they left off talking and leaned back, and before it was a +quarter of an hour after dinner they had all curled round and tucked +themselves up under their large soft warm wings and were fast asleep. +And the sun was sinking slowly in the west. (I must say it was in the +west, because it is usual in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>books to say so, for fear careless people +should think it was setting in the east. In point of fact, it was not +exactly in the west either—but that's near enough.) The sun, I repeat, +was sinking slowly in the west, and the children slept warmly and +happily on—for wings are cosier than eider-down quilts to sleep under. +The shadow of the church-tower fell across the churchyard, and across +the Vicarage, and across the field beyond; and presently there were no +more shadows, and the sun had set, and the wings were gone. And still +the children slept. But not for long. Twilight is very beautiful, but it +is chilly; and you know, however sleepy you are, you wake up soon enough +if your brother or sister happens to be up first and pulls your blankets +off you. The four wingless children shivered and woke. And there they +were,—on the top of a church-tower in the dusky twilight, with blue +stars coming out by ones and twos and tens and twenties over their +heads,—miles away from home, with three shillings and three-halfpence +in their pockets, and a doubtful act <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>about the necessities of life to +be accounted for if anyone found them with the soda-water syphon.</p> + +<p>They looked at each other. Cyril spoke first, picking up the syphon—</p> + +<p>"We'd better get along down and get rid of this beastly thing. It's dark +enough to leave it on the clergyman's doorstep, I should think. Come +on."</p> + +<p>There was a little turret at the corner of the tower, and the little +turret had a door in it. They had noticed this when they were eating, +but had not explored it, as you would have done in their place. Because, +of course, when you have wings and can explore the whole sky, doors seem +hardly worth exploring.</p> + +<p>Now they turned towards it.</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Cyril "this is the way down."</p> + +<p>It was. But the door was locked on the inside!</p> + +<p>And the world was growing darker and darker. And they were miles from +home. And there was the soda-water syphon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<p>I shall not tell you whether anyone cried, nor, if so, how many cried, +nor who cried. You will be better employed in making up your minds what +you would have done if you had been in their place.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>NO WINGS</h3> + + +<p>Whether anyone cried or not, there was certainly an interval during +which none of the party was quite itself. When they grew calmer, Anthea +put her handkerchief in her pocket and her arm round Jane, and said—</p> + +<p>"It can't be for more than one night. We can signal with our +handkerchiefs in the morning. They'll be dry then. And someone will come +up and let us out"—</p> + +<p>"And find the syphon," said Cyril gloomily; "and we shall be sent to +prison for stealing"—</p> + +<p>"You said it wasn't stealing. You said you were sure it wasn't."</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure <i>now</i>" said Cyril shortly.</p> + +<p>"Let's throw the thing away among the trees," said Robert, "then no one +can do anything to us."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes,"—Cyril's laugh was not a light-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>hearted one,—"and hit some +chap on the head, and be murderers as well as—as the other thing."</p> + +<p>"But we can't stay up here all night," said Jane; "and I want my tea."</p> + +<p>"You <i>can't</i> want your tea," said Robert; "you've only just had your +dinner."</p> + +<p>"But I <i>do</i> want it," she said; "especially when you begin talking about +stopping up here all night. Oh, Panther—I want to go home! I want to go +home!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush," Anthea said. "Don't, dear. It'll be all right, somehow. +Don't, don't"—</p> + +<p>"Let her cry," said Robert desperately; "if she howls loud enough, +someone may hear and come and let us out."</p> + +<p>"And see the soda-water thing," said Anthea swiftly. "Robert, don't be a +brute. Oh, Jane, do try to be a man! It's just the same for all of us."</p> + +<p>Jane did try to "be a man"—and reduced her howls to sniffs.</p> + +<p>There was a pause. Then Cyril said slowly, "Look here. We must risk that +syphon. I'll <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>button it up inside my jacket—perhaps no one will notice +it. You others keep well in front of me. There are lights in the +clergyman's house. They've not gone to bed yet. We must just yell as +loud as ever we can. Now all scream when I say three. Robert, you do the +yell like a railway engine, and I'll do the coo-ee like father's. The +girls can do as they please. One, two, three!"</p> + +<p>A four-fold yell rent the silent peace of the evening, and a maid at one +of the Vicarage windows paused with her hand on the blind-cord.</p> + +<p>"One, two, three!" Another yell, piercing and complex, startled the owls +and starlings to a flutter of feathers in the belfry below. The maid +flew from the Vicarage window and ran down the Vicarage stairs and into +the Vicarage kitchen, and fainted as soon as she had explained to the +man-servant and the cook and the cook's cousin that she had seen a +ghost. It was quite untrue, of course, but I suppose the girl's nerves +were a little upset by the yelling.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> + +<p>"One, two, three!" The Vicar was on his doorstep by this time, and there +was no mistaking the yell that greeted him.</p> + +<p>"Goodness me," he said to his wife, "my dear, someone's being murdered +in the church! Give me my hat and a thick stick, and tell Andrew to come +after me. I expect it's the lunatic who stole the tongue."</p> + +<p>The children had seen the flash of light when the Vicar opened his front +door. They had seen his dark form on his doorstep, and they had paused +for breath, and also to see what he would do.</p> + +<p>When he turned back for his hat, Cyril said hastily—</p> + +<p>"He thinks he only fancied he heard something. You don't half yell! Now! +One, two, three!"</p> + +<p>It was certainly a whole yell this time, and the Vicar's wife flung her +arms round her husband and screamed a feeble echo of it.</p> + +<p>"You shan't go!" she said, "not alone. Jessie!"—the maid unfainted and +came out of the kitchen,—"send Andrew at once. There's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>a dangerous +lunatic in the church, and he must go immediately and catch him."</p> + +<p>"I expect he <i>will</i> catch it too," said Jessie to herself as she went +through the kitchen door. "Here, Andrew," she said, "there's someone +screaming like mad in the church, and the missus says you're to go along +and catch it."</p> + +<p>"Not alone, I don't," said Andrew in low firm tones. To his master he +merely said, "Yis sir."</p> + +<p>"You heard those screams?"</p> + +<p>"I did think I noticed a sort of something," said Andrew.</p> + +<p>"Well, come on, then," said the Vicar. "My dear, I <i>must</i> go!" He pushed +her gently into the sitting-room, banged the door, and rushed out, +dragging Andrew by the arm.</p> + +<p>A volley of yells greeted them. Then as it died into silence Andrew +shouted, "Hullo, you there! Did you call?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," shouted four far-away voices.</p> + +<p>"They seem to be in the air," said the Vicar. "Very remarkable."</p> + +<p>"Where are you?" shouted Andrew; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> Cyril replied in his deepest +voice, very slow and loud—</p> + +<p>"CHURCH! TOWER! TOP!"</p> + +<p>"Come down, then!" said Andrew; and the same voice replied—</p> + +<p>"<i>Can't! Door locked!</i>"</p> + +<p>"My goodness!" said the Vicar. "Andrew, fetch the stable lantern. +Perhaps it would be as well to fetch another man from the village."</p> + +<p>"With the rest of the gang about, very likely. No, sir; if this 'ere +ain't a trap—well, may I never! There's cook's cousin at the back door +now. He's a keeper, sir, and used to dealing with vicious characters. +And he's got his gun, sir."</p> + +<p>"Hullo there!" shouted Cyril from the church-tower; "come up and let us +out."</p> + +<p>"We're a-coming," said Andrew. "I'm a-going to get a policeman and a +gun."</p> + +<p>"Andrew, Andrew," said the Vicar, "that's not the truth."</p> + +<p>"It's near enough, sir, for the likes of them."</p> + +<p>So Andrew fetched the lantern and the cook's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>cousin; and the Vicar's +wife begged them all to be very careful.</p> + +<p>They went across the churchyard—it was quite dark now—and as they went +they talked. The Vicar was certain a lunatic was on the +church-tower—the one who had written the mad letter, and taken the cold +tongue and things. Andrew thought it was a "trap"; the cook's cousin +alone was calm. "Great cry, little wool," said he; "dangerous chaps is +quieter." He was not at all afraid. But then he had a gun. That was why +he was asked to lead the way up the worn, steep, dark steps of the +church-tower. He did lead the way, with the lantern in one hand and the +gun in the other. Andrew went next. He pretended afterwards that this +was because he was braver than his master, but really it was because he +thought of traps and he did not like the idea of being behind the others +for fear someone should come softly up behind him and catch hold of his +legs in the dark. They went on and on, and round and round the little +corkscrew staircase—then through the bell-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>ringers' loft, where the +bell-ropes hung with soft furry ends like giant caterpillars—then up +another stair into the belfry, where the big quiet bells are—and then +on up a ladder with broad steps—and then up a little stone stair. And +at the top of that there was a little door. And the door was bolted on +the stair side.</p> + +<p>The cook's cousin, who was a gamekeeper, kicked at the door, and said—</p> + +<p>"Hullo, you there!"</p> + +<p>The children were holding on to each other on the other side of the +door, and trembling with anxiousness—and very hoarse with their howls. +They could hardly speak, but Cyril managed to reply huskily—</p> + +<p>"Hullo, you there!"</p> + +<p>"How did you get up there?"</p> + +<p>It was no use saying "We flew up," so Cyril said—</p> + +<p>"We got up—and then we found the door was locked and we couldn't get +down. Let us out—do."</p> + +<p>"How many of you are there?" asked the keeper.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Only four," said Cyril.</p> + +<p>"Are you armed?"</p> + +<p>"Are we what?"</p> + +<p>"I've got my gun handy—so you'd best not try any tricks," said the +keeper. "If we open the door, will you promise to come quietly down, and +no nonsense?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—oh YES!" said all the children together.</p> + +<p>"Bless me," said the Vicar, "surely that was a female voice?"</p> + +<p>"Shall I open the door, sir?" said the keeper. Andrew went down a few +steps, "to leave room for the others" he said afterwards.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Vicar, "open the door. Remember," he said through the +keyhole, "we have come to release you. You will keep your promise to +refrain from violence?"</p> + +<p>"How this bolt do stick," said the keeper; "anyone 'ud think it hadn't +been drawed for half a year." As a matter of fact it hadn't.</p> + +<p>When all the bolts were drawn, the keeper spoke deep-chested words +through the keyhole.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 376px;"><a name="keeper" id="keeper"></a> +<img src="images/24.png" width="376" height="394" alt="The keeper spoke deep-chested words through the keyhole" title="The keeper spoke deep-chested words through the keyhole" /> +<span class="caption">The keeper spoke deep-chested words through the keyhole</span> +</div> + +<p>"I don't open," said he, "till you've gone over to the other side of the +tower. And if one of you comes at me I fire. Now!"</p> + +<p>"We're all over on the other side," said the voices.</p> + +<p>The keeper felt pleased with himself, and owned himself a bold man when +he threw open that door, and, stepping out into the leads, flashed the +full light of the stable lantern on the group of desperadoes standing +against the parapet on the other side of the tower.</p> + +<p>He lowered his gun, and he nearly dropped the lantern.</p> + +<p>"So help me," he cried, "if they ain't a pack of kiddies!"</p> + +<p>The Vicar now advanced.</p> + +<p>"How did you come here?" he asked severely. "Tell me at once."</p> + +<p>"Oh, take us down," said Jane, catching at his coat, "and we'll tell you +anything you like. You won't believe us, but it doesn't matter. Oh, take +us down!"</p> + +<p>The others crowded round him, with the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>same entreaty. All but Cyril. +He had enough to do with the soda-water syphon, which would keep +slipping down under his jacket. It needed both hands to keep it steady +in its place.</p> + +<p>But he said, standing as far out of the lantern light as possible—</p> + +<p>"Please do take us down."</p> + +<p>So they were taken down. It is no joke to go down a strange church-tower +in the dark, but the keeper helped them—only, Cyril had to be +independent because of the soda-water syphon. It would keep trying to +get away. Half-way down the ladder it all but escaped. Cyril just caught +it by its spout, and as nearly as possible lost his footing. He was +trembling and pale when at last they reached the bottom of the winding +stair and stepped out on to the stones of the church-porch.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly the keeper caught Cyril and Robert each by an arm.</p> + +<p>"You bring along the gells, sir," said he; "you and Andrew can manage +them."</p> + +<p>"Let go!" said Cyril; "we aren't running <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>away. We haven't hurt your old +church. Leave go!"</p> + +<p>"You just come along," said the keeper; and Cyril dared not oppose him +with violence, because just then the syphon began to slip again.</p> + +<p>So they were marched into the Vicarage study, and the Vicar's wife came +rushing in.</p> + +<p>"Oh, William, <i>are</i> you safe?" she cried.</p> + +<p>Robert hastened to allay her anxiety.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "he's quite safe. We haven't hurt them at all. And +please, we're very late, and they'll be anxious at home. Could you send +us home in your carriage?"</p> + +<p>"Or perhaps there's a hotel near where we could get a carriage," said +Anthea. "Martha will be very anxious as it is."</p> + +<p>The Vicar had sunk into a chair, overcome by emotion and amazement.</p> + +<p>Cyril had also sat down, and was leaning forward with his elbows on his +knees because of the soda-water syphon.</p> + +<p>"But how did you come to be locked up in the church-tower?" asked the +Vicar.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We went up," said Robert slowly, "and we were tired, and we all went to +sleep, and when we woke up we found the door was locked, so we yelled."</p> + +<p>"I should think you did!" said the Vicar's wife. "Frightening everybody +out of their wits like this! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves."</p> + +<p>"We <i>are</i>," said Jane gently.</p> + +<p>"But who locked the door?" asked the Vicar.</p> + +<p>"I don't know at all," said Robert, with perfect truth. "Do please send +us home."</p> + +<p>"Well, really," said the Vicar, "I suppose we'd better. Andrew, put the +horse to, and you can take them home."</p> + +<p>"Not alone, I don't," said Andrew to himself.</p> + +<p>And the Vicar went on, "let this be a lesson to you"—— He went on +talking, and the children listened miserably. But the keeper was not +listening. He was looking at the unfortunate Cyril. He knew all about +poachers, of course, so he knew how people look when they're hiding +something. The Vicar <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>had just got to the part about trying to grow up +to be a blessing to your parents, and not a trouble and disgrace, when +the keeper suddenly said—</p> + +<p>"Arst him what he's got there under his jacket;" and Cyril knew that +concealment was at an end. So he stood up, and squared his shoulders and +tried to look noble, like the boys in books that no one can look in the +face of and doubt that they come of brave and noble families, and will +be faithful to the death, and he pulled out the syphon and said—</p> + +<p>"Well, there you are, then."</p> + +<p>There was silence. Cyril went on—there was nothing else for it—</p> + +<p>"Yes, we took this out of your larder, and some chicken and tongue and +bread. We were very hungry, and we didn't take the custard or jam. We +only took bread and meat and water,—and we couldn't help its being soda +kind,—just the necessaries of life; and we left half-a-crown to pay for +it, and we left a letter. And we're very sorry. And my father will pay a +fine and anything you like, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>but don't send us to prison. Mother would +be so vexed. You know what you said about not being a disgrace. Well, +don't you go and do it to us—that's all! We're as sorry as we can be. +There!"</p> + +<p>"However did you get up to the larder window?" said Mrs. Vicar.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you that," said Cyril firmly.</p> + +<p>"Is this the whole truth you've been telling me?" asked the clergyman.</p> + +<p>"No," answered Jane suddenly; "it's all true, but it's not the whole +truth. We can't tell you that. It's no good asking. Oh, do forgive us +and take us home!" She ran to the Vicar's wife and threw her arms round +her. The Vicar's wife put her arms round Jane, and the keeper whispered +behind his hand to the Vicar—</p> + +<p>"They're all right, sir—I expect it's a pal they're standing by. +Someone put 'em up to it, and they won't peach. Game little kids."</p> + +<p>"Tell me," said the Vicar kindly, "are you screening someone else? Had +anyone else anything to do with this?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," said Anthea, thinking of the Psammead; "but it wasn't their +fault."</p> + +<p>"Very well, my dears," said the Vicar, "then let's say no more about it. +Only just tell us why you wrote such an odd letter."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Cyril. "You see, Anthea wrote it in such a hurry, +and it really didn't seem like stealing then. But afterwards, when we +found we couldn't get down off the church-tower, it seemed just exactly +like it. We are all very sorry"—</p> + +<p>"Say no more about it," said the Vicar's wife; "but another time just +think before you take other people's tongues. Now—some cake and milk +before you go home?"</p> + +<p>When Andrew came to say that the horse was put to, and was he expected +to be led alone into the trap that he had plainly seen from the first, +he found the children eating cake and drinking milk and laughing at the +Vicar's jokes. Jane was sitting on the Vicar's wife's lap.</p> + +<p>So you see they got off better than they deserved.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<p>The gamekeeper, who was the cook's cousin, asked leave to drive home +with them, and Andrew was only too glad to have someone to protect him +from that trap he was so certain of.</p> + +<p>When the wagonette reached their own house, between the chalk-quarry and +the gravel-pit, the children were very sleepy, but they felt that they +and the keeper were friends for life.</p> + +<p>Andrew dumped the children down at the iron gate without a word.</p> + +<p>"You get along home," said the Vicarage cook's cousin, who was a +gamekeeper. "I'll get me home on shanks' mare."</p> + +<p>So Andrew had to drive off alone, which he did not like at all, and it +was the keeper that was cousin to the Vicarage cook who went with the +children to the door, and, when they had been swept to bed in a +whirlwind of reproaches, remained to explain to Martha and the cook and +the housemaid exactly what had happened. He explained so well that +Martha was quite amicable the next morning.</p> + +<p>After that he often used to come over and see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> Martha, and in the +end—but that is another story, as dear Mr. Kipling says.</p> + +<p>Martha was obliged to stick to what she had said the night before about +keeping the children indoors the next day for a punishment. But she +wasn't at all ugly about it, and agreed to let Robert go out for half an +hour to get something he particularly wanted.</p> + +<p>This, of course, was the day's wish.</p> + +<p>Robert rushed to the gravel-pit, found the Psammead, and presently +wished for—</p> + +<p>But that, too, is another story.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>A CASTLE AND NO DINNER</h3> + + +<p>The others were to be kept in as a punishment for the misfortunes of the +day before. Of course Martha thought it was naughtiness, and not +misfortune—so you must not blame her. She only thought she was doing +her duty. You know, grown-up people often say they do not like to punish +you, and that they only do it for your own good, and that it hurts them +as much as it hurts you—and this is really very often the truth.</p> + +<p>Martha certainly hated having to punish the children quite as much as +they hated to be punished. For one thing, she knew what a noise there +would be in the house all day. And she had other reasons.</p> + +<p>"I declare," she said to the cook, "it seems almost a shame keeping of +them indoors this lovely day; but they are that audacious, they'll <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>be +walking in with their heads knocked off some of these days, if I don't +put my foot down. You make them a cake for tea to-morrow, dear. And +we'll have Baby along of us soon as we've got a bit forrard with our +work. Then they can have a good romp with him, out of the way. Now, +Eliza, come, get on with them beds. Here's ten o'clock nearly, and no +rabbits caught!"</p> + +<p>People say that in Kent when they mean "and no work done."</p> + +<p>So all the others were kept in, but Robert, as I have said, was allowed +to go out for half an hour to get something they all wanted. And that, +of course, was the day's wish.</p> + +<p>He had no difficulty in finding the Sand-fairy, for the day was already +so hot that it had actually, for the first time, come out of its own +accord, and was sitting in a sort of pool of soft sand, stretching +itself, and trimming its whiskers, and turning its snail's eyes round +and round.</p> + +<p>"Ha!" it said when its left eye saw Robert; "I've been looking for you. +Where are the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>rest of you? Not smashed themselves up with those wings, +I hope?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Robert; "but the wings got us into a row, just like all the +wishes always do. So the others are kept indoors, and I was only let out +for half an hour—to get the wish. So please let me wish as quickly as I +can."</p> + +<p>"Wish away," said the Psammead, twisting itself round in the sand. But +Robert couldn't wish away. He forgot all the things he had been thinking +about, and nothing would come into his head but little things for +himself, like candy, a foreign stamp album, or a knife with three blades +and a corkscrew. He sat down to think better of things the others would +not have cared for—such as a football, or a pair of leg-guards, or to +be able to lick Simpkins Minor thoroughly when he went back to school.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the Psammead at last, "you'd better hurry up with that wish +of yours. Time flies."</p> + +<p>"I know it does," said Robert. "<i>I</i> can't think what to wish for. I wish +you could give <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>one of the others their wish without their having to +come here to ask for it. Oh, <i>don't</i>!"</p> + +<p>But it was too late. The Psammead had blown itself out to about three +times its proper size, and now it collapsed like a pricked bubble, and +with a deep sigh leaned back against the edge of the sand-pool, quite +faint with the effort.</p> + +<p>"There!" it said in a weak voice; "it was tremendously hard—but I did +it. Run along home, or they're sure to wish for something silly before +you get there."</p> + +<p>They were—quite sure; Robert felt this, and as he ran home his mind was +deeply occupied with the sort of wishes he might find they had wished in +his absence. They might wish for rabbits, or white mice, or chocolate, +or a fine day to-morrow, or even—and that was most likely—someone +might have said, "I do wish to goodness Robert would hurry up." Well, he +<i>was</i> hurrying up, and so they would have had their wish, and the day +would be wasted. Then he tried to think what they could wish +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>for—something that would be amusing indoors. That had been his own +difficulty from the beginning. So few things are amusing indoors when +the sun is shining outside and you mayn't go out, however much you want +to do so.</p> + +<p>Robert was running as fast as he could, but when he turned the corner +that ought to have brought him within sight of the architect's +nightmare—the ornamental iron-work on the top of the house—he opened +his eyes so wide that he had to drop into a walk; for you cannot run +with your eyes wide open. Then suddenly he stopped short, for there was +no house to be seen. The front garden railings were gone too, and where +the house had stood—Robert rubbed his eyes and looked again. Yes, the +others <i>had</i> wished,—there was no doubt about it,—and they must have +wished that they lived in a castle; for there the castle stood, black +and stately, and very tall and broad, with battlements and lancet +windows, and eight great towers; and, where the garden and the orchard +had been, there were white things <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>dotted like mushrooms. Robert walked +slowly on, and as he got nearer he saw that these were tents, and men in +armor were walking about among the tents—crowds and crowds of them.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="castle" id="castle"></a> +<img src="images/25.png" width="400" height="293" alt="There the castle stood, black and stately" title="There the castle stood, black and stately" /> +<span class="caption">There the castle stood, black and stately</span> +</div> + +<p>"Oh!" said Robert fervently. "They <i>have</i>! They've wished for a castle, +and it's being besieged! It's just like that Sand-fairy! I wish we'd +never seen the beastly thing!"</p> + +<p>At the little window above the great gateway, across the moat that now +lay where the garden had been but half an hour ago, someone was waving +something pale dust-colored. Robert thought it was one of Cyril's +handkerchiefs. They had never been white since the day when he had upset +the bottle of "Combined Toning and Fixing Solution" into the drawer +where they were. Robert waved back, and immediately felt that he had +been unwise. For this signal had been seen by the besieging force, and +two men in steel-caps were coming towards him. They had high brown boots +on their long legs, and they came towards him with such great strides +that Robert remem<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>bered the shortness of his own legs and did not run +away. He knew it would be useless to himself, and he feared it might be +irritating to the foe. So he stood still—and the two men seemed quite +pleased with him.</p> + +<p>"By my halidom," said one, "a brave varlet this!"</p> + +<p>Robert felt pleased at being <i>called</i> brave, and somehow it made him +<i>feel</i> brave. He passed over the "varlet." It was the way people talked +in historical romances for the young, he knew, and it was evidently not +meant for rudeness. He only hoped he would be able to understand what +they said to him. He had not been always able quite to follow the +conversations in the historical romances for the young.</p> + +<p>"His garb is strange," said the other. "Some outlandish treachery, +belike."</p> + +<p>"Say, lad, what brings thee hither?"</p> + +<p>Robert knew this meant, "Now then, youngster, what are you up to here, +eh?"—so he said—</p> + +<p>"If you please, I want to go home."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Go, then!" said the man in the longest boots; "none hindereth, and +nought lets us to follow. Zooks!" he added in a cautious undertone, "I +misdoubt me but he beareth tidings to the besieged."</p> + +<p>"Where dwellest thou, young knave?" inquired the man with the largest +steel-cap.</p> + +<p>"Over there," said Robert; and directly he had said it he knew he ought +to have said "Yonder!"</p> + +<p>"Ha—sayest so?" rejoined the longest boots. "Come hither, boy. This is +matter for our leader."</p> + +<p>And to the leader Robert was dragged forthwith—by the reluctant ear.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 314px;"><a name="robert" id="robert"></a> +<img src="images/26.png" width="314" height="400" alt="Robert was dragged forthwith—by the reluctant ear" title="Robert was dragged forthwith—by the reluctant ear" /> +<span class="caption">Robert was dragged forthwith—by the reluctant ear</span> +</div> + +<p>The leader was the most glorious creature Robert had ever seen. He was +exactly like the pictures Robert had so often admired in the historical +romances. He had armor, and a helmet, and a horse, and a crest, and +feathers, and a shield and a lance and a sword. His armor and his +weapons were all, I am almost sure, of quite different periods. The +shield was thirteenth century, while the sword was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>of the pattern +used in the Peninsular War. The cuirass was of the time of Charles I., +and the helmet dated from the Second Crusade. The arms on the shield +were very grand—three red running lions on a blue ground. The tents +were of the latest brand approved of by our modern War Office, and the +whole appearance of camp, army, and leader might have been a shock to +some. But Robert was dumb with admiration, and it all seemed to him +perfectly correct, because he knew no more of heraldry or archæology +than the gifted artists who usually drew the pictures for the historical +romances. The scene was indeed "exactly like a picture." He admired it +all so much that he felt braver than ever.</p> + +<p>"Come hither, lad," said the glorious leader, when the men in +Cromwellian steel-caps had said a few low eager words. And he took off +his helmet, because he could not see properly with it on. He had a kind +face, and long fair hair. "Have no fear; thou shalt take no scathe," he +said.</p> + +<p>Robert was glad of that. He wondered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>what "scathe" was, and if it was +nastier than the medicine which he had to take sometimes.</p> + +<p>"Unfold thy tale without alarm," said the leader kindly. "Whence comest +thou, and what is thine intent?"</p> + +<p>"My what?" said Robert.</p> + +<p>"What seekest thou to accomplish? What is thine errand, that thou +wanderest here alone among these rough men-at-arms? Poor child, thy +mother's heart aches for thee e'en now, I'll warrant me."</p> + +<p>"I don't think so," said Robert; "you see, she doesn't know I'm out."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="wiped" id="wiped"></a> +<img src="images/27.png" width="400" height="377" alt="He wiped away a manly tear" title="He wiped away a manly tear" /> +<span class="caption">He wiped away a manly tear</span> +</div> + +<p>The leader wiped away a manly tear, exactly as a leader in a historical +romance would have done, and said—</p> + +<p>"Fear not to speak the truth, my child; thou hast nought to fear from +Wulfric de Talbot."</p> + +<p>Robert had a wild feeling that this glorious leader of the besieging +party—being himself part of a wish—would be able to understand better +than Martha, or the gipsies, or the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>policeman in Rochester, or the +clergyman of yesterday, the true tale of the wishes and the Psammead. +The only difficulty was that he knew he could never remember enough +"quothas" and "beshrew me's," and things like that, to make his talk +sound like the talk of a boy in a historical romance. However, he began +boldly enough, with a sentence straight out of <i>Ralph de Courcy; or, The +Boy Crusader</i>. He said—</p> + +<p>"Grammercy for thy courtesy, fair sir knight. The fact is, it's like +this—and I hope you're not in a hurry, because the story's rather a +breather. Father and mother are away, and when we went down playing in +the sand-pits we found a Psammead."</p> + +<p>"I cry thee mercy! A Sammyadd?" said the knight.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a sort of—of fairy, or enchanter—yes, that's it, an enchanter; +and he said we could have a wish every day, and we wished first to be +beautiful."</p> + +<p>"Thy wish was scarce granted," muttered one of the men-at-arms, looking +at Robert, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>who went on as if he had not heard, though he thought the +remark very rude indeed.</p> + +<p>"And then we wished for money—treasure, you know; but we couldn't spend +it. And yesterday we wished for wings, and we got them, and we had a +ripping time to begin with"—</p> + +<p>"Thy speech is strange and uncouth," said Sir Wulfric de Talbot. "Repeat +thy words—what hadst thou?"</p> + +<p>"A ripping—I mean a jolly—no—we were contented with our lot—that's +what I mean; only, after we got into an awful fix."</p> + +<p>"What is a fix? A fray, mayhap?"</p> + +<p>"No—not a fray. A—a—a tight place."</p> + +<p>"A dungeon? Alas for thy youthful fettered limbs!" said the knight, with +polite sympathy.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't a dungeon. We just—just encountered undeserved misfortunes," +Robert explained, "and to-day we are punished by not being allowed to go +out. That's where I live,"—he pointed to the castle. "The others are in +there, and they're not allowed to go out. It's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>all the Psammead's—I +mean the enchanter's fault. I wish we'd never seen him."</p> + +<p>"He is an enchanter of might?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes—of might and main. Rather!"</p> + +<p>"And thou deemest that it is the spells of the enchanter whom thou hast +angered that have lent strength to the besieging party," said the +gallant leader; "but know thou that Wulfric de Talbot needs no +enchanter's aid to lead his followers to victory."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm sure you don't," said Robert, with hasty courtesy; "of course +not—you wouldn't, you know. But, all the same, it's partly his fault, +but we're most to blame. You couldn't have done anything if it hadn't +been for us."</p> + +<p>"How now, bold boy?" asked Sir Wulfric haughtily. "Thy speech is dark, +and eke scarce courteous. Unravel me this riddle!"</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Robert desperately, "of course you don't know it, but you're +not <i>real</i> at all. You're only here because the others must have been +idiots enough to wish for a castle—and when the sun sets you'll just +vanish away, and it'll be all right."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> + +<p>The captain and the men-at-arms exchanged glances at first pitying, and +then sterner, as the longest-booted man said, "Beware, my noble lord; +the urchin doth but feign madness to escape from our clutches. Shall we +not bind him?"</p> + +<p>"I'm no more mad than you are," said Robert angrily, "perhaps not so +much—Only, I was an idiot to think you'd understand anything. Let me +go—I haven't done anything to you."</p> + +<p>"Whither?" asked the knight, who seemed to have believed all the +enchanter story till it came to his own share in it. "Whither wouldst +thou wend?"</p> + +<p>"Home, of course." Robert pointed to the castle.</p> + +<p>"To carry news of succor? Nay!"</p> + +<p>"All right, then," said Robert, struck by a sudden idea; "then let me go +somewhere else." His mind sought eagerly among the memories of the +historical romance.</p> + +<p>"Sir Wulfric de Talbot," he said slowly, "should think foul scorn to—to +keep a chap—<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>I mean one who has done him no hurt—when he wants to cut +off quietly—I mean to depart without violence."</p> + +<p>"This to my face! Beshrew thee for a knave!" replied Sir Wulfric. But +the appeal seemed to have gone home. "Yet thou sayest sooth," he added +thoughtfully. "Go where thou wilt," he added nobly, "thou art free. +Wulfric de Talbot warreth not with babes, and Jakin here shall bear thee +company."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Robert wildly. "Jakin will enjoy himself, I think. +Come on, Jakin. Sir Wulfric, I salute thee."</p> + +<p>He saluted after the modern military manner, and set off running to the +sand-pit, Jakin's long boots keeping up easily.</p> + +<p>He found the Fairy. He dug it up, he woke it up, he implored it to give +him one more wish.</p> + +<p>"I've done two to-day already," it grumbled, "and one was as stiff a bit +of work as ever I did."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do, do, do, do, <i>do</i>!" said Robert, while Jakin looked on with an +expression of open-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>mouthed horror at the strange beast that talked, and +gazed with its snail's eyes at him.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="do" id="do"></a> +<img src="images/28.png" width="400" height="362" alt=""Oh, do, do, do!" said Robert" title=""Oh, do, do, do!" said Robert" /> +<span class="caption">"Oh, do, do, do!" said Robert</span> +</div> + +<p>"Well, what is it?" snapped the Psammead, with cross sleepiness.</p> + +<p>"I wish I was with the others," said Robert. And the Psammead began to +swell. Robert never thought of wishing the castle and the siege away. Of +course he knew they had all come out of a wish, but swords and daggers +and pikes and lances seemed much too real to be wished away. Robert lost +consciousness for an instant. When he opened his eyes the others were +crowding round him.</p> + +<p>"We never heard you come in," they said. "How awfully jolly of you to +wish it to give us our wish!"</p> + +<p>"Of course we understood that was what you'd done."</p> + +<p>"But you ought to have told us. Suppose we'd wished something silly."</p> + +<p>"Silly?" said Robert, very crossly indeed. "How much sillier could you +have been, I'd like to know? You nearly settled <i>me</i>—I can tell +you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then he told his story, and the others admitted that it certainly had +been rough on him. But they praised his courage and cleverness so much +that he presently got back his lost temper, and felt braver than ever, +and consented to be captain of the besieged force.</p> + +<p>"We haven't done anything yet," said Anthea comfortably; "we waited for +you. We're going to shoot at them through these little loopholes with +the bow and arrows uncle gave you, and you shall have first shot."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I would," said Robert cautiously; "you don't know what +they're like near to. They've got <i>real</i> bows and arrows—an awful +length—and swords and pikes and daggers, and all sorts of sharp things. +They're all quite, quite real. It's not just a—a picture, or a vision +or anything; they can <i>hurt us</i>—or kill us even, I shouldn't wonder. I +can feel my ear all sore yet. Look here—have you explored the castle? +Because I think we'd better let them alone as long as they let us alone. +I heard that Jakin man say they weren't <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>going to attack till just +before sundown. We can be getting ready for the attack. Are there any +soldiers in the castle to defend it?"</p> + +<p>"We don't know," said Cyril. "You see, directly I'd wished we were in a +besieged castle, everything seemed to go upside down, and when it came +straight we looked out of the window, and saw the camp and things and +you—and of course we kept on looking at everything. Isn't this room +jolly? It's as real as real!"</p> + +<p>It was. It was square, with stone walls four feet thick, and great beams +for ceiling. A low door at the corner led to a flight of steps, up and +down. The children went down; they found themselves in a great arched +gate-house—the enormous doors were shut and barred. There was a window +in a little room at the bottom of the round turret up which the stair +wound, rather larger than the other windows, and looking through it they +saw that the drawbridge was up and the portcullis down; the moat looked +very wide and deep. Opposite the great door that led to the moat was +another <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>great door, with a little door in it. The children went through +this, and found themselves in a big courtyard, with the great grey walls +of the castle rising dark and heavy on all four sides.</p> + +<p>Near the middle of the courtyard stood Martha, moving her right hand +backwards and forwards in the air. The cook was stooping down and moving +her hands, also in a very curious way. But the oddest and at the same +time most terrible thing was the Lamb, who was sitting on nothing, about +three feet from the ground, laughing happily.</p> + +<p>The children ran towards him. Just as Anthea was reaching out her arms +to take him, Martha said crossly, "Let him alone—do, miss, when he <i>is</i> +good."</p> + +<p>"But what's he <i>doing</i>?" said Anthea.</p> + +<p>"Doing? Why, a-setting in his high chair as good as gold, a precious, +watching me doing of the ironing. Get along with you, do—my iron's cold +again."</p> + +<p>She went towards the cook, and seemed to poke an invisible fire with an +unseen poker—<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>the cook seemed to be putting an unseen dish into an +invisible oven.</p> + +<p>"Run along with you, do," she said; "I'm behindhand as it is. You won't +get no dinner if you come a-hindering of me like this. Come, off you +goes, or I'll pin a discloth to some of your tails."</p> + +<p>"You're <i>sure</i> the Lamb's all right?" asked Jane anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Right as ninepence, if you don't come unsettling of him. I thought +you'd like to be rid of him for to-day; but take him, if you want him, +for gracious' sake."</p> + +<p>"No, no," they said, and hastened away. They would have to defend the +castle presently, and the Lamb was safer even suspended in mid air in an +invisible kitchen than in the guard-room of the besieged castle. They +went through the first doorway they came to, and sat down helplessly on +a wooden bench that ran along the room inside.</p> + +<p>"How awful!" said Anthea and Jane together; and Jane added, "I feel as +if I was in a lunatic asylum."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What does it mean?" Anthea said. "It's creepy; I don't like it. I wish +we'd wished for something plain—a rocking-horse, or a donkey, or +something."</p> + +<p>"It's no use wishing <i>now</i>," said Robert bitterly; and Cyril said—</p> + +<p>"Do be quiet; I want to think."</p> + +<p>He buried his face in his hands, and the others looked about them. They +were in a long room with an arched roof. There were wooden tables along +it, and one across at the end of the room, on a sort of raised platform. +The room was very dim and dark. The floor was strewn with dry things +like sticks, and they did not smell nice.</p> + +<p>Cyril sat up suddenly and said—</p> + +<p>"Look here—it's all right. I think it's like this. You know, we wished +that the servants shouldn't notice any difference when we got wishes. +And nothing happens to the Lamb unless we specially wish it to. So of +course they don't notice the castle or anything. But then the castle is +on the same place where our house was—is, I mean—and the servants have +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>to go on being in the house, or else they <i>would</i> notice. But you can't +have a castle mixed up with our house—and so <i>we</i> can't see the house, +because we see the castle; and they can't see the castle, because they +go on seeing the house; and so"—</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>don't</i>," said Jane; "you make my head go all swimmy, like being on +a roundabout. It doesn't matter! Only, I hope we shall be able to see +our dinner, that's all—because if it's invisible it'll be unfeelable as +well, and then we can't eat it! I <i>know</i> it will, because I tried to +feel if I could feel the Lamb's chair and there was nothing under him at +all but air. And we can't eat air, and I feel just as if I hadn't had +any breakfast for years and years."</p> + +<p>"It's no use thinking about it," said Anthea. "Let's go on exploring. +Perhaps we might find something to eat."</p> + +<p>This lighted hope in every breast, and they went on exploring the +castle. But though it was the most perfect and delightful castle you can +possibly imagine, and furnished in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>most complete and beautiful +manner, neither food nor men-at-arms were to be found in it.</p> + +<p>"If you'd only thought of wishing to be besieged in a castle thoroughly +garrisoned and provisioned!" said Jane reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"You can't think of everything, you know," said Anthea. "I should think +it must be nearly dinner-time by now."</p> + +<p>It wasn't; but they hung about watching the strange movements of the +servants in the middle of the courtyard, because, of course, they +couldn't be sure where the dining-room of the invisible house was. +Presently they saw Martha carrying an invisible tray across the +courtyard, for it seemed that, by the most fortunate accident, the +dining-room of the house and the banqueting-hall of the castle were in +the same place. But oh, how their hearts sank when they perceived that +the tray <i>was</i> invisible!</p> + +<p>They waited in wretched silence while Martha went through the form of +carving an unseen leg of mutton and serving invisible greens and +potatoes with a spoon that no one could see. When she had left the room, +the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>children looked at the empty table, and then at each other.</p> + +<p>"This is worse than anything," said Robert, who had not till now been +particularly keen on his dinner.</p> + +<p>"I'm not so very hungry," said Anthea, trying to make the best of +things, as usual.</p> + +<p>Cyril tightened his belt ostentatiously. Jane burst into tears.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>A SIEGE AND BED</h3> + + +<p>The children were sitting in the gloomy banqueting-hall, at the end of +one of the long bare wooden tables. There was now no hope. Martha had +brought in the dinner, and the dinner was invisible, and unfeelable too; +for, when they rubbed their hands along the table, they knew but too +well that for them there was nothing there <i>but</i> table.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Cyril felt in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Right, <i>oh</i>!" he cried. "Look here! Biscuits."</p> + +<p>Somewhat broken and crumbled, certainly, but still biscuits. Three whole +ones, and a generous handful of crumbs and fragments.</p> + +<p>"I got them this morning—cook—and I'd quite forgotten," he explained +as he divided them with scrupulous fairness into four heaps.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> + +<p>They were eaten in a happy silence, though they had an odd taste, +because they had been in Cyril's pocket all the morning with a hank of +tarred twine, some green fir-cones, and a ball of cobbler's wax.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but look here, Squirrel," said Robert; "you're so clever at +explaining about invisibleness and all that. How is it the biscuits are +here, and all the bread and meat and things have disappeared?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Cyril after a pause, "unless it's because <i>we</i> had +them. Nothing about <i>us</i> has changed. Everything's in my pocket all +right."</p> + +<p>"Then if we <i>had</i> the mutton it would be real," said Robert. "Oh, don't +I wish we could find it!"</p> + +<p>"But we can't find it. I suppose it isn't ours till we've got it in our +mouths."</p> + +<p>"Or in our pockets," said Jane, thinking of the biscuits.</p> + +<p>"Who puts mutton in their pockets, goose-girl?" said Cyril. "But I +know—at any rate, I'll try it!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + +<p>He leaned over the table with his face about an inch from it, and kept +opening and shutting his mouth as if he were taking bites out of air.</p> + +<p>"It's no good," said Robert in deep dejection. "You'll only—— Hullo!"</p> + +<p>Cyril stood up with a grin of triumph, holding a square piece of bread +in his mouth. It was quite real. Everyone saw it. It is true that, +directly he bit a piece off, the rest vanished; but it was all right, +because he knew he had it in his hand though he could neither see nor +feel it. He took another bite from the air between his fingers, and it +turned into bread as he bit. The next moment all the others were +following his example, and opening and shutting their mouths an inch or +so from the bare-looking table. Robert captured a slice of mutton, +and—but I think I will draw a veil over the rest of this painful scene. +It is enough to say that they all had enough mutton, and that when +Martha came to change the plates she said she had never seen such a mess +in all her born days.</p> + +<p>The pudding was, fortunately, a plain suet <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>one, and in answer to +Martha's questions the children all with one accord said that they would +<i>not</i> have molasses on it—nor jam, nor sugar—"Just plain, please," +they said. Martha said, "Well, I never—what next, I wonder!" and went +away.</p> + +<p>Then ensued another scene on which I will not dwell, for nobody looks +nice picking up slices of suet pudding from the table in its mouth, like +a dog.</p> + +<p>The great thing, after all, was that they had had dinner; and now +everyone felt more courage to prepare for the attack that was to be +delivered before sunset. Robert, as captain, insisted on climbing to the +top of one of the towers to reconnoitre, so up they all went. And now +they could see all round the castle, and could see, too, that beyond the +moat, on every side, tents of the besieging party were pitched. Rather +uncomfortable shivers ran down the children's backs as they saw that all +the men were very busy cleaning or sharpening their arms, re-stringing +their bows, and polishing their shields. A large party came along <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>the +road, with horses dragging along the great trunk of a tree; and Cyril +felt quite pale, because he knew this was for a battering-ram.</p> + +<p>"What a good thing we've got a moat," he said; "and what a good thing +the drawbridge is up—I should never have known how to work it."</p> + +<p>"Of course it would be up in a besieged castle."</p> + +<p>"You'd think there ought to have been soldiers in it, wouldn't you?" +said Robert.</p> + +<p>"You see you don't know how long it's been besieged," said Cyril darkly; +"perhaps most of the brave defenders were killed early in the siege and +all the provisions eaten, and now there are only a few intrepid +survivors,—that's us, and we are going to defend it to the death."</p> + +<p>"How do you begin—defending to the death, I mean?" asked Anthea.</p> + +<p>"We ought to be heavily armed—and then shoot at them when they advance +to the attack."</p> + +<p>"They used to pour boiling lead down on besiegers when they got too +close," said An<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>thea. "Father showed me the holes on purpose for pouring +it down through at Bodiam Castle. And there are holes like it in the +gate-tower here."</p> + +<p>"I think I'm glad it's only a game; it <i>is</i> only a game, isn't it?" said +Jane.</p> + +<p>But no one answered.</p> + +<p>The children found plenty of strange weapons in the castle, and if they +were armed at all it was soon plain that they would be, as Cyril said, +"armed heavily"—for these swords and lances and crossbows were far too +weighty even for Cyril's manly strength; and as for the longbows, none +of the children could even begin to bend them. The daggers were better; +but Jane hoped that the besiegers would not come close enough for +daggers to be of any use.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, we can hurl them like javelins," said Cyril, "or drop them +on people's heads. I say—there are lots of stones on the other side of +the courtyard. If we took some of those up? Just to drop on their heads +if they were to try swimming the moat."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<p>So a heap of stones grew apace, up in the room above the gate; and +another heap, a shiny spiky dangerous-looking heap, of daggers and +knives.</p> + +<p>As Anthea was crossing the courtyard for more stones, a sudden and +valuable idea came to her.</p> + +<p>She went to Martha and said, "May we have just biscuits for tea? We're +going to play at besieged castles, and we'd like the biscuits to +provision the garrison. Put mine in my pocket, please, my hands are so +dirty. And I'll tell the others to fetch theirs."</p> + +<p>This was indeed a happy thought, for now with four generous handfuls of +air, which turned to biscuits as Martha crammed it into their pockets, +the garrison was well provisioned till sundown.</p> + +<p>They brought up some iron pots of cold water to pour on the besiegers +instead of hot lead, with which the castle did not seem to be provided.</p> + +<p>The afternoon passed with wonderful quickness. It was very exciting; but +none of them, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>except Robert, could feel all the time that this was real +deadly dangerous work. To the others, who had only seen the camp and the +besiegers from a distance, the whole thing seemed half a game of +make-believe, and half a splendidly distinct and perfectly safe dream. +But it was only now and then that Robert could feel this.</p> + +<p>When it seemed to be tea-time the biscuits were eaten, with water from +the deep well in the courtyard, drunk out of horns. Cyril insisted on +putting by eight of the biscuits, in case anyone should feel faint in +stress of battle.</p> + +<p>Just as he was putting away the reserve biscuits in a sort of little +stone cupboard without a door, a sudden sound made him drop three. It +was the loud fierce cry of a trumpet.</p> + +<p>"You see it <i>is</i> real," said Robert, "and they are going to attack."</p> + +<p>All rushed to the narrow windows.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Robert, "they're all coming out of their tents and moving +about like ants. There's that Jakin dancing about where the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>bridge +joins on. I wish he could see me put my tongue out at him! Yah!"</p> + +<p>The others were far too pale to wish to put their tongues out at +anybody. They looked at Robert with surprised respect. Anthea said—</p> + +<p>"You really <i>are</i> brave, Robert."</p> + +<p>"Rot!" Cyril's pallor turned to redness now, all in a minute. "He's been +getting ready to be brave all the afternoon. And I wasn't ready, that's +all. I shall be braver than he is in half a jiffy."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" said Jane, "what does it matter which of you is the bravest? +I think Cyril was a perfect silly to wish for a castle, and I don't want +to play."</p> + +<p>"It <i>isn't</i>"—Robert was beginning sternly, but Anthea interrupted—</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, you do," she said coaxingly; "it's a very nice game, really, +because they can't possibly get in, and if they do the women and +children are always spared by civilised armies."</p> + +<p>"But are you quite, quite sure they <i>are</i> civil<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>ised?" asked Jane, +panting. "They seem to be such a long time ago."</p> + +<p>"Of course they are." Anthea pointed cheerfully through the narrow +window. "Why, look at the little flags on their lances, how bright they +are—and how fine the leader is! Look, that's him—isn't it, Robert?—on +the gray horse."</p> + +<p>Jane consented to look, and the scene was almost too pretty to be +alarming. The green turf, the white tents, the flash of pennoned lances, +the gleam of armour, and the bright colours of scarf and tunic—it was +just like a splendid coloured picture. The trumpets were sounding, and +when the trumpeters stopped for breath the children could hear the +cling-clang of armour and the murmur of voices.</p> + +<p>A trumpeter came forward to the edge of the moat, which now seemed very +much narrower than at first, and blew the longest and loudest blast they +had yet heard. When the blaring noise had died away, a man who was with +the trumpeter shouted—<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What ho, within there!" and his voice came plainly to the garrison in +the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'gatehouse'">gate-house</ins>.</p> + +<p>"Hullo there!" Robert bellowed back at once.</p> + +<p>"In the name of our Lord the King, and of our good lord and trusty +leader Sir Wulfric de Talbot, we summon this castle to surrender—on +pain of fire and sword and no quarter. Do ye surrender?"</p> + +<p>"<i>No</i>" bawled Robert; "of course we don't! Never, <i>Never, NEVER</i>!"</p> + +<p>The man answered back—</p> + +<p>"Then your fate be on your own heads."</p> + +<p>"Cheer," said Robert in a fierce whisper. "Cheer to show them we aren't +afraid, and rattle the daggers to make more noise. One, two, three! Hip, +hip, hooray! Again—Hip, hip, hooray! One more—Hip, hip, hooray!" The +cheers were rather high and weak, but the rattle of the daggers lent +them strength and depth.</p> + +<p>There was another shout from the camp across the moat—and then the +beleaguered fortress felt that the attack had indeed begun.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was getting rather dark in the room above the great gate, and Jane +took a very little courage as she remembered that sunset <i>couldn't</i> be +far off now.</p> + +<p>"The moat is dreadfully thin," said Anthea.</p> + +<p>"But they can't get into the castle even if they do swim over," said +Robert. And as he spoke he heard feet on the stair outside—heavy feet +and the clang of steel. No one breathed for a moment. The steel and the +feet went on up the turret stairs. Then Robert sprang softly to the +door. He pulled off his shoes.</p> + +<p>"Wait here," he whispered, and stole quickly and softly after the boots +and the spur-clank. He peeped into the upper room. The man was +there—and it was Jakin, all dripping with moat-water, and he was +fiddling about with the machinery which Robert felt sure worked the +drawbridge. Robert banged the door suddenly, and turned the great key in +the lock, just as Jakin sprang to the inside of the door. Then he tore +downstairs and into the little turret at the foot of the tower where the +biggest window was.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We ought to have defended <i>this</i>!" he cried to the others as they +followed him. He was just in time. Another man had swum over, and his +fingers were on the window-ledge. Robert never knew how the man had +managed to climb up out of the water. But he saw the clinging fingers, +and hit them as hard as he could with an iron bar that he caught up from +the floor. The man fell with a splash into the moat-water. In another +moment Robert was outside the little room, had banged its door and was +shooting home the enormous bolts, and calling to Cyril to lend a hand.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 203px;"><a name="man" id="man"></a> +<img src="images/29.png" width="203" height="400" alt="The man fell with a splash into the moat-water" title="The man fell with a splash into the moat-water" /> +<span class="caption">The man fell with a splash into the moat-water</span> +</div> + +<p>Then they stood in the arched gate-house, breathing hard and looking at +each other.</p> + +<p>Jane's mouth was open.</p> + +<p>"Cheer up, Jenny," said Robert,—"it won't last much longer."</p> + +<p>There was a creaking above, and something rattled and shook. The +pavement they stood on seemed to tremble. Then a crash told them that +the drawbridge had been lowered to its place.</p> + +<p>"That's that beast Jakin," said Robert.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> "There's still the portcullis; +I'm almost certain that's worked from lower down."</p> + +<p>And now the drawbridge rang and echoed hollowly to the hoofs of horses +and the tramp of armed men.</p> + +<p>"Up—quick!" cried Robert,—"let's drop things on them."</p> + +<p>Even the girls were feeling almost brave now. They followed Robert +quickly, and under his directions began to drop stones out through the +long narrow windows. There was a confused noise below, and some groans.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" said Anthea, putting down the stone she was just going to +drop out, "I'm afraid we've hurt somebody!"</p> + +<p>Robert caught up the stone in a fury.</p> + +<p>"I should hope we <i>had</i>!" he said; "I'd give something for a jolly good +boiling kettle of lead. Surrender, indeed!"</p> + +<p>And now came more tramping and a pause, and then the thundering thump of +the battering-ram. And the little room was almost pitch dark.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We've held it," cried Robert, "we <i>won't</i> surrender! The sun <i>must</i> set +in a minute. Here—they're all jawing underneath again. Pity there's no +time to get more stones! Here, pour that water down on them. It's no +good, of course, but they'll hate it."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" said Jane, "don't you think we'd better surrender?"</p> + +<p>"Never!" said Robert; "we'll have a parley if you like, but we'll never +surrender. Oh, I'll be a soldier when I grow up—you just see if I +don't. I won't go into the Civil Service, whatever anyone says."</p> + +<p>"Let's wave a handkerchief and ask for a parley," Jane pleaded. "I don't +believe the sun's going to set to-night at all."</p> + +<p>"Give them the water first—the brutes!" said the bloodthirsty Robert. +So Anthea tilted the pot over the nearest lead-hole, and poured. They +heard a splash below, but no one below seemed to have felt it. And again +the ram battered the great door. Anthea paused.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 333px;"><a name="tilted" id="tilted"></a> +<img src="images/30.png" width="333" height="400" alt="Anthea tilted the pot over the nearest lead-hole" title="Anthea tilted the pot over the nearest lead-hole" /> +<span class="caption">Anthea tilted the pot over the nearest lead-hole</span> +</div> + +<p>"How idiotic," said Robert, lying flat on the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>floor and putting one eye +to the lead-hole. "Of course the holes go straight down into the +gate-house—that's for when the enemy has got past the door and the +portcullis, and almost all is lost. Here, hand me the pot." He crawled +on to the three-cornered window-ledge in the middle of the wall, and, +taking the pot from Anthea, poured the water out through the arrow-slit.</p> + +<p>And as he began to pour, the noise of the battering-ram and the +trampling of the foe and the shouts of "Surrender!" and "De Talbot for +ever!" all suddenly stopped and went out like the snuff of a candle; the +little dark room seemed to whirl round and turn topsy-turvy, and when +the children came to themselves there they were, safe and sound, in the +big front bedroom of their own house—the house with the ornamental +nightmare iron-top to the roof.</p> + +<p>They all crowded to the window and looked out. The moat and the tents +and the besieging force were all gone—and there was the garden with its +tangle of dahlias and mari<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>golds and asters and later roses, and the +spiky iron railings and the quiet white road.</p> + +<p>Everyone drew a deep breath.</p> + +<p>"And that's all right!" said Robert. "I told you so! And, I say, we +didn't surrender, did we?"</p> + +<p>"Aren't you glad now I wished for a castle?" asked Cyril.</p> + +<p>"I think I am <i>now</i>," said Anthea slowly. "But I wouldn't wish for it +again, I think, Squirrel dear!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was simply splendid!" said Jane unexpectedly. "I wasn't +frightened a bit."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say!" Cyril was beginning, but Anthea stopped him.</p> + +<p>"Look here," she said, "it's just come into my head. This is the very +first thing we've wished for that hasn't got us into a row. And there +hasn't been the least little scrap of a row about this. Nobody's raging +downstairs, we're safe and sound, we've had an awfully jolly day—at +least, not jolly exactly, but you know what I mean. And we know now how +brave Robert is—and Cyril too, of course,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> she added hastily, "and +Jane as well. And we haven't got into a row with a single grown-up."</p> + +<p>The door was opened suddenly and fiercely.</p> + +<p>"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves," said the voice of Martha, and +they could tell by her voice that she was very angry indeed. "I thought +you couldn't last through the day without getting up to some mischief! A +person can't take a breath of air on the front doorstep but you must be +emptying the water jug on their heads! Off you go to bed, the lot of +you, and try to get up better children in the morning. Now then—don't +let me have to tell you twice. If I find any of you not in bed in ten +minutes I'll let you know it, that's all! A new cap, and everything!"</p> + +<p>She flounced out amid a disregarded chorus of regrets and apologies. The +children were very sorry, but really it was not their faults.</p> + +<p>You can't help it if you are pouring water on a besieging foe, and your +castle suddenly changes into your house—and everything <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>changes with it +except the water, and that happens to fall on somebody else's clean cap.</p> + +<p>"I don't know why the water didn't change into nothing, though," said +Cyril.</p> + +<p>"Why should it?" asked Robert. "Water's water all the world over."</p> + +<p>"I expect the castle well was the same as ours in the stable-yard," said +Jane. And that was really the case.</p> + +<p>"I thought we couldn't get through a wish-day without a row," said +Cyril; "it was much too good to be true. Come on, Bobs, my military +hero. If we lick into bed sharp she won't be so furious, and perhaps +she'll bring us up some supper. I'm jolly hungry! Good-night, kids."</p> + +<p>"Good-night. I hope the castle won't come creeping back in the night," +said Jane.</p> + +<p>"Of course it won't," said Anthea briskly, "but Martha will—not in the +night, but in a minute. Here, turn round, I'll get that knot out of your +pinafore strings."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it have been degrading for Sir Wulfric de Talbot," said Jane +dreamily, "if <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>he could have known that half the besieged garrison wore +pinafores?"</p> + +<p>"And the other half knickerbockers. Yes—frightfully. Do stand +still—you're only tightening the knot," said Anthea.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>BIGGER THAN THE BAKER'S BOY</h3> + + +<p>"Look here," said Cyril. "I've got an idea."</p> + +<p>"Does it hurt much?" said Robert sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"Don't be a jackanape! I'm not humbugging."</p> + +<p>"Shut up, Bobs!" said Anthea.</p> + +<p>"Silence for the Squirrel's oration," said Robert.</p> + +<p>Cyril balanced himself on the edge of the water-butt in the backyard, +where they all happened to be, and spoke.</p> + +<p>"Friends, Romans, countrymen—and women—we found a Sammyadd. We have +had wishes. We've had wings, and being beautiful as the day—ugh!—that +was pretty jolly beastly if you like—and wealth and castles, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>and that +rotten gipsy business with the Lamb. But we're no forrarder. We haven't +really got anything worth having for our wishes."</p> + +<p>"We've had things happening," said Robert; "that's always something."</p> + +<p>"It's not enough, unless they're the right things," said Cyril firmly. +"Now I've been thinking"—</p> + +<p>"Not really?" whispered Robert.</p> + +<p>"In the silent what's-its-names of the night. It's like suddenly being +asked something out of history—the date of the Conquest or something; +you know it all right all the time, but when you're asked it all goes +out of your head. Ladies and gentlemen, you know jolly well that when +we're all rotting about in the usual way heaps of things keep cropping +up, and then real earnest wishes come into the heads of the beholder"—</p> + +<p>"Hear, hear!" said Robert.</p> + +<p>"—of the beholder, however, stupid he is," Cyril went on. "Why, even +Robert might happen to think of a really useful wish if he didn't injure +his poor little brains trying so <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>hard to think.—Shut up, Bobs, I tell +you!—You'll have the whole show over."</p> + +<p>A struggle on the edge of a water-butt is exciting but damp. When it was +over, and the boys were partially dried, Anthea said—</p> + +<p>"It really was you began it, Bobs. Now honour is satisfied, do let +Squirrel go on. We're wasting the whole morning."</p> + +<p>"Well then," said Cyril, still wringing the water out of the tails of +his jacket, "I'll call it pax if Bobs will."</p> + +<p>"Pax then," said Robert sulkily. "But I've got a lump as big as a +cricket ball over my eye."</p> + +<p>Anthea patiently offered a dust-coloured handkerchief, and Robert bathed +his wounds in silence. "Now, Squirrel," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well then—let's just play bandits, or forts, or soldiers, or any of +the old games. We're dead sure to think of something if we try not to. +You always do."</p> + +<p>The others consented. Bandits was hastily chosen for the game. "It's as +good as anything else," said Jane gloomily. It must be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>owned that +Robert was at first but a half-hearted bandit, but when Anthea had +borrowed from Martha the red-spotted handkerchief in which the keeper +had brought her mushrooms that morning, and had tied up Robert's head +with it so that he could be the wounded hero who had saved the bandit +captain's life the day before, he cheered up wonderfully. All were soon +armed. Bows and arrows slung on the back look well; and umbrellas and +cricket stumps through the belt give a fine impression of the wearer's +being armed to the teeth. The white cotton hats that men wear in the +country nowadays have a very brigandish effect when a few turkey's +feathers are stuck in them. The Lamb's mail-cart was covered with a +red-and-blue checked table-cloth, and made an admirable baggage-wagon. +The Lamb asleep inside it was not at all in the way. So the banditti set +out along the road that led to the sand-pit.</p> + +<p>"We ought to be near the Sammyadd," said Cyril, "in case we think of +anything suddenly."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<p>It is all very well to make up your minds to play bandit—or chess, or +ping-pong, or any other agreeable game—but it is not easy to do it with +spirit when all the wonderful wishes you can think of, or can't think +of, are waiting for you round the corner. The game was dragging a +little, and some of the bandits were beginning to feel that the others +were disagreeable things, and were saying so candidly, when the baker's +boy came along the road with loaves in a basket. The opportunity was not +one to be lost.</p> + +<p>"Stand and deliver!" cried Cyril.</p> + +<p>"Your money or your life!" said Robert.</p> + +<p>And they stood on each side of the baker's boy. Unfortunately, he did +not seem to enter into the spirit of the thing at all. He was a baker's +boy of an unusually large size. He merely said—</p> + +<p>"Chuck it now, d'ye hear!" and pushed the bandits aside most +disrespectfully.</p> + +<p>Then Robert lassoed him with Jane's skipping-rope, and instead of going +round his shoulders, as Robert intended, it went round <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>his feet and +tripped him up. The basket was upset, the beautiful new loaves went +bumping and bouncing all over the dusty chalky road. The girls ran to +pick them up, and all in a moment Robert and the baker's boy were +fighting it out, man to man, with Cyril to see fair play, and the +skipping-rope twisting round their legs like an interesting snake that +wished to be a peace-maker. It did not succeed; indeed the way the +boxwood handles sprang up and hit the fighters on the shins and ankles +was not at all peace-making. I know this is the second fight—or +contest—in this chapter, but I can't help it. It was that sort of day. +You know yourself there are days when rows seem to keep on happening, +quite without your meaning them to. If I were a writer of tales of +adventure such as those which used to appear in <i>The Boys of England</i> +when I was young of course I should be able to describe the fight, but I +cannot do it. I never can see what happens during a fight, even when it +is only dogs. Also, if I had been one of these <i>Boys of England</i> +writers, Robert would have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>got the best of it. But I am like George +Washington—I cannot tell a lie, even about a cherry-tree, much less +about a fight, and I cannot conceal from you that Robert was badly +beaten, for the second time that day. The baker's boy blacked his other +eye, and being ignorant of the first rules of fair play and gentlemanly +behaviour, he also pulled Robert's hair, and kicked him on the knee. +Robert always used to say he could have licked the baker if it hadn't +been for the girls. But I am not sure. Anyway, what happened was this, +and very painful it was to self-respecting boys.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="pulled" id="pulled"></a> +<img src="images/31.png" width="400" height="295" alt="He pulled Robert's hair" title="He pulled Robert's hair" /> +<span class="caption">He pulled Robert's hair</span> +</div> + +<p>Cyril was just tearing off his coat so as to help his brother in proper +style, when Jane threw her arms round his legs and began to cry and ask +him not to go and be beaten too. That "too" was very nice for Robert, as +you can imagine—but it was nothing to what he felt when Anthea rushed +in between him and the baker's boy, and caught that unfair and degraded +fighter round the waist, imploring him not to fight any more.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, don't hurt my brother any more!" she said in floods of tears. "He +didn't mean it—it's only play. And I'm sure he's very sorry."</p> + +<p>You see how unfair this was to Robert. Because, if the baker's boy had +had any right and chivalrous instincts, and had yielded to Anthea's +pleading and accepted her despicable apology, Robert could not, in +honour, have done anything to him at any future time. But Robert's +fears, if he had any, were soon dispelled. Chivalry was a stranger to +the breast of the baker's boy. He pushed Anthea away very roughly, and +he chased Robert with kicks and unpleasant conversation right down the +road to the sand-pit, and there, with one last kick, he landed him in a +heap of sand.</p> + +<p>"I'll larn you, you young varmint!" he said, and went off to pick up his +loaves and go about his business. Cyril, impeded by Jane, could do +nothing without hurting her, for she clung round his legs with the +strength of despair. The baker's boy went off red and damp about <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>the +face; abusive to the last, he called them a pack of silly idiots, and +disappeared round the corner. Then Jane's grasp loosened. Cyril turned +away in silent dignity to follow Robert, and the girls followed him, +weeping without restraint.</p> + +<p>It was not a happy party that flung itself down in the sand beside the +sobbing Robert. For Robert was sobbing—mostly with rage. Though of +course I know that a really heroic boy is always dry-eyed after a fight. +But then he always wins, which had not been the case with Robert.</p> + +<p>Cyril was angry with Jane; Robert was furious with Anthea; the girls +were miserable; and not one of the four was pleased with the baker's +boy. There was, as French writers say, "a silence full of emotion."</p> + +<p>Then Robert dug his toes and his hands into the sand and wriggled in his +rage. "He'd better wait till I'm grown up—the cowardly brute! Beast!—I +hate him! But I'll pay him out. Just because he's bigger than me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You began," said Jane incautiously.</p> + +<p>"I know I did, silly—but I was only jollying—and he kicked me—look +here"—</p> + +<p>Robert tore down a stocking and showed a purple bruise touched up with +red.</p> + +<p>"I only wish I was bigger than him, that's all."</p> + +<p>He dug his fingers in the sand, and sprang up, for his hand had touched +something furry. It was the Psammead, of course—"On the look-out to +make sillies of them as usual," as Cyril remarked later. And of course +the next moment Robert's wish was granted, and he was bigger than the +baker's boy. Oh, but much, much bigger! He was bigger than the big +policeman who used to be at the crossing at the Mansion House years +ago,—the one who was so kind in helping old ladies over the +crossing,—and he was the biggest man <i>I</i> have ever seen, as well as the +kindest. No one had a foot-rule in its pocket, so Robert could not be +measured—but he was taller than your father would be if he stood on +your mother's head, which I am sure he would never be un<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>kind enough to +do. He must have been ten or eleven feet high, and as broad as a boy of +that height ought to be. His suit had fortunately grown too, and now he +stood up in it—with one of his enormous stockings turned down to show +the gigantic bruise on his vast leg. Immense tears of fury still stood +on his flushed giant face. He looked so surprised, and he was so large +to be wearing a turned down collar outside of his jacket that the others +could not help laughing.</p> + +<p>"The Sammyadd's done us again," said Cyril.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 331px;"><a name="done" id="done"></a> +<img src="images/32.png" width="331" height="400" alt=""The Sammyadd's done us again," said Cyril" title=""The Sammyadd's done us again," said Cyril" /> +<span class="caption">"The Sammyadd's done us again," said Cyril</span> +</div> + +<p>"Not us—<i>me</i>," said Robert. "If you'd got any decent feeling you'd try +to make it make you the same size. You've no idea how silly it feels," +he added thoughtlessly.</p> + +<p>"And I don't want to; I can jolly well see how silly it looks," Cyril +was beginning; but Anthea said—</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>don't</i>! I don't know what's the matter with you boys to-day. Look +here, Squirrel, let's play fair. It is hateful for poor old Bobs, all +alone up there. Let's ask the Sammyadd <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>for another wish, and, if it +will, I do really think we ought all to be made the same size."</p> + +<p>The others agreed, but not gaily; but when they found the Psammead, it +wouldn't.</p> + +<p>"Not I," it said crossly, rubbing its face with its feet. "He's a rude +violent boy, and it'll do him good to be the wrong size for a bit. What +did he want to come digging me out with his nasty wet hands for? He +nearly touched me! He's a perfect savage. A boy of the Stone Age would +have had more sense."</p> + +<p>Robert's hands had indeed been wet—with tears.</p> + +<p>"Go away and leave me in peace, do," the Psammead went on. "I can't +think why you don't wish for something sensible—something to eat or +drink, or good manners, or good tempers. Go along with you, do!"</p> + +<p>It almost snarled as it shook its whiskers, and turned a sulky brown +back on them. The most hopeful felt that further parley was vain.</p> + +<p>They turned again to the colossal Robert.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What ever shall we do?" they said; and they all said it.</p> + +<p>"First," said Robert grimly, "I'm going to reason with that baker's boy. +I shall catch him at the end of the road."</p> + +<p>"Don't hit a chap smaller than yourself, old man," said Cyril.</p> + +<p>"Do I look like hitting him?" said Robert scornfully. "Why, I should +<i>kill</i> him. But I'll give him something to remember. Wait till I pull up +my stocking." He pulled up his stocking, which was as large as a small +bolster-case, and strode off. His strides were six or seven feet long, +so that it was quite easy for him to be at the bottom of the hill, ready +to meet the baker's boy when he came down swinging the empty basket to +meet his master's cart, which had been leaving bread at the cottages +along the road.</p> + +<p>Robert crouched behind a haystack in the farmyard, that is at the +corner, and when he heard the boy come whistling along he jumped out at +him and caught him by the collar.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now," he said, and his voice was about four times its usual size, just +as his body was four times its, "I'm going to teach you to kick boys +smaller than you."</p> + +<p>He lifted up the baker's boy and set him on the top of the haystack, +which was about sixteen feet from the ground, and then he sat down on +the roof of the barn and told the baker's boy exactly what he thought of +him. I don't think the boy heard it all—he was in a sort of trance of +terror. When Robert had said everything he could think of, and some +things twice over, he shook the boy and said—</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 336px;"><a name="lifted" id="lifted"></a> +<img src="images/33.png" width="336" height="400" alt="He lifted up the baker's boy and set him on top of the haystack" title="e lifted up the baker's boy and set him on top of the haystack" /> +<span class="caption">He lifted up the baker's boy and set him on top of the haystack</span> +</div> + +<p>"And now get down the best way you can," and left him.</p> + +<p>I don't know how the baker's boy got down, but I do know that he missed +the cart and got into the very hottest of hot water when he turned up at +last at the bakehouse. I am sorry for him, but after all, it was quite +right that he should be taught that boys mustn't use their feet when +they fight, but their fists. Of course the water he got into only became +hot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>ter when he tried to tell his master about the boy he had licked +and the giant as high as a church, because no one could possibly believe +such a tale as that. Next day the tale was believed—but that was too +late to be of any use to the baker's boy.</p> + +<p>When Robert rejoined the others he found them in the garden. Anthea had +thoughtfully asked Martha to let them have dinner out there—because the +dining-room was rather small, and it would have been so awkward to have +a brother the size of Robert in there. The Lamb, who had slept +peacefully during the whole stormy morning, was now found to be +sneezing, and Martha said he had a cold and would be better indoors.</p> + +<p>"And really it's just as well," said Cyril, "for I don't believe he'd +ever have stopped screaming if he'd once seen you, the awful size you +are!"</p> + +<p>Robert was indeed what a draper would call an "out-size" in boys. He +found himself able to step right over the iron gate in the front +garden.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> + +<p>Martha brought out the dinner—it was cold veal and baked potatoes, with +sago pudding and stewed plums to follow.</p> + +<p>She of course did not notice that Robert was anything but the usual +size, and she gave him as much meat and potatoes as usual and no more. +You have no idea how small your usual helping of dinner looks when you +are many times your proper size. Robert groaned, and asked for more +bread. But Martha would not go on giving more bread for ever. She was in +a hurry, because the keeper intended to call on his way to Benenhurst +Fair, and she wished to be smartly dressed before he came.</p> + +<p>"I wish <i>we</i> were going to the Fair," said Robert.</p> + +<p>"You can't go anywhere that size," said Cyril.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" said Robert. "They have giants at fairs, much bigger ones +than me."</p> + +<p>"Not much, they don't," Cyril was beginning, when Jane screamed "Oh!" +with such loud suddenness that they all thumped her on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>the back and +asked whether she had swallowed a plum-stone.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, breathless from being thumped, "it's—it's not a +plum-stone. It's an idea. Let's take Robert to the Fair, and get them to +give us money for showing him! Then we really <i>shall</i> get something out +of the old Sammyadd at last!"</p> + +<p>"Take me, indeed!" said Robert indignantly. "Much more likely me take +you!"</p> + +<p>And so it turned out. The idea appealed irresistibly to everyone but +Robert, and even he was brought round by Anthea's suggestion that he +should have a double share of any money they might make. There was a +little old pony-cart in the coach-house—the kind that is called a +governess-cart. It seemed desirable to get to the Fair as quickly as +possible, so Robert—who could now take enormous steps and so go very +fast indeed—consented to wheel the others in this. It was as easy to +him now as wheeling the Lamb in the mail-cart had been in the morning. +The Lamb's cold prevented his being of the party.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was a strange sensation being wheeled in a pony-carriage by a giant. +Everyone enjoyed the journey except Robert and the few people they +passed on the way. These mostly went into what looked like some kind of +standing-up fits by the roadside, as Anthea said. Just outside +Benenhurst, Robert hid in a barn, and the others went on to the Fair.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="strange" id="strange"></a> +<img src="images/34.png" width="400" height="339" alt="It was a strange sensation being wheeled in a pony-carriage by a giant" title="It was a strange sensation being wheeled in a pony-carriage by a giant" /> +<span class="caption">It was a strange sensation being wheeled in a pony-carriage by a giant</span> +</div> + +<p>There were some swings, and a hooting-tooting blaring merry-go-round, +and a shooting-gallery and Aunt Sallies. Resisting an impulse to win a +cocoanut,—or at least to attempt the enterprise,—Cyril went up to the +woman who was loading little guns before the array of glass bottles on +strings against a sheet of canvas.</p> + +<p>"Here you are, little gentleman!" she said. "Penny a shot!"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," said Cyril, "we are here on business, not on pleasure. +Who's the master?"</p> + +<p>"The what?"</p> + +<p>"The master—the head—the boss of the show."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Over there," she said, pointing to a stout man in a dirty linen jacket +who was sleeping in the sun; "but I don't advise you to wake him sudden. +His temper's contrairy, especially these hot days. Better have a shot +while you're waiting."</p> + +<p>"It's rather important," said Cyril. "It'll be very profitable to him. I +think he'll be sorry if we take it away."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if it's money in his pocket," said the woman. "No kid now? What is +it?"</p> + +<p>"It's a <i>giant</i>."</p> + +<p>"You <i>are</i> kidding?"</p> + +<p>"Come along and see," said Anthea.</p> + +<p>The woman looked doubtfully at them, then she called to a ragged little +girl in striped stockings and a dingy white petticoat that came below +her brown frock, and leaving her in charge of the "shooting-gallery" she +turned to Anthea and said, "Well, hurry up! But if you <i>are</i> kidding, +you'd best say so. I'm as mild as milk myself, but my Bill he's a fair +terror and"—</p> + +<p>Anthea led the way to the barn. "It really<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> <i>is</i> a giant," she said. +"He's a giant little boy—in a suit like my brother's there. And we +didn't bring him up to the Fair because people do stare so, and they +seem to go into kind of standing-up fits when they see him. And we +thought perhaps you'd like to show him and get pennies; and if you like +to pay us something, you can—only, it'll have to be rather a lot, +because we promised him he should have a double share of whatever we +made."</p> + +<p>The woman murmured something indistinct, of which the children could +only hear the words, "Swelp me!" "balmy," and "crumpet," which conveyed +no definite idea to their minds.</p> + +<p>She had taken Anthea's hand, and was holding it very firmly; and Anthea +could not help wondering what would happen if Robert should have +wandered off or turned his proper size during the interval. But she knew +that the Psammead's gifts really did last till sunset, however +inconvenient their lasting might be; and she did not think, somehow, +that Robert <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>would care to go out alone while he was that size.</p> + +<p>When they reached the barn and Cyril called "Robert!" there was a stir +among the loose hay, and Robert began to come out. His hand and arm came +first—then a foot and leg. When the woman saw the hand she said "My!" +but when she saw the foot she said "Upon my word!" and when, by slow and +heavy degrees, the whole of Robert's enormous bulk was at last +disclosed, she drew a long breath and began to say many things, compared +with which "balmy" and "crumpet" seemed quite ordinary. She dropped into +understandable English at last.</p> + +<p>"What'll you take for him?" she said excitedly. "Anything in reason. +We'd have a special van built—leastways, I know where there's a +second-hand one would do up handsome—what a baby elephant had, as died. +What'll you take? He's soft, ain't he? Them giants mostly is—but I +never see—no, never! What'll you take? Down on the nail. We'll treat +him like a king, and give him first-rate <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>grub and a doss fit for a +bloomin' dook. He must be dotty or he wouldn't need you kids to cart him +about. What'll you take for him?"</p> + +<p>"They won't take anything," said Robert sternly. "I'm no more soft than +you are—not so much, I shouldn't wonder. I'll come and be a show for +to-day if you'll give me,"—he hesitated at the enormous price he was +about to ask,—"if you'll give me fifteen shillings."</p> + +<p>"Done," said the woman, so quickly that Robert felt he had been unfair +to himself, and wished he had asked thirty. "Come on now—and see my +Bill—and we'll fix a price for the season. I dessay you might get as +much as two pounds a week reg'lar. Come on—and make yourself as small +as you can for gracious' sake!"</p> + +<p>This was not very small, and a crowd gathered quickly, so that it was at +the head of an enthusiastic procession that Robert entered the trampled +meadow where the Fair was held, and passed over the stubby yellow dusty +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>grass to the door of the biggest tent. He crept in, and the woman went +to call her Bill. He was the big sleeping man, and he did not seem at +all pleased at being awakened. Cyril, watching through a slit in the +tent, saw him scowl and shake a heavy fist and a sleepy head. Then the +woman went on speaking very fast. Cyril heard "Strewth," and "biggest +draw you ever, so help me!" and he began to share Robert's feeling that +fifteen shillings was indeed far too little. Bill slouched up to the +tent and entered. When he beheld the magnificent proportions of Robert +he said but little,—"Strike me pink!" were the only words the children +could afterwards remember,—but he produced fifteen shillings, mainly in +sixpences and coppers, and handed it to Robert.</p> + +<p>"We'll fix up about what you're to draw when the show's over to-night," +he said with hoarse heartiness. "Lor' love a duck! you'll be that happy +with us you'll never want to leave us. Can you do a song now—or a bit +of a breakdown?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not to-day," said Robert, rejecting the idea of trying to sing "As once +in May," a favourite of his mother's, and the only song he could think +of at the moment.</p> + +<p>"Get Levi and clear them bloomin' photos out. Clear the tent. Stick out +a curtain or suthink," the man went on. "Lor', what a pity we ain't got +no tights his size! But we'll have 'em before the week's out. Young man, +your fortune's made. It's a good thing you came to me, and not to some +chaps as I could tell you on. I've known blokes as beat their giants, +and starved 'em too; so I'll tell you straight, you're in luck this day +if you never was afore. 'Cos I'm a lamb, I am—and I don't deceive you."</p> + +<p>"I'm not afraid of anyone beating me," said Robert, looking down on the +"lamb." Robert was crouched on his knees, because the tent was not big +enough for him to stand upright in, but even in that position he could +still look down on most people. "But I'm awfully hungry—I wish you'd +get me something to eat."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Here, 'Becca," said the hoarse Bill. "Get him some grub—the best +you've got, mind!" Another whisper followed, of which the children only +heard, "Down in black and white—first thing to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Then the woman went to get the food—it was only bread and cheese when +it came, but it was delightful to the large and empty Robert; and the +man went to post sentinels round the tent, to give the alarm if Robert +should attempt to escape with his fifteen shillings.</p> + +<p>"As if we weren't honest," said Anthea indignantly when the meaning of +the sentinels dawned on her.</p> + +<p>Then began a very strange and wonderful afternoon.</p> + +<p>Bill was a man who knew his business. In a very little while, the +photographic views, the spyglasses you look at them through so that they +really seem rather real, and the lights you see them by, were all packed +away. A curtain—it was an old red-and-black carpet really—was run +across the tent. Robert was concealed behind, and Bill was standing on a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>trestle-table outside the tent making a speech. It was rather a good +speech. It began by saying that the giant it was his privilege to +introduce to the public that day was the eldest son of the Emperor of +San Francisco, compelled through an unfortunate love affair with the +Duchess of the Fiji Islands to leave his own country and take refuge in +England—the land of liberty—where freedom was the right of every man, +no matter how big he was. It ended by the announcement that the first +twenty who came to the tent door should see the giant for threepence +apiece. "After that," said Bill, "the price is riz, and I don't +undertake to say what it won't be riz to. So now's yer time."</p> + +<p>A young man with his sweetheart on her afternoon out was the first to +come forward. For this occasion his was the princely attitude—no +expense spared—money no object. His girl wished to see the giant? Well, +she should see the giant, even though seeing the giant cost threepence +each and the other entertainments were all penny ones.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> + +<p>The flap of the tent was raised—the couple entered. Next moment a wild +shriek from the girl thrilled through all present. Bill slapped his leg. +"That's done the trick!" he whispered to 'Becca. It was indeed a +splendid advertisement of the charms of Robert.</p> + +<p>When the young girl came out she was pale and trembling, and a crowd was +round the tent.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 295px;"><a name="when" id="when"></a> +<img src="images/35.png" width="295" height="400" alt="When the girl came out she was pale and trembling" title="When the girl came out she was pale and trembling" /> +<span class="caption">When the girl came out she was pale and trembling</span> +</div> + +<p>"What was it like?" asked a farm-hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh!—horrid!—you wouldn't believe," she said. "It's as big as a barn, +and that fierce. It froze the blood in my bones. I wouldn't ha' missed +seeing it for anything."</p> + +<p>The fierceness was only caused by Robert's trying not to laugh. But the +desire to do that soon left him, and before sunset he was more inclined +to cry than laugh, and more inclined to sleep than either. For, by ones +and twos and threes, people kept coming in all the afternoon, and Robert +had to shake hands with those who wished it, and to allow himself to be +punched and pulled and patted and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>thumped, so that people might make +sure he was really real.</p> + +<p>The other children sat on a bench and watched and waited, and were very +bored indeed. It seemed to them that this was the hardest way of earning +money that could have been invented. And only fifteen shillings! Bill +had taken four times that already, for the news of the giant had spread, +and trades-people in carts, and gentlepeople in carriages, came from far +and near. One gentleman with an eyeglass, and a very large yellow rose +in his buttonhole, offered Robert, in an obliging whisper, ten pounds a +week to appear at the Crystal Palace. Robert had to say "No."</p> + +<p>"I can't," he said regretfully. "It's no use promising what you can't +do."</p> + +<p>"Ah, poor fellow, bound for a term of years, I suppose! Well, here's my +card; when your time's up come to me."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 318px;"><a name="time" id="time"></a> +<img src="images/36.png" width="318" height="400" alt=""When your time's up come to me"" title=""When your time's up come to me"" /> +<span class="caption">"When your time's up come to me"</span> +</div> + +<p>"I will—if I'm the same size then," said Robert truthfully.</p> + +<p>"If you grow a bit, so much the better," said the gentleman.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + +<p>When he had gone, Robert beckoned Cyril and said—</p> + +<p>"Tell them I must and will have a rest. And I want my tea."</p> + +<p>Tea was provided, and a paper hastily pinned on the tent. It said—</p> + +<div class='center'> +CLOSED FOR HALF AN HOUR<br /> +WHILE THE GIANT GETS HIS TEA<br /> +</div> + +<p>Then there was a hurried council.</p> + +<p>"How am I to get away?" said Robert.</p> + +<p>"I've been thinking about it all the afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Why, walk out when the sun sets and you're your right size. They can't +do anything to us."</p> + +<p>Robert opened his eyes. "Why, they'd nearly kill us," he said, "when +they saw me get my right size. No, we must think of some other way. We +<i>must</i> be alone when the sun sets."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Cyril briskly, and he went to the door, outside which +Bill was smoking a clay pipe and talking in a low voice to 'Becca.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +Cyril heard him say—"Good as havin' a fortune left you."</p> + +<p>"Look here," said Cyril, "you can let people come in again in a minute. +He's nearly finished tea. But he <i>must</i> be left alone when the sun sets. +He's very queer at that time of day, and if he's worried I won't answer +for the consequences."</p> + +<p>"Why—what comes over him?" asked Bill.</p> + +<p>"I don't know; it's—it's sort of a <i>change</i>," said Cyril candidly. "He +isn't at all like himself—you'd hardly know him. He's very queer +indeed. Someone'll get hurt if he's not alone about sunset." This was +true.</p> + +<p>"He'll pull round for the evening, I s'pose?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes—half an hour after sunset he'll be quite himself again."</p> + +<p>"Best humour him," said the woman.</p> + +<p>And so, at what Cyril judged was about half an hour before sunset, the +tent was again closed "whilst the giant gets his supper."</p> + +<p>The crowd was very merry about the giant's meals and their coming so +close together.</p> + +<p>"Well, he can pick a bit," Bill owned. "You <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>see he has to eat hearty, +being the size he is."</p> + +<p>Inside the tent the four children breathlessly arranged a plan of +retreat.</p> + +<p>"You go <i>now</i>," said Cyril to the girls, "and get along home as fast as +you can. Oh, never mind the pony-cart; we'll get that to-morrow. Robert +and I are dressed the same. We'll manage somehow, like Sydney Carton +did. Only, you girls <i>must</i> get out, or it's all no go. We can run, but +you can't—whatever you may think. No, Jane, it's no good Robert going +out and knocking people down. The police would follow him till he turned +his proper size, and then arrest him like a shot. Go you must! If you +don't, I'll never speak to you again. It was you got us into this mess +really, hanging round people's legs the way you did this morning. <i>Go</i>, +I tell you!"</p> + +<p>And Jane and Anthea went.</p> + +<p>"We're going home," they said to Bill. "We're leaving the giant with +you. Be kind to him." And that, as Anthea said afterwards, was very +deceitful, but what were they to do?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + +<p>When they had gone, Cyril went to Bill.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said, "he wants some ears of corn—there's some in the +next field but one. I'll just run and get it. Oh, and he says can't you +loop up the tent at the back a bit? He says he's stifling for a breath +of air. I'll see no one peeps in at him. I'll cover him up, and he can +take a nap while I go for the corn. He <i>will</i> have it—there's no +holding him when he gets like this."</p> + +<p>The giant was made comfortable with a heap of sacks and an old +tarpaulin. The curtain was looped up, and the brothers were left alone. +They matured their plan in whispers. Outside, the merry-go-round blared +out its comic tunes, screaming now and then to attract public notice.</p> + +<p>Half a minute after the sun had set, a boy came out past Bill.</p> + +<p>"I'm off for the corn," he said, and mingled quickly with the crowd.</p> + +<p>At the same instant a boy came out of the back of the tent past 'Becca, +posted there as sentinel.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm off after the corn," said this boy also. And he, too, moved away +quietly and was lost in the crowd. The front-door boy was Cyril; the +back-door was Robert—now, since sunset, once more his proper size. They +walked quickly through the field, along the road, where Robert caught +Cyril up. Then they ran. They were home as soon as the girls were, for +it was a long way, and they ran most of it. It was indeed a <i>very</i> long +way, as they found when they had to go and drag the pony-cart home next +morning, with no enormous Robert to wheel them in it as if it were a +mail-cart, and they were babies and he was their gigantic nursemaid.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I cannot possibly tell you what Bill and 'Becca said when they found +that the giant had gone. For one thing, I do not know.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>GROWN UP</h3> + + +<p>Cyril had once pointed out that ordinary life is full of occasions on +which a wish would be most useful. And this thought filled his mind when +he happened to wake early on the morning after the morning after Robert +had wished to be bigger than the baker's boy, and had been it. The day +that lay between these two days had been occupied entirely by getting +the governess-cart home from Benenhurst.</p> + +<p>Cyril dressed hastily; he did not take a bath, because tin baths are so +noisy, and he had no wish to rouse Robert, and he slipped off alone, as +Anthea had once done, and ran through the dewy morning to the sand-pit. +He dug up the Psammead very carefully and kindly, and began the +conversation by asking it whether <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>it still felt any ill effects from +the contact with the tears of Robert the day before yesterday. The +Psammead was in good temper. It replied politely.</p> + +<p>"And now, what can I do for you?" it said. "I suppose you've come here +so early to ask for something for yourself—something your brothers and +sisters aren't to know about, eh? Now, do be persuaded for your own +good! Ask for a good fat Megatherium and have done with it."</p> + +<p>"Thank you—not to-day, I think," said Cyril cautiously. "What I really +wanted to say was—you know how you're always wishing for things when +you're playing at anything?"</p> + +<p>"I seldom play," said the Psammead coldly.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know what I mean," Cyril went on impatiently. "What I want to +say is: won't you let us have our wish just when we think of it, and +just where we happen to be? So that we don't have to come and disturb +you again," added the crafty Cyril.</p> + +<p>"It'll only end in your wishing for some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>thing you don't really want, as +you did about the castle," said the Psammead, stretching its brown arms +and yawning. "It's always the same since people left off eating really +wholesome things. However, have it your own way. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," said Cyril politely.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what," said the Psammead suddenly, shooting out its long +snail's eyes,—"I'm getting tired of you—all of you. You have no more +sense than so many oysters. Go along with you!"</p> + +<p>And Cyril went.</p> + +<p>"What an awful long time babies <i>stay</i> babies," said Cyril after the +Lamb had taken his watch out of his pocket while he wasn't noticing, and +with coos and clucks of naughty rapture had opened the case and used the +whole thing as a garden spade, and when even immersion in a wash basin +had failed to wash the mould from the works and make the watch go again. +Cyril had said several things in the heat of the moment; but now he was +calmer, and had even consented to carry the Lamb part <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>of the way to +the woods. Cyril had persuaded the others to agree to his plan, and not +to wish for anything more till they really did wish it. Meantime it +seemed good to go to the woods for nuts, and on the mossy grass under a +sweet chestnut tree the five were sitting. The Lamb was pulling up the +moss by fat handfuls, and Cyril was gloomily contemplating the ruins of +his watch.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="opened" id="opened"></a> +<img src="images/37.png" width="400" height="380" alt="He opened the case and used the whole thing as a garden spade" title="He opened the case and used the whole thing as a garden spade" /> +<span class="caption">He opened the case and used the whole thing as a garden spade</span> +</div> + +<p>"He does grow," said Anthea. "Doesn't 'oo, precious?"</p> + +<p>"Me grow," said the Lamb cheerfully—"me grow big boy, have guns' an' +mouses—an'—an'"—— Imagination or vocabulary gave out here. But +anyway it was the longest speech the Lamb had ever made, and it charmed +everyone, even Cyril, who tumbled the Lamb over and rolled him in the +moss to the music of delighted squeals.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he'll be grown up some day," Anthea was saying, dreamily +looking up at the blue of the sky that showed between the long straight +chestnut-leaves. But at that moment the Lamb, struggling gaily with +Cyril, thrust <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>a stout-shod little foot against his brother's chest; +there was a crack!—the innocent Lamb had broken the glass of father's +second-best Waterbury watch, which Cyril had borrowed without leave.</p> + +<p>"Grow up some day!" said Cyril bitterly, plumping the Lamb down on the +grass. "I daresay he will—when nobody wants him to. I wish to goodness +he would"—</p> + +<p>"<i>Oh</i>, take care!" cried Anthea in an agony of apprehension. But it was +too late—like music to a song her words and Cyril's came out together—</p> + +<p>Anthea—"Oh, take care!"</p> + +<p>Cyril—"Grow up now!"</p> + +<p>The faithful Psammead was true to its promise, and there, before the +horrified eyes of its brothers and sisters, the Lamb suddenly and +violently grew up. It was the most terrible moment. The change was not +so sudden as the wish-changes usually were. The Baby's face changed +first. It grew thinner and larger, lines came in the forehead, the eyes +grew more deep-set and darker in colour, the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>mouth grew longer and +thinner; most terrible of all, a little dark mustache appeared on the +lip of one who was still—except as to the face—a two-year-old baby in +a linen smock and white open-work socks.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish it wouldn't! Oh, I wish it wouldn't! You boys might wish as +well!"</p> + +<p>They all wished hard, for the sight was enough to dismay the most +heartless. They all wished so hard, indeed, that they felt quite giddy +and almost lost consciousness; but the wishing was quite vain, for, when +the wood ceased to whirl round, their dazed eyes were riveted at once by +the spectacle of a very proper-looking young man in flannels and a straw +hat—a young man who wore the same little black mustache which just +before they had actually seen growing upon the Baby's lip. This, then, +was the Lamb—grown up! Their own Lamb! It was a terrible moment. The +grown-up Lamb moved gracefully across the moss and settled himself +against the trunk of the sweet chestnut. He tilted the straw hat over +his eyes. He was evi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>dently weary. He was going to sleep. The Lamb—the +original little tiresome beloved Lamb often went to sleep at odd times +and in unexpected places. Was this new Lamb in the grey flannel suit and +the pale green necktie like the other Lamb? or had his mind grown up +together with his body?</p> + +<p>That was the question which the others, in a hurried council held among +the yellowing brake-fern a few yards from the sleeper, debated eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Whichever it is, it'll be just as awful," said Anthea. "If his inside +senses are grown up too, he won't stand our looking after him; and if +he's still a baby inside of him how on earth are we to get him to do +anything? And it'll be getting on for dinner-time in a minute."</p> + +<p>"And we haven't got any nuts," said Jane.</p> + +<p>"Oh bother nuts!" said Robert, "but dinner's different—I didn't have +half enough dinner yesterday. Couldn't we tie him to the tree and go +home to our dinner and come back afterwards?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A fat lot of dinner we should get if we went back without the Lamb!" +said Cyril in scornful misery. "And it'll be just the same if we go back +with him in the state he is now. Yes, I know it's my doing; don't rub it +in! I know I'm a beast, and not fit to live; you can take that for +settled, and say no more about it. The question is, what are we going to +do?"</p> + +<p>"Let's wake him up, and take him into Rochester or Maidstone and get +something to eat at a baker's shop," said Robert hopefully.</p> + +<p>"Take him?" repeated Cyril. "Yes—do! It's all my fault—I don't deny +that—but you'll find you've got your work cut out for you if you try to +take that young man anywhere. The Lamb always was spoilt, but now he's +grown up he's a demon—simply. I can see it. Look at his mouth."</p> + +<p>"Well then," said Robert, "let's wake him up and see what <i>he'll</i> do. +Perhaps <i>he'll</i> take <i>us</i> to Maidstone and stand treat. He ought to have +a lot of money in the pockets of those <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>extra-special pants. We <i>must</i> +have dinner, anyway."</p> + +<p>They drew lots with little bits of brake fern. It fell to Jane's lot to +waken the grown-up Lamb.</p> + +<p>She did it gently by tickling his nose with a twig of honeysuckle. He +said "Bother the flies!" twice, and then opened his eyes.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 254px;"><a name="did" id="did"></a> +<img src="images/38.png" width="254" height="400" alt="She did it gently by tickling his nose with a twig of honeysuckle" title="She did it gently by tickling his nose with a twig of honeysuckle" /> +<span class="caption">She did it gently by tickling his nose with a twig of honeysuckle</span> +</div> + +<p>"Hullo, kiddies!" he said in a languid tone, "still here? What's the +giddy hour? You'll be late for your grub!"</p> + +<p>"I know we shall," said Robert bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Then cut along home," said the grown-up Lamb.</p> + +<p>"What about your grub, though?" asked Jane.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how far is it to the station, do you think? I've a sort of a notion +that I'll run up to town and have some lunch at the club."</p> + +<p>Blank misery fell like a pall on the four others. The +Lamb—alone—unattended—would go to town and have lunch at a club! +Perhaps he would also have tea there. Perhaps sunset would come upon him +amid the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>dazzling luxury of club-land, and a helpless cross sleepy +baby would find itself alone amid unsympathetic waiters, and would wail +miserably for "Panty" from the depths of a club arm-chair! The picture +moved Anthea almost to tears.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, Lamb ducky, you mustn't do that!" she cried incautiously.</p> + +<p>The grown-up Lamb frowned. "My dear Anthea," he said, "how often am I to +tell you that my name is Hilary or St. Maur or Devereux?—any of my +baptismal names are free to my little brothers and sisters, but <i>not</i> +'Lamb'—a relic of foolishness and far-off childhood."</p> + +<p>This was awful. He was their elder brother now, was he? Well of course +he was, if he was grown-up—since they weren't. Thus, in whispers, +Anthea and Robert.</p> + +<p>But the almost daily adventures resulting from the Psammead's wishes +were making the children wise beyond their years.</p> + +<p>"Dear Hilary," said Anthea, and the others choked at the name, "you know +father didn't <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>wish you to go to London. He wouldn't like us to be left +alone without you to take care of us. Oh, deceitful thing that I am!" +she added to herself.</p> + +<p>"Look here," said Cyril, "if you're our elder brother, why not behave as +sich and take us over to Maidstone and give us a jolly good blow-out, +and we'll go on the river afterwards?"</p> + +<p>"I'm infinitely obliged to you," said the Lamb courteously, "but I +should prefer solitude. Go home to your lunch—I mean your dinner. +Perhaps I may look in about tea-time—or I may not be home till after +you are in your beds."</p> + +<p>Their beds! Speaking glances flashed between the wretched four. Much bed +there would be for them if they went home without the Lamb.</p> + +<p>"We promised mother not to lose sight of you if we took you out," Jane +said before the others could stop her.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Jane," said the grown-up Lamb, putting his hands in his +pockets and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>looking down at her, "little girls should be seen and not +heard. You kids must learn not to make yourselves a nuisance. Run along +home now—and perhaps, if you're good, I'll give you each a penny +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Look here," said Cyril, in the best "man to man" tone at his command, +"where are you going, old man? You might let Bobs and me come with +you—even if you don't want the girls."</p> + +<p>This was really rather noble of Cyril, for he never did care much about +being seen in public with the Lamb, who of course after sunset would be +a baby again.</p> + +<p>The "man to man" tone succeeded.</p> + +<p>"I shall run over to Maidstone on my bike," said the new Lamb airily, +fingering the little black mustache. "I can lunch at The Crown—and +perhaps I'll have a pull on the river; but I can't take you all on the +machine—now, can I? Run along home, like good children."</p> + +<p>The position was desperate. Robert exchanged a despairing look with +Cyril. An<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>thea detached a pin from her waistband, a pin whose withdrawal +left a gaping chasm between skirt and bodice, and handed it furtively to +Robert—with a grimace of the darkest and deepest meaning. Robert +slipped away to the road. There, sure enough, stood a bicycle—a +beautiful new one. Of course Robert understood at once that if the Lamb +was grown up he <i>must</i> have a bicycle.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="sure" id="sure"></a> +<img src="images/39.png" width="400" height="361" alt="There, sure enough, stood a bicycle" title="There, sure enough, stood a bicycle" /> +<span class="caption">There, sure enough, stood a bicycle</span> +</div> + +<p>This had always been one of Robert's own reasons for wishing to be +grown-up. He hastily began to use the pin—eleven punctures in the back +tyre, seven in the front. He would have made the total twenty-two but +for the rustling of the yellow hazel-leaves, which warned him of the +approach of the others. He hastily leaned a hand on each wheel, and was +rewarded by the "whish" of the what was left of air escaping from +eighteen neat pin-holes.</p> + +<p>"Your bike's run down," said Robert, wondering how he could so soon have +learned to deceive.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> + +<p>"So it is," said Cyril.</p> + +<p>"It's a puncture," said Anthea, stooping down, and standing up again +with a thorn which she had got ready for the purpose.</p> + +<p>"Look here."</p> + +<p>The grown-up Lamb (or Hilary, as I suppose one must now call him) fixed +his pump and blew up the tyre. The punctured state of it was soon +evident.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 271px;"><a name="punctured" id="punctured"></a> +<img src="images/40.png" width="271" height="400" alt="The punctured state of it was soon evident" title="The punctured state of it was soon evident" /> +<span class="caption">The punctured state of it was soon evident</span> +</div> + +<p>"I suppose there's a cottage somewhere near—where one could get a pail +of water?" said the Lamb.</p> + +<p>There was; and when the number of punctures had been made manifest, it +was felt to be a special blessing that the cottage provided "teas for +cyclists." It provided an odd sort of tea-and-hammy meal for the Lamb +and his brothers. This was paid for out of the fifteen shillings which +had been earned by Robert when he was a giant—for the Lamb, it +appeared, had unfortunately no money about him. This was a great +disappointment for the others; but it is a thing that will happen, even +to the most grown-up of us.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> However, Robert had enough to eat, and that +was something. Quietly but persistently the miserable four took it in +turns to try and persuade the Lamb (or St. Maur) to spend the rest of +the day in the woods. There was not very much of the day left by the +time he had mended the eighteenth puncture. He looked up from the +completed work with a sigh of relief, and suddenly put his tie straight.</p> + +<p>"There's a lady coming," he said briskly,—"for goodness' sake, get out +of the way. Go home—hide—vanish somehow! I can't be seen with a pack +of dirty kids." His brothers and sisters were indeed rather dirty, +because, earlier in the day, the Lamb, in his infant state, had +sprinkled a good deal of garden soil over them. The grown-up Lamb's +voice was so tyrant-like, as Jane said afterwards, that they actually +retreated to the back garden, and left him with his little mustache and +his flannel suit to meet alone the young lady, who now came up the front +garden wheeling a bicycle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> + +<p>The woman of the house came out, and the young lady spoke to her,—the +Lamb raised his hat as she passed him,—and the children could not hear +what she said, though they were craning round the corner and listening +with all their ears. They felt it to be "perfectly fair," as Robert +said, "with that wretched Lamb in that condition."</p> + +<p>When the Lamb spoke, in a languid voice heavy with politeness, they +heard well enough.</p> + +<p>"A puncture?" he was saying. "Can I not be of any assistance? If you +could allow me——?"</p> + +<p>There was a stifled explosion of laughter and the grown-up Lamb +(otherwise Devereux) turned the tail of an angry eye in its direction.</p> + +<p>"You're very kind," said the lady, looking at the Lamb. She looked +rather shy, but, as the boys put it, there didn't seem to be any +nonsense about her.</p> + +<p>"But oh," whispered Cyril, "I should have thought he'd had enough +bicycle-mending <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>for one day—and if she only knew that really and truly +he's only a whiny-piny, silly little baby!"</p> + +<p>"He's <i>not</i>," Anthea murmured angrily. "He's a dear—if people only let +him alone. It's our own precious Lamb still, whatever silly idiots may +turn him into—isn't he, Pussy?"</p> + +<p>Jane doubtfully supposed so.</p> + +<p>Now, the Lamb—whom I must try to remember to call St. Maur—was +examining the lady's bicycle and talking to her with a very grown-up +manner indeed. No one could possibly have supposed, to see and hear him, +that only that very morning he had been a chubby child of two years +breaking other people's Waterbury watches. Devereux (as he ought to be +called for the future) took out a gold watch when he had mended the +lady's bicycle, and all the hidden onlookers said "Oh!"—because it +seemed so unfair that the Baby, who had only that morning destroyed two +cheap but honest watches, should now, in the grown-upness to which +Cyril's folly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>had raised him, have a real gold watch—with a chain and +seals!</p> + +<p>Hilary (as I will now term him) withered his brothers and sisters with a +glance, and then said to the lady—with whom he seemed to be quite +friendly—</p> + +<p>"If you will allow me, I will ride with you as far as the Cross Roads; +it is getting late, and there are tramps about."</p> + +<p>No one will ever know what answer the young lady intended to give to +this gallant offer, for, directly Anthea heard it made, she rushed out, +knocking against a swill pail, which overflowed in a turbid stream, and +caught the Lamb (I suppose I ought to say Hilary) by the arm. The others +followed, and in an instant the four dirty children were visible beyond +disguise.</p> + +<p>"Don't let him," said Anthea to the lady, and she spoke with intense +earnestness; "he's not fit to go with anyone!"</p> + +<p>"Go away, little girl!" said St. Maur (as we will now call him) in a +terrible voice.</p> + +<p>"Go home at once!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You'd much better not have anything to do with him," the now reckless +Anthea went on. "He doesn't know who he is. He's something very +different from what you think he is."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked the lady, not unnaturally, while Devereux (as +I must term the grown-up Lamb) tried vainly to push Anthea away. The +others backed her up, and she stood solid as a rock.</p> + +<p>"You just let him go with you," said Anthea, "you'll soon see what I +mean! How would you like to suddenly see a poor little helpless baby +spinning along downhill beside you with its feet up on a bicycle it had +lost control of?"</p> + +<p>The lady had turned rather pale.</p> + +<p>"Who are these very dirty children?" she asked the grown-up Lamb +(sometimes called St. Maur in these pages).</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he lied miserably.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lamb! how <i>can</i> you?" cried Jane,—"when you know perfectly well +you're our own little baby brother that we're so fond of.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> We're his big +brothers and sisters," she explained, turning to the lady, who with +trembling hands was now turning her bicycle towards the gate, "and we've +got to take care of him. And we must get him home before sunset, or I +don't know whatever will become of us. You see, he's sort of under a +spell—enchanted—you know what I mean!"</p> + +<p>Again and again the Lamb (Devereux, I mean) had tried to stop Jane's +eloquence, but Robert and Cyril held him, one by each leg, and no proper +explanation was possible. The lady rode hastily away, and electrified +her relatives at dinner by telling them of her escape from a family of +dangerous lunatics. "The little girl's eyes were simply those of a +maniac. I can't think how she came to be at large," she said.</p> + +<p>When her bicycle had whizzed away down the road, Cyril spoke gravely.</p> + +<p>"Hilary, old chap," he said, "you must have had a sunstroke or +something. And the things you've been saying to that lady! Why, if we +were to tell you the things you've said <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>when you are yourself again, +say to-morrow morning, you wouldn't ever understand them—let alone +believe them! You trust to me, old chap, and come home now, and if +you're not yourself in the morning we'll ask the milkman to ask the +doctor to come."</p> + +<p>The poor grown-up Lamb (St. Maur was really one of his Christian names) +seemed now too bewildered to resist.</p> + +<p>"Since you seem all to be as mad as the whole worshipful company of +hatters," he said bitterly, "I suppose I <i>had</i> better take you home. But +you're not to suppose I shall pass this over. I shall have something to +say to you all to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you will, my Lamb," said Anthea under her breath, "but it won't be +at all the sort of thing you think it's going to be."</p> + +<p>In her heart she could hear the pretty, soft little loving voice of the +baby Lamb—so different from the affected tones of the dreadful grown-up +Lamb (one of whose names was Devereux)—saying, "Me love Panty—wants to +come to own Panty."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, let's go home, for goodness' sake," she said. "You shall say +whatever you like in the morning—if you can," she added in a whisper.</p> + +<p>It was a gloomy party that went home through the soft evening. During +Anthea's remarks Robert had again made play with the pin and the bicycle +tyre, and the Lamb (whom they had to call St. Maur or Devereux or +Hilary) seemed really at last to have had his fill of bicycle-mending. +So the machine was wheeled.</p> + +<p>The sun was just on the point of setting when they arrived at the White +House. The four elder children would have liked to linger in the lane +till the complete sunsetting turned the grown-up Lamb (whose Christian +names I will not further weary you by repeating) into their own dear +tiresome baby brother. But he, in his grown-upness, insisted on going +on, and thus he was met in the front garden by Martha.</p> + +<p>Now you remember that, as a special favour, the Psammead had arranged +that the servants <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>in the house should never notice any change brought +about by the wishes of the children. Therefore Martha merely saw the +usual party, with the baby Lamb, about whom she had been desperately +anxious all the afternoon, trotting beside Anthea, on fat baby legs, +while the children, of course, still saw the grown-up Lamb (never mind +what names he was christened by), and Martha rushed at him and caught +him in her arms, exclaiming—</p> + +<p>"Come to his own Martha, then—a precious poppet!"</p> + +<p>The grown-up Lamb (whose names shall now be buried in oblivion) +struggled furiously. An expression of intense horror and annoyance was +seen on his face. But Martha was stronger than he. She lifted him up and +carried him into the house. None of the children will ever forget that +picture. The neat grey-flannel-suited grown-up young man with the green +necktie and the little black mustache—fortunately, he was slightly +built, and not tall—struggling in the sturdy arms <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>of Martha, who +bore him away helpless, imploring him, as she went, to be a good boy +now, and come and have his nice bremmink! Fortunately, the sun set as +they reached the doorstep, the bicycle disappeared, and Martha was seen +to carry into the house the real live darling sleepy two-year-old Lamb. +The grown-up Lamb (nameless henceforth) was gone for ever.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 299px;"><a name="grown" id="grown"></a> +<img src="images/41.png" width="299" height="400" alt="The grown-up Lamb struggled" title="The grown-up Lamb struggled" /> +<span class="caption">The grown-up Lamb struggled</span> +</div> + +<p>"For ever," said Cyril, "because, as soon as ever the Lamb's old enough +to be bullied, we must jolly well begin to bully him, for his own +sake—so that he mayn't grow up like <i>that</i>."</p> + +<p>"You shan't bully him," said Anthea stoutly,—"not if I can stop it."</p> + +<p>"We must tame him by kindness," said Jane.</p> + +<p>"You see," said Robert, "if he grows up in the usual way, there'll be +plenty of time to correct him as he goes along. The awful thing to-day +was his growing up so suddenly. There was no time to improve him at +all."</p> + +<p>"He doesn't want any improving," said An<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>thea as the voice of the Lamb +came cooing through the open door, just as she had heard it in her heart +that afternoon—</p> + +<p>"Me loves Panty—wants to come to own Panty!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>SCALPS</h3> + + +<p>Probably the day would have been a greater success if Cyril had not been +reading <i>The Last of the Mohicans</i>. The story was running in his head at +breakfast, and as he took his third cup of tea he said dreamily, "I wish +there were Red Indians in England—not big ones, you know, but little +ones, just about the right size for us to fight."</p> + +<p>Everyone disagreed with him at the time and no one attached any +importance to the incident. But when they went down to the sand-pit to +ask for a hundred pounds in two-shilling pieces with Queen Victoria's +head on, to prevent mistakes—which they had always felt to be a really +reasonable wish that must turn out well—they found out that they had +done it again! For the Psammead, which was very cross and sleepy, +said—<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, don't bother me. You've had your wish."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know it," said Cyril.</p> + +<p>"Don't you remember yesterday?" said the Sand-fairy, still more +disagreeably. "You asked me to let you have your wishes wherever you +happened to be, and you wished this morning, and you've got it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, have we?" said Robert. "What is it?"</p> + +<p>"So you've forgotten?" said the Psammead, beginning to burrow. "Never +mind; you'll know soon enough. And I wish you joy of it! A nice thing +you've let yourselves in for!"</p> + +<p>"We always do somehow," said Jane sadly.</p> + +<p>And now the odd thing was that no one could remember anyone's having +wished for anything that morning. The wish about the Red Indians had not +stuck in anyone's head. It was a most anxious morning. Everyone was +trying to remember what had been wished for, and no one could, and +everyone kept expecting something awful to happen every minute. It was +most agitating; they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>knew from what the Psammead had said, that they +must have wished for something more than usually undesirable, and they +spent several hours in most agonizing uncertainty. It was not till +nearly dinner-time that Jane tumbled over <i>The Last of the +Mohicans</i>,—which had of course, been left face downwards on the +floor,—and when Anthea had picked her and the book up she suddenly +said, "I know!" and sat down flat on the carpet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Pussy, how awful! It was Indians he wished for—Cyril—at +breakfast, don't you remember? He said, 'I wish there were Red Indians +in England,'—and now there are, and they're going about scalping people +all over the country, as likely as not."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps they're only in Northumberland and Durham," said Jane +soothingly. It was almost impossible to believe that it could really +hurt people much to be scalped so far away as that.</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe it!" said Anthea. "The Sammyadd said we'd let +ourselves in for a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>nice thing. That means they'll come <i>here</i>. And +suppose they scalped the Lamb!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps the scalping would come right again at sunset," said Jane; but +she did not speak so hopefully as usual.</p> + +<p>"Not it!" said Anthea. "The things that grow out of the wishes don't go. +Look at the fifteen shillings! Pussy, I'm going to break something, and +you must let me have every penny of money you've got. The Indians will +come <i>here</i>, don't you see? That Spiteful Psammead as good as said so. +You see what my plan is? Come on!"</p> + +<p>Jane did not see at all. But she followed her sister meekly into +mother's bedroom.</p> + +<p>Anthea lifted down the heavy water-jug—it had a pattern of storks and +long grasses on it, which Anthea never forgot. She carried it into the +dressing-room, and carefully emptied the water out of it into the bath. +Then she took the jug back into the bedroom and dropped it on the floor. +You know how a jug always breaks if you happen to drop it by accident. +If you happen to drop it on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>purpose, it is quite different. Anthea +dropped that jug three times, and it was as unbroken as ever. So at last +she had to take her father's boot-tree and break the jug with that in +cold blood. It was heartless work.</p> + +<p>Next she broke open the missionary-box with the poker. Jane told her +that it was wrong, of course, but Anthea shut her lips very tight and +then said—</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 347px;"><a name="broke" id="broke"></a> +<img src="images/42.png" width="347" height="400" alt="She broke open the missionary-box with the poker." title="She broke open the missionary-box with the poker." /> +<span class="caption">She broke open the missionary-box with the poker.</span> +</div> + +<p>"Don't be silly—it's a matter of life and death."</p> + +<p>There was not very much in the missionary-box,—only +seven-and-fourpence,—but the girls between them had nearly four +shillings. This made over eleven shillings, as you will easily see.</p> + +<p>Anthea tied up the money in a corner of her pocket-handkerchief. "Come +on, Jane!" she said, and ran down to the farm. She knew that the farmer +was going into Rochester that afternoon. In fact it had been arranged +that he was to take the four children with him. They had planned this in +the happy hour when they believed that they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>we're going to get that +hundred pounds, in two-shilling pieces, out of the Psammead. They had +arranged to pay the farmer two shillings each for the ride. Now Anthea +hastily explained to him that they could not go, but would he take +Martha and the Baby instead? He agreed, but he was not pleased to get +only half-a-crown instead of eight shillings.</p> + +<p>Then the girls ran home again. Anthea was agitated, but not flurried. +When she came to think it over afterwards, she could not help seeing +that she had acted with the most far-seeing promptitude, just like a +born general. She fetched a little box from her corner drawer, and went +to find Martha, who was laying the cloth and not in the best of tempers.</p> + +<p>"Look here," said Anthea. "I've broken the water jug in mother's room."</p> + +<p>"Just like you—always up to some mischief," said Martha, dumping down a +salt-cellar with a bang.</p> + +<p>"Don't be cross, Martha dear," said Anthea.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> "I've got enough money to +pay for a new one—if only you'll be a dear and go and buy it for us. +Your cousins keep a china-shop, don't they? And I would like you to get +it to-day, in case mother comes home to-morrow. You know she said she +might perhaps."</p> + +<p>"But you're all going into town yourselves," said Martha.</p> + +<p>"We can't afford to, if we get the new jug," said Anthea; "but we'll pay +for you to go, if you'll take the Lamb. And I say, Martha, look +here—I'll give you my Liberty box, if you'll go. Look, it's most +awfully pretty—all inlaid with real silver and ivory and ebony, like +King Solomon's temple."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Martha,—"no, I don't want your box, miss. What you want +is to get the precious Lamb off your hands for the afternoon. Don't you +go for to think I don't see through you!"</p> + +<p>This was so true that Anthea longed to deny it at once. Martha had no +business to know so much. But she held her tongue.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> + +<p>Martha set down the bread with a bang that made it jump off its +trencher.</p> + +<p>"I <i>do</i> want the jug got," said Anthea softly. "You <i>will</i> go, won't +you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, just for this once, I don't mind; but mind you don't get into +none of your outrageous mischief while I'm gone—that's all!"</p> + +<p>"He's going earlier than he thought," said Anthea eagerly. "You'd better +hurry and get dressed. Do put on that lovely purple frock, Martha, and +the hat with the pink cornflowers, and the yellow-lace collar. Jane'll +finish laying the cloth, and I'll wash the Lamb and get him ready."</p> + +<p>As she washed the unwilling Lamb and hurried him into his best clothes, +Anthea peeped out of the window from time to time; so far all was +well—she could see no Red Indians. When with a rush and a scurry and +some deepening of the damask of Martha's complexion she and the Lamb had +been got off, Anthea drew a deep breath.</p> + +<p>"<i>He's</i> safe!" she said, and, to Jane's horror, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>flung herself down on +the floor and burst into floods of tears. Jane did not understand at all +how a person could be so brave and like a general, and then suddenly +give way and go flat like an air-balloon when you prick it. It is better +not to go flat, of course, but you will observe that Anthea did not give +way till her aim was accomplished. She had got the dear Lamb out of +danger—she felt certain that the Red Indians would be round the White +House or nowhere—the farmer's cart would not come back till after +sunset, so she could afford to cry a little. It was partly with joy that +she cried, because she had done what she meant to do. She cried for +about three minutes, while Jane hugged her miserably and said at +five-second intervals, "Don't cry, Panther dear!"</p> + +<p>Then she jumped up, rubbed her eyes hard with the corner of her +pinafore, so that they kept red for the rest of the day, and started to +tell the boys. But just at that moment cook rang the dinner-bell, and +nothing could be said till they had been helped to minced <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>beef. Then +cook left the room, and Anthea told her tale. But it is a mistake to +tell a thrilling tale when people are eating minced beef and boiled +potatoes. There seemed somehow to be something about the food that made +the idea of Red Indians seem flat and unbelievable. The boys actually +laughed, and called Anthea a little silly.</p> + +<p>"Why," said Cyril, "I'm almost sure it was before I said that, that Jane +said she wished it would be a fine day."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't," said Jane briefly.</p> + +<p>"Why, if it was Indians," Cyril went on,—"salt, please, and mustard—I +must have something to make this mush go down,—if it was Indians, +they'd have been infesting the place long before this—you know they +would. I believe it's the fine day."</p> + +<p>"Then why did the Sammyadd say we'd let ourselves in for a nice thing?" +asked Anthea. She was feeling very cross. She knew she had acted with +nobility and discretion, and after that it was very hard to be called a +little silly, especially when she had the weight of a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>burglared +missionary-box and about seven-and-fourpence, mostly in coppers, lying +like lead upon her conscience.</p> + +<p>There was a silence, during which cook took away the mincy plates and +brought in the pudding. As soon as she had retired, Cyril began again.</p> + +<p>"Of course I don't mean to say," he admitted, "that it wasn't a good +thing to get Martha and the Lamb out of the way for the afternoon; but +as for Red Indians—why, you know jolly well the wishes always come that +very minute. If there was going to be Red Indians, they'd be here now."</p> + +<p>"I expect they are," said Anthea; "they're lurking amid the undergrowth, +for anything you know. I do think you're most unkind."</p> + +<p>"Indians almost always <i>do</i> lurk, really, though, don't they?" put in +Jane, anxious for peace.</p> + +<p>"No, they don't," said Cyril tartly. "And I'm not unkind, I'm only +truthful. And I say it was utter rot breaking the water-jug; and as for +the missionary-box, I believe it's a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>treason-crime, and I shouldn't +wonder if you could be hanged for it, if any of us was to split"—</p> + +<p>"Shut up, can't you?" said Robert; but Cyril couldn't. You see, he felt +in his heart that if there <i>should</i> be Indians they would be entirely +his own fault, so he did not wish to believe in them. And trying not to +believe things when in your heart you are almost sure they are true, is +as bad for the temper as anything I know.</p> + +<p>"It's simply idiotic," he said, "talking about Indians, when you can see +for yourself that it's Jane who's got her wish. Look what a fine day it +is——<i>OH!</i>—"</p> + +<p>He had turned towards the window to point out the fineness of the +day—the others turned too—and a frozen silence caught at Cyril, and +none of the others felt at all like breaking it. For there, peering +round the corner of the window, among the red leaves of the Virginia +creeper, was a face—a brown face, with a long nose and a tight mouth +and very bright eyes. And the face was painted in coloured <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>patches. It +had long black hair, and in the hair were feathers!</p> + +<p>Every child's mouth in the room opened, and stayed open. The pudding was +growing white and cold on their plates. No one could move.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the feathered head was cautiously withdrawn, and the spell was +broken. I am sorry to say that Anthea's first words were very like a +girl.</p> + +<p>"There, now!" she said. "I told you so!"</p> + +<p>The pudding had now definitely ceased to charm. Hastily wrapping their +portions in a <i>Spectator</i> of the week before the week before last, they +hid them behind the crinkled paper stove-ornament, and fled upstairs to +reconnoitre and to hold a hurried council.</p> + +<p>"Pax," said Cyril handsomely when they reached their mother's bedroom. +"Panther, I'm sorry if I was a brute."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Anthea; "but you see now!"</p> + +<p>No further trace of Indians, however, could be discerned from the +windows.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," said Robert, "what are we to do?"</p> + +<p>"The only thing I can think of," said Anthea, who was now generally +admitted to be the heroine of the day, "is—if we dressed up as like +Indians as we can, and looked out of the windows, or even went out. They +might think we were the powerful leaders of a large neighbouring tribe, +and—and not do anything to us, you know, for fear of awful vengeance."</p> + +<p>"But Eliza, and the cook?" said Jane.</p> + +<p>"You forget—they can't notice anything," said Robert. "They wouldn't +notice anything out of the way, even if they were scalped or roasted at +a slow fire."</p> + +<p>"But would they come right at sunset?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. You can't be really scalped or burned to death without +noticing it, and you'd be sure to notice it next day, even if it escaped +your attention at the time," said Cyril. "I think Anthea's right, but we +shall want a most awful lot of feathers."</p> + +<p>"I'll go down to the hen-house," said Robert. "There's one of the +turkeys in there—it's not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>very well. I could cut its feathers without +it minding much. It's very bad—doesn't seem to care what happens to it. +Get me the cutting-out scissors."</p> + +<p>Earnest reconnoitring convinced them all that no Indians were in the +poultry-yard. Robert went. In five minutes he came back—pale, but with +many feathers.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said, "this is jolly serious. I cut off the feathers, +and when I turned to come out there was an Indian squinting at me from +under the old hen-coop. I just brandished the feathers and yelled, and +got away before he could get the coop off top of himself. Panther, get +the coloured blankets off our beds, and look slippy, can't you?"</p> + +<p>It is wonderful how like an Indian you can make yourself with blankets +and feathers and coloured scarves. Of course none of the children +happened to have long black hair, but there was a lot of black calico +that had been bought to cover school-books with. They cut strips of this +into a sort of fine fringe, and fastened it round their heads with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>the +amber-coloured ribbons off the girls' Sunday dresses. Then they stuck +turkeys' feathers in the ribbons. The calico looked very like long black +hair, especially when the strips began to curl up a bit.</p> + +<p>"But our faces," said Anthea, "they're not at all the right colour. +We're all rather pale, and I'm sure I don't know why, but Cyril is the +colour of putty."</p> + +<p>"I'm not," said Cyril.</p> + +<p>"The real Indians outside seem to be brownish," said Robert hastily. "I +think we ought to be really <i>red</i>—it's sort of superior to have a red +skin, if you are one."</p> + +<p>The red ochre cook uses for the kitchen bricks seemed to be about the +reddest thing in the house. The children mixed some in a saucer with +milk, as they had seen cook do for the kitchen floor. Then they +carefully painted each other's faces and hands with it, till they were +quite as red as any Red Indian need be—if not redder.</p> + +<p>They knew at once that they must look very terrible when they met Eliza +in the passage, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>and she screamed aloud. This unsolicited testimonial +pleased them very much. Hastily telling her not to be a goose, and that +it was only a game, the four blanketed, feathered, really and truly +Redskins went boldly out to meet the foe. I say boldly. That is because +I wish to be polite. At any rate, they went.</p> + +<p>Along the hedge dividing the wilderness from the garden was a row of +dark heads, all highly feathered.</p> + +<p>"It's our only chance," whispered Anthea. "Much better than to wait for +their blood-freezing attack. We must pretend like mad. Like that game of +cards where you pretend you've got aces when you haven't. Fluffing they +call it, I think. Now then. Whoop!"</p> + +<p>With four wild war-whoops—or as near them as white children could be +expected to go without any previous practice—they rushed through the +gate and struck four war-like attitudes in face of the line of Red +Indians. These were all about the same height, and that height was +Cyril's.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I hope to goodness they can talk English," said Cyril through his +attitude.</p> + +<p>Anthea knew they could, though she never knew how she came to know it. +She had a white towel tied to a walking-stick. This was a flag of truce, +and she waved it, in the hope that the Indians would know what it was. +Apparently they did—for one who was browner than the others stepped +forward.</p> + +<p>"Ye seek a pow-wow?" he said in excellent English. "I am Golden Eagle, +of the mighty tribe of Rock-dwellers."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 368px;"><a name="ye" id="ye"></a> +<img src="images/43.png" width="368" height="397" alt=""Ye seek a pow-wow?" he said" title=""Ye seek a pow-wow?" he said" /> +<span class="caption">"Ye seek a pow-wow?" he said</span> +</div> + +<p>"And I," said Anthea, with a sudden inspiration, "am the Black +Panther—chief of the—the—the—Mazawattee tribe. My brothers—I don't +mean—yes, I do—the tribe—I mean the Mazawattees—are in ambush below +the brow of yonder hill."</p> + +<p>"And what mighty warriors be these?" asked Golden Eagle, turning to the +others.</p> + +<p>Cyril said he was the great chief Squirrel, of the Moning Congo tribe, +and, seeing that Jane was sucking her thumb and could evidently think of +no name for herself, he added,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> "This great warrior is Wild Cat—Pussy +Ferox we call it in this land—leader of the vast Phiteezi tribe."</p> + +<p>"And thou, valorous Redskin?" Golden Eagle inquired suddenly of Robert, +who, taken unawares, could only reply that he was Bobs—leader of the +Cape Mounted Police.</p> + +<p>"And now," said Black Panther, "our tribes, if we just whistle them up, +will far outnumber your puny forces; so resistance is useless. Return, +therefore, to your land, O brother, and smoke pipes of peace in your +wampums with your squaws and your medicine-men, and dress yourselves in +the gayest wigwams, and eat happily of the juicy fresh-caught +moccasins."</p> + +<p>"You've got it all wrong," murmured Cyril angrily. But Golden Eagle only +looked inquiringly at her.</p> + +<p>"Thy customs are other than ours, O Black Panther," he said. "Bring up +thy tribe, that we may hold pow-wow in state before them, as becomes +great chiefs."</p> + +<p>"We'll bring them up right enough," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> Anthea, "with their bows and +arrows, and tomahawks and scalping-knives, and everything you can think +of, if you don't look sharp and go."</p> + +<p>She spoke bravely enough, but the hearts of all the children were +beating furiously, and their breath came in shorter and shorter gasps. +For the little real Red Indians were closing up round them—coming +nearer and nearer with angry murmurs—so that they were the centre of a +crowd of dark cruel faces.</p> + +<p>"It's no go," whispered Robert. "I knew it wouldn't be. We must make a +bolt for the Psammead. It might help us. If it doesn't—well, I suppose +we shall come alive again at sunset. I wonder if scalping hurts as much +as they say."</p> + +<p>"I'll wave the flag again," said Anthea. "If they stand back, we'll run +for it."</p> + +<p>She waved the towel, and the chief commanded his followers to stand +back. Then, charging wildly at the place where the line of Indians was +thinnest, the four children <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>started to run. Their first rush knocked +down some half-dozen Indians, over whose blanketed bodies the children +leaped, and made straight for the sand-pit. This was no time for the +safe easy way by which carts go down—right over the edge of the +sand-pit they went, among the yellow and pale purple flowers and dried +grasses, past the little bank martins' little front doors, skipping, +clinging, bounding, stumbling, sprawling, and finally rolling.</p> + +<p>Yellow Eagle and his followers came up with them just at the very spot +where they had seen the Psammead that morning.</p> + +<p>Breathless and beaten, the wretched children now awaited their fate. +Sharp knives and axes gleamed round them, but worse than these was the +cruel light in the eyes of Golden Eagle and his followers.</p> + +<p>"Ye have lied to us, O Black Panther of the Mazawattees—and thou, too, +Squirrel of the Moning Congos. These also, Pussy Ferox of the Phiteezi, +and Bobs of the Cape Mounted Police,—these also have lied to us, if not +with their tongues, yet by their silence. Ye have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>lied under the cover +of the Truce-flag of the Pale-face. Ye have no followers. Your tribes +are far away—following the hunting trail. What shall be their doom?" he +concluded, turning with a bitter smile to the other Red Indians.</p> + +<p>"Build we the fire!" shouted his followers; and at once a dozen ready +volunteers started to look for fuel. The four children, each held +between two strong little Indians, cast despairing glances round them. +Oh, if they could only see the Psammead!</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to scalp us first and then roast us?" asked Anthea +desperately.</p> + +<p>"Of course!" Redskin opened his eyes at her. "It's always done."</p> + +<p>The Indians had formed a ring round the children, and now sat on the +ground gazing at their captives. There was a threatening silence.</p> + +<p>Then slowly, by twos and threes, the Indians who had gone to look for +firewood came back, and they came back empty-handed. They had not been +able to find a single stick of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>wood for a fire! No one ever can, as a +matter of fact, in that part of Kent.</p> + +<p>The children drew a deep breath of relief, but it ended in a moan of +terror. For bright knives were being brandished all about them. Next +moment each child was seized by an Indian; each closed its eyes and +tried not to scream. They waited for the sharp agony of the knife. It +did not come. Next moment they were released, and fell in a trembling +heap. Their heads did not hurt at all. They only felt strangely cool! +Wild war-whoops rang in their ears. When they ventured to open their +eyes they saw four of their foes dancing round them with wild leaps and +screams, and each of the four brandished in his hand a scalp of long +flowing black hair. They put their hands to their heads—their own +scalps were safe! The poor untutored savages had indeed scalped the +children. But they had only, so to speak, scalped them of the black +calico ringlets!</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 327px;"><a name="bright" id="bright"></a> +<img src="images/44.png" width="327" height="400" alt="Bright knives were being brandished all about them" title="Bright knives were being brandished all about them" /> +<span class="caption">Bright knives were being brandished all about them</span> +</div> + +<p>The children fell into each other's arms, sobbing and laughing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Their scalps are ours," chanted the chief; "ill-rooted were their +ill-fated hairs! They came off in the hands of the victors—without +struggle, without resistance, they yielded their scalps to the +conquering Rock-dwellers! Oh, how little a thing is a scalp so lightly +won!"</p> + +<p>"They'll take our real ones in a minute; you see if they don't," said +Robert, trying to rub some of the red ochre off his face and hands on to +his hair.</p> + +<p>"Cheated of our just and fiery revenge are we," the chant went on,—"but +there are other torments than the scalping-knife and the flames. Yet is +the slow fire the correct thing. O strange unnatural country, wherein a +man may find no wood to burn his enemy!—Ah for the boundless forests of +my native land, where the great trees for thousands of miles grow but to +furnish firewood wherewithal to burn our foes. Ah, would we were but in +our native forest once more!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly like a flash of lightning, the golden gravel shone all round +the four chil<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>dren instead of the dusky figures. For every single +Indian had vanished on the instant at their leader's word. The Psammead +must have been there all the time. And it had given the Indian chief his +wish.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Martha brought home a jug with a pattern of storks and long grasses on +it. Also she brought back all Anthea's money.</p> + +<p>"My cousin, she gave me the jug for luck; she said it was an odd one +what the basin of had got smashed."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Martha, you are a dear!" sighed Anthea, throwing her arms round +her.</p> + +<p>"Yes," giggled Martha, "you'd better make the most of me while you've +got me. I shall give your ma notice directly minute she comes back."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Martha, we haven't been so <i>very</i> horrid to you, have we?" asked +Anthea, aghast.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it isn't that, miss." Martha giggled more than ever. "I'm a-goin' +to be married. It's Beale the gamekeeper. He's been a-proposin' to me +off and on ever since you come <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>home from the clergyman's where you got +locked up on the church-tower. And to-day I said the word an' made him a +happy man."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Anthea put the seven-and-fourpence back in the missionary-box, and +pasted paper over the place where the poker had broken it. She was very +glad to be able to do this, and she does not know to this day whether +breaking open a missionary-box is or is not a hanging matter!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XI (AND LAST)</h2> + +<h3>THE LAST WISH</h3> + + +<p>Of course you, who see above that this is the eleventh (and last) +chapter, know very well that the day of which this chapter tells must be +the last on which Cyril, Anthea, Robert, and Jane will have a chance of +getting anything out of the Psammead, or Sand-fairy.</p> + +<p>But the children themselves did not know this. They were full of rosy +visions, and, whereas on the other days they had often found it +extremely difficult to think of anything really nice to wish for, their +brains were now full of the most beautiful and sensible ideas. "This," +as Jane remarked afterwards, "is always the way." Everyone was up extra +early that morning, and these plans were hopefully discussed in the +garden before breakfast. The old idea of one hundred <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>pounds in modern +florins was still first favourite, but there were others that ran it +close—the chief of these being the "pony-each" idea. This had a great +advantage. You could wish for a pony each during the morning, ride it +all day, have it vanish at sunset, and wish it back again next day. +Which would be an economy of litter and stabling. But at breakfast two +things happened. First, there was a letter from mother. Granny was +better, and mother and father hoped to be home that very afternoon. A +cheer arose. And of course this news at once scattered all the +before-breakfast wish-ideas. For everyone saw quite plainly that the +wish of the day must be something to please mother and not to please +themselves.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what she <i>would</i> like," pondered Cyril.</p> + +<p>"She'd like us all to be good," said Jane primly.</p> + +<p>"Yes—but that's so dull for us," Cyril rejoined; "and besides, I should +hope we could be that without sand-fairies to help us. No; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>it must be +something splendid, that we couldn't possibly get without wishing for."</p> + +<p>"Look out," said Anthea in a warning voice; "don't forget yesterday. +Remember, we get our wishes now just wherever we happen to be when we +say 'I wish.' Don't let's let ourselves in for anything silly—to-day of +all days."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Cyril. "You needn't talk so much."</p> + +<p>Just then Martha came in with a jug full of hot water for the +tea-pot—and a face full of importance for the children.</p> + +<p>"A blessing we're all alive to eat our breakfast!" she said darkly.</p> + +<p>"Why, whatever's happened?" everybody asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing," said Martha, "only it seems nobody's safe from being +murdered in their beds nowadays."</p> + +<p>"Why," said Jane as an agreeable thrill of horror ran down her back and +legs and out at her toes, "<i>has</i> anyone been murdered in their beds?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well—not exactly," said Martha; "but they might just as well. There's +been burglars over at <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Peasemarch'">Peasemarsh</ins> Place—Beale's just told me—and +they've took every single one of Lady Chittenden's diamonds and jewels +and things, and she's a-goin out of one fainting fit into another, with +hardly time to say 'Oh, my diamonds!' in between. And Lord Chittenden's +away in London."</p> + +<p>"Lady Chittenden," said Anthea; "we've seen her. She wears a +red-and-white dress, and she has no children of her own and can't abide +other folkses'."</p> + +<p>"That's her," said Martha. "Well, she's put all her trust in riches, and +you see how she's served. They say the diamonds and things was worth +thousands of pounds. There was a necklace and a river—whatever that +is—and no end of bracelets; and a tarrer and ever so many rings. But +there, I mustn't stand talking and all the place to clean down afore +your ma comes home."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why she should ever have had such lots of diamonds," said +Anthea when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> Martha had flounced off. "She was not at all a nice lady, I +thought. And mother hasn't any diamonds, and hardly any jewels—the +topaz necklace, and the sapphire ring daddy gave her when they were +engaged, and the garnet star, and the little pearl brooch with +great-grandpapa's hair in it,—that's about all."</p> + +<p>"When I'm grown up I'll buy mother no end of diamonds," said Robert, "if +she wants them. I shall make so much money exploring in Africa I shan't +know what to do with it."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it be jolly," said Jane dreamily, "if mother could find all +these lovely things, necklaces and rivers of diamonds and tarrers?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Ti—aras</i>," said Cyril.</p> + +<p>"Ti—aras, then,—and rings and everything in her room when she came +home. I wish she would"—</p> + +<p>The others gazed at her in horror.</p> + +<p>"Well, she <i>will</i>," said Robert; "you've wished, my good Jane—and our +only chance <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>now is to find the Psammead, and if it's in a good temper +it <i>may</i> take back the wish and give us another. If not—well—goodness +knows what we're in for!—the police of course, and—— Don't cry, +silly! We'll stand by you. Father says we need never to be afraid if we +don't do anything wrong and always speak the truth."</p> + +<p>But Cyril and Anthea exchanged gloomy glances. They remembered how +convincing the truth about the Psammead had been once before when told +to the police.</p> + +<p>It was a day of misfortunes. Of course the Psammead could not be found. +Nor the jewels, though every one of the children searched the mother's +room again and again.</p> + +<p>"Of course," Robert said, "<i>we</i> couldn't find them. It'll be mother +who'll do that. Perhaps she'll think they've been in the house for years +and years, and never know they are the stolen ones at all."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes!" Cyril was very scornful; "then mother will be a receiver of +stolen goods, and you know jolly well what <i>that's</i> worse than."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> + +<p>Another and exhaustive search of the sand-pit failed to reveal the +Psammead, so the children went back to the house slowly and sadly.</p> + +<p>"I don't care," said Anthea stoutly, "we'll tell mother the truth, and +she'll give back the jewels—and make everything all right."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?" said Cyril slowly. "Do you think she'll believe us? +Could anyone believe about a Sammyadd unless they'd seen it? She'll +think we're pretending. Or else she'll think we're raving mad, and then +we shall be sent to the mad-house. How would you like it?"—he turned +suddenly on the miserable Jane,—"how would you like it, to be shut up +in an iron cage with bars and padded walls, and nothing to do but stick +straws in your hair all day, and listen to the howlings and ravings of +the other maniacs? Make up your minds to it, all of you. It's no use +telling mother."</p> + +<p>"But it's true," said Jane.</p> + +<p>"Of course it is, but it's not true enough for grown-up people to +believe it," said Anthea.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Cyril's right. Let's put flowers in all the vases, and try not to think +about the diamonds. After all, everything has come right in the end all +the other times."</p> + +<p>So they filled all the pots they could find with flowers—asters and +zinnias, and loose-leaved late red roses from the wall of the +stableyard, till the house was a perfect bower.</p> + +<p>And almost as soon as dinner was cleared away mother arrived, and was +clasped in eight loving arms. It was very difficult indeed not to tell +her all about the Psammead at once, because they had got into the habit +of telling her everything. But they did succeed in not telling her.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 226px;"><a name="clasped" id="clasped"></a> +<img src="images/45.png" width="226" height="400" alt="She was clasped in eight loving arms" title="She was clasped in eight loving arms" /> +<span class="caption">She was clasped in eight loving arms</span> +</div> + +<p>Mother, on her side, had plenty to tell them—about Granny, and Granny's +pigeons, and Auntie Emma's lame tame donkey. She was very delighted with +the flowery-boweryness of the house; and everything seemed so natural +and pleasant, now that she was home again, that the children almost +thought they must have dreamed the Psammead.</p> + +<p>But, when mother moved towards the stairs <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>to go up to her bedroom and +take off her bonnet, the eight arms clung round her just as if she only +had two children, one the Lamb and the other an octopus.</p> + +<p>"Don't go up, mummy darling," said Anthea; "let me take your things up +for you."</p> + +<p>"Or I will," said Cyril.</p> + +<p>"We want you to come and look at the rose-tree," said Robert.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't go up!" said Jane helplessly.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, dears," said mother briskly, "I'm not such an old woman yet +that I can't take my bonnet off in the proper place. Besides I must wash +these black hands of mine."</p> + +<p>So up she went, and the children, following her, exchanged glances of +gloomy foreboding.</p> + +<p>Mother took off her bonnet,—it was a very pretty hat, really, with +white roses in it,—and when she had taken it off she went to the +dressing-table to do her pretty hair.</p> + +<p>On the table between the ring-stand and the pin-cushion lay a green +leather case. Mother opened it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, how lovely!" she cried. It was a ring, a large pearl with shining +many-lighted diamonds set round it. "Wherever did this come from?" +mother asked, trying it on her wedding finger, which it fitted +beautifully. "However did it come here?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said each of the children truthfully.</p> + +<p>"Father must have told Martha to put it here," mother said. "I'll run +down and ask her."</p> + +<p>"Let me look at it," said Anthea, who knew Martha would not be able to +see the ring. But when Martha was asked, of course she denied putting +the ring there, and so did Eliza and cook.</p> + +<p>Mother came back to her bedroom, very much interested and pleased about +the ring. But, when she opened the dressing-table drawer and found a +long case containing an almost priceless diamond necklace, she was more +interested still, though not so pleased. In the wardrobe, when she went +to put away her "bonnet," she found a tiara and several <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>brooches, and +the rest of the jewellery turned up in various parts of the room during +the next half-hour. The children looked more and more uncomfortable, and +now Jane began to sniff.</p> + +<p>Mother looked at her gravely.</p> + +<p>"Jane," she said, "I am sure you know something about this. Now think +before you speak, and tell me the truth."</p> + +<p>"We found a Fairy," said Jane obediently.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 329px;"><a name="found" id="found"></a> +<img src="images/46.png" width="329" height="400" alt=""We found a Fairy," said Jane obediently" title=""We found a Fairy," said Jane obediently" /> +<span class="caption">"We found a Fairy," said Jane obediently</span> +</div> + +<p>"No nonsense, please," said her mother sharply.</p> + +<p>"Don't be silly, Jane," Cyril interrupted. Then he went on desperately. +"Look here, mother, we've never seen the things before, but Lady +Chittenden at Peasmarsh Place lost all her jewellery by wicked burglars +last night. Could this possibly be it?"</p> + +<p>All drew a deep breath. They were saved.</p> + +<p>"But how could they have put it here? And why should they?" asked +mother, not unreasonably. "Surely it would have been easier and safer to +make off with it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Suppose," said Cyril, "they thought it better to wait for—for +sunset—nightfall, I mean, before they went off with it. No one but us +knew that you were coming back to-day."</p> + +<p>"I must send for the police at once," said mother distractedly. "Oh, how +I wish daddy were here!"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it be better to wait till he <i>does</i> come?" asked Robert, +knowing that his father would not be home before sunset.</p> + +<p>"No, no; I can't wait a minute with all this on my mind," cried mother. +"All this" was the heap of jewel-cases on the bed. They put them all in +the wardrobe, and mother locked it. Then mother called Martha.</p> + +<p>"Martha," she said, "has any stranger been into my room since I've been +away? Now, answer me truthfully."</p> + +<p>"No, mum," answered Martha; "leastways, what I mean to say"—</p> + +<p>She stopped.</p> + +<p>"Come," said her mistress kindly, "I see someone has. You must tell me +at once.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> Don't be frightened. I'm sure <i>you</i> haven't done anything +wrong."</p> + +<p>Martha burst into heavy sobs.</p> + +<p>"I was a-goin' to give you warning this very day, mum, to leave at the +end of my month, so I was,—on account of me being going to make a +respectable young man happy. A gamekeeper he is by trade, mum—and I +wouldn't deceive you—of the name of Beale. And it's as true as I stand +here, it was your coming home in such a hurry, and no warning given, out +of the kindness of his heart it was, as he says, 'Martha, my beauty,' he +says,—which I ain't, and never was, but you know how them men will go +on,—'I can't see you a-toiling and a-moiling and not lend a 'elping +'and; which mine is a strong arm, and it's yours Martha, my dear,' says +he. And so he helped me a-cleanin' of the windows—but outside, mum, the +whole time, and me in; if I never say another breathing word it's gospel +truth."</p> + +<p>"Were you with him the whole time?" asked her mistress.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Him outside and me in, I was," said Martha; "except for fetching up a +fresh pail and the leather that that slut of a Eliza'd hidden away +behind the mangle."</p> + +<p>"That will do," said the children's mother. "I am not pleased with you, +Martha, but you have spoken the truth, and that counts for something."</p> + +<p>When Martha had gone, the children clung round their mother.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mummy darling," cried Anthea, "it isn't Beale's fault, it isn't +really! He's a great dear; he is, truly and honourably, and as honest as +the day. Don't let the police take him, mummy! Oh, don't, don't, don't!"</p> + +<p>It was truly awful. Here was an innocent man accused of robbery through +that silly wish of Jane's, and it was absolutely useless to tell the +truth. All longed to, but they thought of the straws in the hair and the +shrieks of the other frantic maniacs, and they could not do it.</p> + +<p>"Is there a cart hereabouts?" asked the mother feverishly. "A trap of +any sort? I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>must drive in to Rochester and tell the police at once."</p> + +<p>All the children sobbed, "There's a cart at the farm, but, oh, don't +go!—don't go!—oh, don't go!—wait till daddy comes home!"</p> + +<p>Mother took not the faintest notice. When she had set her mind on a +thing she always went straight through with it; she was rather like +Anthea in this respect.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Cyril," she said, sticking on her hat with long sharp +violet-headed pins, "I leave you in charge. Stay in the dressing-room. +You can pretend to be swimming boats in the bath, or something. Say I +gave you leave. But stay there, with the door on the landing open; I've +locked the other. And don't let anyone go into my room. Remember, no one +knows the jewels are there except me, and all of you, and the wicked +thieves who put them there. Robert, you stay in the garden and watch the +windows. If anyone tries to get in you must run and tell the two farm +men that I'll send up to wait in the kitchen. I'll tell them there are +dangerous <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>characters about—that's true enough. Now remember, I trust +you both. But I don't think they'll try it till after dark, so you're +quite safe. Good-bye, darlings."</p> + +<p>And she locked her bedroom door and went off with the key in her pocket.</p> + +<p>The children could not help admiring the dashing and decided way in +which she had acted. They thought how useful she would have been in +organising escape from some of the tight places in which they had found +themselves of late in consequence of their ill-timed wishes.</p> + +<p>"She's a born general," said Cyril,—"but <i>I</i> don't know what's going to +happen to us. Even if the girls were to hunt for that old Sammyadd and +find it, and get it to take the jewels away again, mother would only +think we hadn't looked out properly and let the burglars sneak in and +get them—or else the police will think <i>we've</i> got them—or else that +she's been fooling them. Oh, it's a pretty decent average ghastly mess +this time, and no mistake!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> + +<p>He savagely made a paper boat and began to float it in the bath, as he +had been told to do.</p> + +<p>Robert went into the garden and sat down on the worn yellow grass, with +his miserable head between his helpless hands.</p> + +<p>Anthea and Jane whispered together in the passage downstairs, where the +cocoanut matting was—with the hole in it that you always caught your +foot in if you were not careful. Martha's voice could be heard in the +kitchen,—grumbling loud and long.</p> + +<p>"It's simply quite too dreadfully awful," said Anthea. "How do you know +all the diamonds are there, too? If they aren't, the police will think +mother and father have got them, and that they've only given up some of +them for a kind of desperate blind. And they'll be put in prison, and we +shall be branded outcasts, the children of felons. And it won't be at +all nice for father and mother either," she added, by a candid +after-thought.</p> + +<p>"But what can we <i>do</i>?" asked Jane.</p> + +<p>"Nothing—at least we might look for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> Psammead again. It's a very, +<i>very</i> hot day. He may have come out to warm that whisker of his."</p> + +<p>"He won't give us any more beastly wishes to-day," said Jane flatly. "He +gets crosser and crosser every time we see him. I believe he hates +having to give wishes."</p> + +<p>Anthea had been shaking her head gloomily—now she stopped shaking it so +suddenly that it really looked as though she were pricking up her ears.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Jane. "Oh, have you thought of something?"</p> + +<p>"Our one chance," cried Anthea dramatically; "the last lone-lorn forlorn +hope. Come on."</p> + +<p>At a brisk trot she led the way to the sand-pit. Oh, joy!—there was the +Psammead, basking in a golden sandy hollow and preening its whiskers +happily in the glowing afternoon sun. The moment it saw them it whisked +round and began to burrow—it evidently preferred its own company to +theirs. But Anthea was too quick for it. She caught it by <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>its furry +shoulders gently but firmly, and held it.</p> + +<p>"Here—none of that!" said the Psammead. "Leave go of me, will you?"</p> + +<p>But Anthea held him fast.</p> + +<p>"Dear kind darling Sammyadd," she said breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes—it's all very well," it said; "you want another wish, I expect. +But I can't keep on slaving from morning till night giving people their +wishes. I must have <i>some</i> time to myself."</p> + +<p>"Do you hate giving wishes?" asked Anthea gently, and her voice trembled +with excitement.</p> + +<p>"Of course I do," it said. "Leave go of me or I'll bite!—I really +will—I mean it. Oh, well, if you choose to risk it."</p> + +<p>Anthea risked it and held on.</p> + +<p>"Look here," she said, "don't bite me—listen to reason. If you'll only +do what we want to-day, we'll never ask you for another wish as long as +we live."</p> + +<p>The Psammead was much moved.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'd do anything," it said in a tearful voice. "I'd almost burst myself +to give you one wish after another, as long as I held out, if you'd only +never, never ask me to do it after to-day. If you knew how I hate to +blow myself out with other people's wishes, and how frightened I am +always that I shall strain a muscle or something. And then to wake up +every morning and know you've <i>got</i> to do it. You don't know what it +is—you don't know what it is, you don't!" Its voice cracked with +emotion, and the last "don't" was a squeak.</p> + +<p>Anthea set it down gently on the sand.</p> + +<p>"It's all over now," she said soothingly. "We promise faithfully never +to ask for another wish after to-day."</p> + +<p>"Well, go ahead," said the Psammead; "let's get it over."</p> + +<p>"How many can you do?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know—as long as I can hold out."</p> + +<p>"Well, first, I wish Lady Chittenden may find she's never lost her +jewels."</p> + +<p>The Psammead blew itself out, collapsed, and said, "Done."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wish," said Anthea more slowly, "mother mayn't get to the police."</p> + +<p>"Done," said the creature after the proper interval.</p> + +<p>"I wish," said Jane suddenly, "mother could forget all about the +diamonds."</p> + +<p>"Done," said the Psammead; but its voice was weaker.</p> + +<p>"Would you like to rest a little?" asked Anthea considerately.</p> + +<p>"Yes, please," said the Psammead; "and, before we go any further, will +you wish something for me?"</p> + +<p>"Can't you do wishes for yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not," it said; "we were always expected to give each other +our wishes—not that we had any to speak of in the good old Megatherium +days. Just wish, will you, that you may never be able, any of you, to +tell anyone a word about <i>Me</i>."</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Jane.</p> + +<p>"Why, don't you see, if you told grown-ups I should have no peace of my +life. They'd get hold of me, and they wouldn't wish silly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>things like +you do, but real earnest things; and the scientific people would hit on +some way of making things last after sunset, as likely as not; and +they'd ask for a graduated income-tax, and old-age pensions, and manhood +suffrage, and free secondary education, and dull things like that; and +get them, and keep them, and the whole world would be turned +topsy-turvy. Do wish it! Quick!"</p> + +<p>Anthea repeated the Psammead's wish, and it blew itself out to a larger +size than they had yet seen it attain.</p> + +<p>"And now," it said as it collapsed, "can I do anything more for you?"</p> + +<p>"Just one thing; and I think that clears everything up, doesn't it, +Jane? I wish Martha to forget about the diamond ring, and mother to +forget about the keeper cleaning the windows."</p> + +<p>"It's like the 'Brass Bottle,'" said Jane.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm glad we read that or I should never have thought of it."</p> + +<p>"Now," said the Psammead faintly, "I'm almost worn out. Is there +anything else?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No; only thank you kindly for all you've done for us, and I hope you'll +have a good long sleep, and I hope we shall see you again some day."</p> + +<p>"Is that a wish?" it said in a weak voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes, please," said the two girls together.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="it" id="it"></a> +<img src="images/47.png" width="400" height="373" alt="It burrowed, and disappeared, scratching fiercely to the last" title="It burrowed, and disappeared, scratching fiercely to the last" /> +<span class="caption">It burrowed, and disappeared, scratching fiercely to the last</span> +</div> + +<p>Then for the last time in this story they saw the Psammead blow itself +out and collapse suddenly. It nodded to them, blinked its long snail's +eyes, burrowed, and disappeared, scratching fiercely to the last, and +the sand closed over it.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"I hope we've done right?" said Jane.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure we have," said Anthea. "Come on home and tell the boys."</p> + +<p>Anthea found Cyril glooming over his paper boats, and told him. Jane +told Robert. The two tales were only just ended when mother walked in, +hot and dusty. She explained that as she was being driven into Rochester +to buy the girls' autumn school-dresses the axle had broken, and but for +the narrowness of the lane and the high soft hedges she would have been +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>thrown out. As it was, she was not hurt, but she had had to walk home. +"And oh, my dearest dear chicks," she said, "I am simply dying for a cup +of tea! Do run and see if the water boils!"</p> + +<p>"So you see it's all right," Jane whispered. "She doesn't remember."</p> + +<p>"No more does Martha," said Anthea, who had been to ask after the state +of the kettle.</p> + +<p>As the servants sat at their tea, Beale the gamekeeper dropped in. He +brought the welcome news that Lady Chittenden's diamonds had not been +lost at all. Lord Chittenden had taken them to be re-set and cleaned, +and the maid who knew about it had gone for a holiday. So that was all +right.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if we ever shall see the Psammead again," said Jane wistfully +as they walked in the garden, while mother was putting the Lamb to bed.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure we shall," said Cyril, "if you really wished it."</p> + +<p>"We've promised never to ask it for another wish," said Anthea.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I never want to," said Robert earnestly.</p> + +<p>They did see it again, of course, but not in this story. And it was not +in a sand-pit either, but in a very, very, very different place. It was +in a—— But I must say no more.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class='tnote'><b>Transcriber's notes:</b> + +<p>Varied hyphenation retained where a majority could not be found.</p> + +<p>Page 116, extraneous " removed. "better. What"</p> + +<p>Page 179, Quotation mark added. "...Anthea said. "It's creepy..."</p> + +<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. +Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Five Children and It, by E. 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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: Five Children and It + +Author: E. Nesbit + +Illustrator: H.R. Millar + +Release Date: December 15, 2005 [EBook #17314] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIVE CHILDREN AND IT *** + + + + +Produced by Jason Isbell and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by the +Library of Congress) + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: The Psammead] + + + + +FIVE CHILDREN + AND IT + +BY +E. NESBIT + +AUTHOR OF "THE TREASURE-SEEKERS," +"THE WOULD-BE-GOODS," ETC. + + +_ILLUSTRATED_ + + +[Illustration] + + + NEW YORK +DODD, MEAD & COMPANY + +1905 + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY +DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY + +_Published October, 1905_ + + + + + _TO_ + + JOHN BLAND + + + _My Lamb, you are so very small, + You have not learned to read at all; + Yet never a printed book withstands + The urgence of your dimpled hands. + So, though this book is for yourself, + Let mother keep it on the shelf + Till you can read. O days that pass, + That day will come too soon, alas!_ + + + + +NOTE + + +Parts of this story have appeared in the _Strand Magazine_ under the +title of + + "THE PSAMMEAD." + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER PAGE + + I BEAUTIFUL AS THE DAY 1 + + II GOLDEN GUINEAS 36 + + III BEING WANTED 70 + + IV WINGS 108 + + V NO WINGS 141 + + VI A CASTLE AND NO DINNER 159 + + VII A SIEGE AND BED 183 + +VIII BIGGER THAN THE BAKER'S BOY 203 + + IX GROWN UP 236 + + X SCALPS 261 + + XI THE LAST WISH 287 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +The Psammead _Frontispiece_ + +That First Glorious Rush Round the Garden _Facing page_ 2 + +Cyril Had Nipped His Finger in the Door of a Hutch " " 4 + +Anthea Suddenly Screamed, "It's Alive!" " " 12 + +The Baby Did Not Know Them! " " 28 + +Martha Emptied a Toilet-jug of Cold Water Over Him " " 32 + +The Rain Fell in Slow Drops on to Anthea's Face " " 36 + +He Staggered, and Had to Sit Down Again in a Hurry " " 50 + +Mr. Beale Snatched the Coin, Bit It, and Put It in + His Pocket " " 58 + +They Had Run Into Martha and the Baby " " 64 + +He Said, "Now Then!" to the Policeman and Mr. + Peasemarsh " " 66 + +The Lucky Children Hurriedly Started for the Gravel + Pit " " 78 + +"Poof, poof, poofy," He Said, and Made a Grab " " 86 + +At Double-quick Time Ran the Twinkling Legs of the + Lamb's Brothers and Sisters " " 88 + +The Next Minute the Two Were Fighting " " 90 + +He Snatched the Baby from Anthea " " 94 + +He Consented to Let the Two Gypsy Women Feed Him " " 98 + +The Sand-fairy Blew Himself Out " " 122 + +They Flew Over Rochester " " 126 + +The Farmer Sat Down on the Grass, Suddenly and + Heavily " " 128 + +Everyone Now Turned Out His Pockets " " 132 + +These Were the Necessaries of Life " " 134 + +The Children Were Fast Asleep " " 138 + +The Keeper Spoke Deep-Chested Words through the + Keyhole " " 150 + +There the Castle Stood, Black and Stately " " 164 + +Robert Was Dragged Forthwith--by the Reluctant Ear " " 166 + +He Wiped Away a Manly Tear " " 168 + +"Oh, Do, Do, Do, _Do_!" Said Robert " " 174 + +The Man Fell with a Splash Into the Moat-water " " 196 + +Anthea Tilted the Pot over the Nearest Leadhole " " 198 + +He Pulled Robert's Hair " " 210 + +"The Sammyadd's Done Us Again," Said Cyril " " 214 + +He Lifted Up the Baker's Boy and Set Him on Top of + the Haystack " " 216 + +It Was a Strange Sensation Being Wheeled in a + Pony-carriage by a Giant " " 220 + +When the Girl Came Out She Was Pale and Trembling " " 228 + +"When Your Time's Up Come to Me" " " 230 + +He Opened the Case and Used the Whole Thing as a + Garden Spade " " 238 + +She Did It Gently by Tickling His Nose with a Twig of + Honeysuckle " " 244 + +There, Sure Enough, Stood a Bicycle " " 248 + +The Punctured State of It Was Soon Evident " " 250 + +The Grown-up Lamb Struggled " " 258 + +She Broke Open the Missionary Box with the Poker " " 266 + +"Ye Seek a Pow-wow?" He Said " " 278 + +Bright Knives Were Being Brandished All about Them " " 284 + +She Was Clasped in Eight Loving Arms " " 294 + +"We Found a Fairy," Said Jane, Obediently " " 298 + +It Burrowed, and Disappeared, Scratching Fiercely + to the Last " " 308 + + + + +CHAPTER I + +BEAUTIFUL AS THE DAY + + +The house was three miles from the station, but, before the dusty hired +hack had rattled along for five minutes, the children began to put their +heads out of the carriage window and say, "Aren't we nearly there?" And +every time they passed a house, which was not very often, they all said, +"Oh, _is_ this it?" But it never was, till they reached the very top of +the hill, just past the chalk-quarry and before you come to the +gravel-pit. And then there was a white house with a green garden and an +orchard beyond, and mother said, "Here we are!" + +"How white the house is," said Robert. + +"And look at the roses," said Anthea. + +"And the plums," said Jane. + +"It is rather decent," Cyril admitted. + +The Baby said, "Wanty go walky;" and the hack stopped with a last rattle +and jolt. + +Everyone got its legs kicked or its feet trodden on in the scramble to +get out of the carriage that very minute, but no one seemed to mind. +Mother, curiously enough, was in no hurry to get out; and even when she +had come down slowly and by the step, and with no jump at all, she +seemed to wish to see the boxes carried in, and even to pay the driver, +instead of joining in that first glorious rush round the garden and +orchard and the thorny, thistly, briery, brambly wilderness beyond the +broken gate and the dry fountain at the side of the house. But the +children were wiser, for once. It was not really a pretty house at all; +it was quite ordinary, and mother thought it was rather inconvenient, +and was quite annoyed at there being no shelves, to speak of, and hardly +a cupboard in the place. Father used to say that the iron-work on the +roof and coping was like an architect's nightmare. But the house was +deep in the country, with no other house in sight, and the children had +been in London for two years, without so much as once going to the +seaside even for a day by an excursion train, and so the White House +seemed to them a sort of Fairy Palace set down in an Earthly Paradise. +For London is like prison for children, especially if their relations +are not rich. + +[Illustration: That first glorious rush round the garden] + +Of course there are the shops and theatres, and entertainments and +things, but if your people are rather poor you don't get taken to the +theatres, and you can't buy things out of the shops; and London has none +of those nice things that children may play with without hurting the +things or themselves--such as trees and sand and woods and waters. And +nearly everything in London is the wrong sort of shape--all straight +lines and flat streets, instead of being all sorts of odd shapes, like +things are in the country. Trees are all different, as you know, and I +am sure some tiresome person must have told you that there are no two +blades of grass exactly alike. But in streets, where the blades of grass +don't grow, everything is like everything else. This is why many +children who live in the towns are so extremely naughty. They do not +know what is the matter with them, and no more do their fathers and +mothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, tutors, governesses, and nurses; but I +know. And so do you, now. Children in the country are naughty sometimes, +too, but that is for quite different reasons. + +The children had explored the gardens and the outhouses thoroughly +before they were caught and cleaned for tea, and they saw quite well +that they were certain to be happy at the White House. They thought so +from the first moment, but when they found the back of the house covered +with jasmine, all in white flower, and smelling like a bottle of the +most expensive perfume that is ever given for a birthday present; and +when they had seen the lawn, all green and smooth, and quite different +from the brown grass in the gardens at Camden Town; and when they found +the stable with a loft over it and some old hay still left, they were +almost certain; and when Robert had found the broken swing and tumbled +out of it and got a bump on his head the size of an egg, and Cyril had +nipped his finger in the door of a hutch that seemed made to keep +rabbits in, if you ever had any, they had no longer any doubts +whatever. + +[Illustration: Cyril had nipped his finger in the door of a hutch] + +The best part of it all was that there were no rules about not going to +places and not doing things. In London almost everything is labelled +"You mustn't touch," and though the label is invisible it's just as bad, +because you know it's there, or if you don't you very soon get told. + +The White House was on the edge of a hill, with a wood behind it--and +the chalk-quarry on one side and the gravel-pit on the other. Down at +the bottom of the hill was a level plain, with queer-shaped white +buildings where people burnt lime, and a big red brewery and other +houses; and when the big chimneys were smoking and the sun was setting, +the valley looked as if it was filled with golden mist, and the +limekilns and hop-drying houses glimmered and glittered till they were +like an enchanted city out of the _Arabian Nights_. + +Now that I have begun to tell you about the place, I feel that I could +go on and make this into a most interesting story about all the +ordinary things that the children did,--just the kind of things you do +yourself, you know, and you would believe every word of it; and when I +told about the children's being tiresome, as you are sometimes, your +aunts would perhaps write in the margin of the story with a pencil, "How +true!" or "How like life!" and you would see it and would very likely be +annoyed. So I will only tell you the really astonishing things that +happened, and you may leave the book about quite safely, for no aunts +and uncles either are likely to write "How true!" on the edge of the +story. Grown-up people find it very difficult to believe really +wonderful things, unless they have what they call proof. But children +will believe almost anything, and grown-ups know this. That is why they +tell you that the earth is round like an orange, when you can see +perfectly well that it is flat and lumpy; and why they say that the +earth goes round the sun, when you can see for yourself any day that the +sun gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night like a good sun as +it is, and the earth knows its place, and lies as still as a mouse. Yet +I daresay you believe all that about the earth and the sun, and if so +you will find it quite easy to believe that before Anthea and Cyril and +the others had been a week in the country they had found a fairy. At +least they called it that, because that was what it called itself; and +of course it knew best, but it was not at all like any fairy you ever +saw or heard of or read about. + +It was at the gravel-pits. Father had to go away suddenly on business, +and mother had gone away to stay with Granny, who was not very well. +They both went in a great hurry, and when they were gone the house +seemed dreadfully quiet and empty, and the children wandered from one +room to another and looked at the bits of paper and string on the floors +left over from the packing, and not yet cleared up, and wished they had +something to do. It was Cyril who said-- + +"I say, let's take our spades and dig in the gravel-pits. We can pretend +it's seaside." + +"Father says it was once," Anthea said; "he says there are shells there +thousands of years old." + +So they went. Of course they had been to the edge of the gravel-pit and +looked over, but they had not gone down into it for fear father should +say they mustn't play there, and it was the same with the chalk-quarry. +The gravel-pit is not really dangerous if you don't try to climb down +the edges, but go the slow safe way round by the road, as if you were a +cart. + +Each of the children carried its own spade, and took it in turns to +carry the Lamb. He was the baby, and they called him that because "Baa" +was the first thing he ever said. They called Anthea "Panther," which +seems silly when you read it, but when you say it it sounds a little +like her name. + +The gravel-pit is very large and wide, with grass growing round the +edges at the top, and dry stringy wildflowers, purple and yellow. It is +like a giant's washbowl. And there are mounds of gravel, and holes in +the sides of the bowl where gravel has been taken out, and high up in +the steep sides there are the little holes that are the little front +doors of the little bank-martins' little houses. + +The children built a castle, of course, but castle-building is rather +poor fun when you have no hope of the swishing tide ever coming in to +fill up the moat and wash away the drawbridge, and, at the happy last, +to wet everybody up to the waist at least. + +Cyril wanted to dig out a cave to play smugglers in, but the others +thought it might bury them alive, so it ended in all spades going to +work to dig a hole through the castle to Australia. These children, you +see, believed that the world was round, and that on the other side the +little Australian boys and girls were really walking wrong way up, like +flies on the ceiling, with their heads hanging down into the air. + +The children dug and they dug and they dug, and their hands got sandy +and hot and red, and their faces got damp and shiny. The Lamb had tried +to eat the sand, and had cried so hard when he found that it was not, +as he had supposed, brown sugar, that he was now tired out, and was +lying asleep in a warm fat bunch in the middle of the half-finished +castle. This left his brothers and sisters free to work really hard, and +the hole that was to come out in Australia soon grew so deep that Jane, +who was called Pussy for short, begged the others to stop. + +"Suppose the bottom of the hole gave way suddenly," said she, "and you +tumbled out among the little Australians, all the sand would get in +their eyes." + +"Yes," said Robert; "and they would hate us, and throw stones at us, and +not let us see the kangaroos, or opossums, or bluegums, or Emu Brand +birds, or anything." + +Cyril and Anthea knew that Australia was not quite so near as all that, +but they agreed to stop using the spades and to go on with their hands. +This was quite easy, because the sand at the bottom of the hole was very +soft and fine and dry, like sea-sand. And there were little shells in +it. + +"Fancy it having been wet sea here once, all sloppy and shiny," said +Jane, "with fishes and conger-eels and coral and mermaids." + +"And masts of ships and wrecked Spanish treasure. I wish we could find a +gold doubloon, or something," Cyril said. + +"How did the sea get carried away?" Robert asked. + +"Not in a pail, silly," said his brother. + +"Father says the earth got too hot underneath, as you do in bed +sometimes, so it just hunched up its shoulders, and the sea had to slip +off, like the blankets do us, and the shoulder was left sticking out, +and turned into dry land. Let's go and look for shells; I think that +little cave looks likely, and I see something sticking out there like a +bit of wrecked ship's anchor, and it's beastly hot in the Australian +hole." + +The others agreed, but Anthea went on digging. She always liked to +finish a thing when she had once begun it. She felt it would be a +disgrace to leave that hole without getting through to Australia. + +The cave was disappointing, because there were no shells, and the +wrecked ship's anchor turned out to be only the broken end of a pick-axe +handle, and the cave party were just making up their minds that sand +makes you thirstier when it is not by the seaside, and someone had +suggested that they all go home for lemonade, when Anthea suddenly +screamed-- + +"Cyril! Come here! Oh, come quick--It's alive! It'll get away! Quick!" + +They all hurried back. + +"It's a rat, I shouldn't wonder," said Robert. "Father says they infest +old places--and this must be pretty old if the sea was here thousands of +years ago"-- + +"Perhaps it is a snake," said Jane, shuddering. + +"Let's look," said Cyril, jumping into the hole. "I'm not afraid of +snakes. I like them. If it is a snake I'll tame it, and it will follow +me everywhere, and I'll let it sleep round my neck at night." + +"No, you won't," said Robert firmly. He shared Cyril's bedroom. "But +you may if it's a rat." + +[Illustration: Anthea suddenly screamed, "It's alive!"] + +"Oh, don't be silly!" said Anthea; "it's not a rat, it's _much_ bigger. +And it's not a snake. It's got feet; I saw them; and fur! No--not the +spade. You'll hurt it! Dig with your hands." + +"And let _it_ hurt _me_ instead! That's so likely, isn't it?" said +Cyril, seizing a spade. + +"Oh, don't!" said Anthea. "Squirrel, _don't_. I--it sounds silly, but it +said something. It really and truly did"-- + +"What?" + +"It said, 'You let me alone.'" + +But Cyril merely observed that his sister must have gone off her head, +and he and Robert dug with spades while Anthea sat on the edge of the +hole, jumping up and down with hotness and anxiety. They dug carefully, +and presently everyone could see that there really was something moving +in the bottom of the Australian hole. + +Then Anthea cried out, "_I'm_ not afraid. Let me dig," and fell on her +knees and began to scratch like a dog does when he has suddenly +remembered where it was that he buried his bone. + +"Oh, I felt fur," she cried, half laughing and half crying. "I did +indeed! I did!" when suddenly a dry husky voice in the sand made them +all jump back, and their hearts jumped nearly as fast as they did. + +"Let me alone," it said. And now everyone heard the voice and looked at +the others to see if they had heard it too. + +"But we want to see you," said Robert bravely. + +"I wish you'd come out," said Anthea, also taking courage. + +"Oh, well--if that's your wish," the voice said, and the sand stirred +and spun and scattered, and something brown and furry and fat came +rolling out into the hole, and the sand fell off it, and it sat there +yawning and rubbing the ends of its eyes with its hands. + +"I believe I must have dropped asleep," it said, stretching itself. + +The children stood round the hole in a ring, looking at the creature +they had found. It was worth looking at. Its eyes were on long horns +like a snail's eyes, and it could move them in and out like telescopes; +it had ears like a bat's ears, and its tubby body was shaped like a +spider's and covered with thick soft fur; its legs and arms were furry +too, and it had hands and feet like a monkey's. + +"What on earth is it?" Jane said. "Shall we take it home?" + +The thing turned its long eyes to look at her, and said-- + +"Does she always talk nonsense, or is it only the rubbish on her head +that makes her silly?" + +It looked scornfully at Jane's hat as it spoke. + +"She doesn't mean to be silly," Anthea said gently; "we none of us do, +whatever you may think! Don't be frightened; we don't want to hurt you, +you know." + +"Hurt _me_!" it said. "_Me_ frightened? Upon my word! Why, you talk as +if I were nobody in particular." All its fur stood out like a cat's when +it is going to fight. + +"Well," said Anthea, still kindly, "perhaps if we knew who you are in +particular we could think of something to say that wouldn't make you +angry. Everything we've said so far seems to have done so. Who are you? +And don't get angry! Because really we don't know." + +"You don't know?" it said. "Well, I knew the world had +changed--but--well, really--Do you mean to tell me seriously you don't +know a Psammead when you see one?" + +"A Sammyadd? That's Greek to me." + +"So it is to everyone," said the creature sharply. "Well, in plain +English, then, a _Sand-fairy_. Don't you know a Sand-fairy when you see +one?" + +It looked so grieved and hurt that Jane hastened to say, "Of course I +see you are, _now_. It's quite plain now one comes to look at you." + +"You came to look at me, several sentences ago," it said crossly, +beginning to curl up again in the sand. + +"Oh--don't go away again! Do talk some more," Robert cried. "I didn't +know you were a Sand-fairy, but I knew directly I saw you that you were +much the wonderfullest thing I'd ever seen." + +The Sand-fairy seemed a shade less disagreeable after this. + +"It isn't talking I mind," it said, "as long as you're reasonably civil. +But I'm not going to make polite conversation for you. If you talk +nicely to me, perhaps I'll answer you, and perhaps I won't. Now say +something." + +Of course no one could think of anything to say, but at last Robert +thought of "How long have you lived here?" and he said it at once. + +"Oh, ages--several thousand years," replied the Psammead. + +"Tell us about it. Do." + +"It's all in books." + +"_You_ aren't!" Jane said. "Oh, tell us everything you can about +yourself! We don't know anything about you, and you _are_ so nice." + +The Sand-fairy smoothed his long rat-like whiskers and smiled between +them. + +"Do please tell!" said the children all together. + +It is wonderful how quickly you get used to things, even the most +astonishing. Five minutes before, the children had had no more idea than +you had that there was such a thing as a Sand-fairy in the world, and +now they were talking to it as though they had known it all their lives. + +It drew its eyes in and said-- + +"How very sunny it is--quite like old times! Where do you get your +Megatheriums from now?" + +"What?" said the children all at once. It is very difficult always to +remember that "what" is not polite, especially in moments of surprise or +agitation. + +"Are Pterodactyls plentiful now?" the Sand-fairy went on. + +The children were unable to reply. + +"What do you have for breakfast?" the Fairy said impatiently, "and who +gives it to you?" + +"Eggs and bacon, and bread and milk, and porridge and things. +Mother gives it to us. What are Mega-what's-its-names and +Ptero-what-do-you-call-thems? And does anyone have them for breakfast?" + +"Why, almost everyone had Pterodactyl for breakfast in my time! +Pterodactyls were something like crocodiles and something like birds--I +believe they were very good grilled. You see, it was like this: of +course there were heaps of Sand-fairies then, and in the morning early +you went out and hunted for them, and when you'd found one it gave you +your wish. People used to send their little boys down to the seashore in +the morning before breakfast to get the day's wishes, and very often the +eldest boy in the family would be told to wish for a Megatherium, ready +jointed for cooking. It was as big as an elephant, you see, so there was +a good deal of meat on it. And if they wanted fish, the Ichthyosaurus +was asked for,--he was twenty to forty feet long, so there was plenty of +him. And for poultry there was the Plesiosaurus; there were nice +pickings on that too. Then the other children could wish for other +things. But when people had dinner-parties it was nearly always +Megatheriums; and Ichthyosaurus, because his fins were a great delicacy +and his tail made soup." + +"There must have been heaps and heaps of cold meat left over," said +Anthea, who meant to be a good housekeeper some day. + +"Oh no," said the Psammead, "that would never have done. Why, of course +at sunset what was left over turned into stone. You find the stone bones +of the Megatherium and things all over the place even now, they tell +me." + +"Who tell you?" asked Cyril; but the Sand-fairy frowned and began to dig +very fast with its furry hands. + +"Oh, don't go!" they all cried; "tell us more about when it was +Megatheriums for breakfast! Was the world like this then?" + +It stopped digging. + +"Not a bit," it said; "it was nearly all sand where I lived, and coal +grew on trees, and the periwinkles were as big as tea-trays--you find +them now; they're turned into stone. We Sand-fairies used to live on the +seashore, and the children used to come with their little flint-spades +and flint-pails and make castles for us to live in. That's thousands of +years ago, but I hear that children still build castles on the sand. +It's difficult to break yourself of a habit." + +"But why did you stop living in the castles?" asked Robert. + +"It's a sad story," said the Psammead gloomily. "It was because they +_would_ build moats to the castles, and the nasty wet bubbling sea used +to come in, and of course as soon as a Sand-fairy got wet it caught +cold, and generally died. And so there got to be fewer and fewer, and, +whenever you found a fairy and had a wish, you used to wish for a +Megatherium, and eat twice as much as you wanted, because it might be +weeks before you got another wish." + +"And did _you_ get wet?" Robert inquired. + +The Sand-fairy shuddered. "Only once," it said; "the end of the twelfth +hair of my top left whisker--I feel the place still in damp weather. It +was only once, but it was quite enough for me. I went away as soon as +the sun had dried my poor dear whisker. I scurried away to the back of +the beach, and dug myself a house deep in warm dry sand, and there I've +been ever since. And the sea changed its lodgings afterwards. And now +I'm not going to tell you another thing." + +"Just one more, please," said the children. "Can you give wishes now?" + +"Of course," said it; "didn't I give you yours a few minutes ago? You +said, 'I wish you'd come out,' and I did." + +"Oh, please, mayn't we have another?" + +"Yes, but be quick about it. I'm tired of you." + +I daresay you have often thought what you would do if you had three +wishes given you, and have despised the old man and his wife in the +black-pudding story, and felt certain that if you had the chance you +could think of three really useful wishes without a moment's hesitation. +These children had often talked this matter over, but, now the chance +had suddenly come to them, they could not make up their minds. + +"Quick," said the Sand-fairy crossly. No one could think of anything, +only Anthea did manage to remember a private wish of her own and Jane's +which they had never told the boys. She knew the boys would not care +about it--but still it was better than nothing. + +"I wish we were all as beautiful as the day," she said in a great hurry. + +The children looked at each other, but each could see that the others +were not any better-looking than usual. The Psammead pushed out his long +eyes, and seemed to be holding its breath and swelling itself out till +it was twice as fat and furry as before. Suddenly it let its breath go +in a long sigh. + +"I'm really afraid I can't manage it," it said apologetically; "I must +be out of practice." + +The children were horribly disappointed. + +"Oh, _do_ try again!" they said. + +"Well," said the Sand-fairy, "the fact is, I was keeping back a little +strength to give the rest of you your wishes with. If you'll be +contented with one wish a day among the lot of you I daresay I can +screw myself up to it. Do you agree to that?" + +"Yes, oh yes!" said Jane and Anthea. The boys nodded. They did not +believe the Sand-fairy could do it. You can always make girls believe +things much easier than you can boys. + +It stretched out its eyes farther than ever, and swelled and swelled and +swelled. + +"I do hope it won't hurt itself," said Anthea. + +"Or crack its skin," Robert said anxiously. + +Everyone was very much relieved when the Sand-fairy, after getting so +big that it almost filled up the hole in the sand, suddenly let out its +breath and went back to its proper size. + +"That's all right," it said, panting heavily. "It'll come easier +to-morrow." + +"Did it hurt much?" said Anthea. + +"Only my poor whisker, thank you," said he, "but you're a kind and +thoughtful child. Good day." + +It scratched suddenly and fiercely with its hands and feet, and +disappeared in the sand. + +Then the children looked at each other, and each child suddenly found +itself alone with three perfect strangers, all radiantly beautiful. + +They stood for some moments in silence. Each thought that its brothers +and sisters had wandered off, and that these strange children had stolen +up unnoticed while it was watching the swelling form of the Sand-fairy. +Anthea spoke first-- + +"Excuse me," she said very politely to Jane, who now had enormous blue +eyes and a cloud of russet hair, "but have you seen two little boys and +a little girl anywhere about?" + +"I was just going to ask you that," said Jane. And then Cyril cried-- + +"Why, it's _you_! I know the hole in your pinafore! You _are_ Jane, +aren't you? And you're the Panther; I can see your dirty handkerchief +that you forgot to change after you'd cut your thumb! The wish _has_ +come off, after all. I say, am I as handsome as you are?" + +"If you're Cyril, I liked you much better as you were before," said +Anthea decidedly. "You look like the picture of the young chorister, +with your golden hair; you'll die young, I shouldn't wonder. And if +that's Robert, he's like an Italian organ-grinder. His hair's all +black." + +"You two girls are like Christmas cards, then--that's all--silly +Christmas cards," said Robert angrily. "And Jane's hair is simply +carrots." + +It was indeed of that Venetian tint so much admired by artists. + +"Well, it's no use finding fault with each other," said Anthea; "let's +get the Lamb and lug it home to dinner. The servants will admire us most +awfully, you'll see." + +Baby was just waking up when they got to him, and not one of the +children but was relieved to find that he at least was not as beautiful +as the day, but just the same as usual. + +"I suppose he's too young to have wishes naturally," said Jane. "We +shall have to mention him specially next time." + +Anthea ran forward and held out her arms. + +"Come, then," she said. + +The Baby looked at her disapprovingly, and put a sandy pink thumb in his +mouth. Anthea was his favourite sister. + +"Come, then," she said. + +"G'way 'long!" said the Baby. + +"Come to own Pussy," said Jane. + +"Wants my Panty," said the Lamb dismally, and his lip trembled. + +"Here, come on, Veteran," said Robert, "come and have a yidey on Yobby's +back." + +"Yah, narky narky boy," howled the Baby, giving way altogether. Then the +children knew the worst. _The Baby did not know them!_ + +[Illustration: The baby did not know them!] + +They looked at each other in despair, and it was terrible to each, in +this dire emergency, to meet only the beautiful eyes of perfect +strangers, instead of the merry, friendly, commonplace, twinkling, jolly +little eyes of its own brothers and sisters. + +"This is most truly awful," said Cyril when he had tried to lift up the +Lamb, and the Lamb had scratched like a cat and bellowed like a bull! +"We've got to _make friends_ with him! I can't carry him home screaming +like that. Fancy having to make friends with our own baby!--it's too +silly." + +That, however, was exactly what they had to do. It took over an hour, +and the task was not rendered any easier by the fact that the Lamb was +by this time as hungry as a lion and as thirsty as a desert. + +At last he consented to allow these strangers to carry him home by +turns, but as he refused to hold on to such new acquaintances he was a +dead weight, and most exhausting. + +"Thank goodness, we're home!" said Jane, staggering through the iron +gate to where Martha, the nursemaid, stood at the front door shading her +eyes with her hand and looking out anxiously. "Here! Do take Baby!" + +Martha snatched the Baby from her arms. + +"Thanks be, _he's_ safe back," she said. "Where are the others, and +whoever to goodness gracious are all of you?" + +"We're _us_, of course," said Robert. + +"And who's Us, when you're at home?" asked Martha scornfully. + +"I tell you it's _us_, only we're beautiful as the day," said Cyril. +"I'm Cyril, and these are the others, and we're jolly hungry. Let us in, +and don't be a silly idiot." + +Martha merely dratted Cyril's impudence and tried to shut the door in +his face. + +"I know we _look_ different, but I'm Anthea, and we're so tired, and +it's long past dinner-time." + +"Then go home to your dinners, whoever you are; and if our children put +you up to this play-acting you can tell them from me they'll catch it, +so they know what to expect!" With that she did bang the door. Cyril +rang the bell violently. No answer. Presently cook put her head out of a +bedroom window and said-- + +"If you don't take yourselves off, and that precious sharp, I'll go and +fetch the police." And she slammed down the window. + +"It's no good," said Anthea. "Oh, do, do come away before we get sent to +prison!" + +The boys said it was nonsense, and the law of England couldn't put you +in prison for just being as beautiful as the day, but all the same they +followed the others out into the lane. + +"We shall be our proper selves after sunset, I suppose," said Jane. + +"I don't know," Cyril said sadly; "it mayn't be like that now--things +have changed a good deal since Megatherium times." + +"Oh," cried Anthea suddenly, "perhaps we shall turn into stone at +sunset, like the Megatheriums did, so that there mayn't be any of us +left over for the next day." + +She began to cry, so did Jane. Even the boys turned pale. No one had the +heart to say anything. + +It was a horrible afternoon. There was no house near where the children +could beg a crust of bread or even a glass of water. They were afraid to +go to the village, because they had seen Martha go down there with a +basket, and there was a local constable. True, they were all as +beautiful as the day, but that is a poor comfort when you are as hungry +as a hunter and as thirsty as a sponge. + +Three times they tried in vain to get the servants in the White House to +let them in and listen to their tale. And then Robert went alone, hoping +to be able to climb in at one of the back windows and so open the door +to the others. But all the windows were out of reach, and Martha emptied +a toilet-jug of cold water over him from a top window, and said-- + +"Go along with you, you nasty little Eye-talian monkey." + +It came at last to their sitting down in a row under the hedge, with +their feet in a dry ditch, waiting for sunset, and wondering whether, +when the sun _did_ set, they would turn into stone, or only into their +own old natural selves; and each of them still felt lonely and among +strangers, and tried not to look at the others, for, though their voices +were their own, their faces were so radiantly beautiful as to be quite +irritating to look at. + +"I don't believe we _shall_ turn to stone," said Robert, breaking a long +miserable silence, "because the Sand-fairy said he'd give us another +wish to-morrow, and he couldn't if we were stone, could he?" + +The others said "No," but they weren't at all comforted. + +Another silence, longer and more miserable, was broken by Cyril's +suddenly saying, "I don't want to frighten you girls, but I believe it's +beginning with me already. My foot's quite dead. I'm turning to stone, I +know I am, and so will you in a minute." + +"Never mind," said Robert kindly, "perhaps you'll be the only stone one, +and the rest of us will be all right, and we'll cherish your statue and +hang garlands on it." + +But when it turned out that Cyril's foot had only gone to sleep through +his sitting too long with it under him, and when it came to life in an +agony of pins and needles, the others were quite cross. + +"Giving us such a fright for nothing!" said Anthea. + +[Illustration: Martha emptied a toilet-jug of cold water over him] + +The third and miserablest silence of all was broken by Jane. She +said-- + +"If we _do_ come out of this all right, we'll ask the Sammyadd to make +it so that the servants don't notice anything different, no matter what +wishes we have." + +The others only grunted. They were too wretched even to make good +resolutions. + +At last hunger and fright and crossness and tiredness--four very nasty +things--all joined together to bring one nice thing, and that was sleep. +The children lay asleep in a row, with their beautiful eyes shut and +their beautiful mouths open. Anthea woke first. The sun had set, and the +twilight was coming on. + +Anthea pinched herself very hard, to make sure, and when she found she +could still feel pinching she decided that she was not stone, and then +she pinched the others. They, also, were soft. + +"Wake up," she said, almost in tears for joy; "it's all right, we're not +stone. And oh, Cyril, how nice and ugly you do look, with your old +freckles and your brown hair and your little eyes. And so do you all!" +she added, so that they might not feel jealous. + +When they got home they were very much scolded by Martha, who told them +about the strange children. + +"A good-looking lot, I must say, but that impudent." + +"I know," said Robert, who knew by experience how hopeless it would be +to try to explain things to Martha. + +"And where on earth have you been all this time, you naughty little +things, you?" + +"In the lane." + +"Why didn't you come home hours ago?" + +"We couldn't because of _them_," said Anthea. + +"Who?" + +"The children who were as beautiful as the day. They kept us there till +after sunset. We couldn't come back till they'd gone. You don't know how +we hated them! Oh, do, do give us some supper--we are so hungry." + +"Hungry! I should think so," said Martha angrily; "out all day like +this. Well, I hope it'll be a lesson to you not to go picking up with +strange children--down here after measles, as likely as not! Now mind, +if you see them again, don't you speak to them--not one word nor so +much as a look--but come straight away and tell me. I'll spoil their +beauty for them!" + +"If ever we _do_ see them again we'll tell you," Anthea said; and +Robert, fixing his eyes fondly on the cold beef that was being brought +in on a tray by cook, added in heartfelt undertones-- + +"And we'll take jolly good care we never _do_ see them again." + +And they never have. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +GOLDEN GUINEAS + + +Anthea woke in the morning from a very real sort of dream, in which she +was walking in the Zoological Gardens on a pouring wet day without an +umbrella. The animals seemed desperately unhappy because of the rain, +and were all growling gloomily. When she awoke, both the growling and +the rain went on just the same. The growling was the heavy regular +breathing of her sister Jane, who had a slight cold and was still +asleep. The rain fell in slow drops on to Anthea's face from the wet +corner of a bath-towel out of which her brother Robert was gently +squeezing the water, to wake her up, as he now explained. + +"Oh, drop it!" she said rather crossly; so he did, for he was not a +brutal brother, though very ingenious in apple-pie beds, booby-traps, +original methods of awakening sleeping relatives, and the other +little accomplishments which make home happy. + +[Illustration: The rain fell in slow drops on to Anthea's face] + +"I had such a funny dream," Anthea began. + +"So did I," said Jane, wakening suddenly and without warning. "I dreamed +we found a Sand-fairy in the gravel-pits, and it said it was a Sammyadd, +and we might have a new wish every day, and"---- + +"But that's what _I_ dreamed," said Robert; "I was just going to tell +you,--and we had the first wish directly it said so. And I dreamed you +girls were donkeys enough to ask for us all to be beautiful as day, and +we jolly well were, and it was perfectly beastly." + +"But _can_ different people all dream the same thing?" said Anthea, +sitting up in bed, "because I dreamed all that as well as about the Zoo +and the rain; and Baby didn't know us in my dream, and the servants shut +us out of the house because the radiantness of our beauty was such a +complete disguise, and"---- + +The voice of the eldest brother sounded from across the landing. + +"Come on, Robert," it said, "you'll be late for breakfast again--unless +you mean to shirk your bath as you did on Tuesday." + +"I say, come here a second," Robert replied; "I didn't shirk it; I had +it after brekker in father's dressing-room because ours was emptied +away." + +Cyril appeared in the doorway, partially clothed. + +"Look here," said Anthea, "we've all had such an odd dream. We've all +dreamed we found a Sand-fairy." + +Her voice died away before Cyril's contemptuous glance. + +"Dream?" he said; "you little sillies, it's _true_. I tell you it all +happened. That's why I'm so keen on being down early. We'll go up there +directly after brekker, and have another wish. Only we'll make up our +minds, solid, before we go, what it is we do want, and no one must ask +for anything unless the others agree first. No more peerless beauties +for this child, thank you. Not if I know it!" + +The other three dressed, with their mouths open. If all that dream about +the Sand-fairy was real, this real dressing seemed very like a dream, +the girls thought. Jane felt that Cyril was right, but Anthea was not +sure, till after they had seen Martha and heard her full and plain +reminders about their naughty conduct the day before. Then Anthea was +sure. + +"Because," said she, "servants never dream anything but the things in +the Dream-book, like snakes and oysters and going to a wedding--that +means a funeral, and snakes are a false female friend, and oysters are +babies." + +"Talking of babies," said Cyril, "where's the Lamb?" + +"Martha's going to take him to Rochester to see her cousins. Mother said +she might. She's dressing him now," said Jane, "in his very best coat +and hat. Bread-and-butter, please." + +"She seems to like taking him too," said Robert in a tone of wonder. + +"Servants _do_ like taking babies to see their relations," Cyril said; +"I've noticed it before--especially in their best clothes." + +"I expect they pretend they're their own babies, and that they're not +servants at all, but married to noble dukes of high degree, and they say +the babies are the little dukes and duchesses," Jane suggested dreamily, +taking more marmalade. "I expect that's what Martha'll say to her +cousin. She'll enjoy herself most frightfully." + +"She won't enjoy herself most frightfully carrying our infant duke to +Rochester," said Robert; "not if she's anything like me--she won't." + +"Fancy walking to Rochester with the Lamb on your back!" said Cyril in +full agreement. + +"She's gone by the carrier's cart," said Jane. "Let's see them off, then +we shall have done a polite and kindly act, and we shall be quite sure +we've got rid of them for the day." + +So they did. + +Martha wore her Sunday dress of two shades of purple, so tight in the +chest that it made her stoop, and her blue hat with the pink +cornflowers and white ribbon. She had a yellow-lace collar with a green +bow. And the Lamb had indeed his very best cream-colored silk coat and +hat. It was a smart party that the carrier's cart picked up at the Cross +Roads. When its white tilt and red wheels had slowly vanished in a swirl +of chalk-dust-- + +"And now for the Sammyadd!" said Cyril, and off they went. + +As they went they decided on the wish they would ask for. Although they +were all in a great hurry they did not try to climb down the sides of +the gravel-pit, but went round by the safe lower road, as if they had +been carts. + +They had made a ring of stones round the place where the Sand-fairy had +disappeared, so they easily found the spot. The sun was burning and +bright, and the sky was deep blue--without a cloud. The sand was very +hot to touch. + +"Oh--suppose it was only a dream, after all," Robert said as the boys +uncovered their spades from the sand-heap where they had buried them +and began to dig. + +"Suppose you were a sensible chap," said Cyril; "one's quite as likely +as the other!" + +"Suppose you kept a civil tongue in your head," Robert snapped. + +"Suppose we girls take a turn," said Jane, laughing. "You boys seem to +be getting very warm." + +"Suppose you don't come putting your silly oar in," said Robert, who was +now warm indeed. + +"We won't," said Anthea quickly. "Robert dear, don't be so grumpy--we +won't say a word, you shall be the one to speak to the Fairy and tell +him what we've decided to wish for. You'll say it much better than we +shall." + +"Suppose you drop being a little humbug," said Robert, but not crossly. +"Look out--dig with your hands, now!" + +So they did, and presently uncovered the spider-shaped brown hairy body, +long arms and legs, bat's ears and snail's eyes of the Sand-fairy +himself. Everyone drew a deep breath of satisfaction, for now of course +it couldn't have been a dream. + +The Psammead sat up and shook the sand out of its fur. + +"How's your left whisker this morning?" said Anthea politely. + +"Nothing to boast of," said it; "it had rather a restless night. But +thank you for asking." + +"I say," said Robert, "do you feel up to giving wishes to-day, because +we very much want an extra besides the regular one? The extra's a very +little one," he added reassuringly. + +"Humph!" said the Sand-fairy. (If you read this story aloud, please +pronounce "humph" exactly as it is spelt, for that is how he said it.) +"Humph! Do you know, until I heard you being disagreeable to each other +just over my head, and so loud too, I really quite thought I had dreamed +you all. I do have very odd dreams sometimes." + +"Do you?" Jane hurried to say, so as to get away from the subject of +disagreeableness. "I wish," she added politely, "you'd tell us about +your dreams--they must be awfully interesting"-- + +"Is that the day's wish?" said the Sand-fairy, yawning. + +Cyril muttered something about "just like a girl," and the rest stood +silent. If they said "Yes," then good-bye to the other wishes they had +decided to ask for. If they said "No," it would be very rude, and they +had all been taught manners, and had learned a little too, which is not +at all the same thing. A sigh of relief broke from all lips when the +Sand-fairy said-- + +"If I do, I shan't have strength to give you a second wish; not even +good tempers, or common-sense, or manners, or little things like that." + +"We don't want you to put yourself out at all about _these_ things, we +can manage them quite well ourselves," said Cyril eagerly; while the +others looked guiltily at each other, and wished the Fairy would not +keep all on about good tempers, but give them one good scolding if it +wanted to, and then have done with it. + +"Well," said the Psammead, putting out his long snail's eyes so suddenly +that one of them nearly went into the round boy's eye of Robert, "let's +have the little wish first." + +"We don't want the servants to notice the gifts you give us." + +"Are kind enough to give us," said Anthea in a whisper. + +"Are kind enough to give us, I mean," said Robert. + +The Fairy swelled himself out a bit, let his breath go, and said-- + +"I've done _that_ for you--it was quite easy. People don't notice things +much, anyway. What's the next wish?" + +"We want," said Robert slowly, "to be rich beyond the dreams of +something or other." + +"Avarice," said Jane. + +"So it is," said the Fairy unexpectedly. "But it won't do you much good, +that's one comfort," it muttered to itself. "Come--I can't go beyond +dreams, you know! How much do you want, and will you have it in gold or +notes?" + +"Gold, please--and millions of it"-- + +"This gravel-pit full be enough?" said the Fairy in an off-hand manner. + +"Oh _yes_"-- + +"Then go out before I begin, or you'll be buried alive in it." + +It made its skinny arms so long, and waved them so frighteningly, that +the children ran as hard as they could towards the road by which carts +used to come to the gravel-pits. Only Anthea had presence of mind enough +to shout a timid "Good-morning, I hope your whisker will be better +to-morrow," as she ran. + +On the road they turned and looked back, and they had to shut their +eyes, and open them very slowly, a little bit at a time, because the +sight was too dazzling for their eyes to be able to bear. It was +something like trying to look at the sun at high noon on Midsummer Day. +For the whole of the sand-pit was full, right up to the very top, with +new shining gold pieces, and all the little bank-martins' little front +doors were covered out of sight. Where the road for carts wound into the +gravel-pit the gold lay in heaps like stones lie by the roadside, and a +great bank of shining gold shelved down from where it lay flat and +smooth between the tall sides of the gravel-pit. And all the gleaming +heaps was minted gold. And on the sides and edges of these countless +coins the mid-day sun shone and sparkled, and glowed and gleamed till +the quarry looked like the mouth of a smelting furnace, or one of the +fairy halls that you see sometimes in the sky at sunset. + +The children stood with their mouths open, and no one said a word. + +At last Robert stooped and picked up one of the loose coins from the +edge of the heap by the cart-road, and looked at it. He looked on both +sides. Then he said in a low voice, quite different to his own, "It's +not sovereigns." + +"It's gold, anyway," said Cyril. And now they all began to talk at once. +They all picked up the golden treasure by handfuls and let it run +through their fingers like water, and the chink it made as it fell was +wonderful music. At first they quite forgot to think of spending the +money, it was so nice to play with. Jane sat down between two heaps of +the gold, and Robert began to bury her, as you bury your father in sand +when you are at the seaside and he has gone to sleep on the beach with +his newspaper over his face. But Jane was not half buried before she +cried out, "Oh stop, it's too heavy! It hurts!" + +Robert said "Bosh!" and went on. + +"Let me out, I tell you," cried Jane, and was taken out, very white, and +trembling a little. + +"You've no idea what it's like," said she; "it's like stones on you--or +like chains." + +"Look here," Cyril said, "if this is to do us any good, it's no good our +staying gasping at it like this. Let's fill our pockets and go and buy +things. Don't you forget, it won't last after sunset. I wish we'd asked +the Sammyadd why things don't turn to stone. Perhaps this will. I'll +tell you what, there's a pony and cart in the village." + +"Do you want to buy that?" asked Jane. + +"No, silly,--we'll _hire_ it. And then we'll go to Rochester and buy +heaps and heaps of things. Look here, let's each take as much as we can +carry. But it's not sovereigns. They've got a man's head on one side and +a thing like the ace of spades on the other. Fill your pockets with it, +I tell you, and come along. You can talk as we go--if you _must_ talk." + +Cyril sat down and began to fill his pockets. + +"You made fun of me for getting father to have nine pockets in my suit," +said he, "but now you see!" + +They did. For when Cyril had filled his nine pockets and his +handkerchief and the space between himself and his shirt front with the +gold coins, he had to stand up. But he staggered, and had to sit down +again in a hurry. + +"Throw out some of the cargo," said Robert. "You'll sink the ship, old +chap. That comes of nine pockets." + +And Cyril had to do so. + +Then they set off to walk to the village. It was more than a mile, and +the road was very dusty indeed, and the sun seemed to get hotter and +hotter, and the gold in their pockets got heavier and heavier. + +It was Jane who said, "I don't see how we're to spend it all. There must +be thousands of pounds among the lot of us. I'm going to leave some of +mine behind this stump in the hedge. And directly we get to the village +we'll buy some biscuits; I know it's long past dinner-time." She took +out a handful or two of gold and hid it in the hollows of an old +hornbeam. "How round and yellow they are," she said. "Don't you wish +they were made of gingerbread and we were going to eat them?" + +"Well, they're not, and we're not," said Cyril. "Come on!" + +But they came on heavily and wearily. Before they reached the village, +more than one stump in the hedge concealed its little hoard of hidden +treasure. Yet they reached the village with about twelve hundred guineas +in their pockets. But in spite of this inside wealth they looked +quite ordinary outside, and no one would have thought they could have +more than a half-crown each at the outside. The haze of heat, the blue +of the wood smoke, made a sort of dim misty cloud over the red roofs of +the village. The four sat down heavily on the first bench to which they +came. It happened to be outside the Blue Boar Inn. + +[Illustration: He staggered, and had to sit down again in a hurry] + +It was decided that Cyril should go into the Blue Boar and ask for +ginger-beer, because, as Anthea said, "It was not wrong for men to go +into beer-saloons, only for children. And Cyril is nearer being a man +than us, because he is the eldest." So he went. The others sat in the +sun and waited. + +"Oh, how hot it is!" said Robert. "Dogs put their tongues out when +they're hot; I wonder if it would cool us at all to put out ours?" + +"We might try," Jane said; and they all put their tongues out as far as +ever they could go, so that it quite stretched their throats, but it +only seemed to make them thirstier than ever, besides annoying everyone +who went by. So they took their tongues in again, just as Cyril came +back with ginger-beer. + +"I had to pay for it out of my own money, though, that I was going to +buy rabbits with," he said. "They wouldn't change the gold. And when I +pulled out a handful the man just laughed and said it was card-counters. +And I got some sponge-cakes too, out of a glass jar on the bar-counter. +And some biscuits with caraways in." + +The sponge-cakes were both soft and dry and the biscuits were dry too, +and yet soft, which biscuits ought not to be. But the ginger-beer made +up for everything. + +"It's my turn now to try to buy something with the money," Anthea said; +"I'm next eldest. Where is the pony-cart kept?" + +It was at The Chequers, and Anthea went in the back way to the yard, +because they all knew that little girls ought not to go into the bars of +beer-saloons. She came out, as she herself said, "pleased but not +proud." + +"He'll be ready in a brace of shakes, he says," she remarked, "and he's +to have one sovereign--or whatever it is--to drive us into Rochester and +back, besides waiting there till we've got everything we want. I think I +managed very well." + +"You think yourself jolly clever, I daresay," said Cyril moodily. "How +did you do it?" + +"I wasn't jolly clever enough to go taking handfuls of money out of my +pocket, to make it seem cheap, anyway," she retorted. "I just found a +young man doing something to a horse's legs with a sponge and a pail. +And I held out one sovereign, and I said--'Do you know what this is?' He +said 'No,' and he'd call his father. And the old man came, and he said +it was a spade guinea; and he said was it my own to do as I liked with, +and I said 'Yes'; and I asked about the pony-cart, and I said he could +have the guinea if he'd drive us into Rochester. And his name is S. +Crispin. And he said, 'Right oh.'" + +It was a new sensation to be driven in a smart pony-trap along pretty +country roads; it was very pleasant too (which is not always the case +with new sensations), quite apart from the beautiful plans of spending +the money which each child made as they went along, silently of course +and quite to itself, for they felt it would never have done to let the +old innkeeper hear them talk in the affluent sort of way in which they +were thinking. The old man put them down by the bridge at their request. + +"If you were going to buy a carriage and horses, where would you go?" +asked Cyril, as if he were only asking for the sake of something to say. + +"Billy Peasemarsh, at the Saracen's Head," said the old man promptly. +"Though all forbid I should recommend any man where it's a question of +horses, no more than I'd take anybody else's recommending if I was +a-buying one. But if your pa's thinking of a rig of any sort, there +ain't a straighter man in Rochester, nor civiller spoken, than Billy, +though I says it." + +"Thank you," said Cyril. "The Saracen's Head." + +And now the children began to see one of the laws of nature turn upside +down and stand on its head like an acrobat. Any grown-up person would +tell you that money is hard to get and easy to spend. But the fairy +money had been easy to get, and spending it was not only hard, it was +almost impossible. The trades-people of Rochester seemed to shrink, to a +trades-person, from the glittering fairy gold ("furrin money" they +called it, for the most part). + +To begin with, Anthea, who had had the misfortune to sit on her hat +earlier in the day, wished to buy another. She chose a very beautiful +one, trimmed with pink roses and the blue breasts of peacocks. It was +marked in the window, "Paris Model, three guineas." + +"I'm glad," she said, "because it says guineas, and not sovereigns, +which we haven't got." + +But when she took three of the spade guineas in her hand, which was by +this time rather dirty owing to her not having put on gloves before +going to the gravel-pit, the black-silk young lady in the shop looked +very hard at her, and went and whispered something to an older and +uglier lady, also in black silk, and then they gave her back the money +and said it was not current coin. + +"It's good money," said Anthea, "and it's my own." + +"I daresay," said the lady, "but it's not the kind of money that's +fashionable now, and we don't care about taking it." + +"I believe they think we've stolen it," said Anthea, rejoining the +others in the street; "if we had gloves they wouldn't think we were so +dishonest. It's my hands being so dirty fills their minds with doubts." + +So they chose a humble shop, and the girls bought cotton gloves, the +kind at a shilling, but when they offered a guinea the woman looked at +it through her spectacles and said she had no change; so the gloves had +to be paid for out of Cyril's money with which he meant to buy rabbits +and so had the green imitation crocodile-skin purse at nine-pence which +had been bought at the same time. They tried several more shops, the +kinds where you buy toys and perfume and silk handkerchiefs and books, +and fancy boxes of stationery, and photographs of objects of interest in +the vicinity. But nobody cared to change a guinea that day in Rochester, +and as they went from shop to shop they got dirtier and dirtier, and +their hair got more and more untidy, and Jane slipped and fell down on a +part of the road where a water cart had just gone by. Also they got very +hungry, but they found no one would give them anything to eat for their +guineas. + +After trying two baker shops in vain, they became so hungry, perhaps +from the smell of the cake in the shops, as Cyril suggested, that they +formed a plan of campaign in whispers and carried it out in desperation. +They marched into a third baker shop,--Beale was his name,--and before +the people behind the counter could interfere each child had seized +three new penny buns, clapped the three together between its dirty +hands, and taken a big bite out of the triple sandwich. Then they stood +at bay, with the twelve buns in their hands and their mouths very full +indeed. The shocked baker's man bounded round the corner. + +"Here," said Cyril, speaking as distinctly as he could, and holding out +the guinea he got ready before entering the shops, "pay yourself out of +that." + +Mr. Beale snatched the coin, bit it, and put it in his pocket. + +[Illustration: Mr. Beale snatched the coin, bit it, and put it in his +pocket] + +"Off you go," he said, brief and stern like the man in the song. + +"But the change?" said Anthea, who had a saving mind. + +"Change!" said the man, "I'll change you! Hout you goes; and you may +think yourselves lucky I don't send for the police to find out where you +got it!" + +In the Gardens of the Castle the millionaires finished the buns, and +though the curranty softness of these were delicious, and acted like a +charm in raising the spirits of the party, yet even the stoutest heart +quailed at the thought of venturing to sound Mr. Billy Peasemarsh at the +Saracen's Head on the subject of a horse and carriage. The boys would +have given up the idea, but Jane was always a hopeful child, and Anthea +generally an obstinate one, and their earnestness prevailed. + +The whole party, by this time indescribably dirty, therefore betook +itself to the Saracen's Head. The yard-method of attack having been +successful at The Chequers, was tried again here. Mr. Peasemarsh was in +the yard, and Robert opened the business in these terms-- + +"They tell me you have a lot of horses and carriages to sell." It had +been agreed that Robert should be spokesman, because in books it is +always gentlemen who buy horses, and not ladies, and Cyril had had his +go at the Blue Boar. + +"They tell you true, young man," said Mr. Peasemarsh. He was a long lean +man, with very blue eyes and a tight mouth and narrow lips. + +"We should like to buy some, please," said Robert politely. + +"I daresay you would." + +"Will you show us a few, please? To choose from." + +"Who are you a-kiddin of?" inquired Mr. Billy Peasemarsh. "Was you sent +here of a message?" + +"I tell you," said Robert, "we want to buy some horses and carriages, +and a man told us you were straight and civil spoken, but I shouldn't +wonder if he was mistaken"-- + +"Upon my sacred!" said Mr. Peasemarsh. "Shall I trot the whole stable +out for your Honor's worship to see? Or shall I send round to the +Bishop's to see if he's a nag or two to dispose of?" + +"Please do," said Robert, "if it's not too much trouble. It would be +very kind of you." + +Mr. Peasemarsh put his hands in his pockets and laughed, and they did +not like the way he did it. Then he shouted "Willum!" + +A stooping ostler appeared in a stable door. + +"Here, Willum, come and look at this 'ere young dook! Wants to buy the +whole stud, lock, stock, and bar'l. And ain't got tuppence in his +pocket to bless hisself with, I'll go bail!" + +Willum's eyes followed his master's pointing thumb with contemptuous +interest. + +"Do 'e, for sure?" he said. + +But Robert spoke, though both the girls were now pulling at his jacket +and begging him to "come along." He spoke, and he was very angry; he +said-- + +"I'm not a young duke, and I never pretended to be. And as for +tuppence--what do you call this?" And before the others could stop him +he had pulled out two fat handfuls of shining guineas, and held them out +for Mr. Peasemarsh to look at. He did look. He snatched one up in his +finger and thumb. He bit it, and Jane expected him to say, "The best +horse in my stables is at your service." But the others knew better. +Still it was a blow, even to the most desponding, when he said shortly-- + +"Willum, shut the yard doors;" and Willum grinned and went to shut them. + +"Good-afternoon," said Robert hastily; "we shan't buy any horses now, +whatever you say, and I hope it'll be a lesson to you." He had seen a +little side gate open, and was moving towards it as he spoke. But Billy +Peasemarsh put himself in the way. + +"Not so fast, you young off-scouring!" he said. "Willum, fetch the +pleece." + +Willum went. The children stood huddled together like frightened sheep, +and Mr. Peasemarsh spoke to them till the pleece arrived. He said many +things. Among other things he said-- + +"Nice lot you are, aren't you, coming tempting honest men with your +guineas!" + +"They _are_ our guineas," said Cyril boldly. + +"Oh, of course we don't know all about that, no more we don't--oh +no--course not! And dragging little gells into it, too. 'Ere--I'll let +the gells go if you'll come along to the pleece quiet." + +"We won't be let go," said Jane heroically; "not without the boys. It's +our money just as much as theirs, you wicked old man." + +"Where'd you get it, then?" said the man, softening slightly, which was +not at all what the boys expected when Jane began to call names. + +Jane cast a silent glance of agony at the others. + +"Lost your tongue, eh? Got it fast enough when it's for calling names +with. Come, speak up! Where'd you get it?" + +"Out of the gravel-pit," said truthful Jane. + +"Next article," said the man. + +"I tell you we did," Jane said. "There's a fairy there--all over brown +fur--with ears like a bat's and eyes like a snail's, and he gives you a +wish a day, and they all come true." + +"Touched in the head, eh?" said the man in a low voice; "all the more +shame to you boys dragging the poor afflicted child into your sinful +burglaries." + +"She's not mad; it's true," said Anthea; "there _is_ a fairy. If I ever +see him again I'll wish for something for you; at least I would if +vengeance wasn't wicked--so there!" + +"Lor' lumme," said Billy Peasemarsh, "if there ain't another on 'em!" + +And now Willum came back, with a spiteful grin on his face, and at his +back a policeman, with whom Mr. Peasemarsh spoke long in a hoarse +earnest whisper. + +"I daresay you're right," said the policeman at last. "Anyway, I'll take +'em up on a charge of unlawful possession, pending inquiries. And the +magistrate will deal with the case. Send the afflicted ones to a home, +as likely as not, and the boys to a reformatory. Now then, come along, +youngsters! No use making a fuss. You bring the gells along, Mr. +Peasemarsh, sir, and I'll shepherd the boys." + +Speechless with rage and horror, the four children were driven along the +streets of Rochester. Tears of anger and shame blinded them, so that +when Robert ran right into a passer-by he did not recognise her till a +well-known voice said, "Well, if ever I did! Oh, Master Robert, whatever +have you been a-doing of now?" And another voice, quite as well known, +said, "Panty; want go own Panty!" + +They had run into Martha and the Baby! + +[Illustration: They had run into Martha and the baby] + +Martha behaved admirably. She refused to believe a word of the +policeman's story, or of Mr. Peasemarsh's either, even when they made +Robert turn out his pockets in an archway and show the guineas. + +"I don't see nothing," she said. "You've gone out of your senses, you +two! There ain't any gold there--only the poor child's hands, all over +dirt, and like the very chimbley. Oh that I should ever see the day!" + +And the children thought this very noble of Martha, even if rather +wicked, till they remembered how the Fairy had promised that the +servants should never notice any of the fairy gifts. So of course Martha +couldn't see the gold, and so was only speaking the truth, and that was +quite right, of course, but not extra noble. + +It was getting dusk when they reached the police-station. The policeman +told his tale to an inspector, who sat in a large bare room with a thing +like a clumsy nursery-fender at one end to put prisoners in. Robert +wondered whether it was a cell or a dock. + +"Produce the coins, officer," said the inspector. + +"Turn out your pockets," said the constable. + +Cyril desperately plunged his hands in his pockets, stood still a +moment, and then began to laugh--an odd sort of laugh that hurt, and +that felt much more like crying. His pockets were empty. So were the +pockets of the others. For of course at sunset all the fairy gold had +vanished away. + +"Turn out your pockets, and stop that noise," said the inspector. + +Cyril turned out his pockets, every one of the nine which enriched his +suit. And every pocket was empty. + +"Well!" said the inspector. + +"I don't know how they done it--artful little beggars! They walked in +front of me the 'ole way, so as for me to keep my eye on them and not to +attract a crowd and obstruct the traffic." + +"It's very remarkable," said the inspector, frowning. + +"If you've done a-browbeating of the innocent children," said Martha, +"I'll hire a private carriage and we'll drive home to their papa's +mansion. You'll hear about this again, young man!--I told you they +hadn't got any gold, when you were pretending to see it in their poor +helpless hands. It's early in the day for a constable on duty not to be +able to trust his own eyes. As to the other one, the less said the +better; he keeps the Saracen's Head, and he knows best what his liquor's +like." + +[Illustration: He said, "Now then!" to the policeman and Mr. Peasemarsh] + +"Take them away, for goodness' sake," said the inspector crossly. But as +they left the police-station he said, "Now then!" to the policeman and +Mr. Peasemarsh, and he said it twenty times as crossly as he had spoken +to Martha. + + * * * * * + +Martha was as good as her word. She took them home in a very grand +carriage, because the carrier's cart was gone, and, though she had stood +by them so nobly with the police, she was so angry with them as soon as +they were alone for "trapesing into Rochester by themselves," that none +of them dared to mention the old man with the pony-cart from the +village who was waiting for them in Rochester. And so, after one day of +boundless wealth, the children found themselves sent to bed in deep +disgrace, and only enriched by two pairs of cotton gloves, dirty inside +because of the state of the hands they had been put on to cover, an +imitation crocodile-skin purse, and twelve penny buns, long since +digested. + +The thing that troubled them most was the fear that the old gentleman's +guinea might have disappeared at sunset with all the rest, so they went +down to the village next day to apologise for not meeting him in +Rochester, and to _see_. They found him very friendly. The guinea had +not disappeared, and he had bored a hole in it and hung it on his +watch-chain. As for the guinea the baker took, the children felt they +_could_ not care whether it had vanished or not, which was not perhaps +very honest, but on the other hand was not wholly unnatural. But +afterwards this preyed on Anthea's mind, and at last she secretly sent +twelve postage stamps by post to "Mr. Beale, Baker, Rochester." Inside +she wrote, "To pay for the buns." I hope the guinea did disappear, for +that baker was really not at all a nice man, and, besides, penny buns +are seven for sixpence in all really respectable shops. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +BEING WANTED + + +The morning after the children had been the possessors of boundless +wealth, and had been unable to buy anything really useful or enjoyable +with it, except two pairs of cotton gloves, twelve penny buns, an +imitation crocodile-skin purse, and a ride in a pony-cart, they awoke +without any of the enthusiastic happiness which they had felt on the +previous day when they remembered how they had had the luck to find a +Psammead, or Sand-fairy, and to receive its promise to grant them a new +wish every day. For now they had had two wishes, Beauty and Wealth, and +neither had exactly made them happy. But the happening of strange +things, even if they are not completely pleasant things, is more amusing +than those times when nothing happens but meals, and they are not always +completely pleasant, especially on the days when it is cold mutton or +hash. + +There was no chance of talking things over before breakfast, because +everyone overslept itself, as it happened, and it needed a vigorous and +determined struggle to get dressed so as to be only ten minutes late for +breakfast. During this meal some efforts were made to deal with the +question of the Psammead in an impartial spirit, but it is very +difficult to discuss anything thoroughly and at the same time to attend +faithfully to your baby brother's breakfast needs. The Baby was +particularly lively that morning. He not only wriggled his body through +the bar of his high chair, and hung by his head, choking and purple, but +he seized a tablespoon with desperate suddenness, hit Cyril heavily on +the head with it, and then cried because it was taken away from him. He +put his fat fist in his bread-and-milk, and demanded "nam," which was +only allowed for tea. He sang, he put his feet on the table--he +clamoured to "go walky." The conversation was something like this-- + +"Look here--about that Sand-fairy---- Look out!--he'll have the milk +over." + +Milk removed to a safe distance. + +"Yes--about that Fairy---- No, Lamb dear, give Panther the narky poon." + +Then Cyril tried. "Nothing we've had yet has turned out---- He nearly +had the mustard that time!" + +"I wonder whether we'd better wish---- Hullo!--you've done it now, my +boy!" And in a flash of glass and pink baby-paws, the bowl of golden +carp in the middle of the table rolled on its side and poured a flood of +mixed water and gold-fish into the Baby's lap and into the laps of the +others. + +Everyone was almost as much upset as the gold-fish; the Lamb only +remaining calm. When the pool on the floor had been mopped up, and the +leaping, gasping gold-fish had been collected and put back in the water, +the Baby was taken away to be entirely re-dressed by Martha, and most of +the others had to change completely. The pinafores and jackets that had +been bathed in gold-fish-and-water were hung out to dry, and then it +turned out that Jane must either mend the dress she had torn the day +before or appear all day in her best petticoat. It was white and soft +and frilly, and trimmed with lace, and very, very pretty, quite as +pretty as a frock, if not more so. Only it was _not_ a frock, and +Martha's word was law. She wouldn't let Jane wear her best frock, and +she refused to listen for a moment to Robert's suggestion that Jane +should wear her best petticoat and call it a dress. + +"It's not respectable," she said. And when people say that, it's no use +anyone's saying anything. You'll find this out for yourselves some day. + +So there was nothing for it but for Jane to mend her frock. The hole had +been torn the day before when she happened to tumble down in the High +Street of Rochester, just where a water-cart had passed on its silvery +way. She had grazed her knee, and her stocking was much more than +grazed, and her dress was cut by the same stone which had attended to +the knee and the stocking. Of course the others were not such sneaks as +to abandon a comrade in misfortune, so they all sat on the grass-plot +round the sun-dial, and Jane darned away for dear life. The Lamb was +still in the hands of Martha having its clothes changed, so conversation +was possible. + +Anthea and Robert timidly tried to conceal their inmost thought, which +was that the Psammead was not to be trusted; but Cyril said-- + +"Speak out--say what you've got to say--I hate hinting, and 'don't +know,' and sneakish ways like that." + +So then Robert said, as in honour bound, "Sneak yourself--Anthea and me +weren't so gold-fishy as you two were, so we got changed quicker, and +we've had time to think it over, and if you ask me"-- + +"I didn't ask you," said Jane, biting off a needleful of thread as she +had always been strictly forbidden to do. (Perhaps you don't know that +if you bite off ends of cotton and swallow them they wind tight round +your heart and kill you? My nurse told me this, and she told me also +about the earth going round the sun. Now what is one to believe--what +with nurses and science?) + +"I don't care who asks or who doesn't," said Robert, "but Anthea and I +think the Sammyadd is a spiteful brute. If it can give us our wishes I +suppose it can give itself its own, and I feel almost sure it wishes +every time that our wishes shan't do us any good. Let's let the tiresome +beast alone, and just go and have a jolly good game of forts, on our +own, in the chalk-pit." + +(You will remember that the happily-situated house where these children +were spending their holidays lay between a chalk-quarry and a +gravel-pit.) + +Cyril and Jane were more hopeful--they generally were. + +"I don't think the Sammyadd does it on purpose," Cyril said; "and, after +all, it _was_ silly to wish for boundless wealth. Fifty pounds in +two-shilling pieces would have been much more sensible. And wishing to +be beautiful as the day was simply donkeyish. I don't want to be +disagreeable, but it _was_. We must try to find a really useful wish, +and wish it." + +Jane dropped her work and said-- + +"I think so too, it's too silly to have a chance like this and not use +it. I never heard of anyone else outside a book who had such a chance; +there must be simply heaps of things we could wish for that wouldn't +turn out Dead Sea fish, like these two things have. Do let's think hard +and wish something nice, so that we can have a real jolly day--what +there is left of it." + +Jane darned away again like mad, for time was indeed getting on, and +everyone began to talk at once. If you had been there you could not +possibly have made head or tail of the talk, but these children were +used to talking "by fours," as soldiers march, and each of them could +say what it had to say quite comfortably, and listen to the agreeable +sound of its own voice, and at the same time have three-quarters of two +sharp ears to spare for listening to what the others said. That is an +easy example in multiplication of vulgar fractions, but, as I daresay +you can't do even that, I won't ask you to tell me whether 3/4 x 2 = +1-1/2, but I will ask you to believe me that this was the amount of ear +each child was able to lend to the others. Lending ears was common in +Roman times, as we learn from Shakespeare; but I fear I am getting too +instructive. + +When the frock was darned, the start for the gravel-pit was delayed by +Martha's insisting on everybody's washing its hands--which was nonsense, +because nobody had been doing anything at all, except Jane, and how can +you get dirty doing nothing? That is a difficult question, and I cannot +answer it on paper. In real life I could very soon show you--or you me, +which is much more likely. + +During the conversation in which the six ears were lent (there were four +children, so _that_ sum comes right), it had been decided that fifty +pounds in two-shilling pieces was the right wish to have. And the lucky +children, who could have anything in the wide world by just wishing for +it, hurriedly started for the gravel-pit to express their wishes to the +Psammead. Martha caught them at the gate, and insisted on their taking +the Baby with them. + +[Illustration: The lucky children ... hurriedly started for the gravel +pit] + +"Not want him indeed! Why, everybody 'ud want him, a duck! with all +their hearts they would; and you know you promised your ma to take him +out every blessed day," said Martha. + +"I know we did," said Robert in gloom, "but I wish the Lamb wasn't quite +so young and small. It would be much better fun taking him out." + +"He'll mend of his youngness with time," said Martha; "and as for +smallness, I don't think you'd fancy carrying of him any more, however +big he was. Besides he can walk a bit, bless his precious fat legs, a +ducky! He feels the benefit of the new-laid air, so he does, a pet!" + +With this and a kiss, she plumped the Lamb into Anthea's arms, and went +back to make new pinafores on the sewing-machine. She was a rapid +performer on this instrument. + +The Lamb laughed with pleasure, and said, "Walky wif Panty," and rode on +Robert's back with yells of joy, and tried to feed Jane with stones, +and altogether made himself so agreeable that nobody could long be sorry +that he was of the party. + +The enthusiastic Jane even suggested that they should devote a week's +wishes to assuring the Baby's future, by asking such gifts for him as +the good fairies give to Infant Princes in proper fairy-tales, but +Anthea soberly reminded her that as the Sand-fairy's wishes only lasted +till sunset they could not ensure any benefit to the Baby's later years; +and Jane owned that it would be better to wish for fifty pounds in +two-shilling pieces, and buy the Lamb a three-pound fifteen +rocking-horse, like those in the big stores, with a part of the money. + +It was settled that, as soon as they had wished for the money and got +it, they would get Mr. Crispin to drive them into Rochester again, +taking Martha with them if they could not get out of taking her. And +they would make a list of things they really wanted before they started. +Full of high hopes and excellent resolutions, they went round the safe +slow cart-road to the gravel-pits, and as they went in between the +mounds of gravel a sudden thought came to them, and would have turned +their ruddy cheeks pale if they had been children in a book. Being real +live children, it only made them stop and look at each other with rather +blank and silly expressions. For now they remembered that yesterday, +when they had asked the Psammead for boundless wealth, and it was +getting ready to fill the quarry with the minted gold of bright +guineas--millions of them--it had told the children to run along outside +the quarry for fear they should be buried alive in the heavy splendid +treasure. And they had run. And so it happened that they had not had +time to mark the spot where the Psammead was, with a ring of stones, as +before. And it was this thought that put such silly expressions on their +faces. + +"Never mind," said the hopeful Jane, "we'll soon find him." + +But this, though easily said, was hard in the doing. They looked and +they looked, and, though they found their seaside spades, nowhere could +they find the Sand-fairy. + +At last they had to sit down and rest--not at all because they were +weary or disheartened, of course, but because the Lamb insisted on being +put down, and you cannot look very carefully after anything you may have +happened to lose in the sand if you have an active baby to look after at +the same time. Get someone to drop your best knife in the sand next time +you go to the seashore and then take your baby brother with you when you +go to look for it, and you will see that I am right. + +The Lamb, as Martha had said, was feeling the benefit of the country +air, and he was as frisky as a sandhopper. The elder ones longed to go +on talking about the new wishes they would have when (or if) they found +the Psammead again. But the Lamb wished to enjoy himself. + +He watched his opportunity and threw a handful of sand into Anthea's +face, and then suddenly burrowed his own head in the sand and waved his +fat legs in the air. Then of course the sand got into his eyes, as it +had into Anthea's, and he howled. + +The thoughtful Robert had brought one solid brown bottle of ginger-beer +with him, relying on a thirst that had never yet failed him. This had to +be uncorked hurriedly--it was the only wet thing within reach, and it +was necessary to wash the sand out of the Lamb's eyes somehow. Of course +the ginger hurt horribly, and he howled more than ever. And, amid his +anguish of kicking, the bottle was upset and the beautiful ginger-beer +frothed out into the sand and was lost for ever. + +It was then that Robert, usually a very patient brother, so far forgot +himself as to say-- + +"Anybody would want him, indeed! Only they don't; Martha doesn't, not +really, or she'd jolly well keep him with her. He's a little nuisance, +that's what he is. It's too bad. I only wish everybody _did_ want him +with all their hearts; we might get some peace in our lives." + +The Lamb stopped howling now, because Jane had suddenly remembered that +there is only one safe way of taking things out of little children's +eyes, and that is with your own soft wet tongue. It is quite easy if you +love the Baby as much as you ought to do. + +Then there was a little silence. Robert was not proud of himself for +having been so cross, and the others were not proud of him either. You +often notice that sort of silence when someone has said something it +ought not to--and everyone else holds its tongue and waits for the one +who oughtn't to have said it is sorry. + +The silence was broken by a sigh--a breath suddenly let out. The +children's heads turned as if there had been a string tied to each nose, +and somebody had pulled all the strings at once. + +And everyone saw the Sand-fairy sitting quite close to them, with the +expression which it used as a smile on its hairy face. + +"Good-morning," it said; "I did that quite easily! Everyone wants him +now." + +"It doesn't matter," said Robert sulkily, because he knew he had been +behaving rather like a pig. "No matter who wants him--there's no one +here to--anyhow." + +"Ingratitude," said the Psammead, "is a dreadful vice." + +"We're not ungrateful," Jane made haste to say, "but we didn't _really_ +want that wish. Robert only just said it. Can't you take it back and +give us a new one?" + +"No--I can't," the Sand-fairy said shortly; "chopping and changing--it's +not business. You ought to be careful what you _do_ wish. There was a +little boy once, he'd wished for a Plesiosaurus instead of an +Ichthyosaurus, because he was too lazy to remember the easy names of +everyday things, and his father had been very vexed with him, and had +made him go to bed before tea-time, and wouldn't let him go out in the +nice flint boat along with the other children,--it was the annual +school-treat next day,--and he came and flung himself down near me on +the morning of the treat, and he kicked his little prehistoric legs +about and said he wished he was dead. And of course then he was." + +"How awful! said the children all together. + +"Only till sunset, of course," the Psammead said; "still it was quite +enough for his father and mother. And he caught it when he woke up--I +tell you. He didn't turn to stone--I forget why--but there must have +been some reason. They didn't know being dead is only being asleep, and +you're bound to wake up somewhere or other, either where you go to sleep +or in some better place. You may be sure he caught it, giving them such +a turn. Why, he wasn't allowed to taste Megatherium for a month after +that. Nothing but oysters and periwinkles, and common things like that." + +All the children were quite crushed by this terrible tale. They looked +at the Psammead in horror. Suddenly the Lamb perceived that something +brown and furry was near him. + +"Poof, poof, poofy," he said, and made a grab. + +[Illustration: "Poof, poof, poofy," he said, and made a grab] + +"It's not a pussy," Anthea was beginning, when the Sand-fairy leaped +back. + +"Oh, my left whisker!" it said; "don't let him touch me. He's wet." + +Its fur stood on end with horror--and indeed a good deal of the +ginger-beer had been spilt on the blue smock of the Lamb. + +The Psammead dug with its hands and feet, and vanished in an instant and +a whirl of sand. + +The children marked the spot with a ring of stones. + +"We may as well get along home," said Robert. "I'll say I'm sorry; but +anyway if it's no good it's no harm, and we know where the sandy thing +is for to-morrow." + +The others were noble. No one reproached Robert at all. Cyril picked up +the Lamb, who was now quite himself again, and off they went by the safe +cart-road. + +The cart-road from the gravel-pits joins the road almost directly. + +At the gate into the road the party stopped to shift the Lamb from +Cyril's back to Robert's. And as they paused a very smart open carriage +came in sight, with a coachman and a groom on the box, and inside the +carriage a lady--very grand indeed, with a dress all white lace and +red ribbons and a parasol all red and white--and a white fluffy dog on +her lap with a red ribbon round its neck. She looked at the children, +and particularly at the Baby, and she smiled at him. The children were +used to this, for the Lamb was, as all the servants said, a "very taking +child." So they waved their hands politely to the lady and expected her +to drive on. But she did not. Instead she made the coachman stop. And +she beckoned to Cyril, and when he went up to the carriage she said-- + +"What a dear darling duck of a baby! Oh, I _should_ so like to adopt it! +Do you think its mother would mind?" + +"She'd mind very much indeed," said Anthea shortly. + +"Oh, but I should bring it up in luxury, you know. I am Lady Chittenden. +You must have seen my photograph in the illustrated papers. They call me +a Beauty, you know, but of course that's all nonsense. Anyway"-- + +She opened the carriage door and jumped out. She had the wonderfullest +red high-heeled shoes with silver buckles. "Let me hold him a minute," +she said. And she took the Lamb and held him very awkwardly, as if she +was not used to babies. + +Then suddenly she jumped into the carriage with the Lamb in her arms and +slammed the door, and said, "Drive on!" + +The Lamb roared, the little white dog barked, and the coachman +hesitated. + +"Drive on, I tell you!" cried the lady; and the coachman did, for, as he +said afterwards, it was as much as his place was worth not to. + +The four children looked at each other, and then with one accord they +rushed after the carriage and held on behind. Down the dusty road went +the smart carriage, and after it, at double-quick time, ran the +twinkling legs of the Lamb's brothers and sisters. + +[Illustration: At double-quick time, ran the twinkling legs of the +Lamb's brothers and sisters] + +The Lamb howled louder and louder, but presently his howls changed by +slow degrees to hiccupy gurgles, and then all was still, and they knew +he had gone to sleep. + +The carriage went on, and the eight feet that twinkled through the +dust were growing quite stiff and tired before the carriage stopped at +the lodge of a grand park. The children crouched down behind the +carriage, and the lady got out. She looked at the Baby as it lay on the +carriage seat, and hesitated. + +"The darling--I won't disturb it," she said, and went into the lodge to +talk to the woman there about a setting of eggs that had not turned out +well. + +The coachman and footman sprang from the box and bent over the sleeping +Lamb. + +"Fine boy--wish he was mine," said the coachman. + +"He wouldn't favour _you_ much," said the groom sourly; "too 'andsome." + +The coachman pretended not to hear. He said-- + +"Wonder at her now--I do really! Hates kids. Got none of her own, and +can't abide other folkses'." + +The children, crouched in the white dust under the carriage, exchanged +uncomfortable glances. + +"Tell you what," the coachman went on firmly, "blowed if I don't hide +the little nipper in the hedge and tell her his brothers took 'im! Then +I'll come back for him afterwards." + +"No, you don't," said the footman. "I've took to that kid so as never +was. If anyone's to have him, it's me--so there!" + +"Stop your talk!" the coachman rejoined. "You don't want no kids, and, +if you did, one kid's the same as another to you. But I'm a married man +and a judge of breed. I knows a firstrate yearling when I sees him. I'm +a-goin' to 'ave him, an' least said soonest mended." + +"I should 'a' thought," said the footman sneeringly, "you'd a'most +enough. What with Alfred, an' Albert, an' Louise, an' Victor Stanley, +and Helena Beatrice, and another"-- + +The coachman hit the footman in the chin--the footman hit the coachman +in the waist-coat--the next minute the two were fighting here and there, +in and out, up and down, and all over everywhere, and the little dog +jumped on the box of the carriage and began barking like mad. + +[Illustration: The next minute the two were fighting] + +Cyril, still crouching in the dust, waddled on bent legs to the side of +the carriage farthest from the battlefield. He unfastened the door of +the carriage--the two men were far too much occupied with their quarrel +to notice anything--took the Lamb in his arms, and, still stooping, +carried the sleeping baby a dozen yards along the road to where a stile +led into a wood. The others followed, and there among the hazels and +young oaks and sweet chestnuts, covered by high strong-scented +brake-fern, they all lay hidden till the angry voices of the men were +hushed at the angry voice of the red-and-white lady, and, after a long +and anxious search, the carriage at last drove away. + +"My only hat!" said Cyril, drawing a deep breath as the sound of wheels +at last died away. "Everyone _does_ want him now--and no mistake! That +Sammyadd has done us again! Tricky brute! For any sake, let's get the +kid safe home." + +So they peeped out, and finding on the right hand only lonely white +road, and nothing but lonely white road on the left, they took courage, +and the road, Anthea carrying the sleeping Lamb. + +Adventures dogged their footsteps. A boy with a bundle of faggots on his +back dropped his bundle by the roadside and asked to look at the Baby, +and then offered to carry him; but Anthea was not to be caught that way +twice. They all walked on, but the boy followed, and Cyril and Robert +couldn't make him go away till they had more than once invited him to +smell their fists. Afterwards a little girl in a blue-and-white checked +pinafore actually followed them for a quarter of a mile crying for "the +precious Baby," and then she was only got rid of by threats of tying her +to a tree in the wood with all their pocket handkerchiefs. "So that +bears can come and eat you as soon as it gets dark," said Cyril +severely. Then she went off crying. It presently seemed wise, to the +brothers and sisters of the Baby who was wanted by everyone, to hide in +the hedge whenever they saw anyone coming, and thus they managed to +prevent the Lamb from arousing the inconvenient affection of a milkman, +a stone-breaker, and a man who drove a cart with a paraffin barrel at +the back of it. They were nearly home when the worst thing of all +happened. Turning a corner suddenly they came upon two vans, a tent, and +a company of gipsies encamped by the side of the road. The vans were +hung all round with wicker chairs and cradles, and flower-stands and +feather brushes. A lot of ragged children were industriously making +dust-pies in the road, two men lay on the grass smoking, and three women +were doing the family washing in an old red watering-can with the top +broken off. + +In a moment every gipsy, men, women, and children, surrounded Anthea and +the Baby. + +"Let me hold him, little lady," said one of the gipsy women, who had a +mahogany-coloured face and dust-coloured hair; "I won't hurt a hair of +his head, the little picture!" + +"I'd rather not," said Anthea. + +"Let _me_ have him," said the other woman, whose face was also of the +hue of mahogany, and her hair jet-black, in greasy curls. "I've nineteen +of my own, so I have"-- + +"No," said Anthea bravely, but her heart beat so that it nearly choked +her. + +Then one of the men pushed forward. + +"Swelp me if it ain't!" he cried, "my own long-lost cheild! Have he a +strawberry mark on his left ear? No? Then he's my own babby, stolen from +me in hinnocent hinfancy. 'And 'im over--and we'll not 'ave the law on +yer this time." + +He snatched the Baby from Anthea, who turned scarlet and burst into +tears of pure rage. + +[Illustration: He snatched the baby from Anthea] + +The others were standing quite still; this was much the most terrible +thing that had ever happened to them. Even being taken up by the police +in Rochester was nothing to this. Cyril was quite white, and his hands +trembled a little, but he made a sign to the others to shut up. He was +silent a minute, thinking hard. Then he said-- + +"We don't want to keep him if he's yours. But you see he's used to us. +You shall have him if you want him"-- + +"No, no!" cried Anthea,--and Cyril glared at her. + +"Of course we want him," said the women, trying to get the Baby out of +the man's arms. The Lamb howled loudly. + +"Oh, he's hurt!" shrieked Anthea; and Cyril, in a savage undertone, bade +her "stop it!" + +"You trust to me," he whispered. "Look here," he went on, "he's awfully +tiresome with people he doesn't know very well. Suppose we stay here a +bit till he gets used to you, and then when it's bedtime I give you my +word of honour we'll go away and let you keep him if you want to. And +then when we're gone you can decide which of you is to have him, as you +all want him so much." + +"That's fair enough," said the man who was holding the Baby, trying to +loosen the red neckerchief which the Lamb had caught hold of and drawn +round his mahogany throat so tight that he could hardly breathe. The +gipsies whispered together, and Cyril took the chance to whisper too. He +said, "Sunset! we'll get away then." + +And then his brothers and sisters were filled with wonder and admiration +at his having been so clever as to remember this. + +"Oh, do let him come to us!" said Jane. "See, we'll sit down here and +take care of him for you till he gets used to you." + +"What about dinner?" said Robert suddenly. The others looked at him with +scorn. "Fancy bothering about your beastly dinner when your br--I mean +when the Baby"--Jane whispered hotly. Robert carefully winked at her and +went on-- + +"You won't mind my just running home to get our dinner?" he said to the +gipsy; "I can bring it out here in a basket." + +His brothers and sisters felt themselves very noble and despised him. +They did not know his thoughtful secret intention. But the gipsies did +in a minute. + +"Oh yes!" they said; "and then fetch the police with a pack of lies +about it being your baby instead of ours! D'jever catch a weasel +asleep?" they asked. + +"If you're hungry you can pick a bit along of us," said the light-haired +gipsy-woman, not unkindly. "Here Levi, that blessed kid'll howl all his +buttons off. Give him to the little lady, and let's see if they can't +get him used to us a bit." + +So the Lamb was handed back; but the gipsies crowded so closely that he +could not possibly stop howling. Then the man with the red handkerchief +said-- + +"Here, Pharaoh, make up the fire; and you girls see to the pot. Give the +kid a chanst." So the gipsies, very much against their will, went off to +their work, and the children and the Lamb were left sitting on the +grass. + +"He'll be all right at sunset," Jane whispered. "But, oh, it is awful! +Suppose they are frightfully angry when they come to their senses! They +might beat us, or leave us tied to trees, or something." + +"No, they won't," Anthea said ("Oh, my Lamb, don't cry any more, it's +all right, Panty's got oo, duckie"); "they aren't unkind people, or they +wouldn't be going to give us any dinner." + +"Dinner?" said Robert; "I won't touch their nasty dinner. It would choke +me!" + +The others thought so too then. But when the dinner was ready--it turned +out to be supper, and happened between four and five--they were all glad +enough to take what they could get. It was boiled rabbit, with onions, +and some bird rather like a chicken, but stringier about its legs and +with a stronger taste. The Lamb had bread soaked in hot water and brown +sugar sprinkled on the top. He liked this very much, and consented to +let the two gipsy women feed him with it, as he sat on Anthea's lap. All +that long hot afternoon Robert and Cyril and Anthea and Jane had to keep +the Lamb amused and happy, while the gipsies looked eagerly on. By the +time the shadows grew long and black across the meadows he had really +"taken to" the woman with the light hair, and even consented to kiss +his hand to the children, and to stand up and bow, with his hand on his +chest--"like a gentleman"--to the two men. The whole gipsy camp was in +raptures with him, and his brothers and sisters could not help taking +some pleasure in showing off his accomplishments to an audience so +interested and enthusiastic. But they longed for sunset. + +[Illustration: He consented to let the two gypsy women feed him] + +"We're getting into the habit of longing for sunset," Cyril whispered. +"How I do wish we could wish something really sensible, that would be of +some use, so that we should be quite sorry when sunset came." + +The shadows got longer and longer, and at last there were no separate +shadows any more, but one soft glowing shadow over everything; for the +sun was out of sight--behind the hill--but he had not really set yet. +The people who make the laws about lighting bicycle lamps are the people +who decide when the sun sets; she has to do it too, to the minute, or +they would know the reason why! + +But the gipsies were getting impatient. + +"Now, young uns," the red-handkerchief man said, "it's time you were +laying of your heads on your pillowses--so it is! The kid's all right +and friendly with us now--so you just hand him over and get home like +you said." + +The women and children came crowding round the Lamb, arms were held out, +fingers snapped invitingly, friendly faces beaming with admiring smiles; +but all failed to tempt the loyal Lamb. He clung with arms and legs to +Jane, who happened to be holding him, and uttered the gloomiest roar of +the whole day. + +"It's no good," the woman said, "hand the little poppet over, miss. +We'll soon quiet him." + +And still the sun would not set. + +"Tell her about how to put him to bed," whispered Cyril; "anything to +gain time--and be ready to bolt when the sun really does make up its +silly old mind to set." + +"Yes, I'll hand him over in just one minute," Anthea began, talking very +fast,--"but do let me just tell you he has a warm bath every night and +cold in the morning, and he has a crockery rabbit to go into the warm +bath with him, and little Samuel saying his prayers in white china on a +red cushion for the cold bath; and he hates you to wash his ears, but +you must; and if you let the soap get into his eyes, the Lamb"-- + +"Lamb kyes," said he--he had stopped roaring to listen. + +The woman laughed. "As if I hadn't never bath'd a babby!" she said. +"Come--give us a hold of him. Come to 'Melia, my precious"-- + +"G'way, ugsie!" replied the Lamb at once. + +"Yes, but," Anthea went on, "about his meals; you really _must_ let me +tell you he has an apple or banana every morning, and bread and milk for +breakfast, and an egg for his tea sometimes, and"-- + +"I've brought up ten," said the black ringleted woman, "besides the +others. Come, miss, 'and 'im over--I can't bear it no longer. I just +must give him a hug." + +"We ain't settled yet whose he's to be, Esther," said one of the men. + +"It won't be you, Esther, with seven of 'em at your tail a'ready." + +"I ain't so sure of that," said Esther's husband. + +"And ain't I nobody, to have a say neither?" said the husband of 'Melia. + +Zillah, the girl, said, "An' me? I'm a single girl--and no one but 'im +to look after--I ought to have him." + +"Hold your tongue!" + +"Shut your mouth!" + +"Don't you show me no more of your imperence!" + +Everyone was getting very angry. The dark gipsy faces were frowning and +anxious-looking. Suddenly a change swept over them, as if some invisible +sponge had wiped away these cross and anxious expressions, and left only +a blank. + +The children saw that the sun really _had_ set. But they were afraid to +move. And the gipsies were feeling so muddled because of the invisible +sponge that had washed all the feelings of the last few hours out of +their hearts, that they could not say a word. + +The children hardly dared to breathe. Suppose the gipsies, when they +recovered speech, should be furious to think how silly they had been all +day? + +It was an awkward moment. Suddenly Anthea, greatly daring, held out the +Lamb to the red-handkerchief man. + +"Here he is!" she said. + +The man drew back. "I shouldn't like to deprive you, miss," he said +hoarsely. + +"Anyone who likes can have my share of him," said the other man. + +"After all, I've got enough of my own," said Esther. + +"He's a nice little chap, though," said Amelia. She was the only one who +now looked affectionately at the whimpering Lamb. + +Zillah said, "If I don't think I must have had a touch of the sun. _I_ +don't want him." + +"Then shall we take him away?" said Anthea. + +"Well--suppose you do," said Pharaoh heartily, "and we'll say no more +about it!" + +And with great haste all the gipsies began to be busy about their tents +for the night. All but Amelia. She went with the children as far as the +bend in the road--and there she said-- + +"Let me give him a kiss, miss,--I don't know what made us go for to +behave so silly. Us gipsies don't steal babies, whatever they may tell +you when you're naughty. We've enough of our own, mostly. But I've lost +all mine." + +She leaned towards the Lamb; and he, looking in her eyes, unexpectedly +put up a grubby soft paw and stroked her face. + +"Poor, poor!" said the Lamb. And he let the gipsy woman kiss him, and, +what is more, he kissed her brown cheek in return--a very nice kiss, as +all his kisses are, and not a wet one like some babies give. The gipsy +woman moved her finger about on his forehead as if she had been writing +something there, and the same with his chest and his hands and his +feet; then she said-- + +"May he be brave, and have the strong head to think with, and the strong +heart to love with, and the strong arms to work with, and the strong +feet to travel with, and always come safe home to his own." Then she +said something in a strange language no one could understand, and +suddenly added-- + +"Well, I must be saying 'so long'--and glad to have made your +acquaintance." And she turned and went back to her home--the tent by the +grassy roadside. + +The children looked after her till she was out of sight. Then Robert +said, "How silly of her! Even sunset didn't put _her_ right. What rot +she talked!" + +"Well," said Cyril, "if you ask me, I think it was rather decent of +her"-- + +"Decent?" said Anthea; "it was very nice indeed of her. I think she's a +dear"-- + +"She's just too frightfully nice for anything," said Jane. + +And they went home--very late for tea and unspeakably late for dinner. +Martha scolded, of course. But the Lamb was safe. + +"I say--it turned out we wanted the Lamb as much as anyone," said +Robert, later. + +"Of course." + +"But do you feel different about it now the sun's set?" + +"_No_," said all the others together. + +"Then it's lasted over sunset with us." + +"No, it hasn't," Cyril explained. "The wish didn't do anything to _us_. +We always wanted him with all our hearts when we were our proper selves, +only we were all pigs this morning; especially you, Robert." Robert bore +this much with a strange calm. + +"I certainly _thought_ I didn't want him this morning," said he. +"Perhaps I _was_ a pig. But everything looked so different when we +thought we were going to lose him." + +And that, my dear children, is the moral of this chapter. I did not mean +it to have a moral, but morals are nasty forward beings, and will keep +putting in their oars where they are not wanted. And since the moral has +crept in, quite against my wishes, you might as well think of it next +time you feel piggy yourself and want to get rid of any of your brothers +and sisters. I hope this doesn't often happen, but I daresay it has +happened sometimes, even to you! + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +WINGS + + +The next day was very wet--too wet to go out, and far too wet to think +of disturbing a Sand-fairy so sensitive to water that he still, after +thousands of years, felt the pain of once having his left whisker +wetted. It was a long day, and it was not till the afternoon that all +the children suddenly decided to write letters to their mother. It was +Robert who had the misfortune to upset the ink well--an unusually deep +and full one--straight into that part of Anthea's desk where she had +long pretended that an arrangement of mucilage and cardboard painted +with Indian ink was a secret drawer. It was not exactly Robert's fault; +it was only his misfortune that he chanced to be lifting the ink across +the desk just at the moment when Anthea had got it open, and that that +same moment should have been the one chosen by the Lamb to get under +the table and break his squeaking bird. There was a sharp convenient +wire inside the bird, and of course the Lamb ran the wire into Robert's +leg at once; and so, without anyone's meaning to do it the secret drawer +was flooded with ink. At the same time a stream was poured over Anthea's +half-finished letter. + +So that her letter was something like this-- + + "DARLING MOTHER,--I hope you are quite well, and I + hope Granny is better. The other day we...." + +Then came a flood of ink, and at the bottom these words in pencil-- + + "It was not me upset the ink, but it took such a + time clearing up, so no more as it is + post-time.--From your loving daughter "ANTHEA." + +Robert's letter had not even been begun. He had been drawing a ship on +the blotting paper while he was trying to think of what to say. And of +course after the ink was upset he had to help Anthea to clean out her +desk, and he promised to make her another secret drawer, better than +the other. And she said, "Well, make it now." So it was post-time and +his letter wasn't done. And the secret drawer wasn't done either. + +Cyril wrote a long letter, very fast, and then went to set a trap for +slugs that he had read about in the _Home-made Gardener_, and when it +was post-time the letter could not be found, and it was never found. +Perhaps the slugs ate it. + +Jane's letter was the only one that went. She meant to tell her mother +all about the Psammead,--in fact they had all meant to do this,--but she +spent so long thinking how to spell the word that there was no time to +tell the story properly, and it is useless to tell a story unless you +_do_ tell it properly, so she had to be contented with this-- + + "MY DEAR MOTHER DEAR,--We are all as good as we + can, like you told us to, and the Lamb has a + little cold, but Martha says it is nothing, only + he upset the gold-fish into himself yesterday + morning. When we were up at the sand-pit the other + day we went round by the safe way where carts go, + and we found a"-- + +Half an hour went by before Jane felt quite sure that they could none of +them spell Psammead. And they could not find it in the dictionary +either, though they looked. Then Jane hastily finished her letter-- + + "We found a strange thing, but it is nearly + post-time, so no more at present from your little + girl, + + "JANE. + + "P.S.--If you could have a wish come true what + would you have?" + +Then the postman was heard blowing his horn, and Robert rushed out in +the rain to stop his cart and give him the letters. And that was how it +happened that, though all the children meant to tell their mother about +the Sand-fairy, somehow or other she never got to know. There were other +reasons why she never got to know, but these come later. + +The next day Uncle Richard came and took them all to Maidstone in a +wagonette--all except the Lamb. Uncle Richard was the very best kind of +uncle. He bought them toys at Maidstone. He took them into a shop and +let them all choose exactly what they wanted, without any restrictions +about price, and no nonsense about things being instructive. It is very +wise to let children choose exactly what they like, because they are +very foolish and inexperienced, and sometimes they will choose a really +instructive thing without meaning to do so. This happened to Robert, who +chose, at the last moment, and in a great hurry, a box with pictures on +it of winged bulls with men's heads and winged men with eagles' heads. +He thought there would be animals inside, the same as on the box. When +he got it home it was a Sunday puzzle about ancient Nineveh! The others +chose in haste, and were happy at leisure. Cyril had a model engine, and +the girls had two dolls, as well as a china tea-set with forget-me-nots +on it, to be "between them." The boys' "between them" was bow and arrow. + +Then Uncle Richard took them on the beautiful Medway in a boat, and then +they all had tea at a beautiful confectioner's and when they reached +home it was far too late to have any wishes that day. + +They did not tell Uncle Richard anything about the Psammead. I do not +know why. And they do not know why. But I daresay you can guess. + +The day after Uncle Richard had behaved so handsomely was a very hot day +indeed. The people who decide what the weather is to be, and put its +orders down for it in the newspapers every morning, said afterwards that +it was the hottest day there had been for years. They had ordered it to +be "warmer--some showers," and warmer it certainly was. In fact it was +so busy being warmer that it had no time to attend to the order about +showers, so there weren't any. + +Have you ever been up at five o'clock on a fine summer morning? It is +very beautiful. The sunlight is pinky and yellowy, and all the grass and +trees are covered with dew-diamonds. And all the shadows go the opposite +way to the way they do in the evening, which is very interesting and +makes you feel as though you were in a new other world. + +Anthea woke at five. She had made herself wake, and I must tell you how +it is done, even if it keeps you waiting for the story to go on. + +You get into bed at night, and lie down quite flat on your little back, +with your hands straight down by your sides. Then you say "I _must_ wake +up at five" (or six, or seven, or eight, or nine, or whatever the time +is that you want), and as you say it you push your chin down on your +chest and then whack your head back on the pillow. And you do this as +many times as there are ones in the time you want to wake up at. (It is +quite an easy sum.) Of course everything depends on your really wanting +to get up at five (or six, or seven, or eight, or nine); if you don't +really want to, it's all of no use. But if you do--well, try it and see. +Of course in this, as in doing Latin proses or getting into mischief, +practice makes perfect. + +Anthea was quite perfect. + +At the very moment when she opened her eyes she heard the black-and-gold +clock down in the dining-room strike eleven. So she knew it was three +minutes to five. The black-and-gold clock always struck wrong, but it +was all right when you knew what it meant. It was like a person talking +a foreign language. If you know the language it is just as easy to +understand as English. And Anthea knew the clock language. She was very +sleepy, but she jumped out of bed and put her face and hands into a +basin of cold water. This is a fairy charm that prevents your wanting to +get back into bed again. Then she dressed, and folded up her night +dress. She did not tumble it together by the sleeves, but folded it by +the seams from the hem, and that will show you the kind of +well-brought-up little girl she was. + +Then she took her shoes in her hand and crept softly down the stairs. +She opened the dining-room window and climbed out. It would have been +just as easy to go out by the door, but the window was more romantic, +and less likely to be noticed by Martha. + +"I will always get up at five," she said to herself. "It was quite too +awfully pretty for anything." + +Her heart was beating very fast, for she was carrying out a plan quite +her own. She could not be sure that it was a good plan, but she was +quite sure that it would not be any better if she were to tell the +others about it. And she had a feeling that, right or wrong, she would +rather go through with it alone. She put on her shoes under the iron +verandah, on the red-and-yellow shining tiles, and then she ran straight +to the sand-pit, and found the Psammead's place, and dug it out; it was +very cross indeed. + +"It's too bad," it said, fluffing up its fur as pigeons do their +feathers at Christmas time. "The weather's arctic, and it's the middle +of the night." + +"I'm so sorry," said Anthea gently, and she took off her white pinafore +and covered the Sand-fairy up with it, all but its head, its bat's ears, +and its eyes that were like a snail's eyes. + +"Thank you," it said, "that's better. What's the wish this morning?" + +"I don't know," she said; "that's just it. You see we've been very +unlucky, so far. I wanted to talk to you about it. But--would you mind +not giving me any wishes till after breakfast? It's so hard to talk to +anyone if they jump out at you with wishes you don't really want!" + +"You shouldn't say you wish for things if you don't wish for them. In +the old days people almost always knew whether it was Megatherium or +Ichthyosaurus they really wanted for dinner." + +"I'll try not to do so," said Anthea, "but I do wish"-- + +"Look out!" said the Psammead in a warning voice, and it began to blow +itself out. + +"Oh, this isn't a magic wish--it's just--I should be so glad if you'd +not swell yourself out and nearly burst to give me anything just now. +Wait till the others are here." + +"Well, well," it said indulgently, but it shivered. + +"Would you," asked Anthea kindly--"would you like to come and sit on my +lap? You'd be warmer, and I could turn the skirt of my frock up around +you. I'd be very careful." + +Anthea had never expected that it would, but it did. + +"Thank you," it said; "you really are rather thoughtful." It crept on to +her lap and snuggled down, and she put her arms round it with a rather +frightened gentleness. "Now then!" it said. + +"Well then," said Anthea, "everything we have wished has turned out +rather horrid. I wish you would advise us. You are so old, you must be +very wise." + +"I was always generous from a child," said the Sand-fairy. "I've spent +the whole of my waking hours in giving. But one thing I won't +give--that's advice." + +"You see," Anthea went on, "it's such a wonderful thing--such a +splendid, glorious chance. It's so good and kind and dear of you to give +us our wishes, and it seems such a pity it should all be wasted just +because we are too silly to know what to wish for." + +Anthea had meant to say that--and she had not wanted to say it before +the others. It's one thing to say you're silly, and quite another to +say that other people are. + +"Child," said the Sand-fairy sleepily, "I can only advise you to think +before you speak"-- + +"But I thought you never gave advice." + +"That piece doesn't count," it said. "You'll never take it! Besides, +it's not original. It's in all the copy-books." + +"But won't you just say if you think wings would be a silly wish?" + +"Wings?" it said. "I should think you might do worse. Only, take care +you aren't flying high at sunset. There was a little Ninevite boy I +heard of once. He was one of King Sennacherib's sons, and a traveller +brought him a Psammead. He used to keep it in a box of sand on the +palace terrace. It was a dreadful degradation for one of us, of course; +still the boy _was_ the Assyrian King's son. And one day he wished for +wings and got them. But he forgot that they would turn into stone at +sunset, and when they did he fell on to one of the winged lions at the +top of his father's great staircase; and what with _his_ stone wings +and the lion's stone wings--well it's not a very pretty story! But I +believe the boy enjoyed himself very much till then." + +"Tell me," said Anthea, "why don't our wishes turn into stone now? Why +do they just vanish?" + +"_Autre temps autres moeurs_," said the creature. + +"Is that the Ninevite language?" asked Anthea, who had learned no +foreign language at school except French. + +"What I mean is," the Psammead went on, "that in the old days people +wished for good solid everyday gifts,--Mammoths and Pterodactyls and +things,--and those could be turned into stone as easy as not. But people +wish such high-flying fanciful things nowadays. How are you going to +turn being beautiful as the day, or being wanted by everybody, into +stone? You see it can't be done. And it would never do to have two +rules, so they simply vanish. If being beautiful as the day _could_ be +turned into stone it would last an awfully long time, you know--much +longer than you would. Just look at the Greek statues. It's just as +well as it is. Good-bye. I _am_ so sleepy." + +It jumped off her lap--dug frantically, and vanished. + +Anthea was late for breakfast. It was Robert who quietly poured a +spoonful of molasses down the Lamb's frock, so that he had to be taken +away and washed thoroughly directly after breakfast. And it was of +course a very naughty thing to do; yet it served two purposes--it +delighted the Lamb, who loved above all things to be completely sticky, +and it engaged Martha's attention so that the others could slip away to +the sand-pit without the Lamb. + +They did it, and in the lane Anthea, breathless from the hurry of that +slipping, panted out-- + +"I want to propose we take turns to wish. Only, nobody's to have a wish +if the others don't think it's a nice wish. Do you agree?" + +"Who's to have first wish?" asked Robert cautiously. + +"Me, if you don't mind," said Anthea apologetically. "And I've thought +about it--and it's _wings_." + +There was a silence. The others rather wanted to find fault, but it was +hard, because the word "wings" raised a flutter of joyous excitement in +every breast. + +"Not so dusty," said Cyril generously; and Robert added, "Really, +Panther, you're not quite such a fool as you look." + +Jane said, "I think it would be perfectly lovely. It's like a bright +dream of delirium." + +They found the Sand-fairy easily. Anthea said-- + +"I wish we all had beautiful wings to fly with." + +The Sand-fairy blew himself out, and next moment each child felt a funny +feeling, half heaviness and half lightness, on its shoulders. The +Psammead put its head on one side and turned its snail eyes from one +side to the other. + +[Illustration: The Sand-fairy blew himself out] + +"Not so bad," it said dreamily. "But really, Robert, you're not quite +such an angel as you look." Robert almost blushed. + +The wings were very big, and more beautiful than you can possibly +imagine--for they were soft and smooth, and every feather lay neatly in +its place. And the feathers were of the most lovely mixed changing +colors, like the rainbow, or iridescent glass, or the beautiful scum +that sometimes floats on water that is not at all nice to drink. + +"Oh--but how can we fly?" Jane said, standing anxiously first on one +foot and then on the other. + +"Look out!" said Cyril; "you're treading on my wing." + +"Does it hurt?" asked Anthea with interest; but no one answered, for +Robert had spread his wings and jumped up, and now he was slowly rising +in the air. He looked very awkward in his knickerbocker suit--his boots +in particular hung helplessly, and seemed much larger than when he was +standing in them. But the others cared but little how he looked,--or how +they looked, for that matter. For now they all spread out their wings +and rose in the air. Of course you all know what flying feels like, +because everyone has dreamed about flying, and is seems so beautifully +easy--only, you can never remember how you did it; and as a rule you +have to do it without wings, in your dreams, which is more clever and +uncommon, but not so easy to remember the rule for. Now the four +children rose flapping from the ground, and you can't think how good the +air felt as it ran against their faces. Their wings were tremendously +wide when they were spread out, and they had to fly quite a long way +apart so as not to get in each other's way. But little things like this +are easily learned. + +All the words in the English Dictionary, and in the Greek Lexicon as +well, are, I find, of no use at all to tell you exactly what it feels +like to be flying, so I will not try. But I will say that to look _down_ +on the fields and woods instead of _along_ at them, is something like +looking at a beautiful live map, where, instead of silly colors on +paper, you have real moving sunny woods and green fields laid out one +after the other. As Cyril said, and I can't think where he got hold of +such a strange expression, "It does you a fair treat!" It was most +wonderful and more like real magic than any wish the children had had +yet. They flapped and flew and sailed on their great rainbow wings, +between green earth and blue sky; and they flew over Rochester and then +swerved round towards Maidstone, and presently they all began to feel +extremely hungry. Curiously enough, this happened when they were flying +rather low, and just as they were crossing an orchard where some early +plums shone red and ripe. + +[Illustration: They flew over Rochester] + +They paused on their wings. I cannot explain to you how this is done, +but it is something like treading water when you are swimming, and hawks +do it extremely well. + +"Yes, I daresay," said Cyril, though no one had spoken. "But stealing is +stealing even if you've got wings." + +"Do you really think so?" said Jane briskly. "If you've got wings you're +a bird, and no one minds birds breaking the commandments. At least, +they may _mind_, but the birds always do it, and no one scolds them or +sends them to prison." + +It was not so easy to perch on a plum-tree as you might think, because +the rainbow wings were so _very_ large; but somehow they all managed to +do it, and the plums were certainly very sweet and juicy. + +Fortunately, it was not till they had all had quite as many plums as +were good for them that they saw a stout man, who looked exactly as +though he owned the plum-trees, come hurrying through the orchard gate +with a thick stick, and with one accord they disentangled their wings +from the plum-laden branches and began to fly. + +The man stopped short, with his mouth open. For he had seen the boughs +of his trees moving and twitching, and he had said to himself, "Them +young varmint--at it again!" And he had come out at once, for the lads +of the village had taught him in past seasons that plums want looking +after. But when he saw the rainbow wings flutter up out of the +plum-tree he felt that he must have gone quite mad, and he did not like +the feeling at all. And when Anthea looked down and saw his mouth go +slowly open, and stay so, and his face become green and mauve in +patches, she called out-- + +"Don't be frightened," and felt hastily in her pocket for a +threepenny-bit with a hole in it, which she had meant to hang on a +ribbon round her neck, for luck. She hovered round the unfortunate +plum-owner, and said, "We have had some of your plums; we thought it +wasn't stealing, but now I am not so sure. So here's some money to pay +for them." + +She swooped down toward the terror-stricken grower of plums, and slipped +the coin into the pocket of his jacket, and in a few flaps she had +rejoined the others. + +The farmer sat down on the grass, suddenly and heavily. + +[Illustration: The farmer sat down on the grass suddenly and heavily] + +"Well--I'm blessed!" he said. "This here is what they call delusions, I +suppose. But this here threepenny"--he had pulled it out and bitten +it,--"_that's_ real enough. Well, from this day forth I'll be a better +man. It's the kind of thing to sober a chap for life, this is. I'm glad +it was only wings, though. I'd rather see the birds as aren't there, and +couldn't be, even if they pretend to talk, than some things as I could +name." + +He got up slowly and heavily, and went indoors, and he was so nice to +his wife that day that she felt quite happy, and said to herself, "Law, +whatever have a-come to the man!" and smartened herself up and put a +blue ribbon bow at the place where her collar fastened on, and looked so +pretty that he was kinder than ever. So perhaps the winged children +really did do one good thing that day. If so, it was the only one; for +really there is nothing like wings for getting you into trouble. But, on +the other hand, if you are in trouble, there is nothing like wings for +getting you out of it. + +This was the case in the matter of the fierce dog who sprang out at them +when they had folded up their wings as small as possible and were going +up to a farm door to ask for a crust of bread and cheese, for in +spite of the plums they were soon just as hungry as ever again. + +Now there is no doubt whatever that, if the four had been ordinary +wingless children, that black and fierce dog would have had a good bite +out of the brown-stockinged leg of Robert, who was the nearest. But at +its first growl there was a flutter of wings, and the dog was left to +strain at his chain and stand on his hind-legs as if he were trying to +fly too. + +They tried several other farms, but at those where there were no dogs +the people were far too frightened to do anything but scream; and at +last, when it was nearly four o'clock, and their wings were getting +miserably stiff and tired, they alighted on a church-tower and held a +council of war. + +"We can't possibly fly all the way home without dinner _or_ tea," said +Robert with desperate decision. + +"And nobody will give us any dinner, or even lunch, let alone tea," said +Cyril. + +"Perhaps the clergyman here might," suggested Anthea. "He must know all +about angels"-- + +"Anybody could see we're not that," said Jane. "Look at Robert's boots +and Squirrel's plaid necktie." + +"Well," said Cyril firmly, "if the country you're in won't _sell_ +provisions, you _take_ them. In wars I mean. I'm quite certain you do. +And even in other stories no good brother would allow his little sisters +to starve in the midst of plenty." + +"Plenty?" repeated Robert hungrily; and the others looked vaguely round +the bare leads of the church-tower, and murmured, "In the midst of?" + +"Yes," said Cyril impressively. "There is a larder window at the side of +the clergyman's house, and I saw things to eat inside--custard pudding +and cold chicken and tongue--and pies--and jam. It's rather a high +window--but with wings"-- + +"How clever of you!" said Jane. + +"Not at all," said Cyril modestly; "any born general--Napoleon or the +Duke of Marlborough--would have seen it just the same as I did." + +"It seems very wrong," said Anthea. + +"Nonsense," said Cyril. "What was it Sir Philip Sidney said when the +soldier wouldn't give him a drink?--'My necessity is greater than his.'" + +"We'll club together our money, though, and leave it to pay for the +things, won't we?" Anthea was persuasive, and very nearly in tears, +because it is most trying to feel enormously hungry and unspeakably +sinful at one and the same time. + +"Some of it," was the cautious reply. + +Everyone now turned out its pockets on the lead roof of the tower, where +visitors for the last hundred and fifty years had cut their own and +their sweethearts' initials with penknives in the soft lead. There was +five-and-seven-pence halfpenny altogether, and even the upright Anthea +admitted that that was too much to pay for four people's dinners. Robert +said he thought eighteenpence. + +[Illustration: Every one now turned out his pockets] + +And half-a-crown was finally agreed to be "handsome." + +So Anthea wrote on the back of her last term's report, which happened to +be in her pocket, and from which she first tore her own name and that of +the school, the following letter:-- + + "DEAR REVEREND CLERGYMAN,--We are very hungry + indeed because of having to fly all day, and we + think it is not stealing when you are starving to + death. We are afraid to ask you for fear you + should say 'No,' because of course you know about + angels, but you would not think we were angels. We + will only take the necessities of life, and no + pudding or pie, to show you it is not grediness + but true starvation that makes us make your larder + stand and deliver. But we are not highwaymen by + trade." + +"Cut it short," said the others with one accord. And Anthea hastily +added-- + + "Our intentions are quite honourable if you only + knew. And here is half-a-crown to show we are + sinseer and grateful. + + "Thank you for your kind hospitality. + + "FROM US FOUR." + +The half-crown was wrapped in this letter, and all the children felt +that when the clergyman had read it he would understand everything, as +well as anyone could who had not even seen the wings. + +"Now," said Cyril, "of course there's some risk; we'd better fly +straight down the other side of the tower and then flutter low across +the churchyard and in through the shrubbery. There doesn't seem to be +anyone about. But you never know. The window looks out into the +shrubbery. It is embowered in foliage, like a window in a story. I'll go +in and get the things. Robert and Anthea can take them as I hand them +out through the window; and Jane can keep watch,--her eyes are +sharp,--and whistle if she sees anyone about. Shut up, Robert! she can +whistle quite well enough for that, anyway. It ought not to be a very +good whistle--it'll sound more natural and birdlike. Now then--off we +go!" + +I cannot pretend that stealing is right. I can only say that on this +occasion it did not look like stealing to the hungry four, but appeared +in the light of a fair and reasonable business transaction. They had +never happened to learn that a tongue,--hardly cut into,--a chicken and +a half, a loaf of bread, and a syphon of soda-water cannot be bought in +the stores for half-a-crown. These were the necessaries of life, which +Cyril handed out of the larder window when, quite unobserved and without +hindrance or adventure, he had led the others to that happy spot. He +felt that to refrain from jam, apple pie, cake, and mixed candied peel, +was a really heroic act--and I agree with him. He was also proud of not +taking the custard pudding,--and there I think he was wrong,--because if +he had taken it there would have been a difficulty about returning the +dish; no one, however starving, has a right to steal china pie-dishes +with little pink flowers on them. The soda-water syphon was different. +They could not do without something to drink, and as the maker's name +was on it they felt sure it would be returned to him wherever they might +leave it. If they had time they would take it back themselves. The +man appeared to live in Rochester, which would not be much out of their +way home. + +[Illustration: These were the necessaries of life] + +Everything was carried up to the top of the tower, and laid down on a +sheet of kitchen paper which Cyril had found on the top shelf of the +larder. As he unfolded it, Anthea said, "I don't think _that's_ a +necessity of life." + +"Yes, it is," said he. "We must put the things down somewhere to cut +them up; and I heard father say the other day people got diseases from +germans in rain-water. Now there must be lots of rain-water here,--and +when it dries up the germans are left, and they'd get into the things, +and we should all die of scarlet fever." + +"What are germans?" + +"Little waggly things you see with microscopes," said Cyril, with a +scientific air. "They give you every illness you can think of. I'm sure +the paper was a necessary, just as much as the bread and meat and water. +Now then! Oh, I'm hungry!" + +I do not wish to describe the picnic party on the top of the tower. You +can imagine well enough what it is like to carve a chicken and a tongue +with a knife that has only one blade and that snapped off short about +half-way down. But it was done. Eating with your fingers is greasy and +difficult--and paper dishes soon get to look very spotty and horrid. But +one thing you _can't_ imagine, and that is how soda-water behaves when +you try to drink it straight out of a syphon--especially a quite full +one. But if imagination will not help you, experience will, and you can +easily try it for yourself if you can get a grown-up to give you the +syphon. If you want to have a really thorough experience, put the tube +in your mouth and press the handle very suddenly and very hard. You had +better do it when you are alone--and out of doors is best for this +experiment. + +However you eat them, tongue and chicken and new bread are very good +things, and no one minds being sprinkled a little with soda-water on a +really fine hot day. So that everyone enjoyed the dinner very much +indeed, and everyone ate as much as it possibly could: first, because it +was extremely hungry; and secondly, because, as I said, tongue and +chicken and new bread are very nice. + +Now, I daresay you will have noticed that if you have to wait for your +dinner till long after the proper time, and then eat a great deal more +dinner than usual, and sit in the hot sun on the top of a +church-tower--or even anywhere else--you become soon and strangely +sleepy. Now Anthea and Jane and Cyril and Robert were very like you in +many ways, and when they had eaten all they could, and drunk all there +was, they became sleepy, strangely and soon--especially Anthea, because +she had gotten up so early. + +[Illustration: The children were fast asleep] + +One by one they left off talking and leaned back, and before it was a +quarter of an hour after dinner they had all curled round and tucked +themselves up under their large soft warm wings and were fast asleep. +And the sun was sinking slowly in the west. (I must say it was in the +west, because it is usual in books to say so, for fear careless people +should think it was setting in the east. In point of fact, it was not +exactly in the west either--but that's near enough.) The sun, I repeat, +was sinking slowly in the west, and the children slept warmly and +happily on--for wings are cosier than eider-down quilts to sleep under. +The shadow of the church-tower fell across the churchyard, and across +the Vicarage, and across the field beyond; and presently there were no +more shadows, and the sun had set, and the wings were gone. And still +the children slept. But not for long. Twilight is very beautiful, but it +is chilly; and you know, however sleepy you are, you wake up soon enough +if your brother or sister happens to be up first and pulls your blankets +off you. The four wingless children shivered and woke. And there they +were,--on the top of a church-tower in the dusky twilight, with blue +stars coming out by ones and twos and tens and twenties over their +heads,--miles away from home, with three shillings and three-halfpence +in their pockets, and a doubtful act about the necessities of life to +be accounted for if anyone found them with the soda-water syphon. + +They looked at each other. Cyril spoke first, picking up the syphon-- + +"We'd better get along down and get rid of this beastly thing. It's dark +enough to leave it on the clergyman's doorstep, I should think. Come +on." + +There was a little turret at the corner of the tower, and the little +turret had a door in it. They had noticed this when they were eating, +but had not explored it, as you would have done in their place. Because, +of course, when you have wings and can explore the whole sky, doors seem +hardly worth exploring. + +Now they turned towards it. + +"Of course," said Cyril "this is the way down." + +It was. But the door was locked on the inside! + +And the world was growing darker and darker. And they were miles from +home. And there was the soda-water syphon. + +I shall not tell you whether anyone cried, nor, if so, how many cried, +nor who cried. You will be better employed in making up your minds what +you would have done if you had been in their place. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +NO WINGS + + +Whether anyone cried or not, there was certainly an interval during +which none of the party was quite itself. When they grew calmer, Anthea +put her handkerchief in her pocket and her arm round Jane, and said-- + +"It can't be for more than one night. We can signal with our +handkerchiefs in the morning. They'll be dry then. And someone will come +up and let us out"-- + +"And find the syphon," said Cyril gloomily; "and we shall be sent to +prison for stealing"-- + +"You said it wasn't stealing. You said you were sure it wasn't." + +"I'm not sure _now_" said Cyril shortly. + +"Let's throw the thing away among the trees," said Robert, "then no one +can do anything to us." + +"Oh yes,"--Cyril's laugh was not a light-hearted one,--"and hit some +chap on the head, and be murderers as well as--as the other thing." + +"But we can't stay up here all night," said Jane; "and I want my tea." + +"You _can't_ want your tea," said Robert; "you've only just had your +dinner." + +"But I _do_ want it," she said; "especially when you begin talking about +stopping up here all night. Oh, Panther--I want to go home! I want to go +home!" + +"Hush, hush," Anthea said. "Don't, dear. It'll be all right, somehow. +Don't, don't"-- + +"Let her cry," said Robert desperately; "if she howls loud enough, +someone may hear and come and let us out." + +"And see the soda-water thing," said Anthea swiftly. "Robert, don't be a +brute. Oh, Jane, do try to be a man! It's just the same for all of us." + +Jane did try to "be a man"--and reduced her howls to sniffs. + +There was a pause. Then Cyril said slowly, "Look here. We must risk that +syphon. I'll button it up inside my jacket--perhaps no one will notice +it. You others keep well in front of me. There are lights in the +clergyman's house. They've not gone to bed yet. We must just yell as +loud as ever we can. Now all scream when I say three. Robert, you do the +yell like a railway engine, and I'll do the coo-ee like father's. The +girls can do as they please. One, two, three!" + +A four-fold yell rent the silent peace of the evening, and a maid at one +of the Vicarage windows paused with her hand on the blind-cord. + +"One, two, three!" Another yell, piercing and complex, startled the owls +and starlings to a flutter of feathers in the belfry below. The maid +flew from the Vicarage window and ran down the Vicarage stairs and into +the Vicarage kitchen, and fainted as soon as she had explained to the +man-servant and the cook and the cook's cousin that she had seen a +ghost. It was quite untrue, of course, but I suppose the girl's nerves +were a little upset by the yelling. + +"One, two, three!" The Vicar was on his doorstep by this time, and there +was no mistaking the yell that greeted him. + +"Goodness me," he said to his wife, "my dear, someone's being murdered +in the church! Give me my hat and a thick stick, and tell Andrew to come +after me. I expect it's the lunatic who stole the tongue." + +The children had seen the flash of light when the Vicar opened his front +door. They had seen his dark form on his doorstep, and they had paused +for breath, and also to see what he would do. + +When he turned back for his hat, Cyril said hastily-- + +"He thinks he only fancied he heard something. You don't half yell! Now! +One, two, three!" + +It was certainly a whole yell this time, and the Vicar's wife flung her +arms round her husband and screamed a feeble echo of it. + +"You shan't go!" she said, "not alone. Jessie!"--the maid unfainted and +came out of the kitchen,--"send Andrew at once. There's a dangerous +lunatic in the church, and he must go immediately and catch him." + +"I expect he _will_ catch it too," said Jessie to herself as she went +through the kitchen door. "Here, Andrew," she said, "there's someone +screaming like mad in the church, and the missus says you're to go along +and catch it." + +"Not alone, I don't," said Andrew in low firm tones. To his master he +merely said, "Yis sir." + +"You heard those screams?" + +"I did think I noticed a sort of something," said Andrew. + +"Well, come on, then," said the Vicar. "My dear, I _must_ go!" He pushed +her gently into the sitting-room, banged the door, and rushed out, +dragging Andrew by the arm. + +A volley of yells greeted them. Then as it died into silence Andrew +shouted, "Hullo, you there! Did you call?" + +"Yes," shouted four far-away voices. + +"They seem to be in the air," said the Vicar. "Very remarkable." + +"Where are you?" shouted Andrew; and Cyril replied in his deepest +voice, very slow and loud-- + +"CHURCH! TOWER! TOP!" + +"Come down, then!" said Andrew; and the same voice replied-- + +"_Can't! Door locked!_" + +"My goodness!" said the Vicar. "Andrew, fetch the stable lantern. +Perhaps it would be as well to fetch another man from the village." + +"With the rest of the gang about, very likely. No, sir; if this 'ere +ain't a trap--well, may I never! There's cook's cousin at the back door +now. He's a keeper, sir, and used to dealing with vicious characters. +And he's got his gun, sir." + +"Hullo there!" shouted Cyril from the church-tower; "come up and let us +out." + +"We're a-coming," said Andrew. "I'm a-going to get a policeman and a +gun." + +"Andrew, Andrew," said the Vicar, "that's not the truth." + +"It's near enough, sir, for the likes of them." + +So Andrew fetched the lantern and the cook's cousin; and the Vicar's +wife begged them all to be very careful. + +They went across the churchyard--it was quite dark now--and as they went +they talked. The Vicar was certain a lunatic was on the +church-tower--the one who had written the mad letter, and taken the cold +tongue and things. Andrew thought it was a "trap"; the cook's cousin +alone was calm. "Great cry, little wool," said he; "dangerous chaps is +quieter." He was not at all afraid. But then he had a gun. That was why +he was asked to lead the way up the worn, steep, dark steps of the +church-tower. He did lead the way, with the lantern in one hand and the +gun in the other. Andrew went next. He pretended afterwards that this +was because he was braver than his master, but really it was because he +thought of traps and he did not like the idea of being behind the others +for fear someone should come softly up behind him and catch hold of his +legs in the dark. They went on and on, and round and round the little +corkscrew staircase--then through the bell-ringers' loft, where the +bell-ropes hung with soft furry ends like giant caterpillars--then up +another stair into the belfry, where the big quiet bells are--and then +on up a ladder with broad steps--and then up a little stone stair. And +at the top of that there was a little door. And the door was bolted on +the stair side. + +The cook's cousin, who was a gamekeeper, kicked at the door, and said-- + +"Hullo, you there!" + +The children were holding on to each other on the other side of the +door, and trembling with anxiousness--and very hoarse with their howls. +They could hardly speak, but Cyril managed to reply huskily-- + +"Hullo, you there!" + +"How did you get up there?" + +It was no use saying "We flew up," so Cyril said-- + +"We got up--and then we found the door was locked and we couldn't get +down. Let us out--do." + +"How many of you are there?" asked the keeper. + +"Only four," said Cyril. + +"Are you armed?" + +"Are we what?" + +"I've got my gun handy--so you'd best not try any tricks," said the +keeper. "If we open the door, will you promise to come quietly down, and +no nonsense?" + +"Yes--oh YES!" said all the children together. + +"Bless me," said the Vicar, "surely that was a female voice?" + +"Shall I open the door, sir?" said the keeper. Andrew went down a few +steps, "to leave room for the others" he said afterwards. + +"Yes," said the Vicar, "open the door. Remember," he said through the +keyhole, "we have come to release you. You will keep your promise to +refrain from violence?" + +"How this bolt do stick," said the keeper; "anyone 'ud think it hadn't +been drawed for half a year." As a matter of fact it hadn't. + +When all the bolts were drawn, the keeper spoke deep-chested words +through the keyhole. + +[Illustration: The keeper spoke deep-chested words through the keyhole] + +"I don't open," said he, "till you've gone over to the other side of the +tower. And if one of you comes at me I fire. Now!" + +"We're all over on the other side," said the voices. + +The keeper felt pleased with himself, and owned himself a bold man when +he threw open that door, and, stepping out into the leads, flashed the +full light of the stable lantern on the group of desperadoes standing +against the parapet on the other side of the tower. + +He lowered his gun, and he nearly dropped the lantern. + +"So help me," he cried, "if they ain't a pack of kiddies!" + +The Vicar now advanced. + +"How did you come here?" he asked severely. "Tell me at once." + +"Oh, take us down," said Jane, catching at his coat, "and we'll tell you +anything you like. You won't believe us, but it doesn't matter. Oh, take +us down!" + +The others crowded round him, with the same entreaty. All but Cyril. +He had enough to do with the soda-water syphon, which would keep +slipping down under his jacket. It needed both hands to keep it steady +in its place. + +But he said, standing as far out of the lantern light as possible-- + +"Please do take us down." + +So they were taken down. It is no joke to go down a strange church-tower +in the dark, but the keeper helped them--only, Cyril had to be +independent because of the soda-water syphon. It would keep trying to +get away. Half-way down the ladder it all but escaped. Cyril just caught +it by its spout, and as nearly as possible lost his footing. He was +trembling and pale when at last they reached the bottom of the winding +stair and stepped out on to the stones of the church-porch. + +Then suddenly the keeper caught Cyril and Robert each by an arm. + +"You bring along the gells, sir," said he; "you and Andrew can manage +them." + +"Let go!" said Cyril; "we aren't running away. We haven't hurt your old +church. Leave go!" + +"You just come along," said the keeper; and Cyril dared not oppose him +with violence, because just then the syphon began to slip again. + +So they were marched into the Vicarage study, and the Vicar's wife came +rushing in. + +"Oh, William, _are_ you safe?" she cried. + +Robert hastened to allay her anxiety. + +"Yes," he said, "he's quite safe. We haven't hurt them at all. And +please, we're very late, and they'll be anxious at home. Could you send +us home in your carriage?" + +"Or perhaps there's a hotel near where we could get a carriage," said +Anthea. "Martha will be very anxious as it is." + +The Vicar had sunk into a chair, overcome by emotion and amazement. + +Cyril had also sat down, and was leaning forward with his elbows on his +knees because of the soda-water syphon. + +"But how did you come to be locked up in the church-tower?" asked the +Vicar. + +"We went up," said Robert slowly, "and we were tired, and we all went to +sleep, and when we woke up we found the door was locked, so we yelled." + +"I should think you did!" said the Vicar's wife. "Frightening everybody +out of their wits like this! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves." + +"We _are_," said Jane gently. + +"But who locked the door?" asked the Vicar. + +"I don't know at all," said Robert, with perfect truth. "Do please send +us home." + +"Well, really," said the Vicar, "I suppose we'd better. Andrew, put the +horse to, and you can take them home." + +"Not alone, I don't," said Andrew to himself. + +And the Vicar went on, "let this be a lesson to you"---- He went on +talking, and the children listened miserably. But the keeper was not +listening. He was looking at the unfortunate Cyril. He knew all about +poachers, of course, so he knew how people look when they're hiding +something. The Vicar had just got to the part about trying to grow up +to be a blessing to your parents, and not a trouble and disgrace, when +the keeper suddenly said-- + +"Arst him what he's got there under his jacket;" and Cyril knew that +concealment was at an end. So he stood up, and squared his shoulders and +tried to look noble, like the boys in books that no one can look in the +face of and doubt that they come of brave and noble families, and will +be faithful to the death, and he pulled out the syphon and said-- + +"Well, there you are, then." + +There was silence. Cyril went on--there was nothing else for it-- + +"Yes, we took this out of your larder, and some chicken and tongue and +bread. We were very hungry, and we didn't take the custard or jam. We +only took bread and meat and water,--and we couldn't help its being soda +kind,--just the necessaries of life; and we left half-a-crown to pay for +it, and we left a letter. And we're very sorry. And my father will pay a +fine and anything you like, but don't send us to prison. Mother would +be so vexed. You know what you said about not being a disgrace. Well, +don't you go and do it to us--that's all! We're as sorry as we can be. +There!" + +"However did you get up to the larder window?" said Mrs. Vicar. + +"I can't tell you that," said Cyril firmly. + +"Is this the whole truth you've been telling me?" asked the clergyman. + +"No," answered Jane suddenly; "it's all true, but it's not the whole +truth. We can't tell you that. It's no good asking. Oh, do forgive us +and take us home!" She ran to the Vicar's wife and threw her arms round +her. The Vicar's wife put her arms round Jane, and the keeper whispered +behind his hand to the Vicar-- + +"They're all right, sir--I expect it's a pal they're standing by. +Someone put 'em up to it, and they won't peach. Game little kids." + +"Tell me," said the Vicar kindly, "are you screening someone else? Had +anyone else anything to do with this?" + +"Yes," said Anthea, thinking of the Psammead; "but it wasn't their +fault." + +"Very well, my dears," said the Vicar, "then let's say no more about it. +Only just tell us why you wrote such an odd letter." + +"I don't know," said Cyril. "You see, Anthea wrote it in such a hurry, +and it really didn't seem like stealing then. But afterwards, when we +found we couldn't get down off the church-tower, it seemed just exactly +like it. We are all very sorry"-- + +"Say no more about it," said the Vicar's wife; "but another time just +think before you take other people's tongues. Now--some cake and milk +before you go home?" + +When Andrew came to say that the horse was put to, and was he expected +to be led alone into the trap that he had plainly seen from the first, +he found the children eating cake and drinking milk and laughing at the +Vicar's jokes. Jane was sitting on the Vicar's wife's lap. + +So you see they got off better than they deserved. + +The gamekeeper, who was the cook's cousin, asked leave to drive home +with them, and Andrew was only too glad to have someone to protect him +from that trap he was so certain of. + +When the wagonette reached their own house, between the chalk-quarry and +the gravel-pit, the children were very sleepy, but they felt that they +and the keeper were friends for life. + +Andrew dumped the children down at the iron gate without a word. + +"You get along home," said the Vicarage cook's cousin, who was a +gamekeeper. "I'll get me home on shanks' mare." + +So Andrew had to drive off alone, which he did not like at all, and it +was the keeper that was cousin to the Vicarage cook who went with the +children to the door, and, when they had been swept to bed in a +whirlwind of reproaches, remained to explain to Martha and the cook and +the housemaid exactly what had happened. He explained so well that +Martha was quite amicable the next morning. + +After that he often used to come over and see Martha, and in the +end--but that is another story, as dear Mr. Kipling says. + +Martha was obliged to stick to what she had said the night before about +keeping the children indoors the next day for a punishment. But she +wasn't at all ugly about it, and agreed to let Robert go out for half an +hour to get something he particularly wanted. + +This, of course, was the day's wish. + +Robert rushed to the gravel-pit, found the Psammead, and presently +wished for-- + +But that, too, is another story. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A CASTLE AND NO DINNER + + +The others were to be kept in as a punishment for the misfortunes of the +day before. Of course Martha thought it was naughtiness, and not +misfortune--so you must not blame her. She only thought she was doing +her duty. You know, grown-up people often say they do not like to punish +you, and that they only do it for your own good, and that it hurts them +as much as it hurts you--and this is really very often the truth. + +Martha certainly hated having to punish the children quite as much as +they hated to be punished. For one thing, she knew what a noise there +would be in the house all day. And she had other reasons. + +"I declare," she said to the cook, "it seems almost a shame keeping of +them indoors this lovely day; but they are that audacious, they'll be +walking in with their heads knocked off some of these days, if I don't +put my foot down. You make them a cake for tea to-morrow, dear. And +we'll have Baby along of us soon as we've got a bit forrard with our +work. Then they can have a good romp with him, out of the way. Now, +Eliza, come, get on with them beds. Here's ten o'clock nearly, and no +rabbits caught!" + +People say that in Kent when they mean "and no work done." + +So all the others were kept in, but Robert, as I have said, was allowed +to go out for half an hour to get something they all wanted. And that, +of course, was the day's wish. + +He had no difficulty in finding the Sand-fairy, for the day was already +so hot that it had actually, for the first time, come out of its own +accord, and was sitting in a sort of pool of soft sand, stretching +itself, and trimming its whiskers, and turning its snail's eyes round +and round. + +"Ha!" it said when its left eye saw Robert; "I've been looking for you. +Where are the rest of you? Not smashed themselves up with those wings, +I hope?" + +"No," said Robert; "but the wings got us into a row, just like all the +wishes always do. So the others are kept indoors, and I was only let out +for half an hour--to get the wish. So please let me wish as quickly as I +can." + +"Wish away," said the Psammead, twisting itself round in the sand. But +Robert couldn't wish away. He forgot all the things he had been thinking +about, and nothing would come into his head but little things for +himself, like candy, a foreign stamp album, or a knife with three blades +and a corkscrew. He sat down to think better of things the others would +not have cared for--such as a football, or a pair of leg-guards, or to +be able to lick Simpkins Minor thoroughly when he went back to school. + +"Well," said the Psammead at last, "you'd better hurry up with that wish +of yours. Time flies." + +"I know it does," said Robert. "_I_ can't think what to wish for. I wish +you could give one of the others their wish without their having to +come here to ask for it. Oh, _don't_!" + +But it was too late. The Psammead had blown itself out to about three +times its proper size, and now it collapsed like a pricked bubble, and +with a deep sigh leaned back against the edge of the sand-pool, quite +faint with the effort. + +"There!" it said in a weak voice; "it was tremendously hard--but I did +it. Run along home, or they're sure to wish for something silly before +you get there." + +They were--quite sure; Robert felt this, and as he ran home his mind was +deeply occupied with the sort of wishes he might find they had wished in +his absence. They might wish for rabbits, or white mice, or chocolate, +or a fine day to-morrow, or even--and that was most likely--someone +might have said, "I do wish to goodness Robert would hurry up." Well, he +_was_ hurrying up, and so they would have had their wish, and the day +would be wasted. Then he tried to think what they could wish +for--something that would be amusing indoors. That had been his own +difficulty from the beginning. So few things are amusing indoors when +the sun is shining outside and you mayn't go out, however much you want +to do so. + +Robert was running as fast as he could, but when he turned the corner +that ought to have brought him within sight of the architect's +nightmare--the ornamental iron-work on the top of the house--he opened +his eyes so wide that he had to drop into a walk; for you cannot run +with your eyes wide open. Then suddenly he stopped short, for there was +no house to be seen. The front garden railings were gone too, and where +the house had stood--Robert rubbed his eyes and looked again. Yes, the +others _had_ wished,--there was no doubt about it,--and they must have +wished that they lived in a castle; for there the castle stood, black +and stately, and very tall and broad, with battlements and lancet +windows, and eight great towers; and, where the garden and the orchard +had been, there were white things dotted like mushrooms. Robert walked +slowly on, and as he got nearer he saw that these were tents, and men in +armor were walking about among the tents--crowds and crowds of them. + +[Illustration: There the castle stood, black and stately] + +"Oh!" said Robert fervently. "They _have_! They've wished for a castle, +and it's being besieged! It's just like that Sand-fairy! I wish we'd +never seen the beastly thing!" + +At the little window above the great gateway, across the moat that now +lay where the garden had been but half an hour ago, someone was waving +something pale dust-colored. Robert thought it was one of Cyril's +handkerchiefs. They had never been white since the day when he had upset +the bottle of "Combined Toning and Fixing Solution" into the drawer +where they were. Robert waved back, and immediately felt that he had +been unwise. For this signal had been seen by the besieging force, and +two men in steel-caps were coming towards him. They had high brown boots +on their long legs, and they came towards him with such great strides +that Robert remembered the shortness of his own legs and did not run +away. He knew it would be useless to himself, and he feared it might be +irritating to the foe. So he stood still--and the two men seemed quite +pleased with him. + +"By my halidom," said one, "a brave varlet this!" + +Robert felt pleased at being _called_ brave, and somehow it made him +_feel_ brave. He passed over the "varlet." It was the way people talked +in historical romances for the young, he knew, and it was evidently not +meant for rudeness. He only hoped he would be able to understand what +they said to him. He had not been always able quite to follow the +conversations in the historical romances for the young. + +"His garb is strange," said the other. "Some outlandish treachery, +belike." + +"Say, lad, what brings thee hither?" + +Robert knew this meant, "Now then, youngster, what are you up to here, +eh?"--so he said-- + +"If you please, I want to go home." + +"Go, then!" said the man in the longest boots; "none hindereth, and +nought lets us to follow. Zooks!" he added in a cautious undertone, "I +misdoubt me but he beareth tidings to the besieged." + +"Where dwellest thou, young knave?" inquired the man with the largest +steel-cap. + +"Over there," said Robert; and directly he had said it he knew he ought +to have said "Yonder!" + +"Ha--sayest so?" rejoined the longest boots. "Come hither, boy. This is +matter for our leader." + +And to the leader Robert was dragged forthwith--by the reluctant ear. + +[Illustration: Robert was dragged forthwith--by the reluctant ear] + +The leader was the most glorious creature Robert had ever seen. He was +exactly like the pictures Robert had so often admired in the historical +romances. He had armor, and a helmet, and a horse, and a crest, and +feathers, and a shield and a lance and a sword. His armor and his +weapons were all, I am almost sure, of quite different periods. The +shield was thirteenth century, while the sword was of the pattern +used in the Peninsular War. The cuirass was of the time of Charles I., +and the helmet dated from the Second Crusade. The arms on the shield +were very grand--three red running lions on a blue ground. The tents +were of the latest brand approved of by our modern War Office, and the +whole appearance of camp, army, and leader might have been a shock to +some. But Robert was dumb with admiration, and it all seemed to him +perfectly correct, because he knew no more of heraldry or archaeology +than the gifted artists who usually drew the pictures for the historical +romances. The scene was indeed "exactly like a picture." He admired it +all so much that he felt braver than ever. + +"Come hither, lad," said the glorious leader, when the men in +Cromwellian steel-caps had said a few low eager words. And he took off +his helmet, because he could not see properly with it on. He had a kind +face, and long fair hair. "Have no fear; thou shalt take no scathe," he +said. + +Robert was glad of that. He wondered what "scathe" was, and if it was +nastier than the medicine which he had to take sometimes. + +"Unfold thy tale without alarm," said the leader kindly. "Whence comest +thou, and what is thine intent?" + +"My what?" said Robert. + +"What seekest thou to accomplish? What is thine errand, that thou +wanderest here alone among these rough men-at-arms? Poor child, thy +mother's heart aches for thee e'en now, I'll warrant me." + +"I don't think so," said Robert; "you see, she doesn't know I'm out." + +[Illustration: He wiped away a manly tear] + +The leader wiped away a manly tear, exactly as a leader in a historical +romance would have done, and said-- + +"Fear not to speak the truth, my child; thou hast nought to fear from +Wulfric de Talbot." + +Robert had a wild feeling that this glorious leader of the besieging +party--being himself part of a wish--would be able to understand better +than Martha, or the gipsies, or the policeman in Rochester, or the +clergyman of yesterday, the true tale of the wishes and the Psammead. +The only difficulty was that he knew he could never remember enough +"quothas" and "beshrew me's," and things like that, to make his talk +sound like the talk of a boy in a historical romance. However, he began +boldly enough, with a sentence straight out of _Ralph de Courcy; or, The +Boy Crusader_. He said-- + +"Grammercy for thy courtesy, fair sir knight. The fact is, it's like +this--and I hope you're not in a hurry, because the story's rather a +breather. Father and mother are away, and when we went down playing in +the sand-pits we found a Psammead." + +"I cry thee mercy! A Sammyadd?" said the knight. + +"Yes, a sort of--of fairy, or enchanter--yes, that's it, an enchanter; +and he said we could have a wish every day, and we wished first to be +beautiful." + +"Thy wish was scarce granted," muttered one of the men-at-arms, looking +at Robert, who went on as if he had not heard, though he thought the +remark very rude indeed. + +"And then we wished for money--treasure, you know; but we couldn't spend +it. And yesterday we wished for wings, and we got them, and we had a +ripping time to begin with"-- + +"Thy speech is strange and uncouth," said Sir Wulfric de Talbot. "Repeat +thy words--what hadst thou?" + +"A ripping--I mean a jolly--no--we were contented with our lot--that's +what I mean; only, after we got into an awful fix." + +"What is a fix? A fray, mayhap?" + +"No--not a fray. A--a--a tight place." + +"A dungeon? Alas for thy youthful fettered limbs!" said the knight, with +polite sympathy. + +"It wasn't a dungeon. We just--just encountered undeserved misfortunes," +Robert explained, "and to-day we are punished by not being allowed to go +out. That's where I live,"--he pointed to the castle. "The others are in +there, and they're not allowed to go out. It's all the Psammead's--I +mean the enchanter's fault. I wish we'd never seen him." + +"He is an enchanter of might?" + +"Oh yes--of might and main. Rather!" + +"And thou deemest that it is the spells of the enchanter whom thou hast +angered that have lent strength to the besieging party," said the +gallant leader; "but know thou that Wulfric de Talbot needs no +enchanter's aid to lead his followers to victory." + +"No, I'm sure you don't," said Robert, with hasty courtesy; "of course +not--you wouldn't, you know. But, all the same, it's partly his fault, +but we're most to blame. You couldn't have done anything if it hadn't +been for us." + +"How now, bold boy?" asked Sir Wulfric haughtily. "Thy speech is dark, +and eke scarce courteous. Unravel me this riddle!" + +"Oh," said Robert desperately, "of course you don't know it, but you're +not _real_ at all. You're only here because the others must have been +idiots enough to wish for a castle--and when the sun sets you'll just +vanish away, and it'll be all right." + +The captain and the men-at-arms exchanged glances at first pitying, and +then sterner, as the longest-booted man said, "Beware, my noble lord; +the urchin doth but feign madness to escape from our clutches. Shall we +not bind him?" + +"I'm no more mad than you are," said Robert angrily, "perhaps not so +much--Only, I was an idiot to think you'd understand anything. Let me +go--I haven't done anything to you." + +"Whither?" asked the knight, who seemed to have believed all the +enchanter story till it came to his own share in it. "Whither wouldst +thou wend?" + +"Home, of course." Robert pointed to the castle. + +"To carry news of succor? Nay!" + +"All right, then," said Robert, struck by a sudden idea; "then let me go +somewhere else." His mind sought eagerly among the memories of the +historical romance. + +"Sir Wulfric de Talbot," he said slowly, "should think foul scorn to--to +keep a chap--I mean one who has done him no hurt--when he wants to cut +off quietly--I mean to depart without violence." + +"This to my face! Beshrew thee for a knave!" replied Sir Wulfric. But +the appeal seemed to have gone home. "Yet thou sayest sooth," he added +thoughtfully. "Go where thou wilt," he added nobly, "thou art free. +Wulfric de Talbot warreth not with babes, and Jakin here shall bear thee +company." + +"All right," said Robert wildly. "Jakin will enjoy himself, I think. +Come on, Jakin. Sir Wulfric, I salute thee." + +He saluted after the modern military manner, and set off running to the +sand-pit, Jakin's long boots keeping up easily. + +He found the Fairy. He dug it up, he woke it up, he implored it to give +him one more wish. + +"I've done two to-day already," it grumbled, "and one was as stiff a bit +of work as ever I did." + +"Oh, do, do, do, do, _do_!" said Robert, while Jakin looked on with an +expression of open-mouthed horror at the strange beast that talked, and +gazed with its snail's eyes at him. + +[Illustration: "Oh, do, do, _do_!" said Robert] + +"Well, what is it?" snapped the Psammead, with cross sleepiness. + +"I wish I was with the others," said Robert. And the Psammead began to +swell. Robert never thought of wishing the castle and the siege away. Of +course he knew they had all come out of a wish, but swords and daggers +and pikes and lances seemed much too real to be wished away. Robert lost +consciousness for an instant. When he opened his eyes the others were +crowding round him. + +"We never heard you come in," they said. "How awfully jolly of you to +wish it to give us our wish!" + +"Of course we understood that was what you'd done." + +"But you ought to have told us. Suppose we'd wished something silly." + +"Silly?" said Robert, very crossly indeed. "How much sillier could you +have been, I'd like to know? You nearly settled _me_--I can tell +you." + +Then he told his story, and the others admitted that it certainly had +been rough on him. But they praised his courage and cleverness so much +that he presently got back his lost temper, and felt braver than ever, +and consented to be captain of the besieged force. + +"We haven't done anything yet," said Anthea comfortably; "we waited for +you. We're going to shoot at them through these little loopholes with +the bow and arrows uncle gave you, and you shall have first shot." + +"I don't think I would," said Robert cautiously; "you don't know what +they're like near to. They've got _real_ bows and arrows--an awful +length--and swords and pikes and daggers, and all sorts of sharp things. +They're all quite, quite real. It's not just a--a picture, or a vision +or anything; they can _hurt us_--or kill us even, I shouldn't wonder. I +can feel my ear all sore yet. Look here--have you explored the castle? +Because I think we'd better let them alone as long as they let us alone. +I heard that Jakin man say they weren't going to attack till just +before sundown. We can be getting ready for the attack. Are there any +soldiers in the castle to defend it?" + +"We don't know," said Cyril. "You see, directly I'd wished we were in a +besieged castle, everything seemed to go upside down, and when it came +straight we looked out of the window, and saw the camp and things and +you--and of course we kept on looking at everything. Isn't this room +jolly? It's as real as real!" + +It was. It was square, with stone walls four feet thick, and great beams +for ceiling. A low door at the corner led to a flight of steps, up and +down. The children went down; they found themselves in a great arched +gate-house--the enormous doors were shut and barred. There was a window +in a little room at the bottom of the round turret up which the stair +wound, rather larger than the other windows, and looking through it they +saw that the drawbridge was up and the portcullis down; the moat looked +very wide and deep. Opposite the great door that led to the moat was +another great door, with a little door in it. The children went through +this, and found themselves in a big courtyard, with the great grey walls +of the castle rising dark and heavy on all four sides. + +Near the middle of the courtyard stood Martha, moving her right hand +backwards and forwards in the air. The cook was stooping down and moving +her hands, also in a very curious way. But the oddest and at the same +time most terrible thing was the Lamb, who was sitting on nothing, about +three feet from the ground, laughing happily. + +The children ran towards him. Just as Anthea was reaching out her arms +to take him, Martha said crossly, "Let him alone--do, miss, when he _is_ +good." + +"But what's he _doing_?" said Anthea. + +"Doing? Why, a-setting in his high chair as good as gold, a precious, +watching me doing of the ironing. Get along with you, do--my iron's cold +again." + +She went towards the cook, and seemed to poke an invisible fire with an +unseen poker--the cook seemed to be putting an unseen dish into an +invisible oven. + +"Run along with you, do," she said; "I'm behindhand as it is. You won't +get no dinner if you come a-hindering of me like this. Come, off you +goes, or I'll pin a discloth to some of your tails." + +"You're _sure_ the Lamb's all right?" asked Jane anxiously. + +"Right as ninepence, if you don't come unsettling of him. I thought +you'd like to be rid of him for to-day; but take him, if you want him, +for gracious' sake." + +"No, no," they said, and hastened away. They would have to defend the +castle presently, and the Lamb was safer even suspended in mid air in an +invisible kitchen than in the guard-room of the besieged castle. They +went through the first doorway they came to, and sat down helplessly on +a wooden bench that ran along the room inside. + +"How awful!" said Anthea and Jane together; and Jane added, "I feel as +if I was in a lunatic asylum." + +"What does it mean?" Anthea said. "It's creepy; I don't like it. I wish +we'd wished for something plain--a rocking-horse, or a donkey, or +something." + +"It's no use wishing _now_," said Robert bitterly; and Cyril said-- + +"Do be quiet; I want to think." + +He buried his face in his hands, and the others looked about them. They +were in a long room with an arched roof. There were wooden tables along +it, and one across at the end of the room, on a sort of raised platform. +The room was very dim and dark. The floor was strewn with dry things +like sticks, and they did not smell nice. + +Cyril sat up suddenly and said-- + +"Look here--it's all right. I think it's like this. You know, we wished +that the servants shouldn't notice any difference when we got wishes. +And nothing happens to the Lamb unless we specially wish it to. So of +course they don't notice the castle or anything. But then the castle is +on the same place where our house was--is, I mean--and the servants have +to go on being in the house, or else they _would_ notice. But you can't +have a castle mixed up with our house--and so _we_ can't see the house, +because we see the castle; and they can't see the castle, because they +go on seeing the house; and so"-- + +"Oh, _don't_," said Jane; "you make my head go all swimmy, like being on +a roundabout. It doesn't matter! Only, I hope we shall be able to see +our dinner, that's all--because if it's invisible it'll be unfeelable as +well, and then we can't eat it! I _know_ it will, because I tried to +feel if I could feel the Lamb's chair and there was nothing under him at +all but air. And we can't eat air, and I feel just as if I hadn't had +any breakfast for years and years." + +"It's no use thinking about it," said Anthea. "Let's go on exploring. +Perhaps we might find something to eat." + +This lighted hope in every breast, and they went on exploring the +castle. But though it was the most perfect and delightful castle you can +possibly imagine, and furnished in the most complete and beautiful +manner, neither food nor men-at-arms were to be found in it. + +"If you'd only thought of wishing to be besieged in a castle thoroughly +garrisoned and provisioned!" said Jane reproachfully. + +"You can't think of everything, you know," said Anthea. "I should think +it must be nearly dinner-time by now." + +It wasn't; but they hung about watching the strange movements of the +servants in the middle of the courtyard, because, of course, they +couldn't be sure where the dining-room of the invisible house was. +Presently they saw Martha carrying an invisible tray across the +courtyard, for it seemed that, by the most fortunate accident, the +dining-room of the house and the banqueting-hall of the castle were in +the same place. But oh, how their hearts sank when they perceived that +the tray _was_ invisible! + +They waited in wretched silence while Martha went through the form of +carving an unseen leg of mutton and serving invisible greens and +potatoes with a spoon that no one could see. When she had left the room, +the children looked at the empty table, and then at each other. + +"This is worse than anything," said Robert, who had not till now been +particularly keen on his dinner. + +"I'm not so very hungry," said Anthea, trying to make the best of +things, as usual. + +Cyril tightened his belt ostentatiously. Jane burst into tears. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A SIEGE AND BED + + +The children were sitting in the gloomy banqueting-hall, at the end of +one of the long bare wooden tables. There was now no hope. Martha had +brought in the dinner, and the dinner was invisible, and unfeelable too; +for, when they rubbed their hands along the table, they knew but too +well that for them there was nothing there _but_ table. + +Suddenly Cyril felt in his pocket. + +"Right, _oh_!" he cried. "Look here! Biscuits." + +Somewhat broken and crumbled, certainly, but still biscuits. Three whole +ones, and a generous handful of crumbs and fragments. + +"I got them this morning--cook--and I'd quite forgotten," he explained +as he divided them with scrupulous fairness into four heaps. + +They were eaten in a happy silence, though they had an odd taste, +because they had been in Cyril's pocket all the morning with a hank of +tarred twine, some green fir-cones, and a ball of cobbler's wax. + +"Yes, but look here, Squirrel," said Robert; "you're so clever at +explaining about invisibleness and all that. How is it the biscuits are +here, and all the bread and meat and things have disappeared?" + +"I don't know," said Cyril after a pause, "unless it's because _we_ had +them. Nothing about _us_ has changed. Everything's in my pocket all +right." + +"Then if we _had_ the mutton it would be real," said Robert. "Oh, don't +I wish we could find it!" + +"But we can't find it. I suppose it isn't ours till we've got it in our +mouths." + +"Or in our pockets," said Jane, thinking of the biscuits. + +"Who puts mutton in their pockets, goose-girl?" said Cyril. "But I +know--at any rate, I'll try it!" + +He leaned over the table with his face about an inch from it, and kept +opening and shutting his mouth as if he were taking bites out of air. + +"It's no good," said Robert in deep dejection. "You'll only---- Hullo!" + +Cyril stood up with a grin of triumph, holding a square piece of bread +in his mouth. It was quite real. Everyone saw it. It is true that, +directly he bit a piece off, the rest vanished; but it was all right, +because he knew he had it in his hand though he could neither see nor +feel it. He took another bite from the air between his fingers, and it +turned into bread as he bit. The next moment all the others were +following his example, and opening and shutting their mouths an inch or +so from the bare-looking table. Robert captured a slice of mutton, +and--but I think I will draw a veil over the rest of this painful scene. +It is enough to say that they all had enough mutton, and that when +Martha came to change the plates she said she had never seen such a mess +in all her born days. + +The pudding was, fortunately, a plain suet one, and in answer to +Martha's questions the children all with one accord said that they would +_not_ have molasses on it--nor jam, nor sugar--"Just plain, please," +they said. Martha said, "Well, I never--what next, I wonder!" and went +away. + +Then ensued another scene on which I will not dwell, for nobody looks +nice picking up slices of suet pudding from the table in its mouth, like +a dog. + +The great thing, after all, was that they had had dinner; and now +everyone felt more courage to prepare for the attack that was to be +delivered before sunset. Robert, as captain, insisted on climbing to the +top of one of the towers to reconnoitre, so up they all went. And now +they could see all round the castle, and could see, too, that beyond the +moat, on every side, tents of the besieging party were pitched. Rather +uncomfortable shivers ran down the children's backs as they saw that all +the men were very busy cleaning or sharpening their arms, re-stringing +their bows, and polishing their shields. A large party came along the +road, with horses dragging along the great trunk of a tree; and Cyril +felt quite pale, because he knew this was for a battering-ram. + +"What a good thing we've got a moat," he said; "and what a good thing +the drawbridge is up--I should never have known how to work it." + +"Of course it would be up in a besieged castle." + +"You'd think there ought to have been soldiers in it, wouldn't you?" +said Robert. + +"You see you don't know how long it's been besieged," said Cyril darkly; +"perhaps most of the brave defenders were killed early in the siege and +all the provisions eaten, and now there are only a few intrepid +survivors,--that's us, and we are going to defend it to the death." + +"How do you begin--defending to the death, I mean?" asked Anthea. + +"We ought to be heavily armed--and then shoot at them when they advance +to the attack." + +"They used to pour boiling lead down on besiegers when they got too +close," said Anthea. "Father showed me the holes on purpose for pouring +it down through at Bodiam Castle. And there are holes like it in the +gate-tower here." + +"I think I'm glad it's only a game; it _is_ only a game, isn't it?" said +Jane. + +But no one answered. + +The children found plenty of strange weapons in the castle, and if they +were armed at all it was soon plain that they would be, as Cyril said, +"armed heavily"--for these swords and lances and crossbows were far too +weighty even for Cyril's manly strength; and as for the longbows, none +of the children could even begin to bend them. The daggers were better; +but Jane hoped that the besiegers would not come close enough for +daggers to be of any use. + +"Never mind, we can hurl them like javelins," said Cyril, "or drop them +on people's heads. I say--there are lots of stones on the other side of +the courtyard. If we took some of those up? Just to drop on their heads +if they were to try swimming the moat." + +So a heap of stones grew apace, up in the room above the gate; and +another heap, a shiny spiky dangerous-looking heap, of daggers and +knives. + +As Anthea was crossing the courtyard for more stones, a sudden and +valuable idea came to her. + +She went to Martha and said, "May we have just biscuits for tea? We're +going to play at besieged castles, and we'd like the biscuits to +provision the garrison. Put mine in my pocket, please, my hands are so +dirty. And I'll tell the others to fetch theirs." + +This was indeed a happy thought, for now with four generous handfuls of +air, which turned to biscuits as Martha crammed it into their pockets, +the garrison was well provisioned till sundown. + +They brought up some iron pots of cold water to pour on the besiegers +instead of hot lead, with which the castle did not seem to be provided. + +The afternoon passed with wonderful quickness. It was very exciting; but +none of them, except Robert, could feel all the time that this was real +deadly dangerous work. To the others, who had only seen the camp and the +besiegers from a distance, the whole thing seemed half a game of +make-believe, and half a splendidly distinct and perfectly safe dream. +But it was only now and then that Robert could feel this. + +When it seemed to be tea-time the biscuits were eaten, with water from +the deep well in the courtyard, drunk out of horns. Cyril insisted on +putting by eight of the biscuits, in case anyone should feel faint in +stress of battle. + +Just as he was putting away the reserve biscuits in a sort of little +stone cupboard without a door, a sudden sound made him drop three. It +was the loud fierce cry of a trumpet. + +"You see it _is_ real," said Robert, "and they are going to attack." + +All rushed to the narrow windows. + +"Yes," said Robert, "they're all coming out of their tents and moving +about like ants. There's that Jakin dancing about where the bridge +joins on. I wish he could see me put my tongue out at him! Yah!" + +The others were far too pale to wish to put their tongues out at +anybody. They looked at Robert with surprised respect. Anthea said-- + +"You really _are_ brave, Robert." + +"Rot!" Cyril's pallor turned to redness now, all in a minute. "He's been +getting ready to be brave all the afternoon. And I wasn't ready, that's +all. I shall be braver than he is in half a jiffy." + +"Oh dear!" said Jane, "what does it matter which of you is the bravest? +I think Cyril was a perfect silly to wish for a castle, and I don't want +to play." + +"It _isn't_"--Robert was beginning sternly, but Anthea interrupted-- + +"Oh yes, you do," she said coaxingly; "it's a very nice game, really, +because they can't possibly get in, and if they do the women and +children are always spared by civilised armies." + +"But are you quite, quite sure they _are_ civilised?" asked Jane, +panting. "They seem to be such a long time ago." + +"Of course they are." Anthea pointed cheerfully through the narrow +window. "Why, look at the little flags on their lances, how bright they +are--and how fine the leader is! Look, that's him--isn't it, Robert?--on +the gray horse." + +Jane consented to look, and the scene was almost too pretty to be +alarming. The green turf, the white tents, the flash of pennoned lances, +the gleam of armour, and the bright colours of scarf and tunic--it was +just like a splendid coloured picture. The trumpets were sounding, and +when the trumpeters stopped for breath the children could hear the +cling-clang of armour and the murmur of voices. + +A trumpeter came forward to the edge of the moat, which now seemed very +much narrower than at first, and blew the longest and loudest blast they +had yet heard. When the blaring noise had died away, a man who was with +the trumpeter shouted-- + +"What ho, within there!" and his voice came plainly to the garrison in +the gate-house. + +"Hullo there!" Robert bellowed back at once. + +"In the name of our Lord the King, and of our good lord and trusty +leader Sir Wulfric de Talbot, we summon this castle to surrender--on +pain of fire and sword and no quarter. Do ye surrender?" + +"_No_" bawled Robert; "of course we don't! Never, _Never, NEVER_!" + +The man answered back-- + +"Then your fate be on your own heads." + +"Cheer," said Robert in a fierce whisper. "Cheer to show them we aren't +afraid, and rattle the daggers to make more noise. One, two, three! Hip, +hip, hooray! Again--Hip, hip, hooray! One more--Hip, hip, hooray!" The +cheers were rather high and weak, but the rattle of the daggers lent +them strength and depth. + +There was another shout from the camp across the moat--and then the +beleaguered fortress felt that the attack had indeed begun. + +It was getting rather dark in the room above the great gate, and Jane +took a very little courage as she remembered that sunset _couldn't_ be +far off now. + +"The moat is dreadfully thin," said Anthea. + +"But they can't get into the castle even if they do swim over," said +Robert. And as he spoke he heard feet on the stair outside--heavy feet +and the clang of steel. No one breathed for a moment. The steel and the +feet went on up the turret stairs. Then Robert sprang softly to the +door. He pulled off his shoes. + +"Wait here," he whispered, and stole quickly and softly after the boots +and the spur-clank. He peeped into the upper room. The man was +there--and it was Jakin, all dripping with moat-water, and he was +fiddling about with the machinery which Robert felt sure worked the +drawbridge. Robert banged the door suddenly, and turned the great key in +the lock, just as Jakin sprang to the inside of the door. Then he tore +downstairs and into the little turret at the foot of the tower where the +biggest window was. + +"We ought to have defended _this_!" he cried to the others as they +followed him. He was just in time. Another man had swum over, and his +fingers were on the window-ledge. Robert never knew how the man had +managed to climb up out of the water. But he saw the clinging fingers, +and hit them as hard as he could with an iron bar that he caught up from +the floor. The man fell with a splash into the moat-water. In another +moment Robert was outside the little room, had banged its door and was +shooting home the enormous bolts, and calling to Cyril to lend a hand. + +[Illustration: The man fell with a splash into the moat-water] + +Then they stood in the arched gate-house, breathing hard and looking at +each other. + +Jane's mouth was open. + +"Cheer up, Jenny," said Robert,--"it won't last much longer." + +There was a creaking above, and something rattled and shook. The +pavement they stood on seemed to tremble. Then a crash told them that +the drawbridge had been lowered to its place. + +"That's that beast Jakin," said Robert. "There's still the portcullis; +I'm almost certain that's worked from lower down." + +And now the drawbridge rang and echoed hollowly to the hoofs of horses +and the tramp of armed men. + +"Up--quick!" cried Robert,--"let's drop things on them." + +Even the girls were feeling almost brave now. They followed Robert +quickly, and under his directions began to drop stones out through the +long narrow windows. There was a confused noise below, and some groans. + +"Oh dear!" said Anthea, putting down the stone she was just going to +drop out, "I'm afraid we've hurt somebody!" + +Robert caught up the stone in a fury. + +"I should hope we _had_!" he said; "I'd give something for a jolly good +boiling kettle of lead. Surrender, indeed!" + +And now came more tramping and a pause, and then the thundering thump of +the battering-ram. And the little room was almost pitch dark. + +"We've held it," cried Robert, "we _won't_ surrender! The sun _must_ set +in a minute. Here--they're all jawing underneath again. Pity there's no +time to get more stones! Here, pour that water down on them. It's no +good, of course, but they'll hate it." + +"Oh dear!" said Jane, "don't you think we'd better surrender?" + +"Never!" said Robert; "we'll have a parley if you like, but we'll never +surrender. Oh, I'll be a soldier when I grow up--you just see if I +don't. I won't go into the Civil Service, whatever anyone says." + +"Let's wave a handkerchief and ask for a parley," Jane pleaded. "I don't +believe the sun's going to set to-night at all." + +"Give them the water first--the brutes!" said the bloodthirsty Robert. +So Anthea tilted the pot over the nearest lead-hole, and poured. They +heard a splash below, but no one below seemed to have felt it. And again +the ram battered the great door. Anthea paused. + +[Illustration: Anthea tilted the pot over the nearest lead-hole] + +"How idiotic," said Robert, lying flat on the floor and putting one eye +to the lead-hole. "Of course the holes go straight down into the +gate-house--that's for when the enemy has got past the door and the +portcullis, and almost all is lost. Here, hand me the pot." He crawled +on to the three-cornered window-ledge in the middle of the wall, and, +taking the pot from Anthea, poured the water out through the arrow-slit. + +And as he began to pour, the noise of the battering-ram and the +trampling of the foe and the shouts of "Surrender!" and "De Talbot for +ever!" all suddenly stopped and went out like the snuff of a candle; the +little dark room seemed to whirl round and turn topsy-turvy, and when +the children came to themselves there they were, safe and sound, in the +big front bedroom of their own house--the house with the ornamental +nightmare iron-top to the roof. + +They all crowded to the window and looked out. The moat and the tents +and the besieging force were all gone--and there was the garden with its +tangle of dahlias and marigolds and asters and later roses, and the +spiky iron railings and the quiet white road. + +Everyone drew a deep breath. + +"And that's all right!" said Robert. "I told you so! And, I say, we +didn't surrender, did we?" + +"Aren't you glad now I wished for a castle?" asked Cyril. + +"I think I am _now_," said Anthea slowly. "But I wouldn't wish for it +again, I think, Squirrel dear!" + +"Oh, it was simply splendid!" said Jane unexpectedly. "I wasn't +frightened a bit." + +"Oh, I say!" Cyril was beginning, but Anthea stopped him. + +"Look here," she said, "it's just come into my head. This is the very +first thing we've wished for that hasn't got us into a row. And there +hasn't been the least little scrap of a row about this. Nobody's raging +downstairs, we're safe and sound, we've had an awfully jolly day--at +least, not jolly exactly, but you know what I mean. And we know now how +brave Robert is--and Cyril too, of course," she added hastily, "and +Jane as well. And we haven't got into a row with a single grown-up." + +The door was opened suddenly and fiercely. + +"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves," said the voice of Martha, and +they could tell by her voice that she was very angry indeed. "I thought +you couldn't last through the day without getting up to some mischief! A +person can't take a breath of air on the front doorstep but you must be +emptying the water jug on their heads! Off you go to bed, the lot of +you, and try to get up better children in the morning. Now then--don't +let me have to tell you twice. If I find any of you not in bed in ten +minutes I'll let you know it, that's all! A new cap, and everything!" + +She flounced out amid a disregarded chorus of regrets and apologies. The +children were very sorry, but really it was not their faults. + +You can't help it if you are pouring water on a besieging foe, and your +castle suddenly changes into your house--and everything changes with it +except the water, and that happens to fall on somebody else's clean cap. + +"I don't know why the water didn't change into nothing, though," said +Cyril. + +"Why should it?" asked Robert. "Water's water all the world over." + +"I expect the castle well was the same as ours in the stable-yard," said +Jane. And that was really the case. + +"I thought we couldn't get through a wish-day without a row," said +Cyril; "it was much too good to be true. Come on, Bobs, my military +hero. If we lick into bed sharp she won't be so furious, and perhaps +she'll bring us up some supper. I'm jolly hungry! Good-night, kids." + +"Good-night. I hope the castle won't come creeping back in the night," +said Jane. + +"Of course it won't," said Anthea briskly, "but Martha will--not in the +night, but in a minute. Here, turn round, I'll get that knot out of your +pinafore strings." + +"Wouldn't it have been degrading for Sir Wulfric de Talbot," said Jane +dreamily, "if he could have known that half the besieged garrison wore +pinafores?" + +"And the other half knickerbockers. Yes--frightfully. Do stand +still--you're only tightening the knot," said Anthea. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +BIGGER THAN THE BAKER'S BOY + + +"Look here," said Cyril. "I've got an idea." + +"Does it hurt much?" said Robert sympathetically. + +"Don't be a jackanape! I'm not humbugging." + +"Shut up, Bobs!" said Anthea. + +"Silence for the Squirrel's oration," said Robert. + +Cyril balanced himself on the edge of the water-butt in the backyard, +where they all happened to be, and spoke. + +"Friends, Romans, countrymen--and women--we found a Sammyadd. We have +had wishes. We've had wings, and being beautiful as the day--ugh!--that +was pretty jolly beastly if you like--and wealth and castles, and that +rotten gipsy business with the Lamb. But we're no forrarder. We haven't +really got anything worth having for our wishes." + +"We've had things happening," said Robert; "that's always something." + +"It's not enough, unless they're the right things," said Cyril firmly. +"Now I've been thinking"-- + +"Not really?" whispered Robert. + +"In the silent what's-its-names of the night. It's like suddenly being +asked something out of history--the date of the Conquest or something; +you know it all right all the time, but when you're asked it all goes +out of your head. Ladies and gentlemen, you know jolly well that when +we're all rotting about in the usual way heaps of things keep cropping +up, and then real earnest wishes come into the heads of the beholder"-- + +"Hear, hear!" said Robert. + +"--of the beholder, however, stupid he is," Cyril went on. "Why, even +Robert might happen to think of a really useful wish if he didn't injure +his poor little brains trying so hard to think.--Shut up, Bobs, I tell +you!--You'll have the whole show over." + +A struggle on the edge of a water-butt is exciting but damp. When it was +over, and the boys were partially dried, Anthea said-- + +"It really was you began it, Bobs. Now honour is satisfied, do let +Squirrel go on. We're wasting the whole morning." + +"Well then," said Cyril, still wringing the water out of the tails of +his jacket, "I'll call it pax if Bobs will." + +"Pax then," said Robert sulkily. "But I've got a lump as big as a +cricket ball over my eye." + +Anthea patiently offered a dust-coloured handkerchief, and Robert bathed +his wounds in silence. "Now, Squirrel," she said. + +"Well then--let's just play bandits, or forts, or soldiers, or any of +the old games. We're dead sure to think of something if we try not to. +You always do." + +The others consented. Bandits was hastily chosen for the game. "It's as +good as anything else," said Jane gloomily. It must be owned that +Robert was at first but a half-hearted bandit, but when Anthea had +borrowed from Martha the red-spotted handkerchief in which the keeper +had brought her mushrooms that morning, and had tied up Robert's head +with it so that he could be the wounded hero who had saved the bandit +captain's life the day before, he cheered up wonderfully. All were soon +armed. Bows and arrows slung on the back look well; and umbrellas and +cricket stumps through the belt give a fine impression of the wearer's +being armed to the teeth. The white cotton hats that men wear in the +country nowadays have a very brigandish effect when a few turkey's +feathers are stuck in them. The Lamb's mail-cart was covered with a +red-and-blue checked table-cloth, and made an admirable baggage-wagon. +The Lamb asleep inside it was not at all in the way. So the banditti set +out along the road that led to the sand-pit. + +"We ought to be near the Sammyadd," said Cyril, "in case we think of +anything suddenly." + +It is all very well to make up your minds to play bandit--or chess, or +ping-pong, or any other agreeable game--but it is not easy to do it with +spirit when all the wonderful wishes you can think of, or can't think +of, are waiting for you round the corner. The game was dragging a +little, and some of the bandits were beginning to feel that the others +were disagreeable things, and were saying so candidly, when the baker's +boy came along the road with loaves in a basket. The opportunity was not +one to be lost. + +"Stand and deliver!" cried Cyril. + +"Your money or your life!" said Robert. + +And they stood on each side of the baker's boy. Unfortunately, he did +not seem to enter into the spirit of the thing at all. He was a baker's +boy of an unusually large size. He merely said-- + +"Chuck it now, d'ye hear!" and pushed the bandits aside most +disrespectfully. + +Then Robert lassoed him with Jane's skipping-rope, and instead of going +round his shoulders, as Robert intended, it went round his feet and +tripped him up. The basket was upset, the beautiful new loaves went +bumping and bouncing all over the dusty chalky road. The girls ran to +pick them up, and all in a moment Robert and the baker's boy were +fighting it out, man to man, with Cyril to see fair play, and the +skipping-rope twisting round their legs like an interesting snake that +wished to be a peace-maker. It did not succeed; indeed the way the +boxwood handles sprang up and hit the fighters on the shins and ankles +was not at all peace-making. I know this is the second fight--or +contest--in this chapter, but I can't help it. It was that sort of day. +You know yourself there are days when rows seem to keep on happening, +quite without your meaning them to. If I were a writer of tales of +adventure such as those which used to appear in _The Boys of England_ +when I was young of course I should be able to describe the fight, but I +cannot do it. I never can see what happens during a fight, even when it +is only dogs. Also, if I had been one of these _Boys of England_ +writers, Robert would have got the best of it. But I am like George +Washington--I cannot tell a lie, even about a cherry-tree, much less +about a fight, and I cannot conceal from you that Robert was badly +beaten, for the second time that day. The baker's boy blacked his other +eye, and being ignorant of the first rules of fair play and gentlemanly +behaviour, he also pulled Robert's hair, and kicked him on the knee. +Robert always used to say he could have licked the baker if it hadn't +been for the girls. But I am not sure. Anyway, what happened was this, +and very painful it was to self-respecting boys. + +[Illustration: He pulled Robert's hair] + +Cyril was just tearing off his coat so as to help his brother in proper +style, when Jane threw her arms round his legs and began to cry and ask +him not to go and be beaten too. That "too" was very nice for Robert, as +you can imagine--but it was nothing to what he felt when Anthea rushed +in between him and the baker's boy, and caught that unfair and degraded +fighter round the waist, imploring him not to fight any more. + +"Oh, don't hurt my brother any more!" she said in floods of tears. "He +didn't mean it--it's only play. And I'm sure he's very sorry." + +You see how unfair this was to Robert. Because, if the baker's boy had +had any right and chivalrous instincts, and had yielded to Anthea's +pleading and accepted her despicable apology, Robert could not, in +honour, have done anything to him at any future time. But Robert's +fears, if he had any, were soon dispelled. Chivalry was a stranger to +the breast of the baker's boy. He pushed Anthea away very roughly, and +he chased Robert with kicks and unpleasant conversation right down the +road to the sand-pit, and there, with one last kick, he landed him in a +heap of sand. + +"I'll larn you, you young varmint!" he said, and went off to pick up his +loaves and go about his business. Cyril, impeded by Jane, could do +nothing without hurting her, for she clung round his legs with the +strength of despair. The baker's boy went off red and damp about the +face; abusive to the last, he called them a pack of silly idiots, and +disappeared round the corner. Then Jane's grasp loosened. Cyril turned +away in silent dignity to follow Robert, and the girls followed him, +weeping without restraint. + +It was not a happy party that flung itself down in the sand beside the +sobbing Robert. For Robert was sobbing--mostly with rage. Though of +course I know that a really heroic boy is always dry-eyed after a fight. +But then he always wins, which had not been the case with Robert. + +Cyril was angry with Jane; Robert was furious with Anthea; the girls +were miserable; and not one of the four was pleased with the baker's +boy. There was, as French writers say, "a silence full of emotion." + +Then Robert dug his toes and his hands into the sand and wriggled in his +rage. "He'd better wait till I'm grown up--the cowardly brute! Beast!--I +hate him! But I'll pay him out. Just because he's bigger than me." + +"You began," said Jane incautiously. + +"I know I did, silly--but I was only jollying--and he kicked me--look +here"-- + +Robert tore down a stocking and showed a purple bruise touched up with +red. + +"I only wish I was bigger than him, that's all." + +He dug his fingers in the sand, and sprang up, for his hand had touched +something furry. It was the Psammead, of course--"On the look-out to +make sillies of them as usual," as Cyril remarked later. And of course +the next moment Robert's wish was granted, and he was bigger than the +baker's boy. Oh, but much, much bigger! He was bigger than the big +policeman who used to be at the crossing at the Mansion House years +ago,--the one who was so kind in helping old ladies over the +crossing,--and he was the biggest man _I_ have ever seen, as well as the +kindest. No one had a foot-rule in its pocket, so Robert could not be +measured--but he was taller than your father would be if he stood on +your mother's head, which I am sure he would never be unkind enough to +do. He must have been ten or eleven feet high, and as broad as a boy of +that height ought to be. His suit had fortunately grown too, and now he +stood up in it--with one of his enormous stockings turned down to show +the gigantic bruise on his vast leg. Immense tears of fury still stood +on his flushed giant face. He looked so surprised, and he was so large +to be wearing a turned down collar outside of his jacket that the others +could not help laughing. + +"The Sammyadd's done us again," said Cyril. + +[Illustration: "The Sammyadd's done us again," said Cyril] + +"Not us--_me_," said Robert. "If you'd got any decent feeling you'd try +to make it make you the same size. You've no idea how silly it feels," +he added thoughtlessly. + +"And I don't want to; I can jolly well see how silly it looks," Cyril +was beginning; but Anthea said-- + +"Oh, _don't_! I don't know what's the matter with you boys to-day. Look +here, Squirrel, let's play fair. It is hateful for poor old Bobs, all +alone up there. Let's ask the Sammyadd for another wish, and, if it +will, I do really think we ought all to be made the same size." + +The others agreed, but not gaily; but when they found the Psammead, it +wouldn't. + +"Not I," it said crossly, rubbing its face with its feet. "He's a rude +violent boy, and it'll do him good to be the wrong size for a bit. What +did he want to come digging me out with his nasty wet hands for? He +nearly touched me! He's a perfect savage. A boy of the Stone Age would +have had more sense." + +Robert's hands had indeed been wet--with tears. + +"Go away and leave me in peace, do," the Psammead went on. "I can't +think why you don't wish for something sensible--something to eat or +drink, or good manners, or good tempers. Go along with you, do!" + +It almost snarled as it shook its whiskers, and turned a sulky brown +back on them. The most hopeful felt that further parley was vain. + +They turned again to the colossal Robert. + +"What ever shall we do?" they said; and they all said it. + +"First," said Robert grimly, "I'm going to reason with that baker's boy. +I shall catch him at the end of the road." + +"Don't hit a chap smaller than yourself, old man," said Cyril. + +"Do I look like hitting him?" said Robert scornfully. "Why, I should +_kill_ him. But I'll give him something to remember. Wait till I pull up +my stocking." He pulled up his stocking, which was as large as a small +bolster-case, and strode off. His strides were six or seven feet long, +so that it was quite easy for him to be at the bottom of the hill, ready +to meet the baker's boy when he came down swinging the empty basket to +meet his master's cart, which had been leaving bread at the cottages +along the road. + +Robert crouched behind a haystack in the farmyard, that is at the +corner, and when he heard the boy come whistling along he jumped out at +him and caught him by the collar. + +"Now," he said, and his voice was about four times its usual size, just +as his body was four times its, "I'm going to teach you to kick boys +smaller than you." + +He lifted up the baker's boy and set him on the top of the haystack, +which was about sixteen feet from the ground, and then he sat down on +the roof of the barn and told the baker's boy exactly what he thought of +him. I don't think the boy heard it all--he was in a sort of trance of +terror. When Robert had said everything he could think of, and some +things twice over, he shook the boy and said-- + +[Illustration: He lifted up the baker's boy and set him on top of the +haystack] + +"And now get down the best way you can," and left him. + +I don't know how the baker's boy got down, but I do know that he missed +the cart and got into the very hottest of hot water when he turned up at +last at the bakehouse. I am sorry for him, but after all, it was quite +right that he should be taught that boys mustn't use their feet when +they fight, but their fists. Of course the water he got into only became +hotter when he tried to tell his master about the boy he had licked +and the giant as high as a church, because no one could possibly believe +such a tale as that. Next day the tale was believed--but that was too +late to be of any use to the baker's boy. + +When Robert rejoined the others he found them in the garden. Anthea had +thoughtfully asked Martha to let them have dinner out there--because the +dining-room was rather small, and it would have been so awkward to have +a brother the size of Robert in there. The Lamb, who had slept +peacefully during the whole stormy morning, was now found to be +sneezing, and Martha said he had a cold and would be better indoors. + +"And really it's just as well," said Cyril, "for I don't believe he'd +ever have stopped screaming if he'd once seen you, the awful size you +are!" + +Robert was indeed what a draper would call an "out-size" in boys. He +found himself able to step right over the iron gate in the front +garden. + +Martha brought out the dinner--it was cold veal and baked potatoes, with +sago pudding and stewed plums to follow. + +She of course did not notice that Robert was anything but the usual +size, and she gave him as much meat and potatoes as usual and no more. +You have no idea how small your usual helping of dinner looks when you +are many times your proper size. Robert groaned, and asked for more +bread. But Martha would not go on giving more bread for ever. She was in +a hurry, because the keeper intended to call on his way to Benenhurst +Fair, and she wished to be smartly dressed before he came. + +"I wish _we_ were going to the Fair," said Robert. + +"You can't go anywhere that size," said Cyril. + +"Why not?" said Robert. "They have giants at fairs, much bigger ones +than me." + +"Not much, they don't," Cyril was beginning, when Jane screamed "Oh!" +with such loud suddenness that they all thumped her on the back and +asked whether she had swallowed a plum-stone. + +"No," she said, breathless from being thumped, "it's--it's not a +plum-stone. It's an idea. Let's take Robert to the Fair, and get them to +give us money for showing him! Then we really _shall_ get something out +of the old Sammyadd at last!" + +"Take me, indeed!" said Robert indignantly. "Much more likely me take +you!" + +And so it turned out. The idea appealed irresistibly to everyone but +Robert, and even he was brought round by Anthea's suggestion that he +should have a double share of any money they might make. There was a +little old pony-cart in the coach-house--the kind that is called a +governess-cart. It seemed desirable to get to the Fair as quickly as +possible, so Robert--who could now take enormous steps and so go very +fast indeed--consented to wheel the others in this. It was as easy to +him now as wheeling the Lamb in the mail-cart had been in the morning. +The Lamb's cold prevented his being of the party. + +It was a strange sensation being wheeled in a pony-carriage by a giant. +Everyone enjoyed the journey except Robert and the few people they +passed on the way. These mostly went into what looked like some kind of +standing-up fits by the roadside, as Anthea said. Just outside +Benenhurst, Robert hid in a barn, and the others went on to the Fair. + +[Illustration: It was a strange sensation being wheeled in a +pony-carriage by a giant] + +There were some swings, and a hooting-tooting blaring merry-go-round, +and a shooting-gallery and Aunt Sallies. Resisting an impulse to win a +cocoanut,--or at least to attempt the enterprise,--Cyril went up to the +woman who was loading little guns before the array of glass bottles on +strings against a sheet of canvas. + +"Here you are, little gentleman!" she said. "Penny a shot!" + +"No, thank you," said Cyril, "we are here on business, not on pleasure. +Who's the master?" + +"The what?" + +"The master--the head--the boss of the show." + +"Over there," she said, pointing to a stout man in a dirty linen jacket +who was sleeping in the sun; "but I don't advise you to wake him sudden. +His temper's contrairy, especially these hot days. Better have a shot +while you're waiting." + +"It's rather important," said Cyril. "It'll be very profitable to him. I +think he'll be sorry if we take it away." + +"Oh, if it's money in his pocket," said the woman. "No kid now? What is +it?" + +"It's a _giant_." + +"You _are_ kidding?" + +"Come along and see," said Anthea. + +The woman looked doubtfully at them, then she called to a ragged little +girl in striped stockings and a dingy white petticoat that came below +her brown frock, and leaving her in charge of the "shooting-gallery" she +turned to Anthea and said, "Well, hurry up! But if you _are_ kidding, +you'd best say so. I'm as mild as milk myself, but my Bill he's a fair +terror and"-- + +Anthea led the way to the barn. "It really _is_ a giant," she said. +"He's a giant little boy--in a suit like my brother's there. And we +didn't bring him up to the Fair because people do stare so, and they +seem to go into kind of standing-up fits when they see him. And we +thought perhaps you'd like to show him and get pennies; and if you like +to pay us something, you can--only, it'll have to be rather a lot, +because we promised him he should have a double share of whatever we +made." + +The woman murmured something indistinct, of which the children could +only hear the words, "Swelp me!" "balmy," and "crumpet," which conveyed +no definite idea to their minds. + +She had taken Anthea's hand, and was holding it very firmly; and Anthea +could not help wondering what would happen if Robert should have +wandered off or turned his proper size during the interval. But she knew +that the Psammead's gifts really did last till sunset, however +inconvenient their lasting might be; and she did not think, somehow, +that Robert would care to go out alone while he was that size. + +When they reached the barn and Cyril called "Robert!" there was a stir +among the loose hay, and Robert began to come out. His hand and arm came +first--then a foot and leg. When the woman saw the hand she said "My!" +but when she saw the foot she said "Upon my word!" and when, by slow and +heavy degrees, the whole of Robert's enormous bulk was at last +disclosed, she drew a long breath and began to say many things, compared +with which "balmy" and "crumpet" seemed quite ordinary. She dropped into +understandable English at last. + +"What'll you take for him?" she said excitedly. "Anything in reason. +We'd have a special van built--leastways, I know where there's a +second-hand one would do up handsome--what a baby elephant had, as died. +What'll you take? He's soft, ain't he? Them giants mostly is--but I +never see--no, never! What'll you take? Down on the nail. We'll treat +him like a king, and give him first-rate grub and a doss fit for a +bloomin' dook. He must be dotty or he wouldn't need you kids to cart him +about. What'll you take for him?" + +"They won't take anything," said Robert sternly. "I'm no more soft than +you are--not so much, I shouldn't wonder. I'll come and be a show for +to-day if you'll give me,"--he hesitated at the enormous price he was +about to ask,--"if you'll give me fifteen shillings." + +"Done," said the woman, so quickly that Robert felt he had been unfair +to himself, and wished he had asked thirty. "Come on now--and see my +Bill--and we'll fix a price for the season. I dessay you might get as +much as two pounds a week reg'lar. Come on--and make yourself as small +as you can for gracious' sake!" + +This was not very small, and a crowd gathered quickly, so that it was at +the head of an enthusiastic procession that Robert entered the trampled +meadow where the Fair was held, and passed over the stubby yellow dusty +grass to the door of the biggest tent. He crept in, and the woman went +to call her Bill. He was the big sleeping man, and he did not seem at +all pleased at being awakened. Cyril, watching through a slit in the +tent, saw him scowl and shake a heavy fist and a sleepy head. Then the +woman went on speaking very fast. Cyril heard "Strewth," and "biggest +draw you ever, so help me!" and he began to share Robert's feeling that +fifteen shillings was indeed far too little. Bill slouched up to the +tent and entered. When he beheld the magnificent proportions of Robert +he said but little,--"Strike me pink!" were the only words the children +could afterwards remember,--but he produced fifteen shillings, mainly in +sixpences and coppers, and handed it to Robert. + +"We'll fix up about what you're to draw when the show's over to-night," +he said with hoarse heartiness. "Lor' love a duck! you'll be that happy +with us you'll never want to leave us. Can you do a song now--or a bit +of a breakdown?" + +"Not to-day," said Robert, rejecting the idea of trying to sing "As once +in May," a favourite of his mother's, and the only song he could think +of at the moment. + +"Get Levi and clear them bloomin' photos out. Clear the tent. Stick out +a curtain or suthink," the man went on. "Lor', what a pity we ain't got +no tights his size! But we'll have 'em before the week's out. Young man, +your fortune's made. It's a good thing you came to me, and not to some +chaps as I could tell you on. I've known blokes as beat their giants, +and starved 'em too; so I'll tell you straight, you're in luck this day +if you never was afore. 'Cos I'm a lamb, I am--and I don't deceive you." + +"I'm not afraid of anyone beating me," said Robert, looking down on the +"lamb." Robert was crouched on his knees, because the tent was not big +enough for him to stand upright in, but even in that position he could +still look down on most people. "But I'm awfully hungry--I wish you'd +get me something to eat." + +"Here, 'Becca," said the hoarse Bill. "Get him some grub--the best +you've got, mind!" Another whisper followed, of which the children only +heard, "Down in black and white--first thing to-morrow." + +Then the woman went to get the food--it was only bread and cheese when +it came, but it was delightful to the large and empty Robert; and the +man went to post sentinels round the tent, to give the alarm if Robert +should attempt to escape with his fifteen shillings. + +"As if we weren't honest," said Anthea indignantly when the meaning of +the sentinels dawned on her. + +Then began a very strange and wonderful afternoon. + +Bill was a man who knew his business. In a very little while, the +photographic views, the spyglasses you look at them through so that they +really seem rather real, and the lights you see them by, were all packed +away. A curtain--it was an old red-and-black carpet really--was run +across the tent. Robert was concealed behind, and Bill was standing on a +trestle-table outside the tent making a speech. It was rather a good +speech. It began by saying that the giant it was his privilege to +introduce to the public that day was the eldest son of the Emperor of +San Francisco, compelled through an unfortunate love affair with the +Duchess of the Fiji Islands to leave his own country and take refuge in +England--the land of liberty--where freedom was the right of every man, +no matter how big he was. It ended by the announcement that the first +twenty who came to the tent door should see the giant for threepence +apiece. "After that," said Bill, "the price is riz, and I don't +undertake to say what it won't be riz to. So now's yer time." + +A young man with his sweetheart on her afternoon out was the first to +come forward. For this occasion his was the princely attitude--no +expense spared--money no object. His girl wished to see the giant? Well, +she should see the giant, even though seeing the giant cost threepence +each and the other entertainments were all penny ones. + +The flap of the tent was raised--the couple entered. Next moment a wild +shriek from the girl thrilled through all present. Bill slapped his leg. +"That's done the trick!" he whispered to 'Becca. It was indeed a +splendid advertisement of the charms of Robert. + +When the young girl came out she was pale and trembling, and a crowd was +round the tent. + +[Illustration: When the girl came out she was pale and trembling] + +"What was it like?" asked a farm-hand. + +"Oh!--horrid!--you wouldn't believe," she said. "It's as big as a barn, +and that fierce. It froze the blood in my bones. I wouldn't ha' missed +seeing it for anything." + +The fierceness was only caused by Robert's trying not to laugh. But the +desire to do that soon left him, and before sunset he was more inclined +to cry than laugh, and more inclined to sleep than either. For, by ones +and twos and threes, people kept coming in all the afternoon, and Robert +had to shake hands with those who wished it, and to allow himself to be +punched and pulled and patted and thumped, so that people might make +sure he was really real. + +The other children sat on a bench and watched and waited, and were very +bored indeed. It seemed to them that this was the hardest way of earning +money that could have been invented. And only fifteen shillings! Bill +had taken four times that already, for the news of the giant had spread, +and trades-people in carts, and gentlepeople in carriages, came from far +and near. One gentleman with an eyeglass, and a very large yellow rose +in his buttonhole, offered Robert, in an obliging whisper, ten pounds a +week to appear at the Crystal Palace. Robert had to say "No." + +"I can't," he said regretfully. "It's no use promising what you can't +do." + +"Ah, poor fellow, bound for a term of years, I suppose! Well, here's my +card; when your time's up come to me." + +[Illustration: "When your time's up come to me"] + +"I will--if I'm the same size then," said Robert truthfully. + +"If you grow a bit, so much the better," said the gentleman. + +When he had gone, Robert beckoned Cyril and said-- + +"Tell them I must and will have a rest. And I want my tea." + +Tea was provided, and a paper hastily pinned on the tent. It said-- + + CLOSED FOR HALF AN HOUR + WHILE THE GIANT GETS HIS TEA + +Then there was a hurried council. + +"How am I to get away?" said Robert. + +"I've been thinking about it all the afternoon." + +"Why, walk out when the sun sets and you're your right size. They can't +do anything to us." + +Robert opened his eyes. "Why, they'd nearly kill us," he said, "when +they saw me get my right size. No, we must think of some other way. We +_must_ be alone when the sun sets." + +"I know," said Cyril briskly, and he went to the door, outside which +Bill was smoking a clay pipe and talking in a low voice to 'Becca. +Cyril heard him say--"Good as havin' a fortune left you." + +"Look here," said Cyril, "you can let people come in again in a minute. +He's nearly finished tea. But he _must_ be left alone when the sun sets. +He's very queer at that time of day, and if he's worried I won't answer +for the consequences." + +"Why--what comes over him?" asked Bill. + +"I don't know; it's--it's sort of a _change_," said Cyril candidly. "He +isn't at all like himself--you'd hardly know him. He's very queer +indeed. Someone'll get hurt if he's not alone about sunset." This was +true. + +"He'll pull round for the evening, I s'pose?" + +"Oh yes--half an hour after sunset he'll be quite himself again." + +"Best humour him," said the woman. + +And so, at what Cyril judged was about half an hour before sunset, the +tent was again closed "whilst the giant gets his supper." + +The crowd was very merry about the giant's meals and their coming so +close together. + +"Well, he can pick a bit," Bill owned. "You see he has to eat hearty, +being the size he is." + +Inside the tent the four children breathlessly arranged a plan of +retreat. + +"You go _now_," said Cyril to the girls, "and get along home as fast as +you can. Oh, never mind the pony-cart; we'll get that to-morrow. Robert +and I are dressed the same. We'll manage somehow, like Sydney Carton +did. Only, you girls _must_ get out, or it's all no go. We can run, but +you can't--whatever you may think. No, Jane, it's no good Robert going +out and knocking people down. The police would follow him till he turned +his proper size, and then arrest him like a shot. Go you must! If you +don't, I'll never speak to you again. It was you got us into this mess +really, hanging round people's legs the way you did this morning. _Go_, +I tell you!" + +And Jane and Anthea went. + +"We're going home," they said to Bill. "We're leaving the giant with +you. Be kind to him." And that, as Anthea said afterwards, was very +deceitful, but what were they to do? + +When they had gone, Cyril went to Bill. + +"Look here," he said, "he wants some ears of corn--there's some in the +next field but one. I'll just run and get it. Oh, and he says can't you +loop up the tent at the back a bit? He says he's stifling for a breath +of air. I'll see no one peeps in at him. I'll cover him up, and he can +take a nap while I go for the corn. He _will_ have it--there's no +holding him when he gets like this." + +The giant was made comfortable with a heap of sacks and an old +tarpaulin. The curtain was looped up, and the brothers were left alone. +They matured their plan in whispers. Outside, the merry-go-round blared +out its comic tunes, screaming now and then to attract public notice. + +Half a minute after the sun had set, a boy came out past Bill. + +"I'm off for the corn," he said, and mingled quickly with the crowd. + +At the same instant a boy came out of the back of the tent past 'Becca, +posted there as sentinel. + +"I'm off after the corn," said this boy also. And he, too, moved away +quietly and was lost in the crowd. The front-door boy was Cyril; the +back-door was Robert--now, since sunset, once more his proper size. They +walked quickly through the field, along the road, where Robert caught +Cyril up. Then they ran. They were home as soon as the girls were, for +it was a long way, and they ran most of it. It was indeed a _very_ long +way, as they found when they had to go and drag the pony-cart home next +morning, with no enormous Robert to wheel them in it as if it were a +mail-cart, and they were babies and he was their gigantic nursemaid. + + * * * * * + +I cannot possibly tell you what Bill and 'Becca said when they found +that the giant had gone. For one thing, I do not know. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +GROWN UP + + +Cyril had once pointed out that ordinary life is full of occasions on +which a wish would be most useful. And this thought filled his mind when +he happened to wake early on the morning after the morning after Robert +had wished to be bigger than the baker's boy, and had been it. The day +that lay between these two days had been occupied entirely by getting +the governess-cart home from Benenhurst. + +Cyril dressed hastily; he did not take a bath, because tin baths are so +noisy, and he had no wish to rouse Robert, and he slipped off alone, as +Anthea had once done, and ran through the dewy morning to the sand-pit. +He dug up the Psammead very carefully and kindly, and began the +conversation by asking it whether it still felt any ill effects from +the contact with the tears of Robert the day before yesterday. The +Psammead was in good temper. It replied politely. + +"And now, what can I do for you?" it said. "I suppose you've come here +so early to ask for something for yourself--something your brothers and +sisters aren't to know about, eh? Now, do be persuaded for your own +good! Ask for a good fat Megatherium and have done with it." + +"Thank you--not to-day, I think," said Cyril cautiously. "What I really +wanted to say was--you know how you're always wishing for things when +you're playing at anything?" + +"I seldom play," said the Psammead coldly. + +"Well, you know what I mean," Cyril went on impatiently. "What I want to +say is: won't you let us have our wish just when we think of it, and +just where we happen to be? So that we don't have to come and disturb +you again," added the crafty Cyril. + +"It'll only end in your wishing for something you don't really want, as +you did about the castle," said the Psammead, stretching its brown arms +and yawning. "It's always the same since people left off eating really +wholesome things. However, have it your own way. Good-bye." + +"Good-bye," said Cyril politely. + +"I'll tell you what," said the Psammead suddenly, shooting out its long +snail's eyes,--"I'm getting tired of you--all of you. You have no more +sense than so many oysters. Go along with you!" + +And Cyril went. + +"What an awful long time babies _stay_ babies," said Cyril after the +Lamb had taken his watch out of his pocket while he wasn't noticing, and +with coos and clucks of naughty rapture had opened the case and used the +whole thing as a garden spade, and when even immersion in a wash basin +had failed to wash the mould from the works and make the watch go again. +Cyril had said several things in the heat of the moment; but now he was +calmer, and had even consented to carry the Lamb part of the way to +the woods. Cyril had persuaded the others to agree to his plan, and not +to wish for anything more till they really did wish it. Meantime it +seemed good to go to the woods for nuts, and on the mossy grass under a +sweet chestnut tree the five were sitting. The Lamb was pulling up the +moss by fat handfuls, and Cyril was gloomily contemplating the ruins of +his watch. + +[Illustration: He opened the case and used the whole thing as a garden +spade] + +"He does grow," said Anthea. "Doesn't 'oo, precious?" + +"Me grow," said the Lamb cheerfully--"me grow big boy, have guns' an' +mouses--an'--an'"---- Imagination or vocabulary gave out here. But +anyway it was the longest speech the Lamb had ever made, and it charmed +everyone, even Cyril, who tumbled the Lamb over and rolled him in the +moss to the music of delighted squeals. + +"I suppose he'll be grown up some day," Anthea was saying, dreamily +looking up at the blue of the sky that showed between the long straight +chestnut-leaves. But at that moment the Lamb, struggling gaily with +Cyril, thrust a stout-shod little foot against his brother's chest; +there was a crack!--the innocent Lamb had broken the glass of father's +second-best Waterbury watch, which Cyril had borrowed without leave. + +"Grow up some day!" said Cyril bitterly, plumping the Lamb down on the +grass. "I daresay he will--when nobody wants him to. I wish to goodness +he would"-- + +"_Oh_, take care!" cried Anthea in an agony of apprehension. But it was +too late--like music to a song her words and Cyril's came out together-- + +Anthea--"Oh, take care!" + +Cyril--"Grow up now!" + +The faithful Psammead was true to its promise, and there, before the +horrified eyes of its brothers and sisters, the Lamb suddenly and +violently grew up. It was the most terrible moment. The change was not +so sudden as the wish-changes usually were. The Baby's face changed +first. It grew thinner and larger, lines came in the forehead, the eyes +grew more deep-set and darker in colour, the mouth grew longer and +thinner; most terrible of all, a little dark mustache appeared on the +lip of one who was still--except as to the face--a two-year-old baby in +a linen smock and white open-work socks. + +"Oh, I wish it wouldn't! Oh, I wish it wouldn't! You boys might wish as +well!" + +They all wished hard, for the sight was enough to dismay the most +heartless. They all wished so hard, indeed, that they felt quite giddy +and almost lost consciousness; but the wishing was quite vain, for, when +the wood ceased to whirl round, their dazed eyes were riveted at once by +the spectacle of a very proper-looking young man in flannels and a straw +hat--a young man who wore the same little black mustache which just +before they had actually seen growing upon the Baby's lip. This, then, +was the Lamb--grown up! Their own Lamb! It was a terrible moment. The +grown-up Lamb moved gracefully across the moss and settled himself +against the trunk of the sweet chestnut. He tilted the straw hat over +his eyes. He was evidently weary. He was going to sleep. The Lamb--the +original little tiresome beloved Lamb often went to sleep at odd times +and in unexpected places. Was this new Lamb in the grey flannel suit and +the pale green necktie like the other Lamb? or had his mind grown up +together with his body? + +That was the question which the others, in a hurried council held among +the yellowing brake-fern a few yards from the sleeper, debated eagerly. + +"Whichever it is, it'll be just as awful," said Anthea. "If his inside +senses are grown up too, he won't stand our looking after him; and if +he's still a baby inside of him how on earth are we to get him to do +anything? And it'll be getting on for dinner-time in a minute." + +"And we haven't got any nuts," said Jane. + +"Oh bother nuts!" said Robert, "but dinner's different--I didn't have +half enough dinner yesterday. Couldn't we tie him to the tree and go +home to our dinner and come back afterwards?" + +"A fat lot of dinner we should get if we went back without the Lamb!" +said Cyril in scornful misery. "And it'll be just the same if we go back +with him in the state he is now. Yes, I know it's my doing; don't rub it +in! I know I'm a beast, and not fit to live; you can take that for +settled, and say no more about it. The question is, what are we going to +do?" + +"Let's wake him up, and take him into Rochester or Maidstone and get +something to eat at a baker's shop," said Robert hopefully. + +"Take him?" repeated Cyril. "Yes--do! It's all my fault--I don't deny +that--but you'll find you've got your work cut out for you if you try to +take that young man anywhere. The Lamb always was spoilt, but now he's +grown up he's a demon--simply. I can see it. Look at his mouth." + +"Well then," said Robert, "let's wake him up and see what _he'll_ do. +Perhaps _he'll_ take _us_ to Maidstone and stand treat. He ought to have +a lot of money in the pockets of those extra-special pants. We _must_ +have dinner, anyway." + +They drew lots with little bits of brake fern. It fell to Jane's lot to +waken the grown-up Lamb. + +She did it gently by tickling his nose with a twig of honeysuckle. He +said "Bother the flies!" twice, and then opened his eyes. + +[Illustration: She did it gently by tickling his nose with a twig of +honeysuckle] + +"Hullo, kiddies!" he said in a languid tone, "still here? What's the +giddy hour? You'll be late for your grub!" + +"I know we shall," said Robert bitterly. + +"Then cut along home," said the grown-up Lamb. + +"What about your grub, though?" asked Jane. + +"Oh, how far is it to the station, do you think? I've a sort of a notion +that I'll run up to town and have some lunch at the club." + +Blank misery fell like a pall on the four others. The +Lamb--alone--unattended--would go to town and have lunch at a club! +Perhaps he would also have tea there. Perhaps sunset would come upon him +amid the dazzling luxury of club-land, and a helpless cross sleepy +baby would find itself alone amid unsympathetic waiters, and would wail +miserably for "Panty" from the depths of a club arm-chair! The picture +moved Anthea almost to tears. + +"Oh no, Lamb ducky, you mustn't do that!" she cried incautiously. + +The grown-up Lamb frowned. "My dear Anthea," he said, "how often am I to +tell you that my name is Hilary or St. Maur or Devereux?--any of my +baptismal names are free to my little brothers and sisters, but _not_ +'Lamb'--a relic of foolishness and far-off childhood." + +This was awful. He was their elder brother now, was he? Well of course +he was, if he was grown-up--since they weren't. Thus, in whispers, +Anthea and Robert. + +But the almost daily adventures resulting from the Psammead's wishes +were making the children wise beyond their years. + +"Dear Hilary," said Anthea, and the others choked at the name, "you know +father didn't wish you to go to London. He wouldn't like us to be left +alone without you to take care of us. Oh, deceitful thing that I am!" +she added to herself. + +"Look here," said Cyril, "if you're our elder brother, why not behave as +sich and take us over to Maidstone and give us a jolly good blow-out, +and we'll go on the river afterwards?" + +"I'm infinitely obliged to you," said the Lamb courteously, "but I +should prefer solitude. Go home to your lunch--I mean your dinner. +Perhaps I may look in about tea-time--or I may not be home till after +you are in your beds." + +Their beds! Speaking glances flashed between the wretched four. Much bed +there would be for them if they went home without the Lamb. + +"We promised mother not to lose sight of you if we took you out," Jane +said before the others could stop her. + +"Look here, Jane," said the grown-up Lamb, putting his hands in his +pockets and looking down at her, "little girls should be seen and not +heard. You kids must learn not to make yourselves a nuisance. Run along +home now--and perhaps, if you're good, I'll give you each a penny +to-morrow." + +"Look here," said Cyril, in the best "man to man" tone at his command, +"where are you going, old man? You might let Bobs and me come with +you--even if you don't want the girls." + +This was really rather noble of Cyril, for he never did care much about +being seen in public with the Lamb, who of course after sunset would be +a baby again. + +The "man to man" tone succeeded. + +"I shall run over to Maidstone on my bike," said the new Lamb airily, +fingering the little black mustache. "I can lunch at The Crown--and +perhaps I'll have a pull on the river; but I can't take you all on the +machine--now, can I? Run along home, like good children." + +The position was desperate. Robert exchanged a despairing look with +Cyril. Anthea detached a pin from her waistband, a pin whose withdrawal +left a gaping chasm between skirt and bodice, and handed it furtively to +Robert--with a grimace of the darkest and deepest meaning. Robert +slipped away to the road. There, sure enough, stood a bicycle--a +beautiful new one. Of course Robert understood at once that if the Lamb +was grown up he _must_ have a bicycle. + +[Illustration: There, sure enough, stood a bicycle] + +This had always been one of Robert's own reasons for wishing to be +grown-up. He hastily began to use the pin--eleven punctures in the back +tyre, seven in the front. He would have made the total twenty-two but +for the rustling of the yellow hazel-leaves, which warned him of the +approach of the others. He hastily leaned a hand on each wheel, and was +rewarded by the "whish" of the what was left of air escaping from +eighteen neat pin-holes. + +"Your bike's run down," said Robert, wondering how he could so soon have +learned to deceive. + +"So it is," said Cyril. + +"It's a puncture," said Anthea, stooping down, and standing up again +with a thorn which she had got ready for the purpose. + +"Look here." + +The grown-up Lamb (or Hilary, as I suppose one must now call him) fixed +his pump and blew up the tyre. The punctured state of it was soon +evident. + +[Illustration: The punctured state of it was soon evident] + +"I suppose there's a cottage somewhere near--where one could get a pail +of water?" said the Lamb. + +There was; and when the number of punctures had been made manifest, it +was felt to be a special blessing that the cottage provided "teas for +cyclists." It provided an odd sort of tea-and-hammy meal for the Lamb +and his brothers. This was paid for out of the fifteen shillings which +had been earned by Robert when he was a giant--for the Lamb, it +appeared, had unfortunately no money about him. This was a great +disappointment for the others; but it is a thing that will happen, even +to the most grown-up of us. However, Robert had enough to eat, and that +was something. Quietly but persistently the miserable four took it in +turns to try and persuade the Lamb (or St. Maur) to spend the rest of +the day in the woods. There was not very much of the day left by the +time he had mended the eighteenth puncture. He looked up from the +completed work with a sigh of relief, and suddenly put his tie straight. + +"There's a lady coming," he said briskly,--"for goodness' sake, get out +of the way. Go home--hide--vanish somehow! I can't be seen with a pack +of dirty kids." His brothers and sisters were indeed rather dirty, +because, earlier in the day, the Lamb, in his infant state, had +sprinkled a good deal of garden soil over them. The grown-up Lamb's +voice was so tyrant-like, as Jane said afterwards, that they actually +retreated to the back garden, and left him with his little mustache and +his flannel suit to meet alone the young lady, who now came up the front +garden wheeling a bicycle. + +The woman of the house came out, and the young lady spoke to her,--the +Lamb raised his hat as she passed him,--and the children could not hear +what she said, though they were craning round the corner and listening +with all their ears. They felt it to be "perfectly fair," as Robert +said, "with that wretched Lamb in that condition." + +When the Lamb spoke, in a languid voice heavy with politeness, they +heard well enough. + +"A puncture?" he was saying. "Can I not be of any assistance? If you +could allow me----?" + +There was a stifled explosion of laughter and the grown-up Lamb +(otherwise Devereux) turned the tail of an angry eye in its direction. + +"You're very kind," said the lady, looking at the Lamb. She looked +rather shy, but, as the boys put it, there didn't seem to be any +nonsense about her. + +"But oh," whispered Cyril, "I should have thought he'd had enough +bicycle-mending for one day--and if she only knew that really and truly +he's only a whiny-piny, silly little baby!" + +"He's _not_," Anthea murmured angrily. "He's a dear--if people only let +him alone. It's our own precious Lamb still, whatever silly idiots may +turn him into--isn't he, Pussy?" + +Jane doubtfully supposed so. + +Now, the Lamb--whom I must try to remember to call St. Maur--was +examining the lady's bicycle and talking to her with a very grown-up +manner indeed. No one could possibly have supposed, to see and hear him, +that only that very morning he had been a chubby child of two years +breaking other people's Waterbury watches. Devereux (as he ought to be +called for the future) took out a gold watch when he had mended the +lady's bicycle, and all the hidden onlookers said "Oh!"--because it +seemed so unfair that the Baby, who had only that morning destroyed two +cheap but honest watches, should now, in the grown-upness to which +Cyril's folly had raised him, have a real gold watch--with a chain and +seals! + +Hilary (as I will now term him) withered his brothers and sisters with a +glance, and then said to the lady--with whom he seemed to be quite +friendly-- + +"If you will allow me, I will ride with you as far as the Cross Roads; +it is getting late, and there are tramps about." + +No one will ever know what answer the young lady intended to give to +this gallant offer, for, directly Anthea heard it made, she rushed out, +knocking against a swill pail, which overflowed in a turbid stream, and +caught the Lamb (I suppose I ought to say Hilary) by the arm. The others +followed, and in an instant the four dirty children were visible beyond +disguise. + +"Don't let him," said Anthea to the lady, and she spoke with intense +earnestness; "he's not fit to go with anyone!" + +"Go away, little girl!" said St. Maur (as we will now call him) in a +terrible voice. + +"Go home at once!" + +"You'd much better not have anything to do with him," the now reckless +Anthea went on. "He doesn't know who he is. He's something very +different from what you think he is." + +"What do you mean?" asked the lady, not unnaturally, while Devereux (as +I must term the grown-up Lamb) tried vainly to push Anthea away. The +others backed her up, and she stood solid as a rock. + +"You just let him go with you," said Anthea, "you'll soon see what I +mean! How would you like to suddenly see a poor little helpless baby +spinning along downhill beside you with its feet up on a bicycle it had +lost control of?" + +The lady had turned rather pale. + +"Who are these very dirty children?" she asked the grown-up Lamb +(sometimes called St. Maur in these pages). + +"I don't know," he lied miserably. + +"Oh, Lamb! how _can_ you?" cried Jane,--"when you know perfectly well +you're our own little baby brother that we're so fond of. We're his big +brothers and sisters," she explained, turning to the lady, who with +trembling hands was now turning her bicycle towards the gate, "and we've +got to take care of him. And we must get him home before sunset, or I +don't know whatever will become of us. You see, he's sort of under a +spell--enchanted--you know what I mean!" + +Again and again the Lamb (Devereux, I mean) had tried to stop Jane's +eloquence, but Robert and Cyril held him, one by each leg, and no proper +explanation was possible. The lady rode hastily away, and electrified +her relatives at dinner by telling them of her escape from a family of +dangerous lunatics. "The little girl's eyes were simply those of a +maniac. I can't think how she came to be at large," she said. + +When her bicycle had whizzed away down the road, Cyril spoke gravely. + +"Hilary, old chap," he said, "you must have had a sunstroke or +something. And the things you've been saying to that lady! Why, if we +were to tell you the things you've said when you are yourself again, +say to-morrow morning, you wouldn't ever understand them--let alone +believe them! You trust to me, old chap, and come home now, and if +you're not yourself in the morning we'll ask the milkman to ask the +doctor to come." + +The poor grown-up Lamb (St. Maur was really one of his Christian names) +seemed now too bewildered to resist. + +"Since you seem all to be as mad as the whole worshipful company of +hatters," he said bitterly, "I suppose I _had_ better take you home. But +you're not to suppose I shall pass this over. I shall have something to +say to you all to-morrow morning." + +"Yes, you will, my Lamb," said Anthea under her breath, "but it won't be +at all the sort of thing you think it's going to be." + +In her heart she could hear the pretty, soft little loving voice of the +baby Lamb--so different from the affected tones of the dreadful grown-up +Lamb (one of whose names was Devereux)--saying, "Me love Panty--wants to +come to own Panty." + +"Oh, let's go home, for goodness' sake," she said. "You shall say +whatever you like in the morning--if you can," she added in a whisper. + +It was a gloomy party that went home through the soft evening. During +Anthea's remarks Robert had again made play with the pin and the bicycle +tyre, and the Lamb (whom they had to call St. Maur or Devereux or +Hilary) seemed really at last to have had his fill of bicycle-mending. +So the machine was wheeled. + +The sun was just on the point of setting when they arrived at the White +House. The four elder children would have liked to linger in the lane +till the complete sunsetting turned the grown-up Lamb (whose Christian +names I will not further weary you by repeating) into their own dear +tiresome baby brother. But he, in his grown-upness, insisted on going +on, and thus he was met in the front garden by Martha. + +Now you remember that, as a special favour, the Psammead had arranged +that the servants in the house should never notice any change brought +about by the wishes of the children. Therefore Martha merely saw the +usual party, with the baby Lamb, about whom she had been desperately +anxious all the afternoon, trotting beside Anthea, on fat baby legs, +while the children, of course, still saw the grown-up Lamb (never mind +what names he was christened by), and Martha rushed at him and caught +him in her arms, exclaiming-- + +"Come to his own Martha, then--a precious poppet!" + +The grown-up Lamb (whose names shall now be buried in oblivion) +struggled furiously. An expression of intense horror and annoyance was +seen on his face. But Martha was stronger than he. She lifted him up and +carried him into the house. None of the children will ever forget that +picture. The neat grey-flannel-suited grown-up young man with the green +necktie and the little black mustache--fortunately, he was slightly +built, and not tall--struggling in the sturdy arms of Martha, who +bore him away helpless, imploring him, as she went, to be a good boy +now, and come and have his nice bremmink! Fortunately, the sun set as +they reached the doorstep, the bicycle disappeared, and Martha was seen +to carry into the house the real live darling sleepy two-year-old Lamb. +The grown-up Lamb (nameless henceforth) was gone for ever. + +[Illustration: The grown-up Lamb struggled] + +"For ever," said Cyril, "because, as soon as ever the Lamb's old enough +to be bullied, we must jolly well begin to bully him, for his own +sake--so that he mayn't grow up like _that_." + +"You shan't bully him," said Anthea stoutly,--"not if I can stop it." + +"We must tame him by kindness," said Jane. + +"You see," said Robert, "if he grows up in the usual way, there'll be +plenty of time to correct him as he goes along. The awful thing to-day +was his growing up so suddenly. There was no time to improve him at +all." + +"He doesn't want any improving," said Anthea as the voice of the Lamb +came cooing through the open door, just as she had heard it in her heart +that afternoon-- + +"Me loves Panty--wants to come to own Panty!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +SCALPS + + +Probably the day would have been a greater success if Cyril had not been +reading _The Last of the Mohicans_. The story was running in his head at +breakfast, and as he took his third cup of tea he said dreamily, "I wish +there were Red Indians in England--not big ones, you know, but little +ones, just about the right size for us to fight." + +Everyone disagreed with him at the time and no one attached any +importance to the incident. But when they went down to the sand-pit to +ask for a hundred pounds in two-shilling pieces with Queen Victoria's +head on, to prevent mistakes--which they had always felt to be a really +reasonable wish that must turn out well--they found out that they had +done it again! For the Psammead, which was very cross and sleepy, +said-- + +"Oh, don't bother me. You've had your wish." + +"I didn't know it," said Cyril. + +"Don't you remember yesterday?" said the Sand-fairy, still more +disagreeably. "You asked me to let you have your wishes wherever you +happened to be, and you wished this morning, and you've got it." + +"Oh, have we?" said Robert. "What is it?" + +"So you've forgotten?" said the Psammead, beginning to burrow. "Never +mind; you'll know soon enough. And I wish you joy of it! A nice thing +you've let yourselves in for!" + +"We always do somehow," said Jane sadly. + +And now the odd thing was that no one could remember anyone's having +wished for anything that morning. The wish about the Red Indians had not +stuck in anyone's head. It was a most anxious morning. Everyone was +trying to remember what had been wished for, and no one could, and +everyone kept expecting something awful to happen every minute. It was +most agitating; they knew from what the Psammead had said, that they +must have wished for something more than usually undesirable, and they +spent several hours in most agonizing uncertainty. It was not till +nearly dinner-time that Jane tumbled over _The Last of the +Mohicans_,--which had of course, been left face downwards on the +floor,--and when Anthea had picked her and the book up she suddenly +said, "I know!" and sat down flat on the carpet. + +"Oh, Pussy, how awful! It was Indians he wished for--Cyril--at +breakfast, don't you remember? He said, 'I wish there were Red Indians +in England,'--and now there are, and they're going about scalping people +all over the country, as likely as not." + +"Perhaps they're only in Northumberland and Durham," said Jane +soothingly. It was almost impossible to believe that it could really +hurt people much to be scalped so far away as that. + +"Don't you believe it!" said Anthea. "The Sammyadd said we'd let +ourselves in for a nice thing. That means they'll come _here_. And +suppose they scalped the Lamb!" + +"Perhaps the scalping would come right again at sunset," said Jane; but +she did not speak so hopefully as usual. + +"Not it!" said Anthea. "The things that grow out of the wishes don't go. +Look at the fifteen shillings! Pussy, I'm going to break something, and +you must let me have every penny of money you've got. The Indians will +come _here_, don't you see? That Spiteful Psammead as good as said so. +You see what my plan is? Come on!" + +Jane did not see at all. But she followed her sister meekly into +mother's bedroom. + +Anthea lifted down the heavy water-jug--it had a pattern of storks and +long grasses on it, which Anthea never forgot. She carried it into the +dressing-room, and carefully emptied the water out of it into the bath. +Then she took the jug back into the bedroom and dropped it on the floor. +You know how a jug always breaks if you happen to drop it by accident. +If you happen to drop it on purpose, it is quite different. Anthea +dropped that jug three times, and it was as unbroken as ever. So at last +she had to take her father's boot-tree and break the jug with that in +cold blood. It was heartless work. + +Next she broke open the missionary-box with the poker. Jane told her +that it was wrong, of course, but Anthea shut her lips very tight and +then said-- + +[Illustration: She broke open the missionary-box with the poker.] + +"Don't be silly--it's a matter of life and death." + +There was not very much in the missionary-box,--only +seven-and-fourpence,--but the girls between them had nearly four +shillings. This made over eleven shillings, as you will easily see. + +Anthea tied up the money in a corner of her pocket-handkerchief. "Come +on, Jane!" she said, and ran down to the farm. She knew that the farmer +was going into Rochester that afternoon. In fact it had been arranged +that he was to take the four children with him. They had planned this in +the happy hour when they believed that they we're going to get that +hundred pounds, in two-shilling pieces, out of the Psammead. They had +arranged to pay the farmer two shillings each for the ride. Now Anthea +hastily explained to him that they could not go, but would he take +Martha and the Baby instead? He agreed, but he was not pleased to get +only half-a-crown instead of eight shillings. + +Then the girls ran home again. Anthea was agitated, but not flurried. +When she came to think it over afterwards, she could not help seeing +that she had acted with the most far-seeing promptitude, just like a +born general. She fetched a little box from her corner drawer, and went +to find Martha, who was laying the cloth and not in the best of tempers. + +"Look here," said Anthea. "I've broken the water jug in mother's room." + +"Just like you--always up to some mischief," said Martha, dumping down a +salt-cellar with a bang. + +"Don't be cross, Martha dear," said Anthea. "I've got enough money to +pay for a new one--if only you'll be a dear and go and buy it for us. +Your cousins keep a china-shop, don't they? And I would like you to get +it to-day, in case mother comes home to-morrow. You know she said she +might perhaps." + +"But you're all going into town yourselves," said Martha. + +"We can't afford to, if we get the new jug," said Anthea; "but we'll pay +for you to go, if you'll take the Lamb. And I say, Martha, look +here--I'll give you my Liberty box, if you'll go. Look, it's most +awfully pretty--all inlaid with real silver and ivory and ebony, like +King Solomon's temple." + +"I see," said Martha,--"no, I don't want your box, miss. What you want +is to get the precious Lamb off your hands for the afternoon. Don't you +go for to think I don't see through you!" + +This was so true that Anthea longed to deny it at once. Martha had no +business to know so much. But she held her tongue. + +Martha set down the bread with a bang that made it jump off its +trencher. + +"I _do_ want the jug got," said Anthea softly. "You _will_ go, won't +you?" + +"Well, just for this once, I don't mind; but mind you don't get into +none of your outrageous mischief while I'm gone--that's all!" + +"He's going earlier than he thought," said Anthea eagerly. "You'd better +hurry and get dressed. Do put on that lovely purple frock, Martha, and +the hat with the pink cornflowers, and the yellow-lace collar. Jane'll +finish laying the cloth, and I'll wash the Lamb and get him ready." + +As she washed the unwilling Lamb and hurried him into his best clothes, +Anthea peeped out of the window from time to time; so far all was +well--she could see no Red Indians. When with a rush and a scurry and +some deepening of the damask of Martha's complexion she and the Lamb had +been got off, Anthea drew a deep breath. + +"_He's_ safe!" she said, and, to Jane's horror, flung herself down on +the floor and burst into floods of tears. Jane did not understand at all +how a person could be so brave and like a general, and then suddenly +give way and go flat like an air-balloon when you prick it. It is better +not to go flat, of course, but you will observe that Anthea did not give +way till her aim was accomplished. She had got the dear Lamb out of +danger--she felt certain that the Red Indians would be round the White +House or nowhere--the farmer's cart would not come back till after +sunset, so she could afford to cry a little. It was partly with joy that +she cried, because she had done what she meant to do. She cried for +about three minutes, while Jane hugged her miserably and said at +five-second intervals, "Don't cry, Panther dear!" + +Then she jumped up, rubbed her eyes hard with the corner of her +pinafore, so that they kept red for the rest of the day, and started to +tell the boys. But just at that moment cook rang the dinner-bell, and +nothing could be said till they had been helped to minced beef. Then +cook left the room, and Anthea told her tale. But it is a mistake to +tell a thrilling tale when people are eating minced beef and boiled +potatoes. There seemed somehow to be something about the food that made +the idea of Red Indians seem flat and unbelievable. The boys actually +laughed, and called Anthea a little silly. + +"Why," said Cyril, "I'm almost sure it was before I said that, that Jane +said she wished it would be a fine day." + +"It wasn't," said Jane briefly. + +"Why, if it was Indians," Cyril went on,--"salt, please, and mustard--I +must have something to make this mush go down,--if it was Indians, +they'd have been infesting the place long before this--you know they +would. I believe it's the fine day." + +"Then why did the Sammyadd say we'd let ourselves in for a nice thing?" +asked Anthea. She was feeling very cross. She knew she had acted with +nobility and discretion, and after that it was very hard to be called a +little silly, especially when she had the weight of a burglared +missionary-box and about seven-and-fourpence, mostly in coppers, lying +like lead upon her conscience. + +There was a silence, during which cook took away the mincy plates and +brought in the pudding. As soon as she had retired, Cyril began again. + +"Of course I don't mean to say," he admitted, "that it wasn't a good +thing to get Martha and the Lamb out of the way for the afternoon; but +as for Red Indians--why, you know jolly well the wishes always come that +very minute. If there was going to be Red Indians, they'd be here now." + +"I expect they are," said Anthea; "they're lurking amid the undergrowth, +for anything you know. I do think you're most unkind." + +"Indians almost always _do_ lurk, really, though, don't they?" put in +Jane, anxious for peace. + +"No, they don't," said Cyril tartly. "And I'm not unkind, I'm only +truthful. And I say it was utter rot breaking the water-jug; and as for +the missionary-box, I believe it's a treason-crime, and I shouldn't +wonder if you could be hanged for it, if any of us was to split"-- + +"Shut up, can't you?" said Robert; but Cyril couldn't. You see, he felt +in his heart that if there _should_ be Indians they would be entirely +his own fault, so he did not wish to believe in them. And trying not to +believe things when in your heart you are almost sure they are true, is +as bad for the temper as anything I know. + +"It's simply idiotic," he said, "talking about Indians, when you can see +for yourself that it's Jane who's got her wish. Look what a fine day it +is----_OH!_--" + +He had turned towards the window to point out the fineness of the +day--the others turned too--and a frozen silence caught at Cyril, and +none of the others felt at all like breaking it. For there, peering +round the corner of the window, among the red leaves of the Virginia +creeper, was a face--a brown face, with a long nose and a tight mouth +and very bright eyes. And the face was painted in coloured patches. It +had long black hair, and in the hair were feathers! + +Every child's mouth in the room opened, and stayed open. The pudding was +growing white and cold on their plates. No one could move. + +Suddenly the feathered head was cautiously withdrawn, and the spell was +broken. I am sorry to say that Anthea's first words were very like a +girl. + +"There, now!" she said. "I told you so!" + +The pudding had now definitely ceased to charm. Hastily wrapping their +portions in a _Spectator_ of the week before the week before last, they +hid them behind the crinkled paper stove-ornament, and fled upstairs to +reconnoitre and to hold a hurried council. + +"Pax," said Cyril handsomely when they reached their mother's bedroom. +"Panther, I'm sorry if I was a brute." + +"All right," said Anthea; "but you see now!" + +No further trace of Indians, however, could be discerned from the +windows. + +"Well," said Robert, "what are we to do?" + +"The only thing I can think of," said Anthea, who was now generally +admitted to be the heroine of the day, "is--if we dressed up as like +Indians as we can, and looked out of the windows, or even went out. They +might think we were the powerful leaders of a large neighbouring tribe, +and--and not do anything to us, you know, for fear of awful vengeance." + +"But Eliza, and the cook?" said Jane. + +"You forget--they can't notice anything," said Robert. "They wouldn't +notice anything out of the way, even if they were scalped or roasted at +a slow fire." + +"But would they come right at sunset?" + +"Of course. You can't be really scalped or burned to death without +noticing it, and you'd be sure to notice it next day, even if it escaped +your attention at the time," said Cyril. "I think Anthea's right, but we +shall want a most awful lot of feathers." + +"I'll go down to the hen-house," said Robert. "There's one of the +turkeys in there--it's not very well. I could cut its feathers without +it minding much. It's very bad--doesn't seem to care what happens to it. +Get me the cutting-out scissors." + +Earnest reconnoitring convinced them all that no Indians were in the +poultry-yard. Robert went. In five minutes he came back--pale, but with +many feathers. + +"Look here," he said, "this is jolly serious. I cut off the feathers, +and when I turned to come out there was an Indian squinting at me from +under the old hen-coop. I just brandished the feathers and yelled, and +got away before he could get the coop off top of himself. Panther, get +the coloured blankets off our beds, and look slippy, can't you?" + +It is wonderful how like an Indian you can make yourself with blankets +and feathers and coloured scarves. Of course none of the children +happened to have long black hair, but there was a lot of black calico +that had been bought to cover school-books with. They cut strips of this +into a sort of fine fringe, and fastened it round their heads with the +amber-coloured ribbons off the girls' Sunday dresses. Then they stuck +turkeys' feathers in the ribbons. The calico looked very like long black +hair, especially when the strips began to curl up a bit. + +"But our faces," said Anthea, "they're not at all the right colour. +We're all rather pale, and I'm sure I don't know why, but Cyril is the +colour of putty." + +"I'm not," said Cyril. + +"The real Indians outside seem to be brownish," said Robert hastily. "I +think we ought to be really _red_--it's sort of superior to have a red +skin, if you are one." + +The red ochre cook uses for the kitchen bricks seemed to be about the +reddest thing in the house. The children mixed some in a saucer with +milk, as they had seen cook do for the kitchen floor. Then they +carefully painted each other's faces and hands with it, till they were +quite as red as any Red Indian need be--if not redder. + +They knew at once that they must look very terrible when they met Eliza +in the passage, and she screamed aloud. This unsolicited testimonial +pleased them very much. Hastily telling her not to be a goose, and that +it was only a game, the four blanketed, feathered, really and truly +Redskins went boldly out to meet the foe. I say boldly. That is because +I wish to be polite. At any rate, they went. + +Along the hedge dividing the wilderness from the garden was a row of +dark heads, all highly feathered. + +"It's our only chance," whispered Anthea. "Much better than to wait for +their blood-freezing attack. We must pretend like mad. Like that game of +cards where you pretend you've got aces when you haven't. Fluffing they +call it, I think. Now then. Whoop!" + +With four wild war-whoops--or as near them as white children could be +expected to go without any previous practice--they rushed through the +gate and struck four war-like attitudes in face of the line of Red +Indians. These were all about the same height, and that height was +Cyril's. + +"I hope to goodness they can talk English," said Cyril through his +attitude. + +Anthea knew they could, though she never knew how she came to know it. +She had a white towel tied to a walking-stick. This was a flag of truce, +and she waved it, in the hope that the Indians would know what it was. +Apparently they did--for one who was browner than the others stepped +forward. + +"Ye seek a pow-wow?" he said in excellent English. "I am Golden Eagle, +of the mighty tribe of Rock-dwellers." + +[Illustration: "Ye seek a pow-wow?" he said] + +"And I," said Anthea, with a sudden inspiration, "am the Black +Panther--chief of the--the--the--Mazawattee tribe. My brothers--I don't +mean--yes, I do--the tribe--I mean the Mazawattees--are in ambush below +the brow of yonder hill." + +"And what mighty warriors be these?" asked Golden Eagle, turning to the +others. + +Cyril said he was the great chief Squirrel, of the Moning Congo tribe, +and, seeing that Jane was sucking her thumb and could evidently think of +no name for herself, he added, "This great warrior is Wild Cat--Pussy +Ferox we call it in this land--leader of the vast Phiteezi tribe." + +"And thou, valorous Redskin?" Golden Eagle inquired suddenly of Robert, +who, taken unawares, could only reply that he was Bobs--leader of the +Cape Mounted Police. + +"And now," said Black Panther, "our tribes, if we just whistle them up, +will far outnumber your puny forces; so resistance is useless. Return, +therefore, to your land, O brother, and smoke pipes of peace in your +wampums with your squaws and your medicine-men, and dress yourselves in +the gayest wigwams, and eat happily of the juicy fresh-caught +moccasins." + +"You've got it all wrong," murmured Cyril angrily. But Golden Eagle only +looked inquiringly at her. + +"Thy customs are other than ours, O Black Panther," he said. "Bring up +thy tribe, that we may hold pow-wow in state before them, as becomes +great chiefs." + +"We'll bring them up right enough," said Anthea, "with their bows and +arrows, and tomahawks and scalping-knives, and everything you can think +of, if you don't look sharp and go." + +She spoke bravely enough, but the hearts of all the children were +beating furiously, and their breath came in shorter and shorter gasps. +For the little real Red Indians were closing up round them--coming +nearer and nearer with angry murmurs--so that they were the centre of a +crowd of dark cruel faces. + +"It's no go," whispered Robert. "I knew it wouldn't be. We must make a +bolt for the Psammead. It might help us. If it doesn't--well, I suppose +we shall come alive again at sunset. I wonder if scalping hurts as much +as they say." + +"I'll wave the flag again," said Anthea. "If they stand back, we'll run +for it." + +She waved the towel, and the chief commanded his followers to stand +back. Then, charging wildly at the place where the line of Indians was +thinnest, the four children started to run. Their first rush knocked +down some half-dozen Indians, over whose blanketed bodies the children +leaped, and made straight for the sand-pit. This was no time for the +safe easy way by which carts go down--right over the edge of the +sand-pit they went, among the yellow and pale purple flowers and dried +grasses, past the little bank martins' little front doors, skipping, +clinging, bounding, stumbling, sprawling, and finally rolling. + +Yellow Eagle and his followers came up with them just at the very spot +where they had seen the Psammead that morning. + +Breathless and beaten, the wretched children now awaited their fate. +Sharp knives and axes gleamed round them, but worse than these was the +cruel light in the eyes of Golden Eagle and his followers. + +"Ye have lied to us, O Black Panther of the Mazawattees--and thou, too, +Squirrel of the Moning Congos. These also, Pussy Ferox of the Phiteezi, +and Bobs of the Cape Mounted Police,--these also have lied to us, if not +with their tongues, yet by their silence. Ye have lied under the cover +of the Truce-flag of the Pale-face. Ye have no followers. Your tribes +are far away--following the hunting trail. What shall be their doom?" he +concluded, turning with a bitter smile to the other Red Indians. + +"Build we the fire!" shouted his followers; and at once a dozen ready +volunteers started to look for fuel. The four children, each held +between two strong little Indians, cast despairing glances round them. +Oh, if they could only see the Psammead! + +"Do you mean to scalp us first and then roast us?" asked Anthea +desperately. + +"Of course!" Redskin opened his eyes at her. "It's always done." + +The Indians had formed a ring round the children, and now sat on the +ground gazing at their captives. There was a threatening silence. + +Then slowly, by twos and threes, the Indians who had gone to look for +firewood came back, and they came back empty-handed. They had not been +able to find a single stick of wood for a fire! No one ever can, as a +matter of fact, in that part of Kent. + +The children drew a deep breath of relief, but it ended in a moan of +terror. For bright knives were being brandished all about them. Next +moment each child was seized by an Indian; each closed its eyes and +tried not to scream. They waited for the sharp agony of the knife. It +did not come. Next moment they were released, and fell in a trembling +heap. Their heads did not hurt at all. They only felt strangely cool! +Wild war-whoops rang in their ears. When they ventured to open their +eyes they saw four of their foes dancing round them with wild leaps and +screams, and each of the four brandished in his hand a scalp of long +flowing black hair. They put their hands to their heads--their own +scalps were safe! The poor untutored savages had indeed scalped the +children. But they had only, so to speak, scalped them of the black +calico ringlets! + +[Illustration: Bright knives were being brandished all about them] + +The children fell into each other's arms, sobbing and laughing. + +"Their scalps are ours," chanted the chief; "ill-rooted were their +ill-fated hairs! They came off in the hands of the victors--without +struggle, without resistance, they yielded their scalps to the +conquering Rock-dwellers! Oh, how little a thing is a scalp so lightly +won!" + +"They'll take our real ones in a minute; you see if they don't," said +Robert, trying to rub some of the red ochre off his face and hands on to +his hair. + +"Cheated of our just and fiery revenge are we," the chant went on,--"but +there are other torments than the scalping-knife and the flames. Yet is +the slow fire the correct thing. O strange unnatural country, wherein a +man may find no wood to burn his enemy!--Ah for the boundless forests of +my native land, where the great trees for thousands of miles grow but to +furnish firewood wherewithal to burn our foes. Ah, would we were but in +our native forest once more!" + +Suddenly like a flash of lightning, the golden gravel shone all round +the four children instead of the dusky figures. For every single +Indian had vanished on the instant at their leader's word. The Psammead +must have been there all the time. And it had given the Indian chief his +wish. + + * * * * * + +Martha brought home a jug with a pattern of storks and long grasses on +it. Also she brought back all Anthea's money. + +"My cousin, she gave me the jug for luck; she said it was an odd one +what the basin of had got smashed." + +"Oh, Martha, you are a dear!" sighed Anthea, throwing her arms round +her. + +"Yes," giggled Martha, "you'd better make the most of me while you've +got me. I shall give your ma notice directly minute she comes back." + +"Oh, Martha, we haven't been so _very_ horrid to you, have we?" asked +Anthea, aghast. + +"Oh, it isn't that, miss." Martha giggled more than ever. "I'm a-goin' +to be married. It's Beale the gamekeeper. He's been a-proposin' to me +off and on ever since you come home from the clergyman's where you got +locked up on the church-tower. And to-day I said the word an' made him a +happy man." + + * * * * * + +Anthea put the seven-and-fourpence back in the missionary-box, and +pasted paper over the place where the poker had broken it. She was very +glad to be able to do this, and she does not know to this day whether +breaking open a missionary-box is or is not a hanging matter! + + + + +CHAPTER XI (AND LAST) + +THE LAST WISH + + +Of course you, who see above that this is the eleventh (and last) +chapter, know very well that the day of which this chapter tells must be +the last on which Cyril, Anthea, Robert, and Jane will have a chance of +getting anything out of the Psammead, or Sand-fairy. + +But the children themselves did not know this. They were full of rosy +visions, and, whereas on the other days they had often found it +extremely difficult to think of anything really nice to wish for, their +brains were now full of the most beautiful and sensible ideas. "This," +as Jane remarked afterwards, "is always the way." Everyone was up extra +early that morning, and these plans were hopefully discussed in the +garden before breakfast. The old idea of one hundred pounds in modern +florins was still first favourite, but there were others that ran it +close--the chief of these being the "pony-each" idea. This had a great +advantage. You could wish for a pony each during the morning, ride it +all day, have it vanish at sunset, and wish it back again next day. +Which would be an economy of litter and stabling. But at breakfast two +things happened. First, there was a letter from mother. Granny was +better, and mother and father hoped to be home that very afternoon. A +cheer arose. And of course this news at once scattered all the +before-breakfast wish-ideas. For everyone saw quite plainly that the +wish of the day must be something to please mother and not to please +themselves. + +"I wonder what she _would_ like," pondered Cyril. + +"She'd like us all to be good," said Jane primly. + +"Yes--but that's so dull for us," Cyril rejoined; "and besides, I should +hope we could be that without sand-fairies to help us. No; it must be +something splendid, that we couldn't possibly get without wishing for." + +"Look out," said Anthea in a warning voice; "don't forget yesterday. +Remember, we get our wishes now just wherever we happen to be when we +say 'I wish.' Don't let's let ourselves in for anything silly--to-day of +all days." + +"All right," said Cyril. "You needn't talk so much." + +Just then Martha came in with a jug full of hot water for the +tea-pot--and a face full of importance for the children. + +"A blessing we're all alive to eat our breakfast!" she said darkly. + +"Why, whatever's happened?" everybody asked. + +"Oh, nothing," said Martha, "only it seems nobody's safe from being +murdered in their beds nowadays." + +"Why," said Jane as an agreeable thrill of horror ran down her back and +legs and out at her toes, "_has_ anyone been murdered in their beds?" + +"Well--not exactly," said Martha; "but they might just as well. There's +been burglars over at Peasemarsh Place--Beale's just told me--and +they've took every single one of Lady Chittenden's diamonds and jewels +and things, and she's a-goin out of one fainting fit into another, with +hardly time to say 'Oh, my diamonds!' in between. And Lord Chittenden's +away in London." + +"Lady Chittenden," said Anthea; "we've seen her. She wears a +red-and-white dress, and she has no children of her own and can't abide +other folkses'." + +"That's her," said Martha. "Well, she's put all her trust in riches, and +you see how she's served. They say the diamonds and things was worth +thousands of pounds. There was a necklace and a river--whatever that +is--and no end of bracelets; and a tarrer and ever so many rings. But +there, I mustn't stand talking and all the place to clean down afore +your ma comes home." + +"I don't see why she should ever have had such lots of diamonds," said +Anthea when Martha had flounced off. "She was not at all a nice lady, I +thought. And mother hasn't any diamonds, and hardly any jewels--the +topaz necklace, and the sapphire ring daddy gave her when they were +engaged, and the garnet star, and the little pearl brooch with +great-grandpapa's hair in it,--that's about all." + +"When I'm grown up I'll buy mother no end of diamonds," said Robert, "if +she wants them. I shall make so much money exploring in Africa I shan't +know what to do with it." + +"Wouldn't it be jolly," said Jane dreamily, "if mother could find all +these lovely things, necklaces and rivers of diamonds and tarrers?" + +"_Ti--aras_," said Cyril. + +"Ti--aras, then,--and rings and everything in her room when she came +home. I wish she would"-- + +The others gazed at her in horror. + +"Well, she _will_," said Robert; "you've wished, my good Jane--and our +only chance now is to find the Psammead, and if it's in a good temper +it _may_ take back the wish and give us another. If not--well--goodness +knows what we're in for!--the police of course, and---- Don't cry, +silly! We'll stand by you. Father says we need never to be afraid if we +don't do anything wrong and always speak the truth." + +But Cyril and Anthea exchanged gloomy glances. They remembered how +convincing the truth about the Psammead had been once before when told +to the police. + +It was a day of misfortunes. Of course the Psammead could not be found. +Nor the jewels, though every one of the children searched the mother's +room again and again. + +"Of course," Robert said, "_we_ couldn't find them. It'll be mother +who'll do that. Perhaps she'll think they've been in the house for years +and years, and never know they are the stolen ones at all." + +"Oh yes!" Cyril was very scornful; "then mother will be a receiver of +stolen goods, and you know jolly well what _that's_ worse than." + +Another and exhaustive search of the sand-pit failed to reveal the +Psammead, so the children went back to the house slowly and sadly. + +"I don't care," said Anthea stoutly, "we'll tell mother the truth, and +she'll give back the jewels--and make everything all right." + +"Do you think so?" said Cyril slowly. "Do you think she'll believe us? +Could anyone believe about a Sammyadd unless they'd seen it? She'll +think we're pretending. Or else she'll think we're raving mad, and then +we shall be sent to the mad-house. How would you like it?"--he turned +suddenly on the miserable Jane,--"how would you like it, to be shut up +in an iron cage with bars and padded walls, and nothing to do but stick +straws in your hair all day, and listen to the howlings and ravings of +the other maniacs? Make up your minds to it, all of you. It's no use +telling mother." + +"But it's true," said Jane. + +"Of course it is, but it's not true enough for grown-up people to +believe it," said Anthea. + +"Cyril's right. Let's put flowers in all the vases, and try not to think +about the diamonds. After all, everything has come right in the end all +the other times." + +So they filled all the pots they could find with flowers--asters and +zinnias, and loose-leaved late red roses from the wall of the +stableyard, till the house was a perfect bower. + +And almost as soon as dinner was cleared away mother arrived, and was +clasped in eight loving arms. It was very difficult indeed not to tell +her all about the Psammead at once, because they had got into the habit +of telling her everything. But they did succeed in not telling her. + +[Illustration: She was clasped in eight loving arms] + +Mother, on her side, had plenty to tell them--about Granny, and Granny's +pigeons, and Auntie Emma's lame tame donkey. She was very delighted with +the flowery-boweryness of the house; and everything seemed so natural +and pleasant, now that she was home again, that the children almost +thought they must have dreamed the Psammead. + +But, when mother moved towards the stairs to go up to her bedroom and +take off her bonnet, the eight arms clung round her just as if she only +had two children, one the Lamb and the other an octopus. + +"Don't go up, mummy darling," said Anthea; "let me take your things up +for you." + +"Or I will," said Cyril. + +"We want you to come and look at the rose-tree," said Robert. + +"Oh, don't go up!" said Jane helplessly. + +"Nonsense, dears," said mother briskly, "I'm not such an old woman yet +that I can't take my bonnet off in the proper place. Besides I must wash +these black hands of mine." + +So up she went, and the children, following her, exchanged glances of +gloomy foreboding. + +Mother took off her bonnet,--it was a very pretty hat, really, with +white roses in it,--and when she had taken it off she went to the +dressing-table to do her pretty hair. + +On the table between the ring-stand and the pin-cushion lay a green +leather case. Mother opened it. + +"Oh, how lovely!" she cried. It was a ring, a large pearl with shining +many-lighted diamonds set round it. "Wherever did this come from?" +mother asked, trying it on her wedding finger, which it fitted +beautifully. "However did it come here?" + +"I don't know," said each of the children truthfully. + +"Father must have told Martha to put it here," mother said. "I'll run +down and ask her." + +"Let me look at it," said Anthea, who knew Martha would not be able to +see the ring. But when Martha was asked, of course she denied putting +the ring there, and so did Eliza and cook. + +Mother came back to her bedroom, very much interested and pleased about +the ring. But, when she opened the dressing-table drawer and found a +long case containing an almost priceless diamond necklace, she was more +interested still, though not so pleased. In the wardrobe, when she went +to put away her "bonnet," she found a tiara and several brooches, and +the rest of the jewellery turned up in various parts of the room during +the next half-hour. The children looked more and more uncomfortable, and +now Jane began to sniff. + +Mother looked at her gravely. + +"Jane," she said, "I am sure you know something about this. Now think +before you speak, and tell me the truth." + +"We found a Fairy," said Jane obediently. + +[Illustration: "We found a Fairy," said Jane obediently] + +"No nonsense, please," said her mother sharply. + +"Don't be silly, Jane," Cyril interrupted. Then he went on desperately. +"Look here, mother, we've never seen the things before, but Lady +Chittenden at Peasmarsh Place lost all her jewellery by wicked burglars +last night. Could this possibly be it?" + +All drew a deep breath. They were saved. + +"But how could they have put it here? And why should they?" asked +mother, not unreasonably. "Surely it would have been easier and safer to +make off with it?" + +"Suppose," said Cyril, "they thought it better to wait for--for +sunset--nightfall, I mean, before they went off with it. No one but us +knew that you were coming back to-day." + +"I must send for the police at once," said mother distractedly. "Oh, how +I wish daddy were here!" + +"Wouldn't it be better to wait till he _does_ come?" asked Robert, +knowing that his father would not be home before sunset. + +"No, no; I can't wait a minute with all this on my mind," cried mother. +"All this" was the heap of jewel-cases on the bed. They put them all in +the wardrobe, and mother locked it. Then mother called Martha. + +"Martha," she said, "has any stranger been into my room since I've been +away? Now, answer me truthfully." + +"No, mum," answered Martha; "leastways, what I mean to say"-- + +She stopped. + +"Come," said her mistress kindly, "I see someone has. You must tell me +at once. Don't be frightened. I'm sure _you_ haven't done anything +wrong." + +Martha burst into heavy sobs. + +"I was a-goin' to give you warning this very day, mum, to leave at the +end of my month, so I was,--on account of me being going to make a +respectable young man happy. A gamekeeper he is by trade, mum--and I +wouldn't deceive you--of the name of Beale. And it's as true as I stand +here, it was your coming home in such a hurry, and no warning given, out +of the kindness of his heart it was, as he says, 'Martha, my beauty,' he +says,--which I ain't, and never was, but you know how them men will go +on,--'I can't see you a-toiling and a-moiling and not lend a 'elping +'and; which mine is a strong arm, and it's yours Martha, my dear,' says +he. And so he helped me a-cleanin' of the windows--but outside, mum, the +whole time, and me in; if I never say another breathing word it's gospel +truth." + +"Were you with him the whole time?" asked her mistress. + +"Him outside and me in, I was," said Martha; "except for fetching up a +fresh pail and the leather that that slut of a Eliza'd hidden away +behind the mangle." + +"That will do," said the children's mother. "I am not pleased with you, +Martha, but you have spoken the truth, and that counts for something." + +When Martha had gone, the children clung round their mother. + +"Oh, mummy darling," cried Anthea, "it isn't Beale's fault, it isn't +really! He's a great dear; he is, truly and honourably, and as honest as +the day. Don't let the police take him, mummy! Oh, don't, don't, don't!" + +It was truly awful. Here was an innocent man accused of robbery through +that silly wish of Jane's, and it was absolutely useless to tell the +truth. All longed to, but they thought of the straws in the hair and the +shrieks of the other frantic maniacs, and they could not do it. + +"Is there a cart hereabouts?" asked the mother feverishly. "A trap of +any sort? I must drive in to Rochester and tell the police at once." + +All the children sobbed, "There's a cart at the farm, but, oh, don't +go!--don't go!--oh, don't go!--wait till daddy comes home!" + +Mother took not the faintest notice. When she had set her mind on a +thing she always went straight through with it; she was rather like +Anthea in this respect. + +"Look here, Cyril," she said, sticking on her hat with long sharp +violet-headed pins, "I leave you in charge. Stay in the dressing-room. +You can pretend to be swimming boats in the bath, or something. Say I +gave you leave. But stay there, with the door on the landing open; I've +locked the other. And don't let anyone go into my room. Remember, no one +knows the jewels are there except me, and all of you, and the wicked +thieves who put them there. Robert, you stay in the garden and watch the +windows. If anyone tries to get in you must run and tell the two farm +men that I'll send up to wait in the kitchen. I'll tell them there are +dangerous characters about--that's true enough. Now remember, I trust +you both. But I don't think they'll try it till after dark, so you're +quite safe. Good-bye, darlings." + +And she locked her bedroom door and went off with the key in her pocket. + +The children could not help admiring the dashing and decided way in +which she had acted. They thought how useful she would have been in +organising escape from some of the tight places in which they had found +themselves of late in consequence of their ill-timed wishes. + +"She's a born general," said Cyril,--"but _I_ don't know what's going to +happen to us. Even if the girls were to hunt for that old Sammyadd and +find it, and get it to take the jewels away again, mother would only +think we hadn't looked out properly and let the burglars sneak in and +get them--or else the police will think _we've_ got them--or else that +she's been fooling them. Oh, it's a pretty decent average ghastly mess +this time, and no mistake!" + +He savagely made a paper boat and began to float it in the bath, as he +had been told to do. + +Robert went into the garden and sat down on the worn yellow grass, with +his miserable head between his helpless hands. + +Anthea and Jane whispered together in the passage downstairs, where the +cocoanut matting was--with the hole in it that you always caught your +foot in if you were not careful. Martha's voice could be heard in the +kitchen,--grumbling loud and long. + +"It's simply quite too dreadfully awful," said Anthea. "How do you know +all the diamonds are there, too? If they aren't, the police will think +mother and father have got them, and that they've only given up some of +them for a kind of desperate blind. And they'll be put in prison, and we +shall be branded outcasts, the children of felons. And it won't be at +all nice for father and mother either," she added, by a candid +after-thought. + +"But what can we _do_?" asked Jane. + +"Nothing--at least we might look for the Psammead again. It's a very, +_very_ hot day. He may have come out to warm that whisker of his." + +"He won't give us any more beastly wishes to-day," said Jane flatly. "He +gets crosser and crosser every time we see him. I believe he hates +having to give wishes." + +Anthea had been shaking her head gloomily--now she stopped shaking it so +suddenly that it really looked as though she were pricking up her ears. + +"What is it?" asked Jane. "Oh, have you thought of something?" + +"Our one chance," cried Anthea dramatically; "the last lone-lorn forlorn +hope. Come on." + +At a brisk trot she led the way to the sand-pit. Oh, joy!--there was the +Psammead, basking in a golden sandy hollow and preening its whiskers +happily in the glowing afternoon sun. The moment it saw them it whisked +round and began to burrow--it evidently preferred its own company to +theirs. But Anthea was too quick for it. She caught it by its furry +shoulders gently but firmly, and held it. + +"Here--none of that!" said the Psammead. "Leave go of me, will you?" + +But Anthea held him fast. + +"Dear kind darling Sammyadd," she said breathlessly. + +"Oh yes--it's all very well," it said; "you want another wish, I expect. +But I can't keep on slaving from morning till night giving people their +wishes. I must have _some_ time to myself." + +"Do you hate giving wishes?" asked Anthea gently, and her voice trembled +with excitement. + +"Of course I do," it said. "Leave go of me or I'll bite!--I really +will--I mean it. Oh, well, if you choose to risk it." + +Anthea risked it and held on. + +"Look here," she said, "don't bite me--listen to reason. If you'll only +do what we want to-day, we'll never ask you for another wish as long as +we live." + +The Psammead was much moved. + +"I'd do anything," it said in a tearful voice. "I'd almost burst myself +to give you one wish after another, as long as I held out, if you'd only +never, never ask me to do it after to-day. If you knew how I hate to +blow myself out with other people's wishes, and how frightened I am +always that I shall strain a muscle or something. And then to wake up +every morning and know you've _got_ to do it. You don't know what it +is--you don't know what it is, you don't!" Its voice cracked with +emotion, and the last "don't" was a squeak. + +Anthea set it down gently on the sand. + +"It's all over now," she said soothingly. "We promise faithfully never +to ask for another wish after to-day." + +"Well, go ahead," said the Psammead; "let's get it over." + +"How many can you do?" + +"I don't know--as long as I can hold out." + +"Well, first, I wish Lady Chittenden may find she's never lost her +jewels." + +The Psammead blew itself out, collapsed, and said, "Done." + +"I wish," said Anthea more slowly, "mother mayn't get to the police." + +"Done," said the creature after the proper interval. + +"I wish," said Jane suddenly, "mother could forget all about the +diamonds." + +"Done," said the Psammead; but its voice was weaker. + +"Would you like to rest a little?" asked Anthea considerately. + +"Yes, please," said the Psammead; "and, before we go any further, will +you wish something for me?" + +"Can't you do wishes for yourself?" + +"Of course not," it said; "we were always expected to give each other +our wishes--not that we had any to speak of in the good old Megatherium +days. Just wish, will you, that you may never be able, any of you, to +tell anyone a word about _Me_." + +"Why?" asked Jane. + +"Why, don't you see, if you told grown-ups I should have no peace of my +life. They'd get hold of me, and they wouldn't wish silly things like +you do, but real earnest things; and the scientific people would hit on +some way of making things last after sunset, as likely as not; and +they'd ask for a graduated income-tax, and old-age pensions, and manhood +suffrage, and free secondary education, and dull things like that; and +get them, and keep them, and the whole world would be turned +topsy-turvy. Do wish it! Quick!" + +Anthea repeated the Psammead's wish, and it blew itself out to a larger +size than they had yet seen it attain. + +"And now," it said as it collapsed, "can I do anything more for you?" + +"Just one thing; and I think that clears everything up, doesn't it, +Jane? I wish Martha to forget about the diamond ring, and mother to +forget about the keeper cleaning the windows." + +"It's like the 'Brass Bottle,'" said Jane. + +"Yes, I'm glad we read that or I should never have thought of it." + +"Now," said the Psammead faintly, "I'm almost worn out. Is there +anything else?" + +"No; only thank you kindly for all you've done for us, and I hope you'll +have a good long sleep, and I hope we shall see you again some day." + +"Is that a wish?" it said in a weak voice. + +"Yes, please," said the two girls together. + +[Illustration: It burrowed, and disappeared, scratching fiercely to the +last] + +Then for the last time in this story they saw the Psammead blow itself +out and collapse suddenly. It nodded to them, blinked its long snail's +eyes, burrowed, and disappeared, scratching fiercely to the last, and +the sand closed over it. + + * * * * * + +"I hope we've done right?" said Jane. + +"I'm sure we have," said Anthea. "Come on home and tell the boys." + +Anthea found Cyril glooming over his paper boats, and told him. Jane +told Robert. The two tales were only just ended when mother walked in, +hot and dusty. She explained that as she was being driven into Rochester +to buy the girls' autumn school-dresses the axle had broken, and but for +the narrowness of the lane and the high soft hedges she would have been +thrown out. As it was, she was not hurt, but she had had to walk home. +"And oh, my dearest dear chicks," she said, "I am simply dying for a cup +of tea! Do run and see if the water boils!" + +"So you see it's all right," Jane whispered. "She doesn't remember." + +"No more does Martha," said Anthea, who had been to ask after the state +of the kettle. + +As the servants sat at their tea, Beale the gamekeeper dropped in. He +brought the welcome news that Lady Chittenden's diamonds had not been +lost at all. Lord Chittenden had taken them to be re-set and cleaned, +and the maid who knew about it had gone for a holiday. So that was all +right. + +"I wonder if we ever shall see the Psammead again," said Jane wistfully +as they walked in the garden, while mother was putting the Lamb to bed. + +"I'm sure we shall," said Cyril, "if you really wished it." + +"We've promised never to ask it for another wish," said Anthea. + +"I never want to," said Robert earnestly. + +They did see it again, of course, but not in this story. And it was not +in a sand-pit either, but in a very, very, very different place. It was +in a---- But I must say no more. + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's notes: + +Varied hyphenation retained where a majority could not be found. +Exceptions noted. + +Page 60, "Peasemarch" changed to "Peasemarsh" to conform to rest of +text. "Billy Peasemarsh." + +Page 111, "hasily" changed to "hastily" in "Jane hastily finished". + +Page 116, extraneous " removed. "better. What" + +Page 179, Quotation mark added. "...Anthea said. "It's creepy..." + +Page 193, "gatehouse" changed to "gate-house" to conform to rest of +text, "in the gate-house." + +Page 290, "Peasmarsh" changed to "Peasemarsh" in "at Peasemarsh Place", +also on page 297, "Peasemarsh Place". + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Five Children and It, by E. 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