8-Hour Sleep Story: Phoenix And The Carpet & Other Stories

Relax and sleep to the whole of Edith Nesbit's wonderful book The Phoenix and the Carpet, presented in one seamless 8-hour track. As the book takes just 6 and a half hours to narrate, we finish off with three of Nesbit's wonderful short stories to bring us up to a full night's sleep: The Aunt and Amabel, The Sums that Came Right, and Kind Little Edmund (or the Cave and the Cockatrice).

Four children find a large egg in an old rug, from which hatches a talking Phoenix. The gloriously plumed bird patiently explains that the rug happens to be a magic carpet that can take them anywhere in the world they decide to go. Wonderful and hilarious adventures ensue. This perennial children's book by the author of the Railway Children is written with adults in mind too, and the humor is pin sharp.

For another 8-hour track narrated by me, please listen to the complete Ted the Shed, the true story of my Dad and the allotment he took on at the age of 87.

Guitar music by William King.

Transcript

Hello,

It's Mandy here.

Thanks so much for joining me to listen to tonight's reading.

It's The Phoenix and the Carpet,

A fantasy novel for children written by E.

Nesbitt and first published in 1904.

The novel follows the adventures of five children.

Edith Nesbitt herself was an English writer and poet and wrote the famous children's book,

The Railway Children.

But for now,

Please go ahead and make yourself really comfortable and I'll begin.

Chapter one,

The Egg.

It began with the day when it was almost the 5th of November and a doubt arose in some breast,

Robert's I fancy,

As to the quality of the fireworks laid in for the Guy Fawkes celebration.

They were jolly cheap,

Said whoever it was,

And I think it was Robert,

And suppose they didn't go off on the night?

Those Prosser kids would have something to snigger about then.

The ones I got are all right,

Jane said.

I know they are because the man at the shop said they were worth Thribble the money.

I'm sure Thribble isn't grammar,

Anthea said.

Of course it isn't,

Said Cyril.

One word can't be grammar all by itself,

So you needn't be so jolly clever.

Anthea was rummaging in the corner drawers of her mind for a very disagreeable answer when she remembered what a wet day it was and how the boys had been disappointed of that ride to London and back on the top of the tram,

Which their mother had promised them as a reward for not having once forgotten for six whole days to wipe their boots on the mat when they came home from school.

So Anthea only said,

Don't be so jolly clever yourself,

Squirrel,

And the fireworks look all right and you'll have the eightpence that your tram fares didn't cost today to buy something more with.

You ought to get a but it's not your eightpence anyhow.

But look here,

Said Robert,

Really now about the fireworks.

We don't want to be disgraced before those kids next door.

They think because they wear red plush on Sundays that no one else is any good.

I wouldn't wear plush if it was ever so unless it was black to be beheaded in if I was Mary Queen of Scots,

Said Anthea with scorn.

Robert stuck steadily to his point.

One great point about Robert is the steadiness with which he can stick.

I think we ought to test them,

He said.

You young duffer,

Said Cyril.

Fireworks are like postage stamps.

You can only use them once.

So what do you suppose it means by Carter's tested seeds in the advertisement?

There was a blank silence.

Then Cyril touched his forehead with his finger and shook his head.

A little wrong up here,

He said.

I was always afraid of that with poor Robert.

All that cleverness,

You know,

And being top in algebra so often,

It's bound to tell.

Dry up,

Said Robert fiercely.

Don't you see,

You can't test seeds if you do them all.

You just take a few here and there.

And if those grow,

You can feel pretty sure the others will be what you call it.

Father told me up to sample.

Don't you think we ought to sample the fireworks?

Just shut our eyes and each draw one out and then try them.

But it's raining cats and dogs,

Said Jane.

And Queen Anne is dead,

Rejoined Robert.

No one was in a very good temper.

We needn't go out to do them.

We can just move back the table and let them off on the old tea tray we play toboggans with.

I don't know what you think,

But I think it's time we did something.

And that would be really useful,

Because then we shouldn't just hope the fireworks would make the prozzers sit up.

We should know.

It would be something to do,

Cyril owned with languid approval.

So the table was moved back.

And then the hole in the carpet that had been near the window till the carpet was turned around showed most awfully.

But Anthea stole out on tiptoe and got the tray when Cook wasn't looking and brought it in and put it over the hole.

Then all the fireworks were put on the table and each of the four children shut its eyes very tight and put out its hand and grasped something.

Robert took a cracker.

Cyril and Anthea had Roman candles.

But Jane's fat paw closed on the gem of the whole collection,

The jack-in-the-box that had cost two shillings and won at least of the party.

I will not say which,

Because it was sorry afterwards,

Declared that Jane had done it on purpose.

Nobody was pleased.

For the worst of it was that these four children,

With a very proper dislike of anything,

Even faintly bordering on the sneakish,

Had a law,

Unalterable as those of the Medes and Persians,

That one had to stand by the results of a toss-up or a drawing of lots or any other appeal to chance,

However much one might happen to dislike the way things were turning out.

I didn't mean to,

Said Jane,

Near tears.

I don't care,

I'll draw another.

You know jolly well you can't,

Said Cyril bitterly.

It's settled.

It's medium and Persian.

You've done it and you'll have to stand by it,

And us too,

Worse luck.

Never mind,

You'll have your pocket money before the 5th.

Anyway,

We'll have the jack-in-the-box last and get the most out of it we can.

So the cracker and the Roman candles were lighted and they were all that could be expected for the money.

But when it came to the jack-in-the-box,

It simply sat in the tray and laughed at them,

As Cyril said.

They tried to light it with paper and they tried to light it with matches.

They tried to light it with Vesuvian fuses from the pocket of father's second best overcoat that was hanging in the hall.

And then Anthea slipped away to the cupboard under the stairs where the brooms and dustpans were kept,

And the rosiny firelighters that smell so nice and like the woods where pine trees grow,

And the old newspapers and the beeswax and turpentine,

And the horrid and stiff dark rags that he used for cleaning brass and furniture,

And the paraffin for the lamps.

She came back with a little pot that had once cost seven pence ha'penny when it was full of red currant jelly,

But the jelly had been all eaten long ago and Anthea had filled the jar with paraffin.

She came in and she threw the paraffin over the tray just at the moment when Cyril was trying with the twenty-third match to light the jack-in-the-box.

The jack-in-the-box didn't catch fire any more than usual,

But the paraffin acted quite differently,

And in an instant a hot flash of flame leapt up and burnt off Cyril's eyelashes and scorched the faces of all four before they could spring back.

They backed in four instantaneous bounds as far as they could,

Which was to the wall,

And the pillar of fire reached from floor to ceiling.

My hat,

Said Cyril with emotion,

You've done it this time,

Anthea.

The flame was spreading out under the ceiling,

Like the rose of fire in Mr Ryder Haggard's exciting story about Alan Quartermaine.

Robert and Cyril saw that no time was to be lost.

They turned up the edges of the carpet and kicked them over the tray.

This cut off the column of fire,

And it disappeared,

And there was nothing left but smoke and a dreadful smell,

Like lamps that had been turned too low.

All hands now rushed to the rescue,

And the paraffin fire was only a bundle of trampled carpet,

When suddenly a sharp crack beneath their feet made the amateur firemen start back.

Another crack,

The carpet moved as if it had had a cat wrapped in it.

The jack-in-the-box had at last allowed itself to be lighted,

And it was going off with desperate violence inside the carpet.

Robert,

With the air of one doing the only possible thing,

Rushed to the window and opened it.

Anthea screamed,

Jane burst into tears,

And Cyril turned the table wrong way up,

On top of the carpet heap.

But the firework went on,

Banging and bursting and spluttering,

Even underneath the table.

Next moment,

Mother rushed in,

Attracted by the howls of Anthea,

And in a few moments the firework desisted,

And there was a dead silence,

And the children stood looking at each other's black faces,

And out of the corners of their eyes,

At Mother's white one.

The fact that the nursery carpet was ruined occasioned but little surprise,

Nor was anyone really astonished that bed should prove the immediate end of the adventure.

It has been said that all roads lead to Rome.

This may be true,

But at any rate,

In early youth,

I am quite sure that many roads lead to bed,

And stop there,

Or at least you do.

The rest of the fireworks were confiscated,

And Mother was not pleased when Father let them off himself in the back garden,

Though he did say,

Well,

How else can you get rid of them,

My dear?

You see,

Father had forgotten that the children were in disgrace,

And that their bedroom windows looked out onto the back garden,

So that they all saw the fireworks most beautifully,

And admired the skill with which Father handled them.

Next day,

All was forgotten and forgiven.

Only the nursery had to be deeply cleaned,

Like spring cleaning,

And the ceiling had to be whitewashed.

And Mother went out,

And just at tea time next day,

A man came with a rolled-up carpet,

And Father paid him.

And Mother said,

If the carpet isn't in good condition,

You know,

I shall expect you to change it.

And the man replied,

There ain't a thread gone in it nowhere,

Mum.

It's a bargain,

If ever there was one,

And I'm more than half sorry I let it go at the price,

But we can't resist the ladies,

Can we,

Sir?

And he winked at Father,

And went away.

Then the carpet was put down in the nursery,

And,

Sure enough,

There wasn't a hole in it anywhere.

As the last fold was unrolled,

Something hard and loud-sounding bumped out of it and chundled along the nursery floor.

All the children scrambled for it,

And Cyril got it.

He took it to the gas.

It was shaped like an egg,

Very yellow and shiny,

Half-transparent,

And it had an odd sort of light in it that changed as you held it in different ways.

It was as though it was an egg with a yoke of pale fire that just showed through the stone.

I may keep it,

Maintain,

Mother,

Cyril asked.

And,

Of course,

Mother said,

No,

They must take it back to the man who had brought the carpet,

Because she had only paid for the carpet and not for a stone egg with a fiery yoke to it.

So she told them where the shop was,

And it was in the Kentish Town Road,

Not far from the hotel that is called the Bull and Gate.

It was a pokey little shop,

And the man was arranging furniture outside on the pavement very cunningly so that the more broken parts would show as little as possible.

And directly he saw the children,

He knew them again,

And he began at once,

Without giving them a chance to speak.

No,

You don't,

He cried loudly.

I ain't a-gonna take back no carpets,

So don't you make no blooming error.

A bargain's a bargain,

And the carpets puffic throughout.

We don't want you to take it back,

Said Cyril,

But we found something in it.

You must have got into it up at your place then,

Said the man with indignant promptness,

For there ain't nothing in nothing as I sell.

It's all clean as a whistle.

I never said it wasn't clean,

Said Cyril.

Oh,

If it's moths,

Said the man,

That's easy cured with borax,

But I expect it was only an odd one.

I tell you the carpet's good through and through.

It hadn't got no moths when it left my hands,

Not so much as an egg.

But that's just it,

Interrupted Jane.

There was so much as an egg.

The man made a sort of rush at the children and stamped his foot.

Clear out,

I say,

He shouted,

Or I'll call for the police.

A nice thing for customers to hear you a-coming here,

A-charging me with finding things in goodswire sales.

Here,

Be off before I send you off with a flea in your ears.

Hey,

Constable!

The children fled,

And they think,

And their father thinks,

That they couldn't have done anything else.

Mother has her own opinion,

But father said they might keep the egg.

The man certainly didn't know the egg was there when he brought the carpet,

Said he,

Any more than your mother did,

And we've as much right to it as he had.

So the egg was put on the mantelpiece,

Where it quite brightened up the dingy nursery.

The nursery was dingy because it was a basement room,

And its windows looked out on a stone area with a rockery made of clinkers facing the windows.

Nothing grew in the rockery except London pride and snails.

The room had been described in the house agent's list as a convenient breakfast room in the basement,

And in the daytime it was rather dark.

This didn't matter so much in the evenings when the gas was alight,

But then it was in the evening that the black beetles got so sociable and used to come out of the low cupboards on each side of the fireplace where their homes were and try to make friends with the children.

At least,

I suppose that was what they wanted,

But the children never would.

On the 5th of November,

Father and mother went to the theatre,

And the children were not happy because the process next door had lots of fireworks and they had none.

They were not even allowed to have a bonfire in the garden.

No more playing with fire,

Thank you,

Was father's answer when they asked him.

When the baby had been put to bed,

The children sat sadly round the fire in the nursery.

I'm beastly bored,

Said Robin.

Let's talk about the samayad,

Said Anthea,

Who generally tried to give the conversation a cheerful turn.

What's the good of talking,

Said Cyril?

What I want is for something to happen.

It's awfully stuffy for a chap not to be allowed out in the evenings.

There's simply nothing to do when you've got through your homers.

Jane finished the last of her home lessons and shut the book with a bang.

We've got the pleasure of memory,

Said she.

Just think of last holidays.

Last holidays indeed offered something to think of,

For they had been spent in the country at a white house between a sand pit and a gravel pit,

And things had happened.

The children had found a samayad,

Or sand fairy,

And it had let them have anything they wished for.

Just exactly anything,

With no bother about its not being really for their good or anything like that.

And if you want to know what kind of things they wished for and how their wishes turned out,

You can read it all in a book called Five Children and It.

It was the samayad.

If you've not read it,

Perhaps I ought to tell you that the fifth child was the baby brother,

Who was called the lamb,

Because the first thing he ever said was bah,

And that the other children were not particularly handsome,

Nor were they extra clever,

Nor extraordinarily good.

But they were not bad sorts on the whole.

I don't want to think about the pleasures of memory,

Said Cyril.

I want some more things to happen.

We're very much luckier than anyone else,

As it is,

Said Jane.

Why?

No one else ever found a samayad.

We ought to be grateful.

Why shouldn't we go on being,

Though,

Cyril asked.

Lucky,

I mean,

Not grateful.

Why has it all got to stop?

Perhaps something will happen,

Said Anthea,

Comfortably.

Do you know,

Sometimes I think we are the sort of people that things do happen to.

It's like that in history,

Said Jane.

Some kings are full of interesting things,

And others,

Nothing ever happens to them,

Except they're being born and crowned and buried,

And sometimes not even that.

I think the panther's right,

Said Cyril.

I think we are the sort of people things do happen to.

I have a sort of feeling things would happen right enough,

If we could only give them a little shove.

It just wants something to start it,

That's all.

I wish they taught magic at school,

Jane sighed.

I believe if we could do a little magic,

It might make something happen.

I wonder how you begin,

Robert looked around the room,

But he got no ideas from the faded green curtains,

Or the drab Venetian blinds,

Or the worn brown oil cloth on the floor.

Even the new carpet suggested nothing,

Though its pattern was a very wonderful one,

And always seemed as though it were just going to make you think of something.

I could begin right enough,

Said Anthea.

I've read lots about it,

But I believe it's wrong in the Bible.

It's only wrong in the Bible because people wanted to hurt other people.

I don't see how things can be wrong unless they hurt somebody,

And we don't want to hurt anybody,

And what's more,

We jolly well couldn't if we tried.

Let's get the Ingoldsby legends.

There's a thing about in there,

Said Cyril,

Yawning.

We may as well play at magic.

Let's be knights,

Templars.

They were awfully gone on magic.

They used to work spells or something with a goat and a goose.

Father says so.

Well,

That's all right,

Said Robert unkindly.

You can play the goat right enough,

And Jane knows how to be a goose.

I'll get Ingoldsby,

Said Anthea hastily.

You turn up the hearth rug.

So they traced strange figures on the linoleum where the hearth rug had kept it clean.

They traced them with chalk that Robert had nicked from the top of the mathematical master's desk at school.

You know,

Of course,

That it is stealing to take a new stick of chalk,

But it is not wrong to take a broken piece so long as you only take one.

I don't know the reason for this rule or who made it.

And they chanted all the gloomiest songs they could think of.

And of course,

Nothing happened.

So then Anthea said,

I'm sure a magic fire ought to be made of sweet smelling wood and have magic gums and essences and things in it.

I don't know any sweet smelling wood except cedar,

Said Robert.

But I've got some ends of cedar wood lead pencil.

So they burned the ends of lead pencil and still nothing happened.

Let's burn some of the eucalyptus oil we have for our coals,

Said Anthea.

So they did.

It certainly smelled very strong and they burned lumps of camphor out of the big chest.

It was very bright and made a horrid black smoke,

Which looked very magical,

But still nothing happened.

Then they got some clean tea cloths from the dresser drawer in the kitchen and waved them over the magic chalk tracings and sang the hymn of the Moravian nuns at Bethlehem,

Which is very impressive,

But still nothing happened.

So they waved more and more wildly and Robert's tea cloth caught the golden egg and whisked it off the mantelpiece and it fell into the fender and rolled onto the grate.

Oh crikey,

Said more than one voice.

And everyone instantly fell down flat on its front to look under the grate and there lay the egg glowing in a nest of hot ashes.

It's not smashed anyhow,

Said Robert,

And he put his hand under the grate and picked up the egg.

But the egg was much hotter than anyone would have believed it could possibly get in such a short time and Robert had to drop it with a cry of bother.

It fell on the top bar of the grate and bounced right into the glowing red hot heart of the fire.

The tongs,

Cried Anthea,

But alas no one could remember where they were.

Everyone had forgotten that the tongs had last been used to fish up the doll's teapot from the bottom of the water butt where the lamb had dropped it.

So the nursery tongs were resting between the water butt and the dustbin and Cook refused to lend the kitchen ones.

Never mind,

Said Robert,

We'll get it out with the poker and the shovel.

Oh stop,

Cried Anthea,

Look at it,

Look,

Look,

Look,

I do believe something is going to happen.

For the egg was now red hot and inside it something was moving.

Next moment there was a soft cracking sound.

The egg burst in two and out of it came a flame-coloured bird.

It rested a moment among the flames and as it rested there,

The four children could see it growing bigger and bigger under their eyes.

Every mouth was a gape,

Every eye a goggle.

The bird rose in its nest fire,

Stretched its wings and flew out into the room.

It flew round and round and round again and where it passed the air was warm.

Then it perched on the fender.

The children looked at each other.

Cyril put out a hand towards the bird.

It put its head on one side and looked up at him as you may have seen a parrot do when it is just about to speak.

So the children were hardly astonished at all when it said,

Be careful I am not nearly cool yet.

They were not astonished but they were very,

Very much interested.

They looked at the bird and it was certainly worth looking at.

Its feathers were like gold.

It was about as large as a bantam,

Only its beak was not at all bantam shaped.

I believe I know what it is,

Said Robert.

I've seen a picture.

He hurried away.

A hasty dash and scramble among the papers on father's study table yielded,

As the some books say,

The desired result.

But when he came back into the room holding out a paper and crying,

I say look here,

The others all said hush and he hushed obediently and instantly for the bird was speaking.

Which of you,

It was saying,

Put the egg into the fire?

He did,

Said three voices and three fingers pointed at Robert.

The bird bowed.

At least it was more like that than anything else.

I'm your grateful debtor,

It said with a high-bred air.

The children were all choking with wonder and curiosity,

All except Robert.

He held the paper in his hand and he knew.

He said so.

He said,

I know who you are.

And he opened and displayed a paper at the head of which was a little picture of a bird sitting in a nest of flames.

You are the phoenix,

Said Robert,

And the bird was quite pleased.

My fame has lived then for two thousand years,

It said.

Allow me to look at my portrait.

It looked at the page which Robert,

Kneeling down,

Spread out in the fender and said,

It's not a flattering likeness.

And what are these characters,

It asked,

Pointing to the printed part.

Oh,

That's all dull,

Said Cyril,

With unconscious politeness.

It's not much about you,

You know,

But you're in lots of books with portraits,

Asked the phoenix.

Well,

No,

Said Cyril.

In fact,

I don't think I ever saw any portrait of you but that one.

But I can read you something about yourself if you like.

The phoenix nodded and Cyril went off and fetched volume 10 of the old encyclopedia.

And on page 246,

He found the following.

Phoenix,

In all mythology,

A fabulous bird of antiquity.

Antiquity is quite correct,

Said the phoenix,

But fabulous,

Well,

Do I look at?

Everyone shook its head.

Cyril went on.

The ancients speak of this bird as single,

Or the only one of its kind.

That's right enough,

Said the phoenix.

They describe it as about the size of an eagle.

Eagles are of different sizes,

Said the phoenix.

It's not at all a good description.

All the children were kneeling on the hearthrug to be as near the phoenix as possible.

You'll boil your brains,

It said.

Look out,

I'm nearly cool now.

And with a whir of golden wings,

It fluttered from the fender to the table.

It was so nearly cool that there was only a very faint smell of burning when it settled itself on the tablecloth.

It's only a very little scorched,

Said the phoenix apologetically.

It will come out in the wash.

Please go on reading.

The children gathered around the table.

The size of an eagle,

Cyril went on.

Its head finely crested with a beautiful plumage,

Its neck covered with feathers of a gold colour,

And the rest of its body purple,

Only the tail white and the eyes sparkling like stars.

They say that it lives about 500 years in the wilderness,

And when advanced in age,

It builds itself a pile of sweet wood and aromatic gums,

Fires it with the wafting of its wings,

And thus burns itself,

And that from its ashes arises a worm,

Which in time grows up to be a phoenix.

Hence the Phoenicians gave,

Never mind what they gave,

Said the phoenix,

Ruffling its golden feathers.

They never gave much anyway.

They always were people who gave nothing for nothing.

That book ought to be destroyed.

It's most inaccurate.

The rest of my body was never purple,

And as for my tail,

Well,

I simply ask you,

Is it white?

It turned round and gravely presented its golden tail to the children.

No,

It's not,

Said everybody.

No,

And it never was,

Said the phoenix,

And that about the worm is just a vulgar insult.

The phoenix has an egg like all respectable birds.

It makes a pile,

That part's all right,

And it lays its egg and it burns itself,

And it goes to sleep and wakes up in its egg,

And comes out and goes on living again,

And so on forever and ever.

I can't tell you how weary I got of it.

Such a restless existence,

No repose.

But how did your egg get here?

Asked Danthier.

Ah,

That's my life secret,

Said the phoenix.

I couldn't tell it to anyone who wasn't really sympathetic.

I've always been a misunderstood bird.

You can tell that by what they say about the worm.

I might tell you,

It went on,

Looking at Robert with eyes that were indeed starry.

You put me on the fire.

Robert looked uncomfortable.

The rest of us made the fire of sweet-scented woods and gums,

Though,

Said Cyril.

And it was an accident,

My putting you on the fire,

Said Robert,

Telling the truth with some difficulty,

For he didn't know how the phoenix might take it.

It took it in the most unexpected manner.

Your candida vowel,

It said,

Removes my last scruple.

I will tell you my story.

And you won't vanish or anything sudden,

Will you?

Asked Danthier,

Anxiously.

Why?

It asked,

Puffing out the golden feathers.

Do you wish me to stay here?

Oh,

Yes,

Said everyone,

With unmistakable sincerity.

Why?

Asked the phoenix again,

Looking modestly at the tablecloth.

Because,

Said everyone at once,

And then stopped short.

Only Jane added after a pause,

You are the most beautiful person we've ever seen.

You are a sensible child,

Said the phoenix,

And I will not vanish or anything sudden.

And I will tell you my tale.

I had resided,

As your book says,

For many thousand years in the wilderness,

Which is a large quiet place,

With very little really good society.

And I was becoming weary of the monotony of my existence.

But I acquired the habit of laying my egg and burning myself every 500 years.

And you know how difficult it is to break yourself of a habit.

Yes,

Said Cyril,

Jane used to bite her nails.

But I broke myself of it,

Urged Jane,

Rather hurt.

You know I did.

Not till they put bitter aloes on them,

Said Cyril.

I doubt,

Said the bird gravely,

Whether even bitter aloes,

The aloe,

By the way,

Has a bad habit of its own,

Which it might well cure before seeking to cure others.

I allude to its indolent practice of flowering but once a century.

I doubt whether even bitter aloes could have cured me,

But I was cured.

I awoke one morning from a feverish dream.

It was getting near the time for me to lay that tiresome fire and lay that tedious egg upon it.

And I saw two people,

A man and a woman.

They were sitting on a carpet.

And when I accosted them civilly,

They narrated to me their life story,

Which,

As you have not yet heard it,

I will now proceed to relate.

They were a prince and princess and the story of their parents was one which I'm sure you will like to hear.

In early youth,

The mother of the princess happened to hear the story of a certain enchanter.

And in that story,

I'm sure you will be interested.

The enchanter,

Oh please don't,

Said Anthea.

I can't understand all these beginnings of stories and you seem to be getting deeper and deeper into them with every minute.

Do tell us your own story.

That's what we really want to hear.

Well,

Said the phoenix,

Seeming on the whole rather flattered to cut about 70 long stories short,

Though I had to listen to them all,

But to be sure in the wilderness there is plenty of time.

This prince and princess were so fond of each other that they didn't want anyone else.

And the enchanter,

Don't be alarmed,

I won't go into his history,

Had given them a magic carpet.

You've heard of a magic carpet and they had just sat on it and told it to take them right away from everyone and it had brought them to the wilderness.

And as they meant to stay there,

They had no further use for the carpet,

So they gave it to me.

That was indeed the chance of a lifetime.

I don't see what you wanted with the carpet,

Said Jane,

When you've got those lovely wings.

They are nice wings,

Aren't they,

Said the phoenix,

Simpering and spreading them out.

Well,

I got the prince to lay out the carpet and I laid my egg on it.

Then I said to the carpet,

Now my excellent carpet,

Prove your worth.

Take that egg somewhere where it can't be hatched for 2000 years and where,

When that time's up,

Someone will light a fire of sweet wood and aromatic gums and put the egg in to hatch.

And you see,

It's all come out exactly as I said.

The words were no sooner out of my beak than the egg and carpet disappeared.

The royal lovers assisted to arrange my pile and soothed my last moments.

I burnt myself up and knew no more till I awoke on yonder altar.

It pointed its claw at the great.

But the carpet,

Said Robert,

The magic carpet that takes you anywhere you wish.

What became of that?

Oh,

That,

Said the phoenix carelessly.

I should say that that is the carpet.

I remember the pattern perfectly.

It pointed as it spoke to the floor where lay the carpet which mother had bought in the Kentish Town Road for 22 shillings and nine pence.

At that instant,

Father's latch key was heard in the door.

Oh,

Whispered Cyril,

Now we shall catch it for not being in bed.

Wish yourself there,

Said the phoenix in a hurried whisper,

And then wish the carpet back in its place.

No sooner said than done.

It made one a little giddy,

Certainly,

And a little breathless.

But when things seemed right way up again,

There the children were in bed with the lights out.

They heard the soft voice of the through the darkness.

I shall sleep on the cornice above your curtains,

It said.

Please don't mention me to your kinsfolk.

Not much good,

Said Robert.

They'd never believe us.

I say,

He called through the half-open door to the girls.

Talk about adventures and things happening.

We ought to be able to get some fun out of a magic carpet and a phoenix.

Rather,

Said the girls in bed.

Children,

Said father on the stairs,

Go to sleep at once.

What do you mean by talking at this time of night?

No answer was expected to this question.

But under the bedclothes,

Cyril murmured one.

Mean,

He said.

Don't know what we mean.

I don't know what anything means.

But we've got a magic carpet and a phoenix,

Said Robert.

You'll get something else if father comes in and catches you,

Said Cyril.

Shut up,

I tell you.

Robert shut up.

But he knew,

As well as you do,

That the adventures of that carpet and that phoenix were only just beginning.

Father and mother had not the least idea of what had happened in their absence.

This is often the case,

Even when there are no magic carpets or phoenixes in the house.

The next morning.

But I'm sure you'd rather wait till the next chapter before you hear about that.

Chapter two.

The children had seen the phoenix egg hatched in the flames in their own nursery grate and had heard from it how the carpet on their own nursery floor was really the wishing carpet,

Which would take them anywhere they chose.

The carpet had transported them to bed just at the right moment,

And the phoenix had gone to roost on the cornice supporting the window curtains of the boys' room.

Excuse me,

Said a gentle voice,

And a courteous beak opened very kindly and delicately the right eye of Cyril.

I hear the slaves below preparing food.

Awaken.

A word of explanation and arrangement.

I do wish you wouldn't.

The phoenix stopped speaking and fluttered away crossly to the cornice pole,

For Cyril had hit out,

As boys do when they are awakened suddenly,

And the phoenix was not used to boys,

And his feelings,

If not his wings,

Were hurt.

Sorry,

Said Cyril,

Coming awake all in a minute.

Do come back.

What was it you were saying?

Something about bacon and Russians.

The phoenix fluttered back to the brass rail at the foot of the bed.

I say,

You are real,

Said Cyril.

How ripping.

And the carpet?

The carpet is as real as it ever was,

Said the phoenix,

Rather contemptuously.

But of course,

A carpet's only a carpet,

Whereas a phoenix is superlatively a phoenix.

Yes,

Indeed,

Said Cyril.

I see it is.

Oh,

What luck.

Wake up,

Bobs.

There's jolly well something to wake up for today,

And it's Saturday,

Too.

I've been reflecting,

Said the phoenix,

During the silent watches of the night,

And I could not avoid the conclusion that you were quite insufficiently astonished at my appearance yesterday.

The ancients were always very surprised.

Did you by chance expect my egg to hatch?

Not us,

Cyril said.

And if we had,

Said Anthea,

Who had come in in her nightie when she heard the silvery voice of the phoenix,

We could never,

Never have expected it to hatch anything so splendid as you.

The bird smiled.

Perhaps you've never seen a bird smile.

You see,

Said Anthea,

Wrapping herself in the boy's counterpane,

For the morning was chilly.

We've had things happen to us before.

And she told the story of the Samoyed,

Or sand fairy.

Ah,

Yes,

Said the phoenix.

Samoyeds were rare,

Even in my time.

I remember I used to be called the Samoyed of the desert.

I was always having compliments paid me.

I can't think why.

Can you give wishes then,

Asked Jane,

Who had now come in too.

Oh,

Dear me no,

Said the phoenix contemptuously,

At least.

But I hear footsteps approaching.

I hasten to conceal myself.

And it did.

I think I said that this day was Saturday.

It was also Cook's birthday,

And Mother had allowed her and Eliza to go to the Crystal Palace with a party of friends.

So Jane and Anthea,

Of course,

Had to help to make beds and to wash up the breakfast cups and little things like that.

Robert and Cyril intended to spend the morning in conversation with the phoenix,

But the bird had its own ideas about this.

I must have an hour or two's quiet,

It said.

I really must.

My nerves will give way unless I can get a little rest.

You must remember it's 2000 years since I had any conversation.

I'm out of practice and I must take care of myself.

I've often been told that mine is a valuable life.

So it nestled down inside an old hat box of father's,

Which had been brought down from the box room some days before,

When a helmet was suddenly needed for a game of tournaments.

With its golden head under its golden wing,

It went to sleep.

So then Robert and Cyril moved the table back and were going to sit on the carpet and wish themselves somewhere else.

But before they could decide on the place,

Cyril said,

I don't know,

Perhaps it is rather sneakish to begin without the girls.

They'll be all morning,

Said Robert impatiently.

And then a thing inside him,

Which tiresome books sometimes call the inward monitor,

Said,

Why don't you help them then?

Cyril's inward monitor happened to say the same thing at the same moment.

So the boys went and helped to wash up the teacups and to dust the drawing room.

When all the housework was finished,

The girls dressed the happy wriggling baby in his blue highwayman coat and three cornered hat and kept him amused while mother changed her dress and got ready to take him over to granny's.

Mother always went to granny's every Saturday.

Generally,

Some of the children went with her,

But today they were to keep house and their hearts were full of joyous and delightful feelings every time they remembered that the house they would have to keep had a phoenix in it and a wishing carpet.

You can always keep the lamb good and happy for quite a long time if you play the Noah's Ark game with him.

It is quite simple.

He just sits on your lap and tells you what animal he is.

And then you say the little poetry piece about whatever animal he chooses to be.

Of course,

Some of the animals like the zebra and the tiger haven't got any poetry because they are so difficult to rhyme to.

The lamb knows quite well which are the poetry animals.

I'm a baby bear,

Said the lamb,

Snuggling down.

And Anthea began,

I love my little baby bear.

I love his nose and toes and hair.

I like to hold him in my arm and keep him very safe and warm.

And when she said very,

Of course,

There was a real bear's hug.

Then came the eel and the lamb was tickled till he wriggled exactly like a real one.

I love my little baby eel.

He is so squiggly to feel.

He'll be an eel when he is big,

But now he's just a tiny snig.

Perhaps you didn't know that a snig was a baby eel.

It is though,

And the lamb knew it.

Hedgehog now,

He said,

And Anthea went on.

My baby hedgehog,

How I like you,

Though your back's so prickly spiky.

Your front is very soft,

I've found,

So I must love you front ways round.

And then she loved him front ways round while he squealed with pleasure.

It is a very baby game.

And of course,

The rhymes are only meant for very,

Very small people,

Not for people who are old enough to read books.

So I won't tell you any more of them.

By the time the lamb had been a baby lion and a baby weasel and a baby rabbit and a baby rat,

Mother was ready.

And she and the lamb,

Having been kissed by everybody and hugged as thoroughly as it is possible to be when you're dressed for out of doors,

Were seen to the tram by the boys.

When the boys came back,

Everyone looked at everyone else and said,

Now.

They locked the front door and they locked the back door and they fastened all the windows.

They moved the table and chairs off the carpet and Anthea swept it.

We must show it a little attention,

She said kindly.

We'll give it tea leaves next time.

Carpets like tea leaves.

Then everyone put on its outdoor things because,

As Cyril said,

They didn't know where they might be going.

And it makes people stare if you go out of doors in November in pinafores and without hats.

Then Robert gently woke the phoenix who yawned and stretched itself and allowed Robert to lift it onto the middle of the carpet,

Where it instantly went to sleep again with its crested head tucked under its golden wing as before.

Then everyone sat down on the carpet.

Where should we go was,

Of course,

The question and it was warmly discussed.

Anthea wanted to go to Japan.

Robert and Cyril voted for America and Jane wished to go to the seaside because there are donkeys there,

Said she.

Not in November,

Silly,

Said Cyril,

And the discussion got warmer and warmer and still nothing was settled.

I vote we let the phoenix decide,

Said Robert at last.

So they stroked it till it woke.

We want to go somewhere abroad,

They said,

And we can't make up our minds where.

Let the carpet make up its mind if it has one,

Said the phoenix.

Just say you wish to go abroad.

So they did and the next moment the world seemed to spin upside down and when it was right way up again and they were ungiddy enough to look about them,

They were out of doors.

Out of doors,

This is a feeble way to express where they were.

They were out of the earth or off it.

In fact,

They were floating steadily,

Safely,

Splendidly in the crisp clear air with the pale bright blue of the sky above them and far down below the pale bright sun-diamonded waves of the sea.

The carpet had stiffened itself somehow so that it was square and firm like a raft and it steered itself so beautifully and kept on its way so flat and fearless that no one was at all afraid of tumbling off.

In front of them lay land.

The coast of France,

Said the phoenix waking up and pointing with its wing.

Where do you wish to go?

I should always keep one wish of course for emergencies otherwise you may get into an emergency from which you can't emerge at all.

But the children were far too excited to listen.

I tell you what,

Said Cyril,

Let's let the thing go on and on and when we see a place we really want to stop at,

Why we'll just stop.

Isn't this ripping?

It's like trains,

Said Anthea,

As they swept over the low lying coastline and held a steady course above orderly fields and straight roads bordered with poplar trees.

It's like express trains,

Only in trains you can never see anything because of grown-ups wanting the windows shut and then they breathe on them and it's like ground glass and nobody can see anything and then they go to sleep.

It's like tobogganing,

Said Robert,

So fast and smooth only there's no doormat to stop short on.

It goes on and on.

You darling phoenix,

Said Jane,

It's all you're doing.

Oh look at that ducky little church and the women with flappy cappy things on their heads.

Don't mention it,

Said the phoenix,

With sleepy politeness.

Oh,

Said Cyril,

Summing up all the rapture that was in every heart,

Look at it all,

Look at it and think of the Kentish town road.

And they looked down on strange and beautiful things and held their breath and let it go in deep sighs and said oh and ah till it was long past dinner time.

It was Jane who suddenly said,

I wish we'd brought that jam tart and cold mutton with us,

It would have been jolly to have a picnic in the air.

The jam tart and cold mutton were however far away,

Sitting quietly in the larder of the house in Camden town,

Which the children were supposed to be keeping.

A mouse was at that very moment tasting the outside of the raspberry jam part of the tart.

She had nibbled a sort of gulf or bay through the pastry edge to see whether it was the sort of dinner she could ask her little mouse husband to sit down to.

She'd had a very good dinner herself.

It is an ill wind that blows nobody any good.

We'll stop as soon as we see a nice place,

Said Anthea.

I've got threepence and you boys have the fourpence each that your trams didn't cost the other day,

So we can buy things to eat.

I expect the phoenix can speak French.

The carpet was sailing along over rocks and rivers and trees and towns and farms and fields.

It reminded everybody of a certain time when all of them had had wings and had flown up to the top of a church tower and had had a feast there of chicken and tongue and new bread and soda water.

And this again reminded them how hungry they were.

And just as they were all being reminded of this very strongly indeed,

They saw ahead of them some ruined walls on a hill and strong and upright and really to look at as good as new,

A great square tower.

The top of that is exactly the same size as the carpet,

Said Jane.

I think it would be good to go to the top of that because then none of the Abbey Wotsits names would be able to take the carpet away even if they wanted to.

And some of us could go out and get things to eat.

Buy them honestly I mean,

Not take them out of the larder windows.

I think it would be better if we went,

Anthea was beginning.

But Jane suddenly clenched her hands.

I don't see why I should never do anything I want just because I'm the youngest.

I wish the carpet would fit itself in at the top of that tower.

So there.

The carpet made a disconcerting bound and next moment it was hovering above the square top of the tower.

Then slowly and carefully it began to sink under them.

It was like a lift going down with you at the army and navy stalls.

I don't think we ought to wish things without all agreeing to them first,

Said Robert huffishly.

Hello,

What on earth?

For unexpectedly and grayly something was coming up all round the four sides of the carpet.

It was as if a wall were being built by magic quickness.

It was a foot high,

It was two feet high,

Three,

Four,

Five.

It was shutting out the light more and more.

Anthea looked up at the sky and the walls that now rose six feet above them.

We're dropping into the tower,

She screamed.

There wasn't any top to it,

So the carpet's going to fit itself in at the bottom.

Robert sprang to his feet.

We ought to have,

Hello,

An owl's nest.

He put his knee on a jutting smooth piece of grey stone and reached his hand into a deep window slit broad to the inside of the tower and narrowing like a funnel to the outside.

Look sharp,

Cried everyone,

But Robert didn't look sharp enough.

By the time he had drawn his hand out of the owl's nest,

There were no eggs there.

The carpet had sunk eight feet below him.

Jump you silly cuckoo,

Cried Cyril with brotherly anxiety.

But Robert couldn't turn round all in a minute into a jumping position.

He wriggled and twisted and got onto the broad ledge and by the time he was ready to jump,

The walls of the tower had risen up 30 feet above the others,

Who were still sinking with the carpet.

Robert found himself in the embrasure of a window,

Alone,

For even the owls were not at home that day.

The wall was smoothish,

There was no climbing up and as for climbing down,

Robert hid his face in his hands and squirmed back and back from the giddy verge until the back part of him was wedged quite tight in the narrowest part of the window slit.

He was safe now,

Of course,

But the outside part of his window was like a frame to a picture of part of the other side of the tower.

It was very pretty,

With moss growing between the stones and little shiny gems,

But between him and it there was the width of the tower and nothing in it but empty air.

The situation was terrible.

Robert saw in a flash that the carpet was likely to bring them into just the same sort of tight places that they used to get into with the wishes the samayad granted them,

And the others imagined their feelings as the carpet sank slowly and steadily to the very bottom of the tower,

Leaving Robert clinging to the wall.

Robert did not even try to imagine their feelings,

He had quite enough to do with his own,

But you can.

As soon as the carpet came to a stop on the ground at the bottom of the inside of the tower,

It suddenly lost that raft-like stiffness which had been such a comfort during the journey from Camden Town to the Topless Tower,

And it spread itself limply over the loose stones and little earthy mounds at the bottom of the tower,

Just exactly like an ordinary carpet.

Also it shrank suddenly,

So it seemed to draw away from under their feet,

And they stepped quickly off the edges and stood on the firm ground while the carpet drew itself in,

Till it was its proper size,

And no longer fitted exactly into the inside of the tower,

But left quite a big space all round it.

Then across the carpet they looked at each other,

And then every chin was tilted up,

And every eye sought vainly to see where poor Robert had got to.

Of course they couldn't see him.

I wish we hadn't come,

Said Jane.

You always do,

Said Cyril briefly.

Look here,

We can't leave Robert up there.

I wish the carpet would fetch him down.

The carpet seemed to awaken from a dream and pull itself together.

It stiffened itself briskly and floated up between the four walls of the tower.

The children below craned their heads back and nearly broke their necks.

The carpet rose and rose.

It hung,

Poised darkly above them,

For an anxious moment or two.

Then it dropped down again,

Threw itself on the uneven floor of the tower,

And as it did so,

Out tumbled Robert onto the uneven floor.

Oh glory,

Said Robert,

That was a squeak.

You don't know how I felt.

I say,

I've had about enough for a bit.

Let's wish ourselves at home again and have a go at that jam tart and mutton.

We can go out again afterwards.

Right-o,

Said everyone,

For the adventure had shaken the nerves of all.

So they all got onto the carpet again and said,

I wish we were at home.

And lo and behold,

They were no more at home than before.

The carpet never moved.

The phoenix had taken the opportunity to go to sleep.

Anthea woke it gently.

Look here,

She said.

We wished to be at home,

But we're still here.

No,

Said the phoenix,

Looking about it at the high dark walls of the tower.

No,

I quite see that.

But we wish to be at home,

Said Cyril.

No doubt,

Said the bird,

Politely.

And the carpet hasn't moved an inch,

Said Robert.

No,

Said the phoenix,

I see it hasn't.

But I thought it was a wishing carpet.

So it is,

Said the phoenix.

Then why,

Asked the children all together.

I did tell you,

You know,

Said the phoenix,

Only you are so fond of listening to the music of your own voices.

It is indeed the most lovely music to each of us and therefore.

You did tell us what,

Interrupted and exasperated Cyril.

Why,

That the carpet only gives you three wishes a day and you've had them.

There was a heartfelt silence.

Then how are we going to get home,

Said Cyril,

At last.

I haven't any idea,

Replied the phoenix kindly.

Can I fly out and get you any little thing?

How could you carry the money to pay for it?

It isn't necessary.

Birds always take what they want.

It is not regarded as stealing,

Except in the case of magpies.

The children were glad to find they had been right in supposing this to be the case on the day when they had wings and had enjoyed somebody else's ripe plums.

Yes,

Let the phoenix get us something to eat anyway,

Robert urged.

If it will be so kind,

You mean,

Corrected Anthea in a whisper,

If it will be so kind and we can be thinking while it's gone.

So the phoenix fluttered up through the grey space of the tower and vanished at the top and it was not till it had quite gone that Jane said,

Suppose it never comes back.

This was not a pleasant thought and although Anthea at once said,

Of course it will come back,

I'm certain it's a bird of its word,

A further gloom was cast by the idea,

For curiously enough there was no door to the tower and all the windows were far,

Far too high to be reached by the most adventurous climber.

It was cold too and Anthea shivered.

Yes,

Said Cyril,

It's like being at the bottom of a well.

The children waited in a sad and hungry silence and got little stiff necks with holding their little heads back to look up in the inside of the tall grey tower and see if the phoenix were coming.

But at last it came.

It looked very big as it fluttered down between the walls and as it neared them,

The children saw that its bigness was caused by a basket of boiled chestnuts which it carried in one claw.

In the other it held a piece of bread and in its beak was a very large pear.

The pear was juicy and as good as a very small drink.

When the meal was over everyone felt better and the question of how to get home was discussed without disagreeableness.

But no one could think any way out of the difficulty or even out of the tower,

For the phoenix,

Though its beak and claws had fortunately been strong enough to carry food for them,

Was plainly not equal to flying through the air with four well-nourished children.

We must stay here I suppose,

Said Robert at last,

And shout out every now and then and someone will hear us and bring ropes and ladders and rescue us like out of mines and they'll get up a subscription to send us home like castaways.

Yes,

But we shan't be home before mother is and then father will take the carpet away and say it's dangerous or something,

Said Cyril.

I do wish we hadn't come,

Said Jane,

And everyone else said shut up except Anthea,

Who suddenly woke the phoenix and said,

Look here,

I believe you can help us.

Oh,

I do wish you would.

I will help you as far as lies in my power,

Said the phoenix at once.

What is it you want now?

Why,

We want to get home,

Said everyone.

Oh,

Said the phoenix,

Ah yes,

Home,

You said,

Meaning where we live,

Where we slept last night,

Where the altar is that your egg was hatched on.

Oh,

There,

Said the phoenix.

Well,

I'll do my best.

It fluttered onto the carpet and walked up and down for a few minutes in deep thought,

Then it drew itself up proudly.

I can help you,

It said.

I'm almost sure I can help you,

Unless I'm grossly deceived.

You won't mind my leaving you for an hour or two?

And without waiting for a reply,

It soared up through the dimness of the tower into the brightness above.

Now,

Said Cyril firmly,

It said an hour or two,

But I've read about captives and people shut in dungeons and catacombs and things awaiting release,

And I know each moment is an eternity.

Those people always do something to pass the desperate moments.

It's no use our trying to tame spiders because we shan't have time.

I hope not,

Said Jane doubtfully,

But we ought to scratch our names on the stones or something.

I say,

Talking of stones,

Said Robert,

You see that heap of stones against the wall over in that corner?

Well,

I'm certain there's a hole in the wall there,

And I believe it's a door.

Yes,

Look here,

The stones are round like an arch in the wall,

And here's the hole.

It's all black inside.

He had walked over to the heap as he spoke and climbed up to it,

Dislodged the top stone of the heap,

And uncovered a little dark space.

Next moment,

Everyone was helping to pull down the heap of stones,

And very soon everyone threw off its jacket,

For it was warm work.

It is a door,

Said Cyril,

Wiping his face,

And not a bad thing either if,

He was going to add,

If anything happens to the phoenix,

But he didn't for fear of frightening Jane.

He was not an unkind boy when he had leisure to think of such things.

The arched hole in the wall grew larger and larger.

It was very,

Very black,

Even compared with the sort of twilight at the bottom of the tower.

It grew larger because the children kept pulling off the stones and throwing them down into another heap.

The stones must have been there a very long time,

For they were covered with moss,

And some of them were stuck together by it.

So it was fairly hard work,

As Robert pointed out.

When the hole reached to about halfway between the top of the arch and the tower,

Robert and Cyril let themselves down cautiously on the inside and lit matches.

How thankful they felt then that they had a sensible father,

Who did not forbid them to carry matches,

As some boys' fathers do.

The father of Robert and Cyril only insisted on the matches being of the kind that strike only on the box.

It's not a door,

It's a sort of tunnel,

Robert cried to the girls after the first match had flared up,

Flickered and gone out.

Stand off,

We'll push some more stones down.

They did amid deep excitement,

And now the stone heap was almost gone,

And before them the girls saw the dark archway leading to unknown things.

All doubts and fears as to getting home were forgotten in this thrilling moment,

It was like Monte Cristo.

But,

I say,

Cried Anthea suddenly,

Come out,

There's always bad air in places that have been shut up,

It makes your torches go out and then you die,

It's called fire damp I believe,

Come out I tell you.

The urgency of her tone actually did bring the boys out,

And then everyone took up its jacket and fanned the dark arch with it,

So as to make the air fresh inside.

When Anthea thought the air inside must be freshened by now,

Cyril led the way into the arch.

The girls followed and Robert came last,

Because Jane refused to tail the procession,

Lest something should come in after her and catch at her from behind.

Cyril advanced cautiously,

Lighting match after match and peering before him.

It's a vaulting roof,

He said,

And it's all stone.

All right,

Panther,

Don't keep pulling up my jacket.

The air must be all right because of the matches,

Silly,

And there are,

Look out,

There are steps down.

Oh,

Don't let's go any further,

Said Jane in an agony of reluctance.

A very painful thing,

By the way,

To be in.

I'm sure there are snakes or dens of lions or something.

Do let's go back,

We could come some other time with candles and bellows for the fire damp.

Let me get in front of you then,

Said the stern voice of Robert from behind.

This is exactly the place for buried treasure,

And I'm going on anyway.

You can stay behind if you like.

And then,

Of course,

Jane consented to go on.

So very slowly and very carefully,

The children went down the steps.

There were 17 of them,

And at the bottom of the steps were more passages branching four ways,

And a sort of low arch on the right hand side made Cyril wonder what it could be,

For it was too low to be the beginning of another passage.

So he knelt down and lit a match,

And stooping very low,

He peeped in.

There's something,

He said,

And reached out his hand.

It touched something that felt more like a damp bag of marbles than anything else Cyril had ever touched.

I believe it is buried treasure,

He cried.

And it was,

For even as Anthea cried,

Oh hurry up squirrel,

Fetch it out,

Cyril pulled out a rotting canvas bag,

About as big as the paper ones the greengrocer gives you with Barcelona nuts in for sixpence.

There's more of it,

A lot more,

He said.

As he pulled,

The rotten bag gave way,

And gold coins ran and span and jumped and bumped and chinked and clinked on the floor of the dark passage.

I wonder what you would say if you suddenly came upon a buried treasure.

What Cyril said was,

Oh bother,

I've burnt my fingers,

And as he spoke he dropped the match,

And it was the last,

He added.

There was a moment of desperate silence,

Then Jane began to cry.

Don't,

Said Anthea,

Don't pussy,

You'll exhaust all the air if you cry.

We can get out all right.

Yes,

Said Jane,

Through her sobs,

And find the phoenix has come back and gone away again because it thought we'd gone home some other way,

And we wish we hadn't come.

Everyone stood quite still,

Only Anthea cuddled Jane up to her and tried to wipe her eyes in the dark.

Don't,

Said Jane,

That's my ear,

I'm not crying with my ears.

Come on,

Let's get out,

Said Robert,

But that wasn't so easy,

For no one could remember exactly which way they had come.

It is very difficult to remember things in the dark,

Unless you have matches with you,

And then of course it's quite different,

Even if you don't strike one.

Everyone had come to agree with Jane's constant wish,

And despair was making the darkness blacker than ever,

When suddenly the floor seemed to tip up,

And a strong sensation of being in a whirling lift came upon everyone.

All eyes were closed.

One's eyes always are in the dark,

Don't you think?

And when the whirling feeling stopped,

Cyril said,

Earthquakes,

And they all opened their eyes.

They were in their own dingy breakfast room at home,

And oh how light and bright and safe and pleasant,

And altogether delightful it seemed,

After that dark underground tunnel.

The carpet lay on the floor,

Looking as calm as though it had never been for an excursion in its life.

On the mantelpiece stood the phoenix,

Waiting with an air of modest yet sterling worth,

For the thanks of the children.

But how did you do it,

They asked,

When everyone had thanked the phoenix again and again.

Oh,

I just went and got a wish from your friend the Samayad.

But how did you know where to find it?

I find that out from the carpet.

These wishing creatures always know all about each other.

They're so clannish,

Like the Scots,

You know,

All related.

But the carpet can talk,

Can it?

No.

Then how,

How did I get the Samayad's address?

I tell you,

I got it from the carpet.

Did it speak then?

No,

Said the phoenix thoughtfully.

It didn't speak,

But I gathered my information from something in its manner.

I was always a singularly observant bird.

It was not until after the cold mutton and the jam tart,

As well as the tea and bread and butter,

That anyone found time to regret the golden treasure which had been left scattered on the floor of the underground passage,

And which indeed no one had thought of till now,

Since the moment when Cyril burnt his fingers at the flame of the last match.

What owls and goats we were,

Said Robert.

Look how we've always wanted treasure,

And now.

.

.

Never mind,

Said Anthea,

Trying as usual to make the best of it.

We'll go back again and get it all,

And then we'll give everybody presents.

More than a quarter of an hour passed,

Most agreeably,

In arranging what presents should be given to whom.

And when the claims of generosity had been satisfied,

The talk ran for 50 minutes on what they could buy for themselves.

It was Cyril who broke in on Robert's almost too technical account of the motor car on which he meant to go to and from school.

There,

He said,

Dry up,

It's no good.

We can't ever go back.

We don't know where it is.

Don't you know,

Jane asked the phoenix.

Not in the least,

The phoenix replied,

In a tone of amiable regret.

Then we've lost the treasure,

Said Cyril.

And they had.

But we've got the carpet and the phoenix,

Said Anthea.

Excuse me,

Said the bird,

With an air of wounded dignity.

I do so hate seem to interfere,

But surely you must mean the phoenix and the carpet.

Chapter three,

The Queen Cook.

It was on a Saturday that the children made their first glorious journey on the wishing carpet.

Unless you are too young to read at all,

You will know that the next day must have been Sunday.

Sunday at 18 Camden Terrace,

Camden Town,

Was always a very pretty day.

Father always brought home flowers on Saturday so that the breakfast table was extra beautiful.

In November,

Of course,

The flowers were chrysanthemums,

Yellow and coppery coloured.

Then there were always sausages on toast for breakfast,

And these are rapture after six days of Kentish Town road eggs at 14 O'Shilling.

On this particular Sunday,

There were fowls for dinner,

A kind of food that is generally kept for birthdays and grand occasions.

And there was an angel pudding when rice and milk and oranges and white icing do their best to make you very happy.

After dinner,

Father was very sleepy indeed because he had been working hard all the week,

But he didn't yield to the voice that said,

Go and have an hour's rest.

Instead,

He nursed the lamb who had a horrid cough that Cook said was whooping cough,

As sure as eggs.

And he said,

Come along,

Kiddies.

I've got a ripping book from the library called The Golden Age,

And I'll read it to you.

Mother settled herself on the drawing room sofa and said she could listen quite nicely with her eyes shut.

The lamb snugged into the armchair corner of Daddy's arm and the others got into a happy heap on the hearth rug.

At first,

Of course,

There were too many feet and knees and shoulders and elbows,

But real comfort was actually settling down on them,

And the phoenix and the carpet were put away on the back top shelf of their minds.

Beautiful things that could be taken out and played with later,

When a surly,

Solid knock came at the drawing room door.

It opened an angry inch and the Cook's voice said,

Please,

Um,

May I speak to you a moment?

Mother looked at Father with a desperate expression.

Then she put her pretty sparkly Sunday shoes down from the sofa and stood up in them and sighed.

As good fish in the sea,

Said Father cheerfully,

And it was not until much later that the children understood what he meant.

Mother went out into the passage,

Which is called the hall,

Where the umbrella stand is,

And the picture of the monarch of the glen in a yellow shining frame with brown spots on the monarch from the damp in the house before last.

And there was Cook,

Very red and damp in the face and with a clean apron tied on all crooked over the dirty one that she had dished up those dear,

Delightful chickens in.

She stood there and she seemed to get redder and damper and she twisted the corner of her apron around her fingers and she said,

Very shortly and fiercely,

If you please,

Ma'am,

I should wish to leave at my day month.

Mother leaned against the hat stand.

The children could see her looking pale through the crack of the door because she had been very kind to the Cook and had given her a holiday only the day before,

And it seemed so very unkind of the Cook to want to go like this and on a Sunday too.

Why,

What's the matter?

Mother said.

It's them children,

The Cook replied,

And somehow the children all felt that they had known this from the first.

They didn't remember having done anything extra wrong,

But it is so frightfully easy to displease a Cook.

It's them children,

There's their new carpet in their room,

Covered thick with mud,

Both sides beastly yellow mud,

And sakes alive knows where they got it,

And all that muck to clean up on a Sunday.

It's not my place and it's not my intentions,

So I don't deceive you,

Ma'am,

And but for them limbs,

Which they is if ever there was,

It's not a bad place,

Though I says it,

And I wouldn't wish to leave,

But I'm very sorry,

Said Mother gently.

I will speak to the children,

And you'd better think it over,

And if you really wish to go,

Tell me tomorrow.

Next day,

Mother had a quiet talk with Cook,

And Cook said she didn't mind if she stayed on a bit just to see.

But meantime,

The question of the muddy carpet had been gone into thoroughly by Father and Mother.

Jane's candid explanation that the mud had come from the bottom of a foreign tower where there was buried treasure was received with such chilling disbelief that the others limited their defence to an expression of sorrow and of a determination not to do it again.

But Father said,

And Mother agreed with him,

Because Mothers have to agree with Fathers,

And not because it was her own idea,

That children who coated a carpet on both sides with thick mud,

And when they were asked for an explanation,

Could only talk silly nonsense.

That meant Jane's truthful statement,

We're not fit to have a carpet at all,

And indeed shouldn't have one for a week.

So the carpet was brushed with tea leaves too,

Which was the only comfort Anthea could think of,

And folded up and put away in the cupboard at the top of the stairs,

And Daddy put the key in his trouser pocket,

Till Saturday,

Said he.

Never mind,

Said Anthea,

We've still got the phoenix.

But as it happened,

They hadn't.

The phoenix was nowhere to be found,

And everything had suddenly settled down from the rosy wild beauty of magic happenings,

To the common damp brownness of ordinary November life in Camden town,

And there was the nursery floor,

All bare boards in the middle,

And brown oil cloth round the outside,

And the bareness and yellowness of the middle floor,

Showed up the black beetles,

With terrible distinctness,

When the poor things came out in the evening,

Trying as usual to make friends with the children,

But the children never would.

The Sunday ended in gloom,

Which even junket for supper in the blue Dresden bowl could hardly lighten at all,

And next day the lamb's cough was worse.

It certainly seemed very whoopey,

And the doctor came in his Brougham carriage.

Everyone tried to bear up under the weight of sorrow,

Which it was to know that the wishing carpet was locked up,

And the phoenix mislaid.

A good deal of time was spent in looking for the phoenix.

It's a bird of its word,

Said Anthea,

I'm sure it's not deserted us.

But you know,

It had an awfully long fly,

From wherever it was,

To near Rochester and back,

And I expect the poor things feeling tired out,

And wants rest.

I am sure we may trust it.

The others tried to feel sure of this too,

But it was hard.

No one could be expected to feel very kindly towards the cook,

Since it was entirely through her making such a fuss about a little foreign mud,

That the carpet had been taken away.

She might have told us,

Said Jane,

And Panther and I would have cleaned it with tea leaves.

She's a cantankerous cat,

Said Robert.

I shan't say what I think about her,

Said Anthea,

Primly,

Because it would be evil speaking,

Lying and slandering.

It's not lying to say she's a disagreeable pig,

And a beastly blue-nosed boswals,

Said Cyril,

Who had read the Eyes of Light,

And intended to talk like Tony,

As soon as he could teach Robert to talk like Paul.

And all the children,

Even Anthea,

Agreed that even if she wasn't a blue-nosed boswals,

They wished Cook had never been born.

But I ask you to believe that they didn't do all the things on purpose which so annoyed the cook during the following week,

Though I dare say the things would not have happened if the cook had been a favourite.

This is a mystery.

Explain it if you can.

The things that had happened were as follows.

Sunday.

Discovery of foreign mud on both sides of the carpet.

Monday.

Licorice put on to boil with aniseed balls in a saucepan.

Anthea did this because she thought it would be good for the lamb's cough.

The whole thing forgotten,

The bottom of the saucepan burned out.

It was the little saucepan lined with white that was kept for the baby's milk.

Tuesday.

A dead mouse found in the pantry.

Fish slice taken to dig grave with.

By regrettable accident,

Fish slice broken.

Defence.

The cook oughtn't to keep dead mice in pantries.

Wednesday.

Chopped suet left on kitchen table.

Robert added chopped soap,

But he says he thought the suet was soap too.

Thursday.

Broke the kitchen window by falling against it during a perfectly fair game of bandits in the area.

Friday.

Stopped upgrading of kitchen sink with putty and filled sink with water to make a lake to sail paper boats in.

Went away and left tap running.

Kitchen hearthrug and cook's shoes ruined.

On Saturday,

The carpet was restored.

There had been plenty of time during the week to decide where it should be asked to go when they did get it back.

Mother had gone over to granny's and had not taken the lamb because he had a bad cough,

Which,

Cook repeatedly said,

Was whooping cough,

As sure as eggs is eggs.

But we'll take him out,

A ducky darling,

Said Anthea.

We'll take him somewhere where you can't have whooping cough.

Don't be silly,

Robert.

If he does talk about it,

No one will take any notice.

He's always talking about things he's never seen.

So they dress the lamb and themselves in out-of-doors clothes,

And the lamb chuckled and coughed and laughed and coughed again,

Poor dear,

And all the chairs and tables were moved off the carpet by the boys while Jane nursed the lamb and Anthea rushed through the house in one last wild hunt for the missing phoenix.

It's no use waiting for it,

She said,

Reappearing breathless in the breakfast room,

But I know it hasn't deserted us.

It's a bird of its word.

Quite so,

Said the gentle voice of the phoenix from beneath the table.

Everyone fell on its knees and looked up,

And there was the phoenix perched on a crossbar of wood that ran across under the table and had once supported a drawer in the happy days before the drawer had been used as a boat and its bottom,

Unfortunately,

Trodden out by Raggett's really reliable school boots on the feet of Robert.

I've been here all the time,

Said the phoenix,

Yawning politely behind its claw.

If you wanted me,

You should have recited the Ode of Invocation.

It's 7,

000 lines long and written in very pure and beautiful Greek.

Couldn't you tell it us in English,

Asked Anthea.

It's rather long,

Isn't it,

Said Jane,

Jumping the lamb on her knee.

Couldn't you make a short English version like Tate and Brady?

Well,

Come along,

Do,

Said Robert,

Holding out his hand.

Come along,

Good old phoenix.

Good old beautiful phoenix,

The phoenix corrected Shirley.

Good old beautiful phoenix,

Then.

Come along,

Come along,

Said Robert,

Impatiently,

With his hand still held out.

The phoenix fluttered at once onto his wrist.

This amiable youth,

It said to the others,

Has miraculously been able to put the whole meaning of the 7,

000 lines of Greek invocation into one English hexameter.

A little misplaced some of the words,

But,

Oh,

Come along,

Come along,

Good old beautiful phoenix.

Not perfect,

I admit,

But not bad for a boy of his age.

Well now,

Then,

Said Robert,

Stepping back onto the carpet with the golden phoenix on his wrist.

You look like the king's falconer,

Said Jane,

Sitting down on the carpet with the baby on her lap.

Robert tried to go on looking like that.

Cyril and Anthea stood on the carpet.

We shall have to get back before dinner,

Said Cyril,

Or Cook will blow the gaff.

She hasn't sneaked since Sunday,

Said Anthea.

She,

Robert was beginning,

When the door burst open and the cook,

Fierce and furious,

Came in like a whirlwind and stood on the corner of the carpet with a broken basin in one hand and a threat in the other,

Which was clenched.

Look here,

She cried,

My only basin,

And what the powers am I to make the beefsteak and kidney pudding in that your ma ordered for your dinners?

You don't deserve no dinners,

So you don't.

I'm awfully sorry,

Cook,

Anthea said gently.

It was my fault and I forgot to tell you about it.

It got broken when we were telling our fortunes with melted lead,

You know,

And I meant to tell you.

Meant to tell me,

Replied the cook.

She was red with anger and really,

I don't wonder.

Meant to tell?

Well,

I mean to tell too.

I've held my tongue this week through because the missus,

She said to me quiet like,

We mustn't expect old heads on young shoulders,

But now I shan't hold it no longer.

There was the soap you put in our pudding and me and Eliza never so much as breathed it to your ma,

Though well we might,

And the saucepan and the fish slice and my gracious,

Cat's alive and what have you got that blessed child dressed up in his outdoors for?

We aren't going to take him out,

Said Anthea,

At least.

She stopped short,

For though they weren't going to take him out in the Kentish town road,

They certainly intended to take him elsewhere,

But not at all where the cook meant when she said out.

This confused the truthful Anthea.

Out,

Said the cook,

That I'll take care you don't,

And she snatched the lamb from the lap of Jane while Anthea and Robert caught her by the skirts and apron.

Look here,

Said Cyril,

In stern desperation,

Will you go away and make your pudding in a pie dish or a flower pot or a hot water can or something?

Not me,

Said the cook briefly,

And leave this precious poppet for you to give his death a cold to.

I warn you,

Said Cyril solemnly,

Beware,

Ere yet it be too late.

Lay it yourself,

The little popsy-wopsy,

Said the cook,

With angry tenderness.

They shan't take it out,

No more they shan't,

And where did you get that there yellow fowl,

She pointed to the phoenix.

Even Anthea saw that unless the cook lost her situation,

The loss would be theirs.

I wish,

She said suddenly,

We were on a sunny southern shore where there can't be any whooping cough.

She said it through the frightened howls of the lamb and the sturdy scoldings of the cook,

And instantly the giddy-go-round-and-falling-lift feeling swept over the whole party,

And the cook sat down flat on the carpet,

Holding the screaming lamb tight to her stout,

Print-covered self,

And calling on Saint Bridget to help her.

The moment the tipsy-topsy-turvy feeling stopped,

The cook opened her eyes,

Gave one resounding screech,

And shot them again,

And Anthea took the opportunity to get the desperately howling lamb into her own arms.

It's all right,

She said,

Own panthers got you,

Look at the trees and the sand and the shells,

And the great big tortoises,

Oh dear how hot it is.

It certainly was,

For the trusty carpet had laid itself out on a southern shore that was sunny and no mistake,

As Robert remarked.

The greenest of green slopes led up to glorious groves where palm trees and all the tropical flowers and fruits that you read of in Westward Ho and Fair Play were growing in rich profusion.

Between the green,

Green slope and the blue,

Blue sea lay a stretch of sand that looked like a carpet of jewelled cloth of gold,

For it was not greyish as our northern sand is,

But yellow and changing,

Opal-coloured like sunshine and rainbows.

And at the very moment when the wild,

Whirling,

Blinding,

Deafening,

Tumbling,

Upside-downness of the carpet moving stopped,

The children had the happiness of seeing three large live turtles waddle down to the edge of the sea and disappear into the water.

And it was hotter than you can possibly imagine,

Unless you think of ovens on a baking day.

Everyone,

Without an instant's hesitation,

Tore off its London in November outdoor clothes and Anthea took off the lamb's high-wim and blue coat and his three-cornered hat and then his jersey and then the lamb himself suddenly slipped out of his little blue tight breeches and stood up happy and hot in his little white shirt.

I'm sure it's much warmer than the seaside in the summer,

Said Anthea.

Mother always lets us go barefoot then.

So the lamb's shoes and socks and garters came off and he stood digging his happy naked pink toes into the golden smooth sand.

I'm a little white ducky dicky,

Said he,

A little white ducky dicky what swims.

And he splashed quacking into a sandy pool.

Let him,

Said Anthea,

It can't hurt him.

Oh how hot it is.

The cook suddenly opened her eyes and screamed,

Shut them,

Screamed again,

Opened her eyes once more and said,

Why drat my cat's alive,

What's all this?

It's a dream I expect.

Well it's the best I ever dreamed.

I'll look it up in the dream book tomorrow.

Seaside and trees and a carpet to sit on.

I never did.

Look here,

Said Cyril,

It isn't a dream,

It's real.

Oh yes,

Says the cook,

They always says that in dreams.

It's real I tell you,

Robert said stamping his foot.

I'm not going to tell you how it's done because that's our secret.

He winked heavily at each of the others in turn.

But you wouldn't go away and make that pudding so we had to bring you and I hope you like it.

I do that and no mistake,

Said the cook unexpectedly.

And it being a dream it don't matter what I say and I will say if it's my last word that of all the aggravating little varmints.

Calm yourself my good woman,

Said the phoenix.

Good woman indeed,

Said the cook,

Good woman yourself.

Then she saw who it was who had spoken.

Well I never,

Said she,

This is somewhat like a dream.

Yellow fowls are talking and all.

I've heard of such but never did I think to see the day.

Well then,

Said Cyril impatiently,

Sit here and see the day now.

It's a jolly fine day.

Here you others,

A council.

They walked along the shore till they were out of earshot of the cook who still sat gazing about her with a happy dreamy vacant smile.

Look here,

Said Cyril,

We must roll the carpet up and hide it so that we can get at it at any moment.

The lamb can be getting rid of his whooping cough all the morning and we can look about and if the savages on this island are cannibals we'll hook it and take her back and if not we'll leave her here.

Is that being kind to servants and animals,

Like the clergyman said,

Asked Jane.

Well she isn't kind,

Retorted Cyril.

Well anyway,

Said Anthea,

The safest thing is to leave the carpet there with her sitting on it.

Perhaps it'll be a lesson to her and anyway if she thinks it's a dream it won't matter what she says when she gets home.

So the extra coats and hats and mufflers were piled on the carpet.

Cyril shouldered the well and happy lamb,

The phoenix perched on Robert's wrist and the party of explorers prepared to enter the interior.

The grassy slope was smooth but under the trees there were tangled creepers with bright strange shaped flowers and it wasn't easy to walk.

We ought to have an explorer's axe,

Said Robert.

I shall ask father to give me one for Christmas.

There were curtains of creepers with scented blossoms hanging from the trees and brilliant birds darted about quite close to their faces.

Now tell me honestly,

Said the phoenix,

Are there any birds here handsomer than I am?

Don't be afraid of hurting my feelings,

I'm a modest bird I hope.

Not one of them,

Said Robert with conviction,

Is a patch upon you.

I was never a vain bird,

Said the phoenix,

But I own that you confirm my own impression.

I will take a flight.

It circled in the air for a moment and returning to Robert's wrist went on.

There is a path to the left and there was.

So now the children went on through the wood more quickly and comfortably,

The girls picking flowers and the lamb inviting the pretty duckies to observe that he himself was a little white real water wet duck.

And all this time he hadn't hooping coughed once.

The path turned and twisted and always threading their way amid a tangle of flowers,

The children suddenly passed a corner and found themselves in a forest clearing where there were a lot of pointed huts,

The huts,

As they knew at once,

Of cannibals.

The boldest heart beat more quickly.

It was a long way back to the carpet.

Hadn't we better go back,

Said Jane.

Go now,

She said,

And her voice trembled a little.

Suppose they eat us.

Nonsense,

Pussy,

Said Cyril firmly.

Look,

There's a goat tied up.

That shows they don't eat people.

Let's go on and say that we're missionaries,

Robert suggested.

I shouldn't advise that,

Said the phoenix very earnestly.

Why not?

Well,

For one thing,

It isn't true,

Replied the golden bird.

It was while they stood hesitating on the edge of the clearing that a tall man suddenly came out of one of the huts.

He had hardly any clothes,

And his body all over was a dark and beautiful coppery colour,

Just like the chrysanthemums father had brought home on Saturday.

In his hand he held a spear,

The whites of his eyes and the white of his teeth were the only light things about him.

He looked at the children.

Concealment was impossible.

He uttered a shout,

And at once other people leapt out of every hut and swarmed about the clearing.

There was no time for discussion,

And no one wanted to discuss anything anyhow.

Whether these people were cannibals or not now,

Seemed to matter very little.

Without an instant's hesitation,

The four children turned and ran back along the forest path.

The only pause was Anthea's.

She stood back to let Cyril pass,

Because he was carrying the lamb who screamed with delight.

He hadn't whooping coughed a single once since the carpet landed him on the island.

Gee up squirrel,

Gee gee,

He shouted,

And Cyril did gee up.

The path was a shorter cut to the beach than the creeper-covered way by which they'd come,

And almost directly they saw through the trees the shining blue and gold and opal of sand and sea.

Stick to it,

Cried Cyril breathlessly.

They did stick to it.

They tore down the sands.

They could hear behind them as they ran the patter of feet.

The sands were golden and opal-coloured and bare.

There were wreaths of tropic seaweed.

There were rich tropic shells of the kind you would not buy in the Kentish Road under at least 15 pence a pair.

There were turtles basking lumpily on the water's edge,

But no cook,

No clothes and no carpet.

On,

On,

Into the sea,

Gasped Cyril.

Their feet were splashing in the warm shallows before his breathless words were ended.

The calm baby waves were easy to go through.

It is warm work running for your life in the tropics,

And the coolness of the water was delicious.

They were up to their armpits now,

And Jane was up to her chin.

Look,

Said the phoenix.

What are they pointing at?

The children turned,

And there,

A little to the west,

Was a head,

A head they knew,

With a crooked cap upon it.

It was the head of the cook.

For some reason or another,

The people had stopped at the water's edge,

And were all talking at the top of their voices,

And all were pointing their fingers,

Stiff with interest and excitement,

At the head of the cook.

The children hurried towards her as quickly as the water would let them.

What on earth did you come out here for?

Robert shouted.

And where on earth's the carpet?

It's not on earth,

Bless you,

Replied the cook happily.

It's under me,

In the water.

I got a bit warm sitting there in the sun,

And I just says,

I wish I was in a cold bath,

Just like that,

And next minute here I was.

It's all part of the dream.

Everyone saw at once how extremely fortunate it was that the carpet had had the sense to take the cook to the nearest and largest bath,

The sea,

And how terrible it would have been if the carpet had taken itself and her to the stuffy little bathroom of the house in Camden Town.

Excuse me,

Said the phoenix's soft voice,

Breaking in on the general sigh of relief,

But I think these people want your cook.

To eat,

Whispered Jane,

As well as she could,

Through the water which the plunging lamb was dashing in her face with happy fat hands and feet.

Hardly,

Rejoined the bird,

Who wants cooks to eat?

Cooks are engaged,

Not eaten.

They wish to engage her.

How can you understand what they say,

Asked Cyril doubtfully.

It's as easy as kissing your claw,

Replied the bird.

I speak and understand all languages,

Even that of your cook,

Which is difficult and unpleasing.

It's quite easy when you know how it's done.

It just comes to you.

I should advise you to beach the carpet and land the cargo,

The cook,

I mean.

You can take my word for it.

The people will not harm you now.

It is impossible not to take the word of a phoenix when it tells you to.

So the children at once got hold of the corners of the carpet and pulling it from under the cook,

Towed it slowly in through the shallowing water and at last spread it on the sand.

The cook,

Who had followed,

Instantly sat down on it and at once the natives,

Now strangely humble,

Formed a ring round the carpet and fell on their faces on the rainbow and gold sand.

The tallest man spoke in this position,

Which must have been very awkward for him,

And Jane noticed that it took him quite a long time to get the sand out of his mouth afterwards.

He says,

The phoenix remarked after some time,

That they wish to engage your cook permanently.

Without a character reference,

Asked Anthea,

Who had heard her mother speak of such things.

They do not wish to engage her as a cook,

But as a queen,

And queens need not have character references.

There was a breathless pause.

Well,

Said Cyril,

Of all the choices,

But there's no accounting for tastes.

Everyone laughed at the idea of the cooks being engaged as a queen.

They couldn't help it.

I do not advise laughter,

Warned the phoenix,

Ruffling out his golden feathers,

Which were extremely wet.

And it's not their own choice.

It seems that there is an ancient prophecy of this tribe,

That a great queen should someday arise out of the sea,

With a white crown on her head and,

And well,

You see,

There's the crown.

It pointed its claw at Cook's cap,

And a very dirty cap it was,

Because it was the end of the week.

That's the white crown,

It said.

At least it's nearly white,

Very white indeed.

And anyway,

It's quite white enough.

Cyril addressed the cook.

Look here,

He said,

These people want you to be their queen.

Now,

Would you really like to stay?

Or,

If you'll promise not to be so jolly aggravating at home,

And not to tell anyone a word about today,

We'll take you back to Camden Town.

No,

You don't,

Said the cook,

In firm,

Undoubting tones.

I've always wanted to be the queen,

God bless her,

And I always thought,

What a good one I should make,

And now I'm going to.

If it's only in a dream,

It's well worthwhile.

And I don't go back to that nasty underground kitchen,

And me blamed for everything.

That I don't,

Not till the dream's finished,

And I wake up with that nasty bell,

A rang-tanging in me ears.

So,

I tell you,

Are you sure,

Aunt Thea asked the phoenix,

That she will be quite safe here?

She will find the nest of a queen a very precious and soft thing,

Said the bird solemnly.

There,

You hear,

Said Cyril,

You're in for a precious soft thing,

So mind you're a good queen,

Cook.

It's more than you'd any right to expect,

But long may you reign.

Some of the cook's subjects now advanced from the forest with long garlands of beautiful flowers,

White and sweet-scented,

And hung them respectfully around the neck of their new sovereign.

What,

All them lovely bouquets for me,

Exclaimed the enraptured cook.

Well,

This year is something like a dream,

I must say.

She sat up very straight on the carpet,

And the people madly stuck parrot feathers in their hair and began to dance.

It was a dance such as you have never seen.

It made the children feel almost sure that the cook was right,

And that they were all in a dream.

Small,

Strange shaped drums were beaten,

Strange sounding songs were sung,

And the dance got faster and faster,

And stranger and stranger,

Till at last all the dancers fell on the sand,

Tired out.

The new queen,

With her white crown cap all on one side,

Clapped wildly.

Bravo,

She cried,

Bravo,

It's better than the Albert Edward musical in the Kentish town road,

Go it again.

But the phoenix would not translate this request,

And when the people had recovered their breath,

They implored their queen to leave her white escort and come with them to their huts.

The finest shall be yours,

Oh queen,

Said they.

Well,

So long,

Said the cook,

Getting heavily onto her feet when the phoenix had translated this request.

No more kitchens and attics for me,

Thank you,

I'm off to my royal palace I am,

And I only wish this here dream would keep on forever and ever.

She picked up the ends of the garlands that trailed around her feet,

And the children had one last glimpse of her striped stockings and worn elastic side boots before she disappeared into the shadow of the forest,

Surrounded by her people,

Singing songs of rejoicing as they went.

Well,

Said Cyril,

I suppose she's all right,

But they don't seem to count us for much one way or the other.

Oh,

Said the phoenix,

They think you're merely dreams.

The prophecy said that the queen would arise from the waves with a white crown and surrounded by white dream children.

That's about what they think you are.

And what about dinner,

Said Robert,

Abruptly.

There won't be any dinner with no cook and no pudding basin,

Anthea reminded him,

But there's always bread and butter.

Let's get home,

Said Cyril.

The lamb was furiously unwishful to be dressed in his warm clothes again,

But Anthea and Jane managed it by force,

Disguised as coaxing,

And he never once whooping coughed.

Then everyone put on its own warm things and took its place on the carpet.

A sound of singing still came from beyond the trees where the natives were crooning songs of admiration and respect to their white crowned queen.

Then Anthea said,

Home,

Just as duchesses and other people do to their coachman.

And the intelligent carpet in one whirling moment laid itself down in its proper place on the nursery floor.

And at that very moment,

Eliza opened the door and said,

Cook's gone.

I can't find her anywhere and there's no dinner ready.

She hasn't taken her box nor yet her outdoor things.

She just ran out to see the time,

I shouldn't wonder.

The kitchen clock never did give her satisfaction and she's got run over or fell down in a fit as likely as not.

You'll have to put up with cold bacon for your dinners and what on earth you've got your outdoor things on for,

I don't know.

And then I'll slip out and see if they know anything about her down at the police station.

But nobody ever knew anything about the cook anymore,

Except the children and later one other person.

Mother was so upset at losing the cook and so anxious about her that Anthea felt most miserable as though she had done something very wrong indeed.

She at last decided she would ask the phoenix to let her tell her mother all about it.

But there was no opportunity to do this the next day because the phoenix,

As usual,

Had gone to sleep in some out-of-the-way spot after asking as a special favour not to be disturbed for 24 hours.

The lamb babbled of coloured sand and water but no one took any notice of that.

He often talked of things that hadn't happened.

It was on Monday morning,

Very early indeed,

That Anthea woke and suddenly made up her mind.

She crept downstairs in her nightgown,

It was very chilly,

Sat down on the carpet and with a beating heart wished herself on the sunny shore where you can't have a pooping cough.

And next moment there she was.

The sand was splendidly warm.

She could feel it at once,

Even through the carpet.

She folded the carpet and put it over her shoulders like a shawl for she was determined not to be parted from it for a single instant,

No matter how hot it might be to wear.

Then,

Trembling a little and trying to keep up her courage by saying over and over,

It is my duty,

It is my duty,

She went up the forest path.

Well,

Here you are again,

Said the cook.

Directly,

She saw Anthea.

This dream does keep on.

The cook was dressed in a white robe.

She had no shoes and stockings and no cap and she was sitting under a screen of palm leaves.

She wore a flower wreath on her hair and boys were fanning her with peacock's feathers.

They've got the cap put away,

She said.

They seem to think a lot of it.

Never saw one before,

I expect.

Are you happy,

Asked Anthea,

Panting.

The sight of the cook as queen quite took her breath away.

I believe you,

My dear,

Said the cook heartily.

Nothing to do unless you want to,

But I'm getting rested now.

Tomorrow I'm going to start cleaning out my hut,

If the dream keeps on,

And I shall teach them cooking.

It burns everything to a cinder now,

Unless they eat it raw.

But can you talk to them?

Lord of a duck,

Yes,

The happy cook queen replied.

It's quite easy to pick up.

I always thought I should be quick at foreign languages.

I've taught them to understand dinner and I want a drink and you leave me be already.

Then you don't want for anything,

Anthea asked earnestly.

Not me,

Miss,

Except if you'd only go away.

I'm afraid of me waking up with that bella going if you keep on stopping here and talking to me.

Long as this here dream keeps up,

I'm as happy as a queen.

Goodbye then,

Said Anthea gaily,

But her conscience was clear now.

She hurried into the wood,

Threw herself on the ground and said,

Home,

And there she was,

Rolled in the carpet on the nursery floor.

She's all right anyhow,

Said Anthea and went back to bed.

I'm glad somebody's pleased,

But mother will never believe me when I tell her.

The story is indeed a little difficult to believe.

Still,

You might try.

Chapter four,

Two bazaars.

Mother was really a great dear.

She was pretty and she was loving and most frightfully good when you were ill and always kind,

Almost always just.

That is,

She was just when she understood things,

But of course she didn't always understand things.

No one understands everything and mothers are not angels,

Although a good many of them come pretty close to it.

The children knew that mother always wanted to do what was best for them,

Even if she wasn't clever enough to know exactly what was the best.

That was why all of them,

But much more particularly Anthea,

Felt rather uncomfortable at keeping the great secret from her of the wishing carpet and the phoenix.

And Anthea,

Whose inside mind was made so that she was able to be much more uncomfortable than the others,

Had decided that she must tell her mother the truth,

However little likely it was that her mother would believe it.

Then I shall have done what's right,

Said she to the phoenix,

And if she doesn't believe me,

It won't be my fault,

Will it?

Not in the least,

Said the golden bird,

And she won't,

So you're quite safe.

Anthea chose a time when she was doing her home lessons.

They were algebra and Latin,

German,

English and Euclid,

And she asked her mother whether she might come and do them in the drawing room.

So as to be quiet,

She said to her mother,

And to herself,

She said,

And that's not the real reason.

I hope I shan't grow up a liar.

Mother said,

Of course,

Dearie,

And Anthea started swimming through a sea of X's and Y's and Z's.

Mother was sitting at the mahogany bureau writing letters.

Mother,

Dear,

Said Anthea.

Yes,

Loverduck,

Said Mother.

About Cook,

Said Anthea.

I know where she is.

Do you,

Dear,

Said Mother.

Well,

I wouldn't take her back after the way she has behaved.

But it's not her fault,

Said Anthea.

May I tell you about it from the beginning?

Mother laid down her pen and her nice face had a resigned expression.

As you know,

A resigned expression always makes you want not to tell anybody anything.

It's like this,

Said Anthea.

The egg,

You know,

That egg that came in the carpet,

We put it in the fire and it hatched into a phoenix and the carpet was a wishing carpet and.

.

.

A very nice game,

Darling,

Said Mother,

Taking up her pen.

Now do be quiet.

I've got a lot of letters to write.

I'm going to Bournemouth tomorrow with the lamb and there's that bazaar.

Anthea went back to X,

Y,

Z and Mother's pen scratched busily.

But Mother,

Said Anthea,

When Mother put down the pen to lick an envelope,

The carpet takes us wherever we like.

I wish it would take you where you could get a few nice eastern things for my bazaar,

Said Mother.

I promised them and I've no time to go to now.

It shall,

Said Anthea,

But Mother.

.

.

Well,

Dear,

Said Mother,

A little impatiently,

For she had taken up her pen again.

The carpet took us to a place where you couldn't have whooping cough and the lamb hasn't whooped since and we took cook because she was so tiresome.

They thought her cap was a crown and.

.

.

Darling one,

Said Mother,

You know I love to hear the things you make up but I am most awfully busy.

But it's true,

Said Anthea,

Desperately.

You shouldn't say that,

My sweet,

Said Mother,

Gently.

And then Anthea knew it was hopeless.

Are you going away for long,

Asked Anthea.

I've got a cold,

Said Mother,

And Daddy's anxious about it and the lamb's cough.

But he hasn't coughed since Saturday,

The lamb's eldest sister interrupted.

I wish I could think so,

Mother replied,

And Daddy's got to go to Scotland.

I do hope you'll be good children.

We will,

We will,

Said Anthea,

Fervently.

When's the bazaar?

On Saturday,

Said Mother,

At the schools.

Oh,

Don't talk anymore,

There's a treasure.

My head's going round and I've forgotten how to spell whooping cough.

So Mother and the lamb went away and Father went away and there was a new cook who looked so like a frightened rabbit that no one had the heart to do anything to frighten her any more than seemed natural to her.

The phoenix begged to be excused.

It said it wanted a week's rest and asked that it might not be disturbed and it hid its golden gleaming self and nobody could find it.

That when Wednesday afternoon brought an unexpected holiday and everyone decided to go somewhere on the carpet,

The journey had to be undertaken without the phoenix.

They were debarred from any carpet excursions in the evening by a sudden promise to Mother,

Exacted in the agitation of parting,

That they would not be out after six at night except on Saturday when they were to go to the bazaar and they were pledged to put on their best clothes,

To wash themselves to the uttermost and to clean their nails,

Not with scissors which are scratchy and bad but with flat sharpened ends of wooden matches which do no harm to anyone's nails.

Let's go and see the lamb,

Said Jane,

But everyone agreed that if they appeared suddenly in Bournemouth it would frighten Mother out of her wits,

If not into a fit,

So they sat on the carpet and thought and thought and thought till they almost began to squint.

Look here,

Said Cyril,

I know,

Please carpet,

Take us somewhere where we can see the lamb and Mother and no one can see us.

Except the lamb,

Said Jane quickly,

And the next moment they found themselves recovering from the upside down movement and there they were sitting on the carpet and the carpet was laid out over another thick soft carpet of brown pine needles.

There were green pine trees overhead and a swift clear little stream was running as fast as ever it could be between steep banks and there sitting on the pine needle carpet was Mother without her hat and the sun was shining brightly although it was November and there was the lamb as jolly as jolly and not hooping at all.

The carpets deceived us,

Said Robert gloomily,

Mother will see us directly she turns her head but the faithful carpet had not deceived them.

Mother turned her dear head and looked straight at them and didn't see them.

We're invisible,

Cyril whispered,

What awful larks.

But to the girls it wasn't larks at all,

It was horrible to have Mother looking straight at them and her face keeping the same,

Just as though they weren't there.

I don't like it,

Said Jane,

Mother never looked at us like that before,

Just as if she didn't love us,

As if we were somebody else's children and not very nice ones either,

As if she didn't care whether she saw us or not.

It is horrid,

Said Anthea,

Almost in tears,

But at this moment the lamb saw them and plunged towards the carpet shrieking,

Panty,

Own Panty and Pussy and Squiggle and Bobs,

Oh oh.

Anthea caught him and kissed him,

So did Jane,

They couldn't help it,

He looked such a darling with his blue three-cornered hat all on one side and his precious face all dirty,

Quite in the old familiar way,

I love you Panty,

I love you and you and you and you,

Cried the lamb.

It was a delicious moment,

Even the boys thumped their baby brother joyously on the back.

Then Anthea glanced at Mother and Mother's face was a pale sea green colour and she was staring at the lamb as if she thought he'd gone mad and indeed that was exactly what she did think.

My lamb,

My precious,

Come to Mother,

She cried and jumped up and ran to the baby.

She was so quick that the invisible children had to leap back or she would have felt them and to feel what you can't see is the worst sort of ghost feeling.

Mother picked up the lamb and hurried away from the Pinewood.

Let's go home,

Said Jane after a miserable silence,

It feels just exactly as if Mother didn't love us.

But they couldn't bear to go home till they had seen Mother meet another lady and knew that she was safe.

You cannot leave your Mother to go green in the face in a distant Pinewood,

Far from all human aid and then go home on your wishing carpet as though nothing had happened.

When Mother seemed safe the children returned to the carpet and said home and home they went.

I don't care about being invisible myself,

Said Cyril,

At least not with my own family.

It would be different if you were a prince or a bandit or a burglar.

And now the thoughts of all four dwelt fondly on the dear greenish face of Mother.

I wish she hadn't gone away,

Said Jane,

The house is simply beastly without her.

I think we ought to do what she said,

Anthea put in.

I saw something in a book the other day about the wishes of the departed being sacred.

That means when they've departed farther off,

Said Cyril.

India's coral or Greenland's icy,

Don't you know,

Not Bournemouth.

Besides,

We don't know what her wishes are.

She said,

Anthea was very much inclined to cry,

She said,

Get Indian things for my bazaar.

But I know she thought we couldn't and it was only play.

Let's get them all the same,

Said Robert.

We'll go first thing on Saturday morning.

And on Saturday morning,

First thing,

They went.

There was no finding the phoenix,

So they sat on the beautiful wishing carpet and said,

We want Indian things for Mother's bazaar.

Will you please take us where people will give us heaps of Indian things?

The docile carpet swirled their senses away and restored them on the outskirts of a gleaming white Indian town.

They knew it was Indian at once by the shape of the domes and roofs.

And besides,

A man went by on an elephant and two English soldiers went along the road,

Talking like in Mr.

Kipling's books.

So after that,

No one could have any doubt as to where they were.

They rolled up the carpet and Robert carried it and they walked bodily into the town.

It was very warm and once more,

They had to take off their London in November coats and carry them on their arms.

The streets were narrow and strange and the clothes of the people in the streets were strange and the talk of the people was strange.

I can't understand a word,

Said Cyril.

How on earth are we to ask for things for our bazaar?

And they're poor people too,

Said Jane.

I'm sure they are.

What we want is a raja or something.

Robert was beginning to unroll the carpet but the others stopped him,

Imploring him not to waste a wish.

We asked the carpet to take us where we could get Indian things for bazaars,

Said Anthea,

And it will.

Her faith was justified.

Just as she finished speaking,

A gentleman in a turban came up to them and bowed deeply.

He spoke and they thrilled to the sound of English words.

My Rani,

She thinks you very nice child.

She asks,

Do you lose yourselves and do you desire to sell carpet?

She see you from her palki.

You come to see her,

Yes?

They followed the stranger and he led them through crooked streets to the Rani's palace.

I'm not going to describe the Rani's palace because I really have never seen the palace of a Rani and Mr Kipling has,

So you can read about it in his books.

But I know exactly what happened there.

The old Rani sat on a low cushioned seat and there were a lot of other ladies with her,

All in trousers and veils and sparkling with tinsel and gold and jewels.

And the turbaned gentleman stood behind a sort of carved screen and interpreted what the children said and what the queen said.

And when the queen asked to buy the carpet,

The children said,

No.

Why?

Asked the Rani.

And Jane briefly said,

Why?

And the interpreter interpreted.

The queen spoke and then the interpreter said,

My mistress says it is a good story and you tell it all through without thought of time.

And they had to.

It made a long story,

Especially as it all had to be told twice,

Once by Cyril and once by the interpreter.

Cyril rather enjoyed himself.

He warmed to his work and told the tale of the phoenix and the carpet and the lone tower and the queen cook in language that grew insensibly more and more Arabian Nazi.

And the Rani and her listened to the interpreter and rolled about on their cushions with laughter.

When the story was ended,

She spoke and the interpreter explained that she'd said,

Little one,

Thou art a heaven born teller of tales.

And she threw him a string of turquoises from around her neck.

Oh,

How lovely,

Cried Jane and Anthea.

Cyril bowed several times and then cleared his throat and said,

Thank her very,

Very much.

But I would much rather she gave me some of the cheap things in the bazaar.

Tell her I want to sell again and give the money to buy clothes for poor people who haven't any.

Tell him he has my leave to sell my gifts and clothe the naked with its price,

Said the queen when this was translated.

But Cyril said very firmly,

No thank you.

The things have got to be sold today at our bazaar and no one would buy a turquoise necklace at an English bazaar.

They think it was sham or else they'd want to know where we got it.

So the queen sent out for little pretty things and her servants piled the carpet with them.

I must needs lend you an elephant to carry them away,

She said,

Laughing.

But Anthea said,

If the queen will lend us a comb and let us wash our hands and faces,

She shall see a magic thing.

We and the carpet and all these brass trays and pots and carved things and stuffs and things will vanish away like smoke.

The queen clapped her hands at this idea and lent the children a sandalwood comb inlaid with ivory lotus flowers and they washed their faces and hands in silver basins.

Then Cyril made a very polite farewell speech and quite suddenly he ended with the words and I wish we were at the bazaar at our schools.

And of course they were and the queen and her ladies were left with their mouths open,

Gazing at the bare space on the inlaid marble floor where the carpet and the children had been.

That is magic,

If ever magic was,

Said the queen,

Delighted with the incident,

Which indeed has given the ladies of that court something to talk about on wet days ever since.

Cyril's stories had taken some time,

So had the meal of strange sweet foods that they'd had while the little pretty things were being brought and the gas in the school room was already lighted.

Outside the winter dusk was stealing down among the Camden town houses.

I'm glad we got washed in India,

Said Cyril.

We should have been awfully late if we'd had to go home and scrub.

Besides,

Robert said,

It's much warmer washing in India.

I shouldn't mind it so much if we live there.

The thoughtful carpet had dumped the children down in a dusky space behind the point where the corner of two stalls met.

The floor was littered with string and brown paper and baskets and boxes were heaped along the wall.

The children crept out under a stall covered with all sorts of table covers and mats and things,

Embroidered beautifully by idle ladies with no real work to do.

They got out at the end,

Displacing a sideboard cloth adorned with a tasteful pattern of blue geraniums.

The girls got out unobserved and so did Cyril,

But Robert,

As he cautiously emerged,

Was actually walked on by Mrs Biddle who kept the stall.

Her large solid foot stood firmly on the small solid hand of Robert and who can blame Robert if he did yell a little?

A crowd instantly collected.

Yells are very unusual at bazaars and everyone was intensely interested.

It was several seconds before the three free children could make Mrs Biddle understand that what she was walking on was not the schoolroom floor or even,

As she presently supposed,

A dropped pincushion,

But the living hand of a suffering child.

When she became aware that she really had hurt him,

She grew very angry indeed.

When people have hurt other people by accident,

The one who does the hurting is always much the angriest.

I wonder why?

I'm very sorry,

I'm sure,

Said Mrs Biddle,

But she spoke more in anger than in sorrow.

Come out,

Whatever do you mean by creeping about under the stalls like earwigs?

We were looking at the things in the corner.

Such nasty prying ways,

Said Mrs Biddle,

Will never make you successful in life.

There's nothing there but packing and dust.

Oh isn't there,

Said Jane,

That's all you know.

Little girl,

Don't be rude,

Said Mrs Biddle,

Flushing violet.

She doesn't mean to be,

But there are some nice things there all the same,

Said Cyril,

Who suddenly felt how impossible it was to inform the listening crowd that all the treasures piled on the carpet were mother's contributions to the bazaar.

No one would believe it,

And if they did and wrote to thank mother,

She would think,

Well,

Goodness only knew what she would think.

The other three children felt the same.

I should like to see them,

Said a very nice lady,

Whose friends had disappointed her and who hoped that these might be belated contributions to her poorly furnished stall.

She looked inquiringly at Robert,

Who said,

With pleasure,

Don't mention it,

And dived back under Mrs Biddle's stall.

I wonder you encourage such behaviour,

Said Mrs Biddle.

I always speak my mind,

As you know,

Miss Peasmarsh,

And I must say I am surprised.

She turned to the crowd.

There is no entertainment here,

She said sternly.

A very naughty little boy has accidentally hurt himself,

But only slightly.

Will you please disperse?

It will only encourage him in naughtiness if he finds himself the centre of attention.

The crowd slowly dispersed.

Anthea,

Speechless with fury,

Heard a nice curate say,

Poor little beggar,

And loved the curate at once and forever.

Then Robert wriggled out from under the stall with some Benares brass and some inlaid sandalwood boxes.

Liberty,

Cried Miss Peasmarsh,

Then Charles has not forgotten after all.

Excuse me,

Said Mrs Biddle with fierce politeness,

These objects are deposited behind my stall.

Some unknown donor who does good by stealth and would blush if he could hear you claim the things.

Of course they are for me.

My stall touches yours at the corner,

Said poor Miss Peasmarsh timidly,

And my cousin did promise.

The children sidled away from the unequal contest and mingled with the crowd.

Their feelings were too deep for words till at last Robert said,

That stiff-starched pig.

And after all our trouble,

I'm hoarse with gassing to that trousered lady in India.

The pig lady is very,

Very nasty,

Said Jane.

It was Anthea who said in a hurried undertone,

She isn't very nice,

And Miss Peasmarsh is nice,

Who's got a pencil?

It was a long crawl under three stalls,

But Anthea did it.

A large piece of pale blue paper lay among the rubbish in the corner.

She folded it to a square and wrote on it,

Licking the pencil at every word to make it mark quite blackly.

All these Indian things are for nice Miss Peasmarsh's stall.

She thought of adding,

There is nothing for Mrs Biddle,

But she saw this might lead to suspicion.

So she wrote hastily,

From an unknown donner,

And crept back among the boards and trestles to join the others.

So that when Mrs Biddle appealed to the bizarre committee,

And the corner of the stall was lifted and shifted,

So that stout clergymen and heavy ladies could get to the corner without creeping under stalls,

The blue paper was discovered,

And all the splendid shining Indian things were given over to Miss Peasmarsh,

And she sold them all and got £35 for them.

I don't understand about that blue paper,

Said Mrs Biddle.

It looks to me like the work of a lunatic,

And saying you were nice,

It's not the work of a sane person.

Anthea and Jane begged Miss Peasmarsh to let them help her to sell the things,

Because it was their brother who had announced the good news that the things had come.

Miss Peasmarsh was very willing,

For now her stall,

That had been so neglected,

Was surrounded by people who wanted to buy,

And she was glad to be helped.

The children noted that Mrs Biddle had not more to do in the way of selling than she could manage quite well.

I hope they were not glad,

For you should forgive your enemies,

Even if they walk on your hands,

Then say it is all your naughty fault,

But I'm afraid they were not as sorry as they ought to have been.

It took some time to arrange the things on the stall.

The carpet was spread over it,

And the dark colours showed up the brass and silver and ivory things.

It was a happy and busy afternoon,

And when Miss Peasmarsh and the girls had sold every single one of the little pretty things from the Indian bazaar far,

Far away,

Anthea and Jane went off with the boys to fish in the fish pond,

And dive into the bran pie,

And hear the cardboard band,

And the phonograph,

And the chorus of singing birds that was done behind a screen with glass tubes and glasses of water.

They had a beautiful tea,

Suddenly presented to them by the nice curate,

And Miss Peasmarsh joined them before they'd had more than three cakes each.

It was a merry party,

And the curate was extremely pleasant to everyone.

We ought to get back to the stall,

Said Anthea,

Where no one could possibly eat anymore,

And the curate was talking in a low voice to Miss Peasmarsh about after Easter.

There's nothing much to go back for,

Said Miss Peasmarsh.

We've sold everything.

There's the carpet,

Said Cyril.

Oh,

Said Miss Peasmarsh radiantly,

Don't bother about the carpet.

I've sold even that.

Mrs Biddle gave me 10 shillings for it.

She said it would do for her servant's bedroom.

Her servants don't have carpets.

We had cook from her,

And she told us so.

No scandal about Queen Elizabeth,

If you please,

Said the curate cheerfully,

And Miss Peasmarsh laughed and looked at him as though she'd never dreamed that anyone could be so amusing.

But the others were struck dumb.

How could they say the carpet is ours?

For who brings carpets to bazaars?

The children were now thoroughly wretched,

But I'm glad to say their wretchedness did not make them forget their manners,

As it does sometimes,

Even with grown-up people who ought to know ever so much better.

They said,

Thank you very much for the jolly tea,

And thanks for being so jolly,

And thanks awfully for giving us such a jolly time.

For the curate had stood fishponds and rampais,

And phonographs,

And the chorus of singing birds,

And had stood them like a man.

The girls hugged Miss Peasmarsh,

And as they went away,

They heard the curate say,

Jolly little kids,

Yes,

But what about you?

You will let it be directly after Easter?

I do say you will.

And Jane ran back and said,

Before Anthea could drag her away,

What is it that you're going to do after Easter?

Miss Peasmarsh smiled and looked very pretty,

And the curate said,

I hope I'm going to take a trip to the Fortunate Islands.

I wish we could take you on the wishing carpet,

Said Jane.

Thank you,

Said the curate,

But I'm afraid I can't wait for that.

I must go to the Fortunate Islands before they make me a bishop.

I should have no time afterwards.

I've always thought I should marry a bishop,

Said Jane.

His aprons would come in so useful.

Wouldn't you like to marry a bishop,

Miss Peasmarsh?

It was then that they dragged her away.

As it was Robert's hand that Mrs Biddle had walked on,

It was decided that he had better not recall the incident to her mind and make her angry again.

Anthea and Jane had helped to sell things at the rival stall,

So they were not likely to be popular either.

A hasty council of four decided that Mrs Biddle would hate Cyril less than she would hate the others,

So the others mingled with the crowd,

And it was he who said to her,

Mrs Biddle,

We meant to have that carpet.

Would you sell it to us?

We will give you.

.

.

Certainly not,

Said Mrs Biddle.

Go away,

Little boy.

There was that in her tone which showed Cyril all too plainly the hopelessness of persuasion.

He found the others and said,

It's no use.

She's like a lioness robbed of its puppies.

We must watch where it goes,

And,

Anthea,

I don't care what you say.

It's our carpet.

It wouldn't be burglary.

It would be a sort of forlorn hope rescue party,

Heroic and daring and dashing,

And not wrong at all.

The children still wandered among the crowd,

But there was no pleasure there for them anymore.

The chorus of singing birds sounded just like glass tubes being blown through water,

And the phonograph simply made a horrid noise so that you could hardly hear yourself speak,

And the people were buying things they couldn't possibly want,

And it all seemed very stupid,

And Mrs Biddle had bought the wishing carpet for 10 shillings,

And the whole of life was sad and grey and dusty and smelt of slight gas escapes and hot people and cake and crumbs,

And all the children were very tired indeed.

They found a corner within sight of the carpet,

And there they waited miserably till it was far beyond their proper bedtime,

And when it was 10,

The people who had bought things went away,

But the people who had been selling stayed to count up their money,

And to jaw about it said Robert,

I'll never go to another bazaar as long as I ever live.

My hand is swollen as big as a pudding.

I expect the nails in her horrible boots were poisoned.

Just then someone who seemed to have a right to interfere said,

Everything is over now,

You had better go home.

So they went,

And then they waited on the pavement under the gas lamp where ragged children had been standing all the evening to listen to the band,

And their feet slipped about in the greasy mud till Mrs Biddle came out and was driven away in a cab with the many things she hadn't sold,

And the few things she had bought,

Amongst others the carpet.

The other stallholders were leaving their things at school till Monday morning,

But Mrs Biddle was afraid someone would steal some of them,

So she took them in a cab.

The children,

Now too desperate to care for mud or appearances,

Hung on behind the cab till it reached Mrs Biddle's house.

When she and the carpet had gone in and the door was shut,

Anthea said,

Don't let's burgle,

I mean do dairy and dashing rescue acts,

Till we've given her a chance,

Let's ring and ask to see her.

The others hated to do this,

But at last they agreed,

On condition that Anthea would not make any silly fuss about the burglary afterwards,

If it really had to come to that.

So they knocked and rang,

And a scared looking parlour maid opened the front door.

While they were asking for Mrs Biddle,

They saw her.

She was in the dining room and she had already pushed back the table and spread out the carpet to see how it looked on the floor.

I knew she didn't want it for her servant's bedroom,

Jane muttered.

Anthea walked straight past the uncomfortable parlour maid and the others followed her.

Mrs Biddle had her back to them and was smoothing down the carpet with the same boot that had trampled on the hand of Robert.

So they were all in the room and Cyril,

With great presence of mind,

Had shut the room door before she saw them.

Who is it Jane,

She asked in a sour voice,

And then turning suddenly she saw who it was.

Once more her face grew violet,

A deep violet.

You wicked,

Daring little thing,

She cried.

How dare you come here at this time of night to be off or I'll send for the police.

Don't be angry,

Said Anthea soothingly.

We only wanted to ask you to let us have the carpet.

We have quite 12 shillings between us.

How dare you,

Cried Mrs Biddle,

And her voice shook with angriness.

You do look horrid,

Said Jane suddenly.

Mrs Biddle actually stamped that booted foot of hers.

You rude,

Barefaced child,

She said.

Anthea almost shook Jane,

But Jane pushed forward in spite of her.

It really is our nursery carpet,

She said.

You ask anyone if it isn't.

Let's wish ourselves home,

Said Cyril in a whisper.

No,

Robert whispered back.

She'll be there too,

And raving mad as likely as not.

I wish Mrs Biddle was in an angelic good temper,

Cried Anthea suddenly.

It's worth trying,

She said to herself.

Mrs Biddle's face grew from purple to violet,

And from violet to mauve,

And from mauve to pink.

Then she smiled,

Quite a jolly smile.

Why,

So I am,

She said.

What a funny idea.

Why shouldn't I be in a good temper,

My dears?

Once more the carpet had done its work,

And not on Mrs Biddle alone.

The children felt suddenly good and happy.

You're a jolly good sort,

Said Cyril.

I see that now.

I'm sorry we vexed you at the bazaar today.

Not another word,

Said the changed Mrs Biddle.

Of course you shall have the carpet,

My dears,

If you've taken such a fancy to it.

No,

No,

I won't have more than the ten shillings I paid.

It does seem hard to ask you for it after you bought it at the bazaar,

Said Anthea,

But it really is our nursery carpet.

It got to the bazaar by mistake with some other things.

Did it really now?

How vexing,

Said Mrs Biddle kindly.

Well,

My dears,

I can very well give the extra ten shillings,

So you take your carpet and we'll say no more about it.

Have a piece of cake before you go.

I'm so sorry I stepped on your hand,

My boy.

Is it all right now?

Yes,

Thank you,

Said Robert.

I say,

You are good.

Not at all,

Said Mrs Biddle heartily.

I'm delighted to be able to give any little pleasure to you dear children,

And she helped them to roll up the carpet and the boys carried it away between them.

You are a dear,

Said Anthea,

And she and Mrs Biddle kissed each other heartily.

Well,

Said Cyril.

Yes,

Said Robert,

And the odd part is that you feel just as if it was real,

Her being so jolly,

I mean,

And not only the carpet making her nice.

Perhaps it is real,

Said Anthea,

Only it was covered up with crossness and tiredness and things,

And the carpet took them away.

I hope it'll keep them away,

Said Jane.

She's lovely when she laughs.

A carpet has done many wonders in its day,

But the case of Mrs Biddle is,

I think,

The most wonderful,

For from that day she was never so disagreeable as she was before,

And she sent a lovely silver teapot and a kind letter to Miss Peasmarsh when the lovely lady married the nice curate,

Just after Easter it was,

And they went to Italy for their honeymoon.

Chapter Five.

The Temple.

I wish we could find the phoenix,

Said Jane.

It's much better company than the carpet.

Beastly ungrateful little kids are,

Said Cyril.

No,

I'm not,

Only the carpet never says anything,

And it's so helpless.

It doesn't seem able to take care of itself.

It gets sold and taken into the sea and things like that.

You wouldn't catch the phoenix getting sold.

It was two days after the bazaar.

Everyone was a little cross.

Some days are like that,

Usually Mondays,

By the way,

And it was a Monday.

I shouldn't wonder if your precious phoenix had gone off for good,

Said Cyril,

And I don't know that I blame it.

Look at the weather.

It's not worth looking at,

Said Robert,

And indeed it wasn't.

The phoenix hasn't gone,

I'm sure it hasn't,

Said Anthea.

I'll have another look for it.

And Anthea looked,

Under tables and chairs and in boxes and baskets,

In mother's work bag and father's portmanteau.

But still,

The phoenix showed not so much as the tip of one shining feather.

Then suddenly Robert remembered how the whole of the Greek invocation song of 7,

000 lines had been condensed by him into one English hexameter.

So he stood on the carpet and chanted,

Oh come along,

Come along,

You good old beautiful phoenix.

And almost at once,

There was a rustle of wings down the kitchen stairs,

And the phoenix sailed in on wide gold wings.

Where on earth have you been,

Asked Anthea.

I've looked everywhere for you.

Not everywhere,

Replied the bird,

Because you did not look in the place where I was.

Confess that that hallowed spot was overlooked by you.

What hallowed spot,

Asked Cyril,

A little impatiently,

For time was hastening on and the wishing carpet still idle.

The spot,

Said the phoenix,

Which I hallowed by my golden presence,

Was the lutron.

The what?

The bath,

The place of washing.

I'm sure you weren't,

Said Jane.

I looked there three times and moved all the towels.

I was concealed,

Said the phoenix,

On the summit of a metal column.

Enchanted,

I should judge,

For it felt warm to my golden toes,

As though the glorious sun of desert shone ever upon it.

Oh,

You mean the cylinder,

Said Cyril.

It has rather a comforting feel,

This weather.

And now,

Where shall we go?

And then,

Of course,

The usual discussion broke out as to where they should go and what they should do.

And naturally,

Everyone wanted to do something that the others didn't care about.

I am the eldest,

Cyril remarked.

Let's go to the North Pole.

This weather?

Likely,

Robert rejoined.

Let's go to the equator.

I think the diamond mines of Golconda would be nice,

Said Anthea.

Don't you agree,

Jane?

No,

I don't,

Retorted Jane.

I don't agree with you.

I don't agree with anybody.

The phoenix raised a warning claw.

If you cannot agree,

I fear I shall have to leave you,

It said.

Well,

Where shall we go?

You decide,

Said all.

If I were you,

Said the bird,

Thoughtfully,

I should give the carpet a rest.

Besides,

You'll lose the use of your legs if you go everywhere by carpet.

Can't you take me out and explain your ugly city to me?

We will,

If it clears up,

Said Robert,

Without enthusiasm.

Just look at the rain.

And why should we give the carpet a rest?

Are you greedy and grasping and heartless and selfish,

Asked the bird sharply.

No,

Said Robert with indignation.

Well then,

Said the phoenix.

And as to the rain,

Well,

I am not fond of rain myself.

If the sun knew I was here,

He's very fond of shining on me because I look so bright and golden.

He always says I repay a little attention.

Haven't you some form of words suitable for use in wet weather?

There's rain,

Rain,

Go away,

Said Anthea,

But it never does go.

Perhaps you don't say the invocation properly,

Said the bird.

Rain,

Rain,

Go away,

Come again another day.

Little baby wants to play,

Said Anthea.

That's quite wrong.

And if you say it in that sort of a dull way,

I can quite understand the rain not taking any notice.

You should open the window and shout,

Rain,

Rain,

Go away,

Come again another day.

Now we want the sun and so,

Pretty rain,

Be kind and go.

You should always speak politely to people when you want them to do things and especially when it's going away that you want them to do.

And today,

You might add,

Shine great sun,

The lovely Phoenix is here and wants to be shone on,

Splendid sun,

By thee.

That's poetry,

Said Cyril,

Decidedly.

It's like it,

Said the more cautious Robert.

I was obliged to put in lovely,

Said the Phoenix,

Modestly,

To make the line long enough.

There are plenty of nasty words the same length,

Said Jane,

But everyone else said hush.

And then they opened the window and shouted the seven lines as loud as they could and the Phoenix said all the words with them except lovely and when they came to that it looked down and coughed bashfully.

The rain hesitated a moment and then went away.

There's true politeness,

Said the Phoenix and the next moment it was perched on the window ledge,

Opening and shutting its radiant wings flapping out its golden feathers in such a flood of glorious sunshine as you sometimes have at sunset in autumn time.

People said afterwards that there hadn't been such sunshine in December for years and years and years.

And now,

Said the bird,

We will go out into the city and you shall take me to see one of my temples.

Your temples?

I gather from the carpet that I have many temples in this land.

I don't see how you can find anything out from the carpet,

Said Jane.

It never speaks.

All the same,

You can pick things up from a carpet,

Said the bird.

I've seen you do it and I have picked up several pieces of information in this way.

That papyrus on which you showed me my picture,

I understand that it bears on it the name of the street of your city in which my finest temple stands with my image graved in stone and in metal.

Do you mean the fire insurance office,

Said Robert.

It's not really a temple and they don't.

Excuse me,

Said the phoenix,

Coldly.

You are wholly misinformed.

It is a temple and they do.

Don't let's waste the sunshine,

Said Amphia.

We might argue as we go along to save time.

So the phoenix consented to make itself a nest in the breast of Robert's Norfolk jacket and they all went out into the splendid sunshine.

The best way to the temple of the phoenix seemed to be to take the tram and on the top of it the children talked while the phoenix now and then put out a wary beak,

Cocked a cautious eye and contradicted what the children were saying.

It was a delicious ride and the children felt how lucky they were to have had the money to pay for it.

They went with the tram as far as it went and when it didn't go any further they stopped too and got off.

The tram stops at the end of the Gray's Inn Road and it was Cyril who thought that one might well find a shortcut to the phoenix office through the little streets and courts that lie tightly packed between Fetter Lane and Ludgate Circus.

Of course he was quite mistaken as Robert told him at the time and afterwards Robert did not forbear to remind his brother how he had said so.

The streets there were small and stuffy and ugly and crowded with printers boys and binders girls coming out from work and these stared so hard at the pretty red coats and caps of the sisters that they wished they'd gone some other way and the printers and binders made very personal remarks advising Jane to get her hair cut and inquiring where Anthea had brought that hat.

Jane and Anthea scorned to reply and Cyril and Robert found that they were hardly a match for the rough crowd.

They could think of nothing nasty enough to say.

They turned a corner sharply and then Anthea pulled Jane into an archway and then inside a door.

Cyril and Robert quickly followed and the jeering crowd passed by without seeing them.

Anthea drew a long breath.

How awful she said.

It was a bit thick but it's partly you girls fault coming out in those flashy coats.

We thought we ought to when we were going out with the phoenix said Jane and the bird said quite right too and incautiously put out his head to give her a wink of encouragement and at the same instant a hand reached through the grim balustrade of the staircase beside them and clutched the phoenix and a voice said I say herb blowed if this ain't our poor parrot what we lost thank you very much lady for bringing him home to roost.

The four turned swiftly.

Two large ragged boys were crouched amid the dark shadows of the stairs.

They were much larger than Robert and Cyril and one of them had snatched the phoenix away and was holding it high above their heads.

Give me that bird said Cyril sternly.

It's ours.

Good afternoon and thanking you the boy went on with maddening mockery.

Sorry I can't give you a tuppence for your trouble but I've had to spend my fortune advertising from a valuable bird in all the newspapers.

You can call for the reward next year.

Look out Ike said his friend a little anxiously.

It have a beak on it.

It's other parties as love the beak onto him presently said Ike darkly.

If they come a trying to lay claims on my poor parrot you just shut up herb.

Now then you four little girls get out of this.

Little girls cried Robert.

Oh little girl you.

He sprang up three stairs and hit out.

There was a squawk the most bird like noise anyone had ever heard from the phoenix and a fluttering and a laugh in the darkness and Ike said there now you've been and gone and struck my poor parrot right in the feathers struck him something cruel you have.

Robert stamped with fury.

Cyril felt himself growing pale with rage and with the effort of screwing up his brain to make it clever enough to think of some way of being even with these boys.

Anthea and Jane were as angry as the boys but it made them want to cry.

Yet it was Anthea who said do please let us have the bird back.

Do please get along and leave us and our bird alone.

If you don't said Anthea I shall fetch the police.

You better said he who was named herb.

Say Ike you twist the bloom in pigeon's neck.

He ain't worth suppants.

Oh no cried Jane.

Don't hurt it.

Oh don't.

It is such a pet.

I won't hurt it said Ike.

I'm shamed of you herb for to think such a thing.

Ah for shiner miss and the bird is yours for life.

Ah for what asked Anthea.

Ah for shiner,

Quid,

Thicken.

Ah for solve then.

I haven't got it and besides it's our bird said Anthea.

Oh don't talk to him said Cyril and then Jane said suddenly phoenix dear phoenix.

We can't do anything.

You must manage it.

With pleasure said the phoenix and Ike nearly dropped it in his amazement.

I say it do talk something like said he.

Youths said the phoenix.

Sons of misfortune hear my words.

My eyes said Ike.

Look out Ike said herb.

You'll throttle the joker and I see at once he was worth his weight in flimses.

Hearken oh iconoclasties,

Despiser of sacred images and thou urbanus,

Dweller in the sordid city.

Forbear this adventure lest a worse thing befall.

Love us said Ike.

Ain't it been taught its schooling just?

Restore me to my young acolytes and escape unscathed.

Retain me and they must have got this all up.

Case the poly got pinched said Ike.

You're all lummy.

The artfulness of them young'uns.

I say slosh them in the gesich and let's clear off with the swags what I say urged Herbert.

Righto said Isaac.

Forbear repeated the phoenix sternly.

Who pinched the click off the old bloke in aldermanbury it added in a changed tone.

Who sneaked the nose rag out of the young gals and in bell court?

Who?

Stow it said Ike.

You leave go of me.

Bash him off herb.

He'll have me blooming eyes out of me ed.

There were howls,

A scuffle,

A flutter.

Ike and herb fled up the stairs and the phoenix swept out through the doorway.

The children followed and the phoenix settled on Robert.

Like a butterfly on a rose as Anthea said afterwards and wriggled into the breast of his Norfolk jacket.

Like an eel into mud as Cyril later said.

Why ever you didn't burn him?

You could have couldn't you?

Asked Robert when the horrid flight through the narrow courts had ended in the safe wideness of Farringdon street.

I could have of course said the bird but I didn't think it would be dignified to allow myself to get warm about a little thing like that.

The fates after all have not been illiberal to me.

I have a good many friends among the London sparrows and I have a beak and claws.

These happenings had somewhat shaken up the adventurous spirit of the children and the phoenix had to exert its golden self to hearten them up.

Presently they all came to a great house in Lombard street and there on each side of the door was the image of the phoenix carved in stone and set forth on shining brass were the words phoenix fire office.

One moment said the bird fire for altars I suppose.

I don't know said Robert he was beginning to feel shy and that always made him rather cross.

Oh yes you do when people's houses are burnt down the phoenix gives them new houses father told me.

I asked him the house then like the phoenix rises from its ashes.

Well have my priests dealt with the sons of men.

The sons of men pay you know said Anthea but it's only a little every year.

That is to maintain my priests said the bird who in the hour of affliction heal sorrows and rebuild houses.

Lead on inquire for the high priest.

I will not break upon them too suddenly in all my glory.

Noble and honour deserving are they who make as naught the evil deeds of the lame-footed and unpleasing Hephaestus.

I don't know what you're talking about and I wish you wouldn't muddle us with new names.

Fire just happens nobody does it not as a deed you know Cyril explained.

If they did the phoenix wouldn't help them because it's a crime to set fire to things.

Arsenic or something they call it because it's as bad as poisoning people.

The phoenix wouldn't help them father told me it wouldn't.

My priests do well said the phoenix.

Lead on.

I don't know what to say said Cyril and the others said the same.

Ask for the high priest said the phoenix.

Say that you have a secret to unfold that concerns my worship and he will lead you to the innermost sanctuary.

So the children went in all four of them although they didn't like it and stood in a large and beautiful hall adorned with Dalton tiles like a large and beautiful bath with no water in it and stately pillars supporting the roof.

An unpleasing representation of the phoenix in brown pottery disfigured one wall.

There were counters and desks of mahogany and brass and clerks bent over the desks and walked behind the counters.

There was a great clock over an inner doorway.

Inquire for the high priest whispered the phoenix.

An attentive clerk in decent black who controlled his mouth but not his eyebrows now came towards them.

He leaned forward on the counter and the children thought he was going to say what can I have the pleasure of showing you like in a draper's instead of which the young man said and what do you want?

We want to see the high priest.

Get along with you said the young man.

An elder man also decent in black coat advanced.

Perhaps it's Mr Blank not for worlds would I give the name.

He's a masonic high priest you know.

A porter was sent away to look for Mr Asterisk.

I cannot give his name and the children were left there to look on and be looked on by all the gentlemen at the mahogany desks.

Anthea and Jane thought that they looked kind.

The boys thought they stared and that it was like their cheek.

The porter returned with the news that Mr Dot Dash Dot,

I dare not reveal his name,

Was out but that Mr.

.

.

Here a really delightful gentleman appeared.

He had a beard and a kind and merry eye and each one of the four knew at once that this was a man who had kids of his own and could understand what you were talking about because it was a difficult thing to explain.

What is it?

He asked.

Mr.

.

.

He named the name which I will never reveal is out.

Can I do anything?

In a sanctuary murmured the phoenix.

I beg your pardon said the nice gentleman who thought it was Robert who had spoken.

We have something to tell you said Cyril but he glanced at the porter who was lingering much nearer than he need have done.

This is a very public place.

The nice gentleman laughed.

Come upstairs then he said and led the way up a wide and beautiful staircase.

Anthea says the stairs were of white marble but I'm not sure.

On the corner post of the stairs at the top was a beautiful image of the phoenix in dark metal and on the wall at each side was a flat sort of image of it.

The nice gentleman led them into a room where the chairs and even the tables were covered with reddish leather.

He looked at the children inquiringly.

Don't be frightened he said.

Tell me exactly what you want.

May I shut the door asked Cyril.

The gentleman looked surprised but he shut the door.

Now said Cyril firmly I know you'll be awfully surprised and you'll think it's not true and that we're lunatics but we aren't and it is.

Robert's got something inside his Norfolk.

That's Robert he's my young brother.

Now don't be upset and have a fit or anything sir.

Of course I know when you called your shop the phoenix you never thought there was one but there is and Robert's got it buttoned up against his chest.

If it's an old curio in the form of a phoenix I dare say the board said the nice gentleman as Robert began to fumble with his buttons.

It's old enough said Anthea going by what it says but my goodness gracious said the gentleman as the phoenix with one last wriggle that melted into a flutter got out of its nest in the breast of Robert and stood up on the leather covered table.

What an extraordinary fine bird he went on.

I don't think I ever saw one just like it.

I should think not said the phoenix with pardonable pride and the gentleman jumped.

Oh it's been taught to speak some sort of parrot perhaps.

I am said the bird simply the head of your house and I have come to my temple to receive your homage.

I am no parrot it speak curved scornfully.

I am the one and only phoenix and I demand the homage of my high priest.

In the absence of our manager the gentleman began exactly as though he were addressing a valued customer.

In the absence of our manager I might perhaps be able.

What am I saying?

He turned pale and passed his hand across his brow.

My dears he said the weather is unusually warm for the time of year and I don't feel quite myself.

Do you know for a moment I really thought that that remarkable bird of yours had spoken and said it was the phoenix and what's more that I'd believed it.

So it did sir said Cyril and so did you.

It really.

Allow me.

A bell was rung.

The porter appeared.

Mackenzie said the gentleman.

You see that golden bird.

Yes sir.

The other breathed a sigh of relief.

It is real then.

Yes sir of course sir.

You take it in your hand sir said the porter sympathetically and reached out his hand to the phoenix who shrank back on toes curved with agitated indignation.

Forbear it cried.

How dare you seek to lay hands on me.

The porter saluted.

Beg pardon sir he said.

I thought you was a bird.

I am a bird.

The bird.

The phoenix.

Of course you are sir said the porter.

I see that the first minute directly I got my breath sir.

That will do said the gentleman.

Ask Mr Wilson and Mr Sterry to step up here for a moment please.

Mr Sterry and Mr Wilson were in their turn overcome by amazement quickly followed by conviction.

To the surprise of the children everyone in the office took the phoenix at its word and after the first shock of surprise it seemed to be perfectly natural to everyone that the phoenix should be alive and that passing through London it should call at its temple.

We ought to have some sort of ceremony said the nicest gentleman anxiously.

There isn't time to summon the directors and shareholders.

We might do that tomorrow perhaps.

Yes the boardroom would be best.

I shouldn't like it to feel we hadn't done everything in our power to show our appreciation of its condescension in looking in on us in this friendly way.

The children could hardly believe their ears but they had never thought that anyone but themselves would believe in the phoenix and yet everyone did.

All the men in the office were brought in by twos and threes and the moment the phoenix opened its beak it convinced the cleverest of them as well as those who were not so clever.

Cyril wondered how the story would look in the papers next day.

He seemed to see the posters in the streets.

Phoenix fire office.

The phoenix at its temple.

Meeting to welcome it.

Delight of the manager and everybody.

Excuse our leaving you a moment said the nice gentleman and he went away with the others and through the half-closed door the children could hear the sound of many boots on stairs,

The hum of excited voices explaining,

Suggesting,

Arguing,

The thumpy drag of heavy furniture being moved about.

The phoenix strutted up and down the leather-covered table looking over its shoulder at its pretty back.

You see what a convincing manner I have it said proudly and now a new gentleman came in and said,

Bowing low,

Everything is prepared.

We have done our best at so short a notice.

The meeting,

The ceremony,

Will be in the boardroom.

Will the honourable phoenix walk?

It is only a few steps or would it like to be,

Would it like some sort of conveyance?

My Robert will bear me to the boardroom if that be the unlovely name of my temples in most court replied the bird.

So they all followed the gentleman.

There was a big table in the boardroom but it had been pushed right up onto the long windows at one side and chairs were arranged in rows across the room.

The doors were of carved wood,

Very beautiful,

With a carved phoenix above.

Anthea noticed that the chairs in the front rows were of the kind that her mother so loved to ask the price of in old furniture shops and never could buy because the price was always nearly twenty pounds each.

On the mantelpiece were some heavy bronze candlesticks and a clock and on the top of the clock was another image of the phoenix.

Remove that effigy,

Said the phoenix to the who were there and it was hastily taken down.

Then the phoenix fluttered to the middle of the mantelpiece and stood there looking more golden than ever.

Then everyone in the house and the office came in from the cashier to the women who cooked the clerks dinners in the beautiful kitchen at the top of the house and everyone bowed to the phoenix and then sat down in a chair.

Gentlemen,

Said the nicest gentleman,

We have met here today.

The phoenix was turning its golden beak from side to side.

I don't notice any incense,

It said with an injured sniff.

A hurried consultation ended in plates being fetched from the kitchen.

Brown sugar,

Sealing wax and tobacco were placed on these and something from a square bottle was poured over it all.

Then a match was applied.

It was the only incense handy in the phoenix office and it certainly burned very briskly and smoked a great deal.

We have met here today,

Said the gentleman again,

On an occasion unparalleled in the annals of this office.

Our respected phoenix,

Head of the house,

Said the phoenix in a hollow voice.

I was coming to that.

Our respected phoenix,

The head of this ancient house,

Has at length done us the honour to come among us.

I think I may say,

Gentlemen,

That we are not insensible to this honour and that we welcome,

With no uncertain voice,

One whom we have so long desired to see in our midst.

Several of the younger clerks thought of saying hear,

Hear,

But they feared it might seem disrespectful to the bird.

I will not take up your time,

The speaker went on,

By recapitulating the advantages to be derived from a proper use of our system of fire insurance.

I know,

And you know,

Gentlemen,

That our aim has ever been to be worthy of that eminent bird whose name we bear and who now adorns our mantelpiece with his presence.

Three cheers,

Gentlemen,

For the winged head of the house.

The cheers rose,

Deafening.

When they had died away,

The phoenix was asked to say a few words.

It expressed in graceful phrases the pleasure it felt in finding itself at last in its own temple.

And you must not think me wanting an appreciation of your very hearty and cordial reception when I ask that an ode may be recited or a choric song sung.

It is what I have always been accustomed to.

The four children,

Dumb witnesses of this wonderful scene,

Glanced a little nervously across the foam of white faces above the sea of black coats.

It seemed to them that the phoenix was really asking a little too much.

Time presses,

Said the phoenix,

And the original ode of invocation is long,

As well as being Greek.

And besides,

It's no use invoking me when here I am.

But is there not a song in your own tongue for a great day such as this?

Absently,

The manager began to sing,

And one by one,

The rest joined in.

Absolute security,

No liability,

All kinds of property insured against fire,

Terms most favourable,

Expenses reasonable,

Moderate rates for annual insurance.

That one is not my favourite,

Interrupted the phoenix,

And I think you've forgotten part of it.

The manager hastily began another.

Oh,

Golden phoenix,

Fairest bird,

The whole great world has often heard of all the splendid things we do,

Great phoenix,

Just to honour you.

That's better,

Said the bird,

And everyone sang.

Class one for private dwelling house,

For household goods and shops allows,

Provided these are built of brick and tiled and slated thick.

Try another verse,

Said the phoenix.

Further on,

And again arose the voices of all the clerks and employees and managers and secretaries and cooks.

In Scotland,

Our insurance yields the price of burnt-up stacks in fields.

Skip that verse,

Said the phoenix.

Thatched dwellings and their whole contents we deal with,

Also with their rents.

Oh,

Glorious phoenix,

Look and see that these are dealt with in class three.

The glories of your temple throng,

Too thick to go in any song,

And we attend,

Oh good and wise,

To days of grace and merchandise.

When people's homes are burned away,

They never have a cent to pay,

If they have done all as should do.

Oh,

Phoenix,

And have honoured you.

So let us raise our voice and sing the praises of our phoenix king.

In classes one and two and three,

Oh trust to him,

For kind is he.

I'm sure you're very kind,

Said the phoenix,

And now we must be going.

And thank you very much for a very pleasant time.

May you all prosper,

As you deserve to do,

For I am sure a nicer,

Pleasanter spoken lot of temple attendants I have never met and never wished to meet.

I wish you all good day.

It fluttered to the wrist of Robert and drew the four children from the room.

The whole of the office staff followed down the wide stairs and filed into their accustomed places,

And the two most important officials stood on the steps bowing,

Till Robert had buttoned the golden bird in his Norfolk bosom and it and he and the three other children were lost in the crowd.

The two most important gentlemen looked at each other earnestly and strangely for a moment,

And then retreated to those sacred inner rooms,

Where they toil without ceasing for the good of the house.

And the moment they were all in their place,

Managers,

Secretaries,

Clerks and porters,

They all started and each looked cautiously round to see if anyone was looking at him,

For each thought that he had fallen asleep for a few minutes and had dreamed a very odd dream about the phoenix and the boardroom.

And of course no one mentioned it to anyone else,

Because going to sleep at your office is a thing you simply must not do.

The extraordinary confusion of the boardroom,

With the remains of the incense in the plates,

Would have shown them at once that the visit of the phoenix had been no dream,

But a radiant reality.

But no one went into the boardroom again that day,

And next day,

Before the office was opened,

It was all cleaned and put nice and tidy by a lady whose business asking questions was not part of.

That is why Cyril read the papers in vain on the next day and the day after that,

Because no sensible person thinks his dreams worth putting in the paper,

And no one will ever own that he has been asleep in the daytime.

The phoenix was very pleased,

But it decided to write an ode for itself.

It thought the ones it had heard at the temple had been too hastily composed.

Its own ode began,

For beauty and for modest worth,

The phoenix has not its equal on earth.

And when the children went to bed that night,

It was still trying to cut down the last line to the proper length without taking out any of what it wanted to say,

And that is what makes poetry so difficult.

Chapter Six Doing Good We shan't be able to go anywhere on the carpet for a whole week,

Though,

Said Robert.

And I'm glad of it,

Said Jane,

Unexpectedly.

It was breakfast time,

And Mother's letter,

Telling them how they were all going for Christmas to their aunts at Lyndhurst,

And how Father and Mother would meet them there,

Lay on the table,

Drinking hot bacon fat with one corner and eating marmalade with the other.

And I don't like being obliged to keep things from Mother,

Said Anthea.

It makes me feel selfish and mean.

If we could only get the mater to believe it,

We might take her to the jolliest places,

Said Cyril.

As it is,

We've got to be selfish and mean,

If it is that.

But I don't feel it is.

I know it isn't,

But I feel it is,

Said Anthea,

And that's just as bad.

It's worse,

Said Robert,

If you knew it and didn't feel it,

It wouldn't matter so much.

That's being a hardened criminal,

Father says,

Put in Cyril,

And he picked up Mother's letter and wiped its corners with his handkerchief,

To whose colour,

A trifle of bacon fat and marmalade,

Made but little difference.

We're going to-morrow,

Anyhow,

Said Robert.

Let's get on the carpet and have a jolly good wish.

You'll have time enough to repent of things all next week.

Yes,

Said Cyril,

Let's.

It's not really wrong.

Well,

Look here,

Said Anthea.

You know,

There's something about Christmas that makes you want to be good,

However little you wish it at other times.

Couldn't we wish the carpet to take us somewhere where we should have the chance to do some good and kind action?

It would be an adventure just the same.

I don't mind,

Said Cyril.

We shan't know where we're going,

And that'll be exciting.

No one knows what'll happen.

We'd best put on our outers in case.

We might rescue a traveller buried in the snow,

Like St Bernard dogs,

With barrels round our necks,

Said Jane,

Beginning to be interested.

Yes,

Said Anthea,

Or we might be taken to some freezing garret in a German town,

Where a poor little pale sick child— We haven't any German money,

Interrupted Cyril,

So that's out.

What I should like would be getting into the middle of a war,

And getting hold of secret intelligence,

And taking it to the general,

And he would make me a lieutenant or a scout,

Or a hussar.

When breakfast was cleared away,

Anthea swept the carpet,

And the children sat down on it,

Together with the phoenix,

Who had been especially invited as a Christmas treat.

Four children and one bird were ready,

And the wish was wished.

Everyone closed its eyes,

So as to feel the topsy-turvy swirl of the carpet's movement as little as possible.

When the eyes were opened again,

The children found themselves on the carpet,

And the carpet was in its proper place,

On the floor of their own nursery at Camden Town.

I say,

Said Cyril,

Here's a go.

Do you think it's worn out?

The wishing part of it,

I mean,

Robert anxiously asked the phoenix.

It's not that,

Said the phoenix,

But,

Well,

What did you wish?

Oh,

I see what it means,

Said Robert,

With deep disgust.

It's like the end of a fairy story in a Sunday magazine,

How perfectly beastly.

You mean,

It means we can do kind and good actions where we are?

I see.

Well,

I simply won't,

And the last day and everything.

Look here,

Cyril spoke loudly,

We want to go somewhere really interesting,

Where we have a chance of doing something good and kind.

We don't want to do it here,

But somewhere else,

See?

Now then— The obedient carpet started instantly,

And the four children and one bird fell in a heap together,

And as they fell they were plunged into perfect darkness.

Are you all there?

Said Anthea,

Breathlessly,

Through the black dark.

Everyone owned that it was there.

Where are we?

Oh,

How shivery and wet it is!

Eugh!

I've put my hand in a puddle.

Has anyone got any matches?

Said Anthea.

She felt sure no one would have any.

It was then that Robert,

With a radiant smile of triumph,

That was quite wasted in the darkness because no one could see it,

Drew out of his pocket a box of matches,

Struck a match and lit a candle,

Two candles,

And everyone,

With its mouth open,

Blinked at the sudden light.

Well done,

Bobs!

Said his sisters,

And even Cyril's natural brotherly feelings could not check his admiration of Robert's foresight.

I've always carried them about ever since the Lone Tower day,

Said Robert,

With modest pride.

Bobs,

Said Anthea,

Do you know where we are?

This is the underground passage,

And look there,

There's the money,

And the money bags and everything.

By this time the ten eyes had got used to the light of the candles,

And no one could help seeing that Anthea spoke the truth.

It seems an odd place to do good and kind acts in,

Though,

Said Jane,

There's no one to do them too.

It was Cyril who suggested perhaps they had better take the money and go.

That wouldn't be a kind act except to ourselves,

And it wouldn't be good whichever way you look at it,

Said Anthea.

We might take it and spend it all on benefits to the poor and aged,

Said Cyril.

That wouldn't make it right to steal,

Said Anthea,

Stoutly.

I don't know,

Said Cyril,

They were all standing up now.

Stealing is taking things that belong to someone else,

And there is no one else.

Let's get out,

Said Anthea,

We can argue as we go.

So they rolled up the carpet and went,

But when they'd crept along to the place where the passage led into the topless tower,

They found the way blocked by a great stone which they couldn't move.

There,

Said Robert,

I hope you're satisfied.

Everything has two ends,

Said the phoenix,

Even a quarrel or a secret passage.

So they turned round and went back.

Cyril carried the carpet.

The passage was long and there were arches and steps and turnings and dark alcoves that the girls didn't much like passing.

The passage ended in a flight of steps.

Robert went up them.

Suddenly he staggered heavily back onto the following feet of Jane,

And everyone screamed.

Oh,

What is it?

I've only bashed my head in,

Said Robert,

When he had groaned for some time.

That's all.

Don't mention it,

I like it.

The stairs just go right slap-bang into the ceiling,

And it's a stone ceiling.

You can't do good and kind actions underneath a paving stone.

Stairs aren't made to lead just to paving stones as a general rule,

Said the phoenix.

Put your shoulder to the wheel.

There isn't any wheel,

Said the injured Robert,

Still rubbing his head.

But Cyril had pushed past him to the top stair,

And was already shoving his hardest against the stone above.

Of course,

It didn't give in the least.

If it's a trap door,

Said Cyril,

And he stopped shoving and began to feel him out with it,

His hands.

Yes,

There's a bolt.

I can't move it,

Though.

By a happy chance,

Cyril had in his pocket the oil can of his father's bicycle.

He put the carpet down,

And he lay on his back,

And he oiled the bolt till the drops of rust and oil fell down on his face.

One even went into his mouth.

He tried again.

Still,

The bolt wouldn't move.

So now he tied his handkerchief,

The one with the bacon fat and marmalade on,

To the bolt,

And Robert's handkerchief to that,

In a reef knot,

Which cannot come undone however much you pull,

And,

Indeed,

Gets tighter and tighter the more you pull it.

This must not be confused with a granny knot,

Which comes undone if you look at it.

And then he and Robert pulled,

And the girls put their arms around their brothers and pulled too,

And suddenly the bolt gave way with a rusty scrunch,

And they all rolled together to the bottom of the stairs,

All but the phoenix,

Who had taken to its wings when the pulling began.

Nobody was hurt because the rolled-up carpet broke their fall,

And now,

Indeed,

The shoulders of the boys were used to some purpose,

For the stone allowed them to heave it up.

They felt it give.

Dust fell freely on them.

Now then,

Cried Robert,

Push all together.

One,

Two,

Three,

The stone was heaved up.

It swung up on a creaking,

Unwilling hinge,

And showed a growing oblong of dazzling daylight,

And it fell back with a bang against something that kept it upright.

Everyone climbed out,

But there wasn't room for everyone to stand comfortably in the little paved house where they found themselves.

So when the phoenix had fluttered up from the darkness,

They let the stone down,

And it closed like a trapped door,

Which indeed it was.

You can have no idea how dusty and dirty the children were.

Fortunately,

There was no one to see them but each other.

The place they were in was a little shrine,

Built on the side of a road that went winding up through yellow-green fields to the topless tower.

Below them were fields and orchards and little houses and gardens.

The shrine was a tiny chapel with no front wall,

Just a place for people to stop and rest in and wish to be good,

Or so the phoenix told them.

There was an image that had once been brightly coloured,

But the rain and snow had beaten in through the open front,

And the poor image was dull and weather-stained.

Under it was written,

Saint-Jean-de-l'Eau,

Prier pour nous.

It was a sad little place,

Very neglected and lonely.

And yet it was nice,

Anthea thought,

That poor travellers should come to this little rest house in the hurry and worry of their journeyings and be quiet for a few minutes and think about being good.

The thought of Saint-Jean-de-l'Eau,

Who had no doubt in his time been very good and kind,

Made Anthea want more than ever to do something kind and good.

Tell us,

She said to the phoenix,

What is the good and kind action the carpet brought us here to do?

I think it would be kind to find the owners of the treasure and tell them about it,

Said Cyril.

I should go to the first house and ask the name of the owner of the castle,

Said the golden bird,

And really the idea seemed good.

They dusted each other down as well as they could and went down the road.

Little way on they found a tiny spring,

Bubbling out of the hillside and falling into a rough stone basin surrounded by draggled heart's-tongue ferns.

Here they washed their hands and faces and dried them on their pocket handkerchiefs,

Which always on these occasions seemed unnaturally small.

Cyril's and Robert's handkerchiefs indeed rather undid the effects of the wash.

The first house they came to was white with green shutters and a slate roof.

It stood in a little garden,

And down each side of the neat path were large stone vases for flowers to grow in,

Though all the flowers were dead now,

Being winter.

Along one side of the house was a wide veranda,

And a vine crawled over it.

The children walked up to the front door.

It was green and narrow.

A chain with a handle hung beside it,

And joined itself openly to a rusty bell that hung under the porch.

Cyril had pulled the bell,

And its noisy clang was dying away before the terrible thought came to all.

Cyril spoke it.

My hat,

He breathed.

We don't know any French.

At this moment the door opened.

A very tall,

Lean lady,

With pale ringlets like whitey-brown paper,

Or oak shavings,

Stood before them.

She had a grey dress and a black silk apron.

Her eyes were small and grey,

And the rims were red,

As though she had been crying.

She addressed the party in something that sounded like a foreign language,

And ended with something they were sure was a question.

Of course,

No one could answer it.

What does she say,

Robert asked,

Looking down into the hollow of his jacket,

Where the phoenix was nestling.

But before the phoenix could answer,

The lady's face lit up with a most charming smile.

You are from England,

She cried.

I love so much the England.

Mais entrez,

Entrez dans tout.

Enter then,

Enter all.

One essuya his feet on the carpet,

She pointed to the mat.

We only wanted to ask.

I shall say you all that what you wish,

Said the lady.

Enter only.

So they all went in,

Wiping their feet on a very clean mat,

And putting the carpet in a safe corner of the veranda.

The most beautiful days of my life,

Said the lady,

As she shut the door,

Did pass themselves in England,

And since long time I have not heard an English voice to repeal me the past.

This warm welcome embarrassed everyone,

But mostly the boys,

And the floor of the hall was of such very clean red and white tiles,

And the floor of the sitting-room so very shiny,

Like a black looking-glass,

That each felt as though he had on far more boots than usual,

And far noisier.

There was a wood fire,

Very small and bright on the hearth,

Neat little logs laid on brass fire-dogs.

Some portraits of prouded ladies and gentlemen hung in oval frames on the pale walls.

The room was extremely bare,

But with a bright foreign bareness,

That was very cheerful in an odd way.

At the end of the polished table,

A little boy sat on a footstool,

In a high-backed,

Uncomfortable-looking chair.

He wore black velvet,

And the kind of collar,

All frills and lacy,

Which Robert would rather have dyed than wear,

But then the little French boy was much younger than Robert.

Oh,

How pretty,

Said everyone,

But no one meant the little French boy.

What everyone admired was a little Christmas tree,

Very green,

Standing in a very red little flower-pot,

And hung round with very bright little things,

Made of tinsel and coloured paper.

There were tiny candles on the tree,

But they were not lit yet.

But yes,

Is it not that it is gentile,

Said the lady?

Sit down you then,

And let us see.

The children sat in a row on the stiff chairs against the wall,

And the lady lit a long,

Slim red taper at the wood flame,

And then she drew the curtains and lit the little candles.

And when they were all lighted,

The little French boy suddenly shouted,

Bois fort ma tante!

Oh,

Que c'est gentil!

And the English children shouted,

Hooray!

Then there was a struggle in the breast of Robert,

And out flew the phoenix,

Spread his golden wings,

Flew to the top of the Christmas tree,

And perched there.

Ah,

Catch it then,

Cried the lady,

It will itself burn,

You're gentile,

Pas de quitte.

It won't,

Said Robert,

Thank you.

And the little French boy clapped his clean and tidy hands,

But the lady was so anxious that the phoenix fluttered down,

And walked up and down on the shiny walnut-wood table.

Is it that it talks?

Asked the lady.

And the phoenix replied in excellent French.

It said,

Parfaitement,

Madame.

Oh,

The pretty parakeet,

Said the lady,

Can it still say other things?

And the phoenix replied,

This time in English,

Why are you so sad,

So near Christmas time?

The children looked at the phoenix with one gasp of horror and surprise,

For even the youngest of them knew that it is far from manners to notice that strangers have been crying,

And,

Much worse,

To ask them the reason of their tears.

And,

Of course,

The lady began to cry again,

Very much indeed,

After calling the phoenix a bird without a heart,

And she couldn't find her handkerchief,

So Anthea offered hers,

Which was still very damp and no use at all.

She also hugged the lady,

And this seemed to be of more use,

So presently the lady stopped crying,

And found her own handkerchief,

And dried her eyes,

And called Anthea a cherished angel.

I'm sorry we came just when you were so sad,

Said Anthea,

But we really only wanted to ask you whose that castle is on the hill.

Oh,

My little angel,

Said the poor lady,

Sniffing,

Today and for hundreds of years the castle is to us,

To our family.

Tomorrow it must that I sell it to some strangers,

And my little Henri,

Who ignores all,

He will not ever have the lands paternal.

His father,

My brother,

Mr.

The Marquis,

Has spent much of the money,

And it must,

Despite the sentiments of familial respect,

That I admit that my sainted father,

He also— How would you feel if you found a lot of money?

Hundreds and thousands of gold pieces,

Asked Cyril.

The lady smiled sadly.

Ah,

One has already recounted to you the legend,

She said.

It is true that one says that it is a long time,

Oh,

But long time,

One of our ancestors has id a treasure of gold,

And of gold,

And of gold,

Enough to enrich my little Henri for the life.

But all that,

My children,

It is but the accounts of faes.

She means fairy stories,

Whispered the phoenix to Robert.

Tell her what you've found.

So Robert told,

While Anthea and Jane hugged the lady,

For fear she should faint for joy,

Like people in books,

And they hugged her with the earnest,

Joyous hugs of unselfish delight.

It's no use explaining how we got in,

Said Robert,

When he had told of finding the treasure,

Because you would find it a little difficult to understand,

And much more difficult to believe.

But we can show you where the gold is,

And help you fetch it away.

The lady looked doubtfully at Robert as she absently returned the hugs of the girls.

No,

He's not making it up,

Said Anthea.

It's true,

True,

True,

And we are so glad.

You would not be capable to torment an old woman,

She said,

And it is not possible,

Let it be a dream.

It really is true,

Said Cyril,

And I congratulate you very much.

His tone of studded politeness seemed to convince more than the raptures of the others.

If I do not dream,

She said,

Henri,

Come to Manon,

And you,

You shall all come with me to Mr.

Le Curet,

Is it not?

Manon was a wrinkled old woman,

With a red and yellow handkerchief twisted around her head.

She took Henri,

Who was already sleepy,

With the excitement of his Christmas tree and his visitors,

And when the lady had put on a stiff black cape,

And a wonderful black silk bonnet,

And a pair of black wooden clogs over her black cashmere house boots,

The whole party went down the road to a little white house,

Very like the one they had left,

Where an old priest with a good face welcomed them,

With a politeness so great that it hid his astonishment.

The lady,

With her French waving hands,

And her shrugging French shoulders,

And her trembling French speech,

Told the story.

And now the priest,

Who knew no English,

Shrugged his shoulders and waved his hands,

And spoke also in French.

He thinks,

Whispered the phoenix,

That her troubles have turned her brain.

What a pity you know no French.

I do know a lot of French,

Whispered Robert indignantly,

But it's all about the pencil of the gardener's son,

And the penknife of the baker's niece,

Nothing that anyone ever wants to actually say.

If I speak,

The bird whispered,

He'll think he's mad too.

Tell me what to say.

Say,

C'est vrai,

Monsieur.

Venez donc voir,

Said the phoenix.

And then Robert earned the undying respect of everybody,

By suddenly saying,

Very loudly and distinctly,

C'est vrai,

Monsieur,

Venez donc voir.

The priest was disappointed when he found that Robert's French began and ended with these useful words,

But at any rate he saw that if the lady was mad,

She was not the only one.

And he put on a big beavery hat,

And got a candle and matches and a spade,

And they all went up the hill to the wayside shrine of Saint-Jean-de-Loup.

Now,

Said Robert,

I will go first and show you where it is.

So they prized the stone up with a corner of the spade,

And Robert did go first,

And they all followed and found the golden treasure exactly as they had left it.

And everyone was flushed with the joy of performing such a wonderfully kind action.

Then the lady and the priest clasped hands and wept for joy,

As French people do,

And knelt down and touched the money,

And talked very fast and both together.

And the lady embraced all the children three times each,

And called them little garden angels.

And then she and the priest shook each other by both hands again,

And talked and talked and talked,

Faster and more Frenchy than you would have believed possible.

And the children were struck dumb with joy and pleasure.

Get away now,

Said the phoenix softly,

Breaking in on the radiant dream.

So the children crept away and out through the little shrine,

And the lady and the priest were so tearfully,

Talkatively happy,

That they never noticed the guardian angels had gone.

The garden angels ran down the hill to the lady's little house,

Where they had left the carpet on the veranda,

And they spread it out and said home.

And no one saw them disappear,

Except little Henri,

Who had flattened his nose into a white button against the window glass,

And when he tried to tell his aunt,

She thought he had been dreaming.

So that was all right.

It is much the best thing we've ever done,

Said Anthea,

When they talked it over at tea time.

In the future we'll only do kind actions with the carpet.

Ahem,

Said the phoenix.

I beg your pardon,

Said Anthea.

Oh,

Nothing,

Said the bird.

I was only thinking.

Chapter Seven Muse from Persia When you hear that the four children found themselves at Waterloo Station,

Quite untaken care of,

And with no one to meet them,

It may make you think that their parents were neither kind nor careful.

But the fact is,

Mother arranged with Aunt Emma that she was to meet the children at Waterloo when they went back from their Christmas holiday at Lindhurst.

The train was fixed,

But not the day.

Then Mother wrote to Aunt Emma,

Giving her careful instructions about the day and the hour,

And about luggage and cabs and things,

And gave the letter to Robert to post.

But Robert met some dogs,

And instantly forgot all about posting Aunt Emma's letter,

And never thought of it again,

Until he and the others had wandered three times up and down the platform at Waterloo,

Which makes six in all,

And had bumped against old gentlemen,

Stared in the faces of ladies,

And been shoved by people in a hurry,

And by or leaved by porters with trucks,

And were quite,

Quite sure that Aunt Emma was not there.

Then suddenly the truth of what he had forgotten to do came home to Robert,

And he said,

Oh crikey!

And let a porter with a gladstone bag in each hand,

And a bundle of umbrellas under one arm,

Blunder heavily into him.

The heavier bag smote him at the knee,

And he staggered,

But said nothing.

When the others understood what was the matter,

I think they told Robert what they thought of him.

So a four-wheeled cabman was called.

His cab was one of the old-fashioned kind,

With straw in the bottom,

And he was asked by Anthea to drive them very carefully to their address.

This he did,

And the price he asked for doing so was exactly the value of the gold coin Grandpapa had given Cyril for Christmas.

This cast a gloom,

But Cyril would never have stooped to argue about a cab fare,

For fear the cabman should think he was not accustomed to take cabs whenever he wanted them.

For a reason that was something like this,

He told the cabman to put the luggage on the steps,

And waited till the wheels of the growler had grittily retired before he rang the bell.

You see,

He said,

With his hand on the handle,

We don't want Cook and Eliza asking us before him how it is we've come home alone,

As if we were babies.

Here he rang the bell,

And the moment its answering clang was heard,

Everyone felt that it would be some time before that bell was answered.

The sound of a bell is quite different somehow when there is anyone inside the house who hears it.

It must be past five,

Said Anthea.

I expect Eliza's gone to post a letter,

And Cook's gone to see the time.

Cyril rang again,

And the bell did its best to inform the listening children that there really was no one human in the house.

The hearts of all sank low.

It is a terrible thing to be locked out of your own house on a dark muggy January evening.

There's no gas on anywhere,

Said Jane,

In a broken voice.

I expect they've left the gas on once too often,

And the draught blew it out,

And they're suffocated in their beds.

Father always said they would someday,

Said Robert,

Cheerfully.

I only hope the gas hasn't hurt the phoenix,

Said Anthea.

It said it wanted to stay in the bathroom cupboard,

And I thought it would be all right,

Because the servants never clean that out.

But if it's gone and got out and been choked by gas,

And besides,

Directly we open the door,

We shall be choked too.

Shut up,

Said her brother,

Briefly.

There's someone rattling the latch inside.

Everyone listened with all its ears,

And everyone stood back as far from the door as the steps would allow.

The latch rattled and clicked.

Then the flap of the letterbox lifted itself.

Everyone saw it by the flickering light of the gas lamp that shone through the leafless lime tree by the gate.

A golden eye seemed to wink at them through the letter slit,

And a cautious beak whispered,

Are you alone?

It's the phoenix,

Said everyone,

In a voice so joyous and so full of relief as to be a sort of whispered shout.

Hush,

Said the voice from the letterbox.

Your slaves have gone a merrymaking.

The latch of this portal is too stiff for my beak,

But at the side,

The little window above the shelf where on your bread lies,

It is not fastened.

Right-o,

Said Cyril,

And Anthea added,

I wish you'd meet us there,

Dear phoenix.

The children crept round to the pantry window.

It is at the side of the house,

And there is a green gate labelled Tradesman's Entrance,

Which is always cap-bolted.

But if you get one foot on the fence between you and next door,

And one on the handle of the gate,

You're over before you know it.

This,

At least,

Was the experience of Cyril and Robert,

And even,

If the truth must be told,

Of Anthea and Jane.

So in almost no time,

All four were in the narrow,

Graveled passage that runs between that house and the next.

Then Robert made a back,

And Cyril hoisted himself up and got his knickerbockered knee on the concrete windowsill.

He dived into the pantry head first,

As one dives into water,

And his legs waved in the air as he went,

Just as your legs do when you are first beginning to learn to dive.

The soles of his boots,

Squarish,

Mubby patches,

Disappeared.

Give me a leg up,

Said Robert to his sisters.

No,

You don't,

Said Jane firmly.

I'm not going to be left outside here with just Anthea,

And have something creep up behind us out of the dark.

Squirrel can go and open the back door.

A light had sprung awake in the pantry.

Cyril always said the phoenix turned the gas on with its beak,

And lighted it with the waft of its wing.

But he was excited at the time,

And perhaps he really did it himself with matches,

And then forgot all about it.

He let the others in,

By the back door.

And when it had been bolted again,

The children went all over the house,

And lit every single gas jet they could find.

For they couldn't help feeling this was just the dark,

Dreary winter's evening,

When an armed burglar might easily be expected to appear at any moment.

There's nothing like light when you are afraid of burglars,

Or of anything else for that matter.

And when all the gas jets were lighted,

It was clear that Eliza and the cook were really out,

And that there was no one in the house,

Except the four children,

And the phoenix,

And the carpet.

And the black beetles,

Who lived in the cupboards on each side of the nursery fireplace.

These last were very pleased that the children had come home again,

Especially when Anthea lit the nursery fire.

But as usual,

The children treated the loving little black beetles with coldness and disdain.

While Anthea was delighting the poor little black beetles with the cheerful blaze,

Jane had set the table for,

I was going to say tea,

But the meal of which I am speaking was not exactly tea.

Let us call it a tea-ish meal.

There was tea,

Certainly,

For Anthea's fire blazed and crackled so kindly that it really seemed to be affectionately inviting the kettle to come and sit on its lap.

So the kettle was brought and tea made,

But no milk could be found.

So everyone had six lumps of sugar to each cup instead.

The things to eat,

On the other hand,

Were nicer than usual.

The boys looked about very carefully and found in the pantry some cold tongue,

Bread,

Butter,

Cheese and part of a cold pudding,

Very much nicer than Cook ever made when they were at home.

And in the kitchen cupboard was half a Christmassy cake,

A pot of strawberry jam and about a pound of mixed candied fruit with soft crumbly slabs of delicious sugar in each cup of lemon,

Orange or citron.

It was indeed,

As Jane said,

A banquet fit for an Arabian night.

The phoenix perched on Robert's chair and listened kindly and politely to all they had to tell it about their visit to Lyndhurst and underneath the table,

By just stretching a toe down rather far,

The faithful carpet could be felt by all,

Even by Jane,

Whose legs were very short.

Your slaves will not return tonight,

Said the phoenix.

They sleep under the roof of the cook's stepmother's aunt,

Who is,

I gather,

Hostess to a large party tonight in honour of her husband's cousin's sister-in-law's mother's 90th birthday.

I don't think they ought to have gone without leave,

Said Anthea,

However many relations they have or however old they are,

But I suppose we ought to wash up.

We'll go somewhere on the carpet,

Said Cyril.

It's not often we get the chance of being out all night.

We can go right away to the other side of the equator,

To the tropical climes and see the sunrise over the great Pacific Ocean.

Right you are,

Said Robert.

I always did want to see the Southern Cross and the stars as big as gas lamps.

Don't go,

Said Anthea,

Very earnestly,

Because I couldn't.

I'm sure Mother wouldn't like us to leave the house and I should hate to be left here alone.

I'd stay with you,

Said Jane,

Loyally.

I know you would,

Said Anthea,

Gratefully,

But even with you,

I'd much rather not.

Well,

Said Cyril,

Trying to be kind,

I don't want you to do anything you think's wrong.

He was silent.

His silence said many things.

I don't see,

Robert was beginning,

When Anthea interrupted.

I'm quite sure.

Sometimes you just think of things wrong and sometimes you know,

And this is a no time.

The phoenix turned kind golden eyes on her and opened a friendly beak.

He said,

When it is,

As you say,

A no time,

There is no more to be said and your noble brothers would never leave you.

Of course not,

Said Cyril,

Rather too quickly,

And Robert said so too.

I myself,

The phoenix went on,

I'm willing to help in any way possible.

I will go personally,

Either by carpet or on the wing and fetch you anything you can think of to amuse you during the evening.

In order to waste no time,

I could go while you wash up.

Decide what I shall fetch for you.

I can get you anything you like.

But of course,

They couldn't decide.

Many things were suggested,

A rocking horse,

Jewelled chessmen,

An elephant,

A bicycle,

A motor car,

Books with pictures,

Musical instruments and many other things.

But a musical instrument is agreeable only to the player,

Unless he's learned to play it really well.

Books are not sociable,

Bicycles can't be ridden without going out of doors,

And the same thing is true of motor cars and elephants.

Only two people can play chess at once with one set of chessmen,

And anyway,

It's very much too much like lessons for a game,

And only one can ride on a rocking horse.

Suddenly,

In the midst of the discussion,

The phoenix spread its wings and fluttered to the floor,

And from there it spoke.

The carpet says that it wants you to let it go to its old home,

Where it was born and brought up,

And it will return within the hour,

Laden with a number of the most beautiful and delightful products of its native land.

What is its native land?

I didn't gather that,

But since you can't agree,

And time is passing,

And the tea things are not washed up.

.

.

I vote we do,

Said Robert,

It'll stop all this jaw anyway.

But how can we do it unless one of us is on it to do the wishing?

Why,

You just write your wish on a paper and pin it on the carpet,

Said the phoenix.

So a leaf was torn from Anthea's arithmetic book,

And on it Cyril wrote in large round hand the following.

We wish you to go to your dear native home and bring back the most beautiful and delightful productions of it you can,

And not to be gone long,

Please.

Signed,

Cyril,

Robert,

Anthea,

Jane.

Then the paper was laid on the carpet.

Writing face down,

Please,

Said the phoenix.

The carpet can't read a paper whose back is turned to it,

Any more than you can.

It was pinned fast,

And the table and chairs,

Having been moved,

The carpet simply and suddenly vanished,

Rather like a patch of water on a hearth under a fierce fire.

The edges got smaller and smaller,

And then it disappeared.

It may take it some time to collect the beautiful and delightful things,

Said the phoenix.

I should wash up.

So they did.

There was plenty of hot water left in the kettle,

And everyone helped,

Even the phoenix,

Who took up cups by their handles with its clever claws,

And dipped them in the hot water,

And then stood them on the table,

Ready for Anthea to dry them.

But the bird was rather slow,

Because,

As it said,

Although it was not above any sort of honest work,

Messing about with dishwater was not exactly what it had been brought up to.

Everything was nicely washed up and dried,

And put in its proper place,

And the dishcloth washed and hung on the edge of the copper to dry,

And the teacloth hung on the little line that goes across the scullery.

And just as eight hands and one pair of claws were being dried on the roller towel behind the scullery door,

There came a strange sound from the other side of the kitchen wall,

The side where the nursery was.

The carpets come back,

Said Robert,

And the others felt that he was right.

But what has it brought with it?

Asked Jane.

It couldn't have been made in India and have brought elephants.

Even baby ones would be rather awful in that room,

Said Cyril.

I vote we take it in turns to squint through the keyhole.

They did,

In the order of their ages.

The phoenix,

Being the eldest by some thousands of years,

Was entitled to the first peep.

Excuse me,

It said,

Ruffling its golden feathers and sneezing softly.

Looking through keyholes always gives me a cold in my golden eyes.

So Cyril looked.

I see something grey moving,

Said he.

It's a zoological garden of some sort,

I bet,

Said Robert,

When he had taken his turn.

And the soft,

Rustling,

Bustling,

Ruffling,

Scuffling,

Shuffling,

Fluffling noise went on inside.

I can't see anything,

Said Anthea.

My eye tickles so.

Then Jane's turn came and she put her eye to the keyhole.

It's a giant kitty cat,

She said,

And it's asleep all over the floor.

It's no use sending the carpet to fetch precious things for you if you're afraid to look at them when they come,

Said the phoenix.

And Cyril,

Being the eldest,

Said,

Come on,

And turned the handle.

The gas had been left full on after tea and everything in the room could be plainly seen by the ten eyes at the door.

At least,

Not everything,

But though the carpet was there,

It was invisible because it was completely covered by the hundred and ninety-nine beautiful objects which it had brought from its birthplace.

My hat,

Cyril remarked.

I never thought about its being a Persian carpet.

Yet it was now plain that it was so,

For the beautiful objects which it had brought back were cats,

Persian cats,

Grey Persian cats,

And there were,

As I have said,

A hundred and ninety-nine of them,

And they were sitting on the carpet as close as they could get to each other.

But the moment the children entered the room,

The cats rose and stretched and spread and overflowed from the carpet to the floor,

And in an instant the floor was a sea of moving,

Mewing,

Pussishness,

And the children,

With one accord,

Climbed to the table and gathered up their legs,

And the people next door knocked on the wall.

No wonder,

For the mews were Persian and piercing.

This is pretty poor sport,

Said Cyril.

What's the matter with the bounders?

I imagine that they are hungry,

Said the phoenix,

If you were to feed them.

We haven't anything to feed them with,

Said Anthea in despair,

And she stroked the nearest Persian back.

Oh,

Pussies,

Do be quiet,

We can't hear ourselves think.

She had to shout this,

For the mews were growing deafening,

And it would take pounds and pounds worth of cat's meat.

Let's ask the carpet to take them away,

Said Robert,

But the girls said no.

They are so soft,

Said Jane,

And valuable,

Said Anthea hastily.

We can sell them for lots and lots of money.

Why not send the carpet to get food for them,

Suggested the phoenix,

And its golden voice came harsh and crackled with the effort it had to make to be heard,

Above the increasing fearness of the Persian mews.

So it was written that the carpet should bring food for 199 Persian cats,

And the paper was pinned to the carpet as before.

And the carpet disappeared.

Unless you have had 199 well-grown Persian cats in one small room,

All hungry,

And all saying so in unmistakable mews,

You can form but a poor idea of the noise that now deafened the children and the phoenix.

The cats did not seem to have been at all properly brought up.

They seemed to have no idea of its being a mistake in manners to ask for meals in a strange house,

Let alone to howl for them.

And they mewed,

And they mewed,

And they mewed,

Till the children poked their fingers into their ears,

And waited in silent agony,

Wondering why the whole of Camden Town did not come knocking at the door to ask what was the matter,

And only hoping that the food for the cats would come before the neighbours did,

And before all the secret of the carpet and the phoenix had to be given away beyond recall to an indignant neighbourhood.

The cats mewed,

And mewed,

And twisted their Persian forms in and out,

And unfolded their Persian tails,

And the children and the phoenix huddled together on the table.

The phoenix,

Robert noticed suddenly,

Was trembling.

So many cats,

It said,

And they might not know I was the phoenix.

These accidents happen so quickly,

It quite unmands me.

This was a danger of which the children had not thought.

Creep in,

Cried Robert,

Opening his jacket.

And the phoenix crept in,

Only just in time,

For green eyes had glared,

Pink noses had sniffed,

White whiskers had twitched,

And as Robert buttoned his coat,

He disappeared to the waste in a wave of eager grey Persian fur.

And on the instant,

The good carpet reappeared and slapped itself down on the floor.

And it was covered with rats,

398 of them,

I believe,

Two for each cat.

How horrible,

Cried Anthea.

Oh,

Take them away!

Take yourself away,

Said the phoenix,

And me.

I wish we'd never had a carpet,

Said Anthea,

In tears.

They hustled and crowded out of the door,

And shut it,

And locked it.

Cyril,

With great presence of mind,

Lit a candle and turned off the gas at the main.

The rats will have a better chance in the dark,

He said.

The mewing had ceased.

Everyone listened in breathless silence.

We all know that cats eat rats.

It's one of the first things we read in our little brown reading books.

But all those cats eating all those rats,

It wouldn't bear thinking of.

Suddenly,

Robert sniffed in the silence of the dark kitchen,

Where the only candle was burning all on one side because of the draught.

What a funny scent,

He said.

And as he spoke,

A lantern flashed its light through the window of the kitchen.

A face peered in,

And a voice said,

What's all this row about?

You let me in.

It was the voice of the police.

Robert tiptoed to the window.

What do you mean?

He said.

There's no row.

You listen.

Everything's as quiet as quiet.

And indeed,

It was.

The strange,

Sweet scent grew stronger,

And the phoenix put out its beak.

The policeman hesitated.

They're muskrats,

Said the phoenix.

I suppose some cats eat them,

But never Persian ones.

What a mistake for a well-informed carpet to make.

Oh,

What a night we're having.

Do go away,

Said Robert nervously to the policeman.

We're just going to bed.

That's our bedroom candle.

There isn't any row.

Everything's as quiet as a mouse.

A wild chorus of mews drowned his words,

And with the mews were mingled the shrieks of the muskrats.

What had happened?

Had the cats tasted them before deciding they disliked the flavour?

I'm a coming in,

Said the policeman.

You've got a cat shut up there.

A cat,

Said Cyril.

Oh,

My only aunt,

A cat.

Come in then,

Said Robert.

It's your own lookout.

I advise you not to.

Wait a shake,

And I'll undo the side gate.

He undid the side gate,

And the policeman,

Very cautiously,

Came in.

And there,

In the kitchen,

By light of one candle and the screaming going on like a dozen steam sirens,

Twenty waiting motor cars,

And half a hundred squeaking pumps,

Four agitated voices shouted to the policeman four mixed and wholly different explanations of the very mixed events of the evening.

Did you ever try to explain the simplest thing to a policeman?

Chapter Eight The Cats,

The Cow,

And the Burglar The nursery was full of Persian cats and muskrats that had been brought there by the wishing carpet.

The cats were mewing and the muskrats were squeaking so that you could hardly hear yourself speak.

In the kitchen were the four children,

One candle,

A concealed phoenix,

And a very visible policeman.

Now then,

Look here,

Said the policeman,

Very loudly,

And he pointed his lantern at each child in turn.

What's the meaning of this here yelling and catawalling?

I tell you,

You've got a cat here and someone's ill-treating of it.

What do you mean by it,

Eh?

It was five to one,

Counting the phoenix,

But the policeman,

Who was one,

Was of unusually fine size and the five,

Including the phoenix,

Were small.

The mews and the squeaks grew softer and in the comparative silence Cyril said,

It's true,

There are a few cats here,

But we've not hurt them.

It's quite the opposite.

We've just fed them.

It don't sound like it,

Said the policeman,

Grimly.

I dare say they're not real cats,

Said Jane madly.

Perhaps they're only dream cats.

I'll dream cat you,

My lady,

Was the brief response of the force.

At this point,

The phoenix,

Who had been making itself small on the pot shelf under the dresser among the saucepan lids and the fish kettle,

Walked on tiptoed claws in a noiseless and modest manner and left the room unnoticed by anyone.

We love cats,

Anthea said.

We wouldn't hurt them for worlds.

Jane echoed that of course they wouldn't,

And still the policeman seemed unmoved by their eloquence.

Now look here,

He said.

I'm going to see what's in that room beyond there.

His voice was drowned in a wild burst of mewing and squeaking.

Stow it,

He said.

I'm going into the next room in the execution of my duty.

I'm going to use my eyes,

My ears have gone off their chumps,

What with them cats.

And he pushed Robert aside and strode through the door.

Don't say I didn't warn you,

Said Robert.

But the policeman was quite stony,

Nothing anyone said seemed to make any difference to him.

Some policemen are like this,

I believe.

He strode down the passage and in another moment he would have been in the room with all the cats and all the rats,

Musk.

But at that very instant a thin sharp voice screamed from the street outside.

Murder!

Murder!

Stop thief!

The policeman did stop,

With one regulation boot heavily poised in the air.

Huh?

He said.

And again the shrieks sounded shrilly and piercingly from the dark street outside.

Come on,

Said Robert.

Come and look after cats while someone's being killed outside.

For Robert had an inside feeling that told him quite plainly who it was that was screaming.

You young rip,

Said the policeman.

I'll settle up with you by and by.

But he rushed out and the children heard his boots going weightily along the pavement and the screams also going along,

Rather ahead of the policeman and both the murder screams and the policeman's boots faded away in the remote distance.

Robert smacked his knickerbocker loudly with his palm and said,

Good old Phoenix,

I should know its golden voice anywhere.

All hearts were filled with admiring affection.

But the policeman will come back,

Said Anthea,

Mournfully,

As soon as he finds the murderer is only a bright vision of a dream and there isn't one at all,

Really.

No,

He won't,

Said the soft voice of the clever Phoenix as it flew in.

He does not know where your house is.

I heard him own as much to a fellow mercenary.

Oh,

What a night we are having.

Lock the door and let us rid ourselves of this intolerable smell of the perfume peculiar to the muskrat and to the house of the trimmers of beards.

If you'll excuse me,

I will go to bed.

I am worn out.

It was Cyril who wrote the paper that told the carpet to take away the rats and bring milk because there seemed to be no doubt in any breast that however Persian cats may be,

They must like milk.

Let's hope it won't be musk milk,

Said Anthea in gloom as she pinned the paper face downwards on the carpet.

The carpet shriveled and vanished.

Perhaps really,

It would have been wiser to let the carpet take the cats away.

It's getting quite late and we can't keep them all night.

Oh,

Can't we,

Said Robert who had been fastening the side door.

You might have consulted me,

He went on.

Why,

Whatever.

Don't you see,

We've got to keep the cats all night.

Oh,

Get down,

You furry beasts,

Because we've had three wishes out of the carpet now and we can't get any more till tomorrow.

The liveliness of Persian muse alone prevented the occurrence of a dismal silence.

Anthea spoke first.

Oh,

Never mind,

She said.

Do you know,

I really do think they're quieting down a bit.

Perhaps they heard us say milk.

They can't understand English,

Said Jane.

Oh,

Pussies,

Do be quiet,

Said Anthea.

Let's stroke them as hard as we can with both hands and perhaps they'll stop.

So everyone stroked grey fur till their hands were tired and the noise was down to half purr when the carpet suddenly appeared in its proper place and on it,

Instead of rows of milk cans or even milk jugs,

There was a cow.

A smooth,

Sleek,

Dun-coloured jersey cow who blinked large soft eyes at the gaslight and mooed in an amiable,

If inquiring,

Manner.

She was perfectly placid.

She behaved like a strayed Duchess till someone brought a saucer for the milk and someone else tried to milk her into it.

Milking is very difficult.

Robert and Cyril held the cow by the horns and Jane,

When she was quite sure that their end of the cow was secure,

Consented to stand by,

Ready to hold the cow by the tail should occasion arise.

Anthea,

Holding the saucer,

Advanced towards the cow.

She remembered that cows,

When milked by strangers,

Are susceptible to the soothing influence of the human voice.

So clutching her saucer very tight,

She sought for words to whose soothing influence the cow might be susceptible and her memory,

Troubled by the events of the night,

Which seemed to go on and on forever and ever,

Refused to help her with any form of words suitable to address a Jersey cow in.

Lie down then,

Good dog,

Lie down,

Was all she could think of to say.

So she said it.

And nobody laughed.

The situation,

Full of grey,

Mewing cats,

Was too serious for that.

Then Anthea,

With a beating heart,

Tried to milk the cow.

Next moment,

The cow had knocked the saucer out of her hand and trampled on it with one foot,

While with the other three she had walked on a foot each of Robert,

Cyril and Jane.

Jane burst into tears.

Oh,

How much too horrid everything is,

She cried.

Come away,

Let's go to bed and leave the horrid cats with the hateful cow.

Perhaps somebody will eat somebody else and serve them right.

They didn't go to bed,

But they had a shivering council in the drawing room,

Which smelt of soot.

There had been no fire in the room since Mother went away and all the chairs and tables were in the wrong places and the chrysanthemums were dead.

Anthea wrapped the embroidered woolly sofa blanket around Jane and herself,

While Robert and Cyril had a struggle,

Silent and brief,

But fierce,

For the larger share of the fur hearthrug.

It is most truly awful,

Said Anthea,

And I am so tired.

Let's let the cats loose.

And the cow perhaps too,

Said Cyril.

The police would find us at once.

That cow would stand at the gate and mew,

I mean moo,

To come in,

And so would the cats.

No,

I see quite well what we've got to do.

We must put them in baskets and leave them on people's doorsteps,

Like orphan foundlings.

We've got three baskets,

Counting Mother's work one,

Said Jane,

Brightening.

And there are nearly two hundred cats,

Said Anthea,

Besides the cow,

And it would have to be a different-sized basket for her,

And then I don't know how you'd carry it and you never find a doorstep big enough to put it on.

Oh well,

Said Cyril.

If you simply make difficulties.

I'm with you,

Said Robert.

Don't fuss about the cow,

Panther.

It's simply got to stay the night,

And I'm sure I've read that the cow is a remunerating creature,

And that means it will sit still and think for hours.

The carpet can take it away in the morning,

And as for the baskets,

We'll do them up in dusters or pillowcases or bath towels.

Come on,

Squirrel,

You girls can be out of it if you like.

His tone was full of contempt,

But Jane and Anthea were too tired and desperate to care.

They snuggled down in the sofa blanket,

And Cyril drew the fur hearth rug over them.

Ah,

He said,

That's all women are fit for,

To keep safe and warm while the men do the work and run dangers and risks and things.

I'm not,

Said Anthea.

You know I'm not.

But Cyril was gone.

It was warm under the blanket and the hearth rug,

And Jane snuggled up close to her sister,

And Anthea cuddled Jane closely and kindly,

And in a sort of dream,

They heard the rise of a wave of mewing as Robert opened the door of the nursery.

They heard the booted search for baskets in the back kitchen.

They heard the side door open and close,

And they knew that each brother had gone out with at least one cat.

Anthea's last thought was that it would take at least all night to get rid of 199 cats by twos.

There would be 99 journeys of two cats each,

And one cat over.

I almost think we might keep the one cat over,

Said Anthea.

I don't seem to care for cats just now,

But I dare say I shall again one day,

And she fell asleep.

Jane also was sleeping.

It was Jane,

In fact,

Who awoke with a start to find Anthea asleep.

There was a sound of muffled,

Shuffled feet on the stairs.

Jane crept gently from Anthea's side and followed the footsteps.

They went down into the basement.

The cats,

Who seemed to have fallen into the sleep of exhaustion,

Awoke at the sound of the approaching footsteps and mewed piteously.

Jane was at the foot of the stairs before she saw it was not her brothers,

Whose coming had roused her and the cats,

But a burglar.

She knew he was a burglar at once,

Because he wore a fur cap and a red and black charity check comforter,

And he had no business to be where he was.

If you had been stood in Jane's shoes,

You would no doubt have run away in them,

Appealing to the police and neighbours with horrid screams.

But Jane knew better.

She had read a great many nice stories about burglars,

As well as some affecting pieces of poetry,

And she knew that no burglar will ever hurt a little girl if he meets her when burgling.

In fact,

In all the cases Jane had read of,

His burglarishness was almost at once forgotten in the interest he felt in the little girl's artless prattle.

So if Jane hesitated for a moment before addressing the burglar,

It was only because she could not at once think of any remark,

Sufficiently prattling and artless,

To make a beginning with.

In the stories and the affecting poetry,

The child could never speak plainly,

Although it always looked old enough to in the pictures.

And Jane couldn't make her mind up to lisp and talk baby,

Even to a burglar.

And while she hesitated,

He softly opened the nursery door and went in.

Jane followed,

Just in time,

To see him sit down flat on the floor,

Scattering cats as a stone thrown into a pool splashes water.

She closed the door softly and stood there,

Still wondering whether she could bring herself to say,

What's who doing here,

Whister-wobber,

And whether any other kind of talk would do.

Then she heard the burglar draw a long breath and he spoke.

It's a judgment,

He said.

So help me,

Bob,

If it ain't.

Cats and cats and cats.

The cow turned and looked at him.

Oh,

Take him away,

Please take him away.

Burglar,

Said Jane,

Close behind him,

And he started convulsively and turned on her a blank face whose pale lips trembled.

I can't take those cats away.

No,

Lummy,

Exclaimed the man,

If here wasn't another of them.

Are you real,

Miss,

Or something I'll wake up from presently?

I am quite real,

Said Jane,

Relieved to find that a lisp was not needed to make the burglar understand her.

And so,

She added,

Are the cats.

Then send for the police,

Send for the police,

I'll go quiet.

He ran his finger through his hair,

Which was short,

And his eyes wandered wildly around the room full of cats.

Burglar,

Said Jane,

Kindly and softly,

If you didn't like cats,

What did you come here for?

Send for the police,

Was the unfortunate criminal's only reply.

I'd rather you would,

Honest,

I'd rather.

I don't,

Said Jane,

And besides,

I've no one to send.

I hate the police.

You've a feeling aren't,

Miss,

Said the burglar,

But them cats is really a little bit too thick.

Look here,

Said Jane,

I won't call the police,

And I'm quite a real little girl,

Though I talk older than the kind you've met before,

When you've been doing your burglings,

And they are real cats,

And they want real milk,

And do you know by any chance how to milk cows?

Perhaps I does,

Was the burglar's cautious rejoinder.

Then,

Said Jane,

If you will only milk ours,

You don't know how we shall always love you.

The burglar replied that loving was all very well.

If those cats only had a good,

Long,

Wet,

Thirsty drink of milk,

Jane went on,

With eager persuasion,

They'd lie down and go to sleep,

As likely as not,

And then the policeman won't come back.

But if they go on mewing like this,

He will,

And then,

I don't know what'll become of us,

Or you either.

This argument seemed to decide the criminal.

Jane fetched the washbowl from the sink,

And he spat on his hands,

And prepared to milk the cow.

At this instant,

Boots were heard on the stairs.

It's all up,

Said the man desperately.

Here's the police!

He made,

As if to open the window,

And leap from it.

It's all right,

I tell you,

Whispered Jane,

In anguish.

I'll say you're a friend of mine.

Only do,

Do milk the cow.

Oh,

Don't go.

Oh,

Oh,

Thank goodness,

It's only the boys.

It was,

And their entrance had awakened Anthea,

Who,

With her brothers,

Now crowded through the doorway.

The man looked about him like a rat looks round a trap.

This is a friend of mine,

Said Jane.

He's just called in,

And he's going to milk the cow for us.

Isn't it good and kind of him?

She winked at the others,

And though they didn't understand,

They played up,

Loyally.

How do,

Said Cyril.

Very glad to meet you.

Don't let us interrupt the milking.

I shall have a head and a half in the morning,

And no bloom in error,

Remarked the burglar.

But he began to milk the cow.

Robert was winked at to stay and see that he did not leave off milking,

Or try to escape,

And the others went to get things to put the milk in,

For it was now spurting and foaming in the washbowl,

And the cats had ceased from mewing,

And were crowding round the cow with expressions of hope and anticipation on their whiskered faces.

We can't get rid of any more cats,

Said Cyril,

As he and his sisters piled a tray high with saucers and soup plates and platters and pie dishes.

The police nearly got us as it was.

The gentle samishness of the milk swishing into the handbowl seemed to have soothed the burglar very much.

He went on milking in a sort of happy dream,

While the children got a cap and ladled the warm milk out into the pie dishes and plates and platters and saucers,

And set them down to the music of Persian purrs and lappings.

It makes me think of old times,

Said the burglar,

Smearing his ragged coat cuff across his eyes,

About the apples in the orchard at home,

And the rats at threshing time,

And the rabbits and the ferrets.

Finding him in this softened mood,

Jane said,

I wish you'd tell us how you came to choose our house for your burglaring tonight.

I am awfully glad you did.

You have been so kind.

I don't know what we should have done without you.

We all love you ever so.

Do tell us.

The others added their affectionate entreaties,

And at last the burglar said,

Well,

It's me first job,

And I didn't expect to be made so welcome,

And that's the truth,

Young gents and ladies,

And I don't know but what it won't be my last.

Them cats,

They brought me back to the ways of honestness,

Never no more.

Look here,

Said Cyril,

Those cats are very valuable.

Very indeed,

And we will give them all to you if only you will take them away.

But I don't want no bother with the coppers.

Did you come by them honest now,

Straight?

They are all our very own,

Said Anthea.

We wanted them,

But the confinement,

Consignment,

Whispered Cyril,

Was larger than we wanted,

And they're an awful bother.

If you got your barrow and some sacks or baskets,

My father says Persian cats are worth pounds and pounds each.

Well,

Said the burglar,

And he was certainly moved by these remarks.

I see you're in a hole,

And I don't mind lending an helping hand.

I don't ask how you come by them,

But I've got a pal.

He's a mark on cats.

I'll fetch him along,

And if he thinks they'd fetch anything above their skins,

I don't mind doing you a kindness.

You won't go away and never come back,

Said Jane,

Because I don't think I could bear that.

The burglar,

Quite touched by her emotion,

Swore sentimentally that,

Alive or dead,

He would come back.

Then he went,

And Cyril and Robert sent the girls to bed and sat up to wait for his return.

It soon seemed absurd to await him in a state of wakefulness,

But his stealthy tap on the window awoke them readily enough.

For he did return with the pal and the barrow and the sacks.

The pal approved of the cats,

Now dormant in Persian repletion,

And they were bundled into the sacks and taken away on the barrow,

Mewing,

Indeed,

But with mews too sleepy to attract public attention.

I'm a fence,

That's what I am,

Said the burglar,

Gloomily.

I never thought I'd come down to this and all because of my kind heart.

Cyril knew that a fence is a receiver of stolen goods,

And he replied briskly,

I give you my sacred oath the cats aren't stolen.

What do you make the time?

I ain't got the time on me,

Said the pal,

But it was just about chucking out time as I come by the Bullen Gate.

I shouldn't wonder if it was nigh upon one now.

When the cats had been removed and the boys and the burglar had parted with warm expressions of friendship,

There remained only the cow.

She must stay all night,

Said Robert.

Cook'll have her fit when she sees her.

All night,

Said Cyril.

Why,

It's to-morrow morning,

If it's one.

We can have another wish.

So the carpet was urged,

In a hastily written note,

To remove the cow to wherever she belonged and to return to its proper place on the nursery floor.

But the cow couldn't be got to move onto the carpet.

So Robert got the clothesline out of the back kitchen and tied one end very firmly to the cow's horns and the other end to a bunched-up corner of the carpet,

And said,

Fire away!

And the carpet and the cow vanished together,

And the boys went to bed,

Tired out,

And only too thankful that the evening,

At last,

Was over.

Next morning,

The carpet lay calmly in its place,

But one corner was very badly torn.

The morning after the adventure of the Persian cats,

The muskrats,

The common cow,

And the uncommon burglar,

All the children slept till it was ten o'clock.

And then it was only Cyril who woke,

But he attended to the others so that by half-past ten everyone was ready to go.

To help to get breakfast.

It was shivery cold and there was but little in the house that was really worth eating.

Robert had arranged a thoughtful little surprise for the absent servants.

He had made a neat and delightful booby trap over the kitchen door,

And as soon as they heard the front door click open and knew the servants had come back,

All four children hid in the cupboard under the stairs and listened with delight to the entrance,

The tumble,

The splash,

The scuffle,

And the remarks of the servants.

They heard the cook say it was a judgment on them for leaving the place to itself.

She seemed to think that a booby trap was a kind of plant that was quite likely to grow all by itself in a dwelling that was left shut up.

But the housemaid,

More acute,

Judged that somebody must have been in the house,

A view confirmed by the sight of the breakfast things on the nursery table.

The cupboard under the stairs was very tight and paraffin-y,

However,

And a silent struggle for a place on top ended in the door bursting open and discharging Jane,

Who rolled like a football to the feet of the servants.

Now,

Said Cyril firmly,

When the cook's hysterics had become quieter and the housemaid had time to say what she thought of them,

Don't you begin jawing us?

Whether we tell on you or not depends on you.

If you're decent to us,

We'll be decent to you.

You'd better make an extra special Chewicle Rollie for dinner.

The servants gave in once and for all.

There's nothing like firmness,

Cyril went on,

When the breakfast things were cleared away and the children were alone in the nursery.

We can do what we like now and they won't preach.

Let's go somewhere by carpet.

I wouldn't if I were you,

Said the phoenix,

Yawning,

As it swooped down from its roost on the curtain pole.

I've given you one or two hints but now concealment is at an end and I see I must speak out.

It perched on the back of a chair and swayed to and fro like a parrot on a swing.

What's the matter now?

Said Anthea.

She was not quite so gentle as usual because she was still weary from the excitement of last night's cats.

I'm tired of things happening.

I shan't go anywhere on the carpet.

The phoenix opened and shut its wings thoughtfully.

The carpet,

It said.

Look at the bare worn patches.

Look at the great rent at yonder corner.

The carpet has been your faithful friend,

Your willing servant.

How have you requited its devoted service?

Dear phoenix,

Anthea urged.

Don't talk in that horrid lecturing tone.

You make me feel as I'd done something wrong.

And really it is a wishing carpet and we haven't done anything else to it.

Only wishes.

Only wishes,

Repeated the phoenix,

Ruffling its neck feathers angrily.

And what sort of wishes?

Wishing people to be in a good temper,

For instance.

What carpet did you ever hear of that had such a wish asked of it?

But this noble fabric on which you trample so recklessly.

Everyone removed its boots from the carpet and stood on the linoleum.

This carpet never flinched.

It did what you asked,

But the wear and tear must have been awful.

And then last night,

I don't blame you about the cats and the rats,

For those were its own choice.

But what carpet could stand a heavy cow hanging onto it at one corner?

I should think the cats and rats were worse,

Said Robert.

Look at their claws.

Yes,

Said the bird,

Eleven thousand nine hundred and forty of them.

I dare say you noticed.

I should be surprised if these had not left their mark.

Good gracious,

Said Jane,

Sitting down suddenly on the floor and patting the edge of the carpet softly.

Do you mean it's wearing out?

It's life with you has not been a luxurious one,

Said the phoenix.

French mud twice,

Sand of sunny shores twice,

Soaking in southern seas once,

India once,

Goodness knows where,

In Persia once,

Muskrat land once,

And once wherever the cow came from.

Hold your carpet up to the light and with cautious tenderness,

If you please.

With cautious tenderness,

The boys held the carpet up to the light.

The girls looked and a shiver of regret ran through them as they saw how those eleven thousand nine hundred and forty claws had run through the carpet.

It was full of little holes.

There were some large ones and more than one thin place and at one corner a strip of it was torn and hung forlornly.

We must mend it,

Said Anthea.

So out they all went and brought wool to mend the carpet.

But there is no shop in Camden town where you can buy wishing wool.

No,

Nor in Kentish town either.

However,

Ordinary scotch heather mixture fingering seemed good enough and this they bought and all that day Jane and Anthea darned and darned and darned.

The boys went out for a walk in the afternoon and the gentle phoenix paced up and down the table for exercise,

As it said,

And talked to the industrious girls about their carpet.

The princess Zuleika,

Fairest of royal ladies,

Began the bird,

Had in her cradle been the subject of several enchantments.

Her grandmother had been in her day.

But what in her day Zuleika's grandmother had been was destined never to be revealed,

For Cyril and Robert suddenly burst into the room and on each brow were the traces of deep emotion.

On Cyril's pale brow stood beads of agitation and perspiration and on the scarlet brow of Robert was a large black smear.

What has happened?

Said the bird and Anthea and Jane paused with long needles poised in the air and long needlefuls of scotch heather mixture,

Fingering wool,

Drooping from them.

The most awful thing you can possibly think of,

Said Cyril.

That nice chap,

Our own burglar,

The police have got him on suspicion of stolen cats.

That's what his brother's missus told me.

Oh,

Begin at the beginning,

Cried Anthea impatiently.

Well,

We went out and down by where the undertaker's is,

There was a crowd and of course we went to have a squint and it was two bobbies and our burglar between them and he was being dragged along and he said,

I tell you,

Them cats was give me.

I got them in exchange for me milking a cow in a basement parlour up Camden Town way.

And the people laughed,

Beasts.

And then one of the policemen said,

Perhaps he could give the name and address of the cow.

And he said,

No,

He couldn't,

But he could take them there if they'd only leave go of his coat collar and give him a chance to get his breath.

And the policeman said he could tell all that to the magistrate in the morning.

He didn't see us and so we came away.

Oh,

Cyril,

How could you,

Said Anthea.

Don't be a pudding head,

Cyril said.

A fat lot of good it would have done if we'd let him see us.

No one would have believed a word we said.

They'd have thought we were kidding.

We did better than let him see us.

We asked a boy where he lived and he told us and we went there and it's a little greengrocer's shop and we bought some Brazil nuts.

Here they are.

The girls waved away the Brazil nuts.

Well,

We had to buy something and while we were making up our minds what to buy,

We heard his brother's talking.

She said,

When he came home with all them meowlers,

She thought there was more to it than met the eye.

But he would go out this morning with the two likeliest of them,

One under each arm.

She said he sent her out to buy blue ribbon to put round their beastly necks.

And she said,

If he got three months hard,

It was her dying word that he got the blue ribbon to thank for it.

That,

And his own silly,

Thieving ways,

Taking cats that anybody would know he couldn't have come by in the way of business instead of things that wouldn't have been missed,

Which Lord knows there are plenty such.

Oh,

Stop,

Cried Jane.

And indeed,

It was time for Cyril seemed like a clock that had been wound up and could not help going on and on.

Where is he now?

At the police station,

Said Robert.

The boy told us they put him in the cells and would bring him up before the beak in the morning.

I thought it was a jolly lark last night,

Getting him to take the cats.

But now.

The end of a lark,

Said the phoenix,

Is the beak.

Let's go to him,

Cried both the girls,

Jumping up.

Let's go and tell the truth.

They must believe us.

They can't,

Said Cyril.

Just think if anyone came to you with such a tale,

You couldn't believe it,

However much you tried.

We would only make things worse for him.

Oh,

There must be something we could do,

Said Jane,

Sniffing.

He was so nice the way he talked about how he was going to be so extra honest.

Dear Phoenix,

You must be able to help us.

You're so good and kind and pretty and clever.

Do,

Do tell us what to do.

The phoenix rubbed its beak thoughtfully with its claw.

You might rescue him,

It said,

And conceal him here till the law supporters had forgotten about him.

That would be ages and ages,

Said Cyril,

And we couldn't conceal him here.

Father might come home any moment and if he found the burglar here,

He wouldn't believe the truth any more than the police.

That's the worst thing about the truth.

No one ever believes it.

Couldn't we take him somewhere else?

Jane clapped her hands,

The sunny southern shore,

She cried,

Where the cook is being queen.

He and she would be company for each other.

And really,

The idea did not seem bad,

If only he would consent to go.

So all talking at once,

The children arranged to wait till evening and then to seek the dear burglar in his lonely cell.

Meantime,

Jane and Anthea darned away as hard as they could to make the carpet as strong as possible.

For all felt how terrible it would be if the precious burglar,

While being carried to the sunny southern shore,

Were to tumble through a hole in the carpet and be lost forever in the sunny southern sea.

When the phoenix reported that both servants were snoring,

The children got up.

They had never undressed.

Just putting their nightgowns on over their things had been enough to deceive Eliza.

So they were ready for anything and they stood on the carpet and said,

I wish we were in our burglar's lonely cell.

And instantly,

They were.

No one doubted that the burglar,

Chained by heavy fetters to a ring in the damp stone wall,

Would be tossing uneasily on a bed of straw with a pitcher of water and a mouldering crust,

Untasted beside him.

Robert,

Remembering the underground passage and the treasure,

Had bought a candle and matches.

But these were not needed.

The cell was a little whitewashed room.

On one side of it was a shelf sloping towards the wall.

On this were two rugs,

Striped blue and yellow,

And a waterproof pillow.

Rolled in those rugs and with his head on that pillow,

Lay the burglar,

Fast asleep.

He'd had his tea,

Though this the children didn't know.

It had come from the coffee shop around the corner.

The scene was revealed by the light of a gas lamp in the passage outside,

Which shone through a pane of thick glass over the door.

I shall gag him,

Said Cyril,

And Robert will hold him down.

Anthea and Jane and the phoenix can whisper soft nothings to him while he gradually wakes.

This plan did not have the success it deserved because the burglar was much stronger,

Even in his sleep,

Than Robert and Cyril and at the first touch of their hands,

He leapt up and shouted out something very loud indeed.

Instantly,

Steps were heard outside.

Anthea threw her arms around the burglar and whispered,

It's us,

The ones that gave you the cats.

We've come to save you,

Only don't let on we're here.

Can we hide somewhere?

Heavy boots sounded on the flagged passage outside and a voice shouted,

Hear you,

Stop that row,

Will you?

All right,

Governor,

Replied the burglar,

Still with Anthea's arms around him.

I was only a-talking in my sleep,

No offence.

It was an awful moment.

Would the boots and the voice come in?

Yes,

No.

The voice said,

Well,

Stow it,

Will you?

And the boots went heavily away along the passage and up some stairs.

Ah,

The blue Moses,

Did you get in?

Asked the burglar in a hoarse whisper of amazement.

On the carpet,

Said Jane,

Truly.

Stow that,

Said the burglar.

Look here,

Said Cyril,

Sternly.

You wouldn't have believed anyone if they'd told you beforehand about your finding a cow and all those cats in our nursery.

That I wouldn't,

Said the burglar with whispered fervour.

So help me,

Bob,

I wouldn't.

Well then,

Cyril went on,

Ignoring this appeal to his brother.

Just try to believe what we tell you and act accordingly.

It can't do you any harm,

You know.

You can't be very much worse off than you are now.

But if you just trust us,

We'll get you out right enough.

No one saw us come in.

The question is,

Where would you like to go?

I'd like to go to Boulogne,

Was the instant reply of the burglar.

I've always wanted to go on that there trip,

But I've never had the readies at the right time of the year.

Boulogne is a town like London,

Said Cyril,

Well-meaning,

But inaccurate.

How could you get a living there?

The burglar scratched his head.

It's hard to get an honest living anywhere nowadays,

He said,

And his voice was sad.

Yes,

Isn't it,

Said Jane.

But how about a sunny southern shore where there's nothing to do at all,

Unless you want to?

Oh,

That's my billet miss,

Replied the burglar.

I never did care about work,

Not like some people,

Always fussing about.

Did you never like any sort of work,

Asked Anthea.

Lord love me,

Yes,

He answered.

Gardening was my hobby,

So it was,

But father died afore he could bind me to a nursery man.

We'll take you to the sunny southern shore,

Said Jane.

You've no idea what the flowers are like there.

Come onto the carpet,

She said,

Gently shoving.

The others quietly pulled and the moment the feet of the burglar were planted on the carpet,

Anthea wished.

I wish we were all on the sunny southern shore where Cook is.

And instantly,

They were.

There were the rainbow sands,

The tropic glories of leaf and flower,

And there,

Of course,

Was the Cook,

Crowned with white flowers and with all the wrinkles of crossness and tiredness and hard work wiped out of her face.

Why,

Cook,

You're quite pretty,

Anthea said,

As soon as she'd got her breath after the tumble rush whirl of the carpet.

The burglar stood rubbing his eyes in the brilliant tropic sunlight and gazing wildly around him on the vivid hues of the tropic land.

Penny,

Plain,

And tuppence coloured,

He exclaimed.

The Cook was seated on a grassy mound with a court of people around her.

The burglar pointed a grimy finger at them.

Do they do anything to you with the poisoned arrows or oyster shells or that?

Don't you be so timid,

Said the Cook.

Look here,

This here's only a dream what you've come into and as it's only a dream there's no nonsense about what a young lady like me ought to say or not.

So I'll say you're the best looking fellow I've seen this many a day and the dream goes on and on seemingly as long as you behaves.

The things what you have to eat and drink taste just as good as real ones.

Look here,

Said the burglar,

I've come here straight out of the police station.

These here kids will tell you it ain't no blame of mine.

Well you were a burglar you know,

Said the truthful Anthea.

Only because I was drove to it by dishonest blokes as well you knows miss,

Rejoined the criminal.

Blowed if this ain't the Otters January as I've known for years.

Wouldn't you like a bath?

Asked the Queen and some white clothes like me.

I should only look a jug in a mess thanking you all the same was the reply.

But a bath I wouldn't resist and my shirt was only clean on week before last.

Cyril and Robert led him to a rocky pool where he bathed luxuriously.

Then in shirt and trousers he sat on the sand and spoke.

That cook or queen or whatever you call her oh with the white bouquet on her head she's my sort.

Wonder if she'd keep company?

I should ask her.

I always was a quick hitter the man went on.

It's a word and a blow with me I will.

In shirt and trousers and crowned with a scented flowery wreath which Cyril hastily wove as they returned to the court of the Queen the burglar stood before the cook and said look here miss you and me being all forlorn like both on us in this here dream or whatever you calls it I'd like to tell you straight as I like your looks.

The cook smiled and looked down bashfully.

I'm a single man what you might call a bachelor d'or.

I'm mild in my habits which these kids will tell you the same and I'd like to have the pleasure of walking out with you next Sunday.

Lore said the queen cook how sudden you are mister.

Walking out means you're going to be married said Anthea.

Why not get married and have done with it?

I would.

I don't mind if I do said the burglar but the cook said no miss not me not even in a dream.

I don't say anything again the young chap's looks but I always swore I'd be married in church if at all and anyway I don't believe anyone here would know how to keep a registering office even if I was to show them.

Now mister thanking you kindly if you can't bring a clergyman into the dream I'll live and die like what I am.

Will you marry her if we get a clergyman?

Asked the matchmaking Anthea.

I'm agreeable miss I'm sure said he pulling his wreath straight.

How they see a bouquet do tittle a chap's ears to be sure.

So very hurriedly the carpet was spread out and instructed to fetch a clergyman.

The instructions were written on the inside of Cyril's cap with a piece of chalk Robert found in his pocket and the carpet disappeared.

It quickly came back bearing the reverend Septimus Blenkinsop.

The reverend Septimus was rather a nice young man but very much mazed and muddled because when he saw a strange carpet laid out at his feet in his own study he naturally walked on it to examine it more closely and he happened to stand on one of the thin places that Jane and Anthea had downed so that he was half on wishing carpet and half on plain scotch heather mixture fingering which has no magic properties at all.

The effect of this was that he was only half there so you could see through him as though he was a ghost.

As for him he saw the sunny southern shore the cook and the burglar and the children quite plainly but through them all he saw quite plainly also his study at home with the books and the pictures and the marble clock that had been presented to him when he left his last situation.

He seemed to himself to be in a sort of insane fit so it didn't matter what he did and he married the burglar to the cook.

The cook said that she would rather have had a solider kind of clergyman one you couldn't see through but perhaps he was real enough for this dream.

And of course the clergyman though misty was real and able to marry people and he did.

And when the ceremony was over the clergyman wandered about the island collecting botanical specimens for he was a great botanist and the ruling passion was strong even in an insane fit.

There was a splendid wedding feast.

Can you fancy Jane and Anthea Robert and Cyril dancing merrily in a ring hand in hand with the cook's people around the happy couple the queen cook and her burglar consort.

There were more flowers gathered and thrown than you have ever dreamed of and before the children took carpet for home the now married and settled burglar made a speech.

Ladies and gentlemen he said if this is a dream I'm on if it ain't I'm on it than ever.

I don't want no more island and society I've got someone to put me arm around of and I've got the whole lot of this here island for my allotment and if I don't grow some broccoli as I'll open the judge's eyes at the cottage flower shows well strike me pink.

All I ask is as these young gents and ladies will bring some parsley seed into the dream and a penneth of radish seed and three penneth of onion and I wouldn't mind going to fourpence or fippence for mixed kale.

And there's one thing more you might take away the parson I don't like things what I can see half through.

He drained a coconut shell of palm wine it was now past midnight though it was tea time on the island.

With all good wishes the children took their leave they also collected the clergyman and took him back to his study and his presentation clock.

The phoenix kindly carried the seeds next day to the burglar and his bride and returned with most satisfactory news of the happy pair.

He's made a wooden spade and started on his allotment it said and she is weaving him a shirt and trousers of the most radiant whiteness.

The police never knew how the burglar got away.

In Kentish town police station his escape is still spoken of with bated breath as the Persian mystery.

As for the reverend Septimus Blankensop he felt he had had a very strange fit indeed and he was sure it was due to overstudy so he planned a little holiday and took his two maiden aunts to Paris where they enjoyed a dazzling round of museums and picture galleries and came back feeling that they had indeed seen life.

He never told his aunts or anyone else about the marriage on the island because no one likes it to be generally known if he has had strange fits however interesting and unusual.

Chapter 10 The Hole in the Carpet Hurray,

Hurray,

Hurray Mother comes home today Mother comes home today Hurray,

Hurray,

Hurray Jane sang this simple song directly after breakfast and the phoenix shed crystal tears of affectionate sympathy.

How beautiful it said is filial devotion.

She won't be home till past bedtime though said Robert we might have one more carpet day.

He was glad that Mother was coming home but at the same time the gladness was contradicted by a feeling of sorrow because now they couldn't go out all day on the carpet.

I do wish we could go and get something nice for Mother only she'd want to know where we got it said Anthea and she'd never believe the truth.

People never do somehow if it's at all interesting.

I'll tell you what said Robert suppose we wished the carpet to take us somewhere where we could find a purse with money in it then we could buy her something.

Suppose it took us somewhere foreign and the purse was full of money that wasn't money at all here then we couldn't spend it and people would bother about where we got it and we shouldn't know how on earth to get out of it all.

Cyril moved the table off the carpet as he spoke and its leg caught in one of Anthea's darns and ripped away most of it as well as a large slit in the carpet.

Well now you have done it said Robert but Anthea really was a first-class sister.

She didn't say a word until she'd got out the scotch heather mixture fingering wool and the darning needle and the thimble and the scissors and by that time she'd been able to get the better of her natural wish to be thoroughly disagreeable and was able to say quite kindly never mind squirrel I'll soon mend it.

Cyril thumped her on the back he understood exactly how she had felt and he was not an ungrateful brother.

Respecting the purse containing coins the phoenix went on scratching its invisible ear thoughtfully it might be as well to state clearly the amount which you wish to find as well as the country where you wish to find it and the nature of the coins which you prefer.

It would be indeed a cold moment when you should find a purse containing but three oboloi.

How much is an oboloi?

An obol is about tuppence-ha'penny the phoenix replied.

Yes said Jane and if you find a purse I suppose it's only because someone else has lost it and you ought to take it to the policeman.

The situation remarked the phoenix does indeed bristle with difficulties.

What about a buried treasure?

Said Cyril.

And everyone was dead that it belonged to.

Mother wouldn't believe that said more than one voice.

Wait a sec Anthea said I've got an idea coming don't speak.

There was silence as she paused with the darning needle in the air.

Suddenly she did speak.

Let's tell the carpet take us somewhere where we can get the money for mother's present and get it some way that she'll believe in and not think wrong.

Well I must say you're learning the way to get the most out of the carpet said Cyril.

He spoke more heartily and kindly than usual because he remembered how Anthea had refrained from snarking him about tearing the carpet.

Yes said the phoenix you certainly are and you have to remember that if you take a thing out it doesn't stay in.

No one paid any attention to this remark at the time but afterwards everyone thought of it.

Do hurry up panther said Robert and that was why Anthea did hurry up and why the big darn in the middle of the carpet was all open and webby like a fishing net not tight and close like woven cloth which is what a good well-behaved darn should be.

Everyone put on its outdoor things the phoenix fluttered onto the mantelpiece and arranged its golden feathers in the glass and all was ready.

Everyone got onto the carpet.

Please go slowly dear carpet Anthea began we like to see where we're going and then she added the difficult wish that had been decided upon.

Next moment the carpet stiff and raft-like was sailing over the roofs of Kentish town.

I wish no I don't mean that I mean it's a pity we aren't higher up said Anthea as the edge of the carpet grazed a chimney pot.

That's right be careful said the phoenix if you wish when you're on a wishing carpet you do wish and there's an end of it.

Though for a short time no one spoke and the carpet sailed on in calm magnificence over St Pancras and Kings Cross stations and over the crowded streets of Clerkenwell.

We're going out Greenwich way said Cyril as they crossed the streak of rough tumbled water that was the Thames.

We might go and have a look at the palace.

On and on the carpet swept still keeping much nearer to the chimney pots than the children found comfortable and then just over New Cross a terrible thing happened.

Jane and Robert were in the middle of the carpet.

Part of them was on the carpet and part of them the heaviest part was on the great central darn.

It's all very misty said Jane it looks partly like out of doors and partly like in the nursery at home.

I feel as if I was going to have measles.

I feel exactly the same Robert said.

It's the hole said the phoenix.

Robert and Jane at once make a bound to try and get on to the safe part of the carpet but the darn gave way and their boots went up and the heavy heads and bodies of them went down through the hole and they landed in a position something between sitting and sprawling on the flat leads on top of a high grey gloomy respectable house whose address was 705 Amersham Road New Cross.

The carpet seemed to awaken to new energy as soon as it had got rid of their weight and it rose high in the air.

The others lay down flat and peered over the edge of the rising carpet.

Are you hurt?

Cried Cyril and Robert shouted No!

And the next moment the carpet had sped away and Jane and Robert were hidden from sight by a stack of smoky chimneys.

Oh,

How awful!

Said Anthea.

It could have been worse said the phoenix.

What would have been the sentiments of the survivors if that darn had given way when we were crossing the river?

Yes,

There's that said Cyril recovering himself.

They'll be all right.

They'll howl till someone gets them down or drop tiles into the front garden to attract attention from passers-by.

They can tram it home.

But Anthea would not be comforted.

It's all my fault she said.

Let's go home and patch the carpet with something really strong and send it to fetch them.

All right said Cyril.

We must forget Mother's present.

That's all I wish.

Stop!

Cried the phoenix.

The carpet is dropping to earth.

And so it was.

It sank swiftly yet steadily and landed on the pavement of the Deptford Road.

It tipped a little as it landed so that Cyril and Anthea naturally walked off it and in an instant it had rolled itself up and hidden behind a gatepost.

It did this so quickly that not a single person in the Deptford Road noticed.

The phoenix rustled its way into the breast of Cyril's coat and almost at the same moment a well-known voice remarked well I never what on earth are you doing here?

They were face to face with their Uncle Reginald.

We did think of going to Greenwich Palace said Cyril.

And where are the others?

Asked Uncle Reginald.

I don't exactly know Cyril replied.

Well said Uncle Reginald I must fly.

I've a case in the County Court.

That's the worst of being a beastly solicitor.

One can't take the chances of life when one gets them.

If only I could come with you to the Painted Hall and give you lunch at the ship afterwards.

The Uncle felt in his pocket I mustn't enjoy myself he said but that's no reason why you shouldn't.

Here divide this by four take care of yourselves.

Adieu.

And waving a cheery farewell with his neat umbrella the good and high-hatted Uncle passed on leaving Cyril and Anthea to exchange eloquent glances over the shining golden sovereign that lay in Cyril's hand.

Well said Anthea.

Well said Cyril.

Well said the Phoenix.

Good old carpet said Cyril joyously.

It was clever of it so adequate and yet so simple said the Phoenix.

Oh come on home and let's mend the carpet.

I'm a beast I'd forgotten the others just for a minute said Anthea.

They unrolled the carpet quickly and slyly and the moment their feet were on it Anthea wished to be at home and instantly they were.

Anthea set to work at once to draw the edges of the broken dam together and Cyril hastily went out and bought a large piece of the marble-patterned American oilcloth which careful housewives use to cover dresses and kitchen tables.

It was the strongest thing he could think of.

Then they set to work to line the carpet throughout with the oilcloth.

The nursery felt empty without the others and Cyril didn't feel so sure as he had done about their being able to tram it home.

So he tried to help Anthea which was very good of him but not much use.

The phoenix watched them for a time but it grew restless.

It fluffed up its splendid feathers and said I can bear it no longer.

My Robert,

Who set my egg to hatch in the bosom of whose Norfolk raiment I have nestled so often and so pleasantly I think if you'll excuse me.

Cyril opened the window.

The phoenix flapped its sun bright wings and vanished.

So that's all right said Cyril taking up his needle and instantly pricking his hand in a new place.

Of course I know what you really want to know is not what Anthea and Cyril did but what happened to Jane and Robert after they fell through the carpet but I had to tell you the other first.

That is one of the most annoying things about stories you know.

You can't tell all the different parts of them at the same time.

Robert's first remark when he found himself seated on the damp cold sooty leads was here's a go.

Jane's first act was tears.

Dry up pussy don't be a little duffer said her brother kindly and then he looked about just as Cyril had known he would for something to throw down so as to attract the attention of the wayfarers far below in the street.

He couldn't find anything.

Curiously enough there were no stones on the leads and not even a loose tile.

The roof was of slate and every single slate knew its place and kept it but as so often happens in looking for one thing he found another.

There was a trap door leading down into the house and that trap door was not fastened.

Come here Jane he cried lend a hand to heave this up if we can get into the house we might sneak down without meeting anyone come on.

They heaved up the door and as they bent to look into the hole below it fell back with a hollow clang on the leads behind and with its noise was mingled a blood curdling scream from underneath.

Discovered hissed Robert oh my cat's alive.

They were looking down into an attic which was also a lumber room.

It had boxes and broken chairs old fenders and picture frames and rag bags hanging from nails.

In the middle of the floor was a box open half full of clothes.

Other clothes lay on the floor in neat piles.

In the middle of the piles of clothes sat a lady with her feet sticking out straight in front of her and it was she who had screamed and who in fact was still screaming.

Don't cried Jane please don't we won't hurt you.

Where are the rest of your gang?

Asked the lady stopping short in the middle of a scream.

The others have gone on said Jane truthfully.

The lady got up and picking her way between the piles of clothes she got to the door and threw it.

She shut it behind her and the two children could hear her calling Septimus,

Septimus.

Now said Robert I'll drop first.

He hung by his hands and dropped through the trap door.

Now you hang by your hands I'll catch you.

Oh there's no time for jaw drop I say.

Jane dropped.

Robert tried to catch her and even before they had finished the breathless roll among the piles of clothes which was what his catching ended in he whispered we'll hide behind those fenders and things they'll think we've gone along the roofs then when all's calm we'll creep down the stairs.

They hid.

A corner of an iron bedstead stuck into Robert's side and Jane had only standing room for one foot but they bore it and when the lady came back not with Septimus but with another lady they held their breath and their hearts beat thickly.

Gone said the first lady.

Poor little things quite mad my dear and at large we must lock this room and send for the police.

Let me look out said the second lady.

So the two ladies dragged a box under the trap door and put another box on the top of it and then they both climbed up carefully and put their tidy heads out of the trap door to look for the mad children.

Now whispered Robert getting the bedstead leg out of his side they crept out from their hiding place and out through the door before the two ladies had done looking out onto the empty leads.

They tiptoed down the stairs one flight two flights.

Horror!

A servant was coming up with a loaded scuttle.

The children crept swiftly through the first open door.

The room was a study calm and gentlemanly with rows of books a writing table and a pair of embroidered slippers warming themselves in the fender.

The children hid behind the window curtains.

As they passed the table they saw on it a missionary box with its bottom label torn off open and empty.

Oh how awful!

Whispered Jane.

We shall never get away alive.

Hush said Robert not a moment too soon.

For the next instant the two ladies came into the room.

They didn't see the children but they saw the empty missionary box.

I knew it said one.

Selina it was a gang.

The children were not mad they were sent to distract our attention while their confederates robbed the house.

I'm afraid you're right said Selina and where are they now?

Downstairs no doubt collecting the silver milk jug and sugar basin and the punch ladle that was Uncle Joe's and Aunt Jerusha's teaspoons.

I shall go down.

Don't be rash said Selina.

Amelia we must call for the police from the window.

Selina rushing to the window came face to face with the hidden children.

Jane stepped out frowning.

We aren't burglars and we haven't any gang and we didn't open your missionary box.

But Miss Selina seized Jane and Miss Amelia captured Robert.

The children found themselves held fast by strong hands.

We've got you at any rate said Miss Amelia.

Selina your captive is smaller than mine.

You open the window at once and call murder as loud as you can.

Selina obeyed but when she'd opened the window instead of calling murder she called Septimus because at that very moment she saw her nephew coming in at the gate.

In another minute he had let himself in with his latch key and had mounted the stairs.

As he came into the room Jane and Robert each uttered a shriek of joy.

It's our own clergyman cried Jane.

Don't you remember us asked Robert.

You married our burglar for us.

Septimus said Amelia these abandoned children are members of a desperate burgling gang who are robbing the house.

They have already forced the missionary box open.

The Reverend Septimus passed his hand wearily over his brow.

I opened the box myself he said.

This morning I found I had not enough small change for the mother's independent unity measles and croup insurance payments.

I suppose this is not a dream is it?

Dream?

No indeed.

Search the house I insist upon it.

The curate pale and trembling searched the house which of course was free of burglars.

When he came back he sank wearily into his chair.

Aren't you going to let us go asked Robert.

We've never done anything to you.

It's all the carpet's fault.

It dropped us on the leads.

We couldn't help it.

You know how it carried you over to the island and you had to marry the burglar to the cook.

Oh my head said the curate.

Never mind your head just now said Robert.

This is a judgment on me for something I suppose said the Reverend Septimus wearily but I really cannot at the moment remember what.

Send for the police said Miss Selina.

Send for a doctor said the curate.

Do you think they are mad then said Miss Amelia.

I think I am said the curate.

Aunt Selina said the curate and Aunt Amelia believe me this is only an insane dream.

You will realise it soon.

It has happened to me before but do not let us be unjust even in a dream.

Do not hold the children they have done no harm as I said before it was I who opened the box.

The strong bony hands unwillingly loosened their grasp.

Robert shook himself and stood in sulky resentment but Jane ran to the curate and embraced him so suddenly that he had not time to defend himself.

You're a dear she said.

It is like a dream just at first but you get used to it.

Now do let us go.

There's a good kind honourable clergyman.

But all the curate could now say was oh my head.

Jane and Robert felt quite ill with helplessness and hopelessness.

A conscientious curate is a very difficult thing to manage.

And then just as the hopelessness and helplessness were getting to be almost more than they could bear the two children suddenly felt that extraordinary shrinking feeling that you always have when you're just about to vanish.

And then they had vanished and the Reverend Septimus was left alone with his aunts.

I knew it was a dream he cried wildly.

I've had something like it before.

Did you dream it too Aunt Selina?

And you Aunt Amelia?

I dreamt that you did you know.

Aunt Selina looked at him and then at Aunt Amelia.

Then she said boldly what do you mean?

We haven't been dreaming anything.

You must have dropped off in your chair.

The curate heaved a sigh of relief.

Oh if it's only I he said.

Afterwards Aunt Selina said to the other aunt yes I know it was an untruth and I shall doubtless be punished for it in due course.

But I could see the poor dear fellow's brain was giving way before my very eyes.

He couldn't have stood the strain of three dreams.

It was odd wasn't it?

All three of us dreaming the same thing at the same moment.

We must never tell dear Seppi.

But I shall send an account of it to the Psychical Society with stars instead of names you know.

And she did.

And you can still read all about it in one of the Society's fat blue books.

Of course you understand what had happened.

The intelligent Phoenix had simply gone straight off to the Samyad,

Another of its mythical friends and had wished Robert and Jane at home.

And they were at home at once.

Cyril and Anthea had not half finished mending the carpet.

When the joyful emotions of reunion had calmed down a little,

They all went out and spent what was left of Uncle Reginald's sovereign in presence for Mother.

They bought her a pink silk handkerchief,

A pair of blue and white vases,

A bottle of scent,

A packet of Christmas candles,

And a cake of soap shaped and coloured like a tomato and one that was so like an orange that almost anyone you'd given it to would have tried to peel it.

Also they bought a cake with icing on and the rest of the money they spent on flowers to put in the vases.

When they had arranged all the things on a table with the candles stuck up on a plate ready to light the moment Mother's cab was heard,

They washed themselves thoroughly and put on tidier clothes.

Good old Phoenix,

Said Robert.

Ah,

Said the Phoenix,

It is fortunate for you that I am such a competent bird.

There's Mother's cab,

Cried Anthea.

And the Phoenix hid and they lit the candles and next moment Mother was home again.

She liked her presence very much and found their story of Uncle Reginald and the sovereign easy and even pleasant to believe.

Good old carpet were Cyril's last sleepy words.

What there is of it,

Said the Phoenix from the cornice pole.

Chapter 11 Well,

I must say,

Mother said,

Looking at the wishing carpet as it lay all darned and mended and backed with shiny American cloth on the floor of the nursery,

I must say I've never in my life bought such a bad bargain as that carpet.

A soft Oh!

Of contradiction sprang to the lips of Cyril,

Robert,

Jane and Anthea.

Mother looked at them quickly and said,

Well,

Of course,

I see you've mended it very nicely and that was sweet of you,

Dears.

But still,

Twenty-two and ninepence,

It ought to have lasted for years.

It's simply dreadful now.

Well,

Never mind,

Darlings,

You've done your best.

I think we'll have coconut matting next time.

A carpet doesn't have an easy life of it in this room,

Does it?

It's not our fault,

Mother,

Is it,

That our boots are the really reliable kind?

Robert asked.

His question was said more in sorrow than in anger.

No,

Dear,

We can't help our boots,

Said Mother cheerfully,

But we might change them when we come in,

Perhaps.

It's just an idea of mine.

I wouldn't dream of scolding you on the very first morning after I've come home.

Oh,

My lamb,

How could you?

This conversation was at breakfast and the lamb had been beautifully good until everyone was looking at the carpet and then it was for him but the work of a moment to turn a glass dish of syrupy blackberry jam upside down on his young head.

It was the work of a good many minutes and several persons to get the jam off him again and this interesting work took people's minds off the carpet and nothing more was said just then about its badness as a bargain and about what Mother hoped for from coconut matting.

When the lamb was clean again,

He had to be taken care of while Mother rumpled her hair and inked her fingers and made her headache over the difficult and twisted housekeeping accounts which Cook gave her on dirty bits of paper and which were supposed to explain how it was that Cook had only five pence ha'penny and a lot of unpaid bills left out of all the money Mother had sent her for housekeeping.

Mother was very clever but even she could not quite understand the Cook's accounts.

The lamb was very glad to have his brothers and sisters to play with him.

He'd not forgotten them a bit and he made them play all the old exhausting games.

Whirling Whirls where you swing the baby round and round by his hands and Leg and Wing where you swing him from side to side by one ankle and one wrist.

There was also Climbing Vesuvius.

In this game the baby walks up you and when he is standing on your shoulders you shout as loud as you can which is the rumbling of the burning mountain and then tumble him gently onto the floor and roll him there which is the destruction of Pompeii.

All the same I wish we could decide what we better say next time Mother says anything about the carpet said Cyril breathlessly ceasing to be a burning mountain.

Well you talk and decide said Anthea.

It's the old bother said Cyril Mother won't believe the real truth about the carpet.

You speak sooth oh Cyril remarked the phoenix coming out from the cupboard where the black beetles lived and the torn books and the broken slates and odd pieces of toys that had lost the rest of themselves.

Look here said Anthea I have an idea this isn't like a common carpet it's very magic indeed don't you think if we put hair restorer on it and then gave it a rest the magic part of it might grow like hair is supposed to do.

It might said Robert but I should think paraffin would do as well at any rate as far as the smell goes and that seems to be the great thing about hair restorer.

With all its faults Anthea's idea was something to do and they did it.

It was Cyril who fetched the bottle from father's wash hand stand but the bottle hadn't got much in it.

We mustn't take it all Jane said in case father's hair began to come off suddenly.

If he hadn't anything to put on it it might all drop off before Eliza had time to get round to the chemists for another bottle.

It would be dreadful to have a bald father and it would all be our fault.

And wigs are very expensive I believe said Anthea.

Look here leave enough in the bottle to wet father's head all over in case any emergency emerges and let's make up with paraffin.

I expect it's the smell that does the good really and the smell's exactly the same.

So a small teaspoonful of the hair restorer was put on the edges of the worst darn in the carpet and rubbed carefully into the roots of the hairs of it and all the parts that there was not enough hair restorer for had paraffin rubbed into them with a piece of flannel.

Then the flannel was burned it made a bright flame which delighted the phoenix and the lamb.

How often said mother opening the door how often am I to tell you that you are not to play with paraffin what have you been doing?

We have burnt a paraffiny rag Anthea answered.

It was no use telling mother what they had done to the carpet she didn't know it was a magic carpet and no one wants to be laughed at for trying to mend an ordinary carpet with paraffin.

Well don't do it again said mother and now away with melancholy Father has sent a telegram look!

She held it out and the children holding it by its yielding corners read Box for kiddies at Garrick Stalls for us Haymarket Meet Charing Cross 6.

30 That means said mother that you're going to see the water babies all by your happy selves and father and I will take you and fetch you.

Give me the lamb dear and you and Jane put clean lace in your red evening frocks and I shouldn't wonder if you found they wanted ironing this paraffin smell is ghastly run and get out your frocks.

Ironing the dresses and sewing the lace in occupied some time and no one was dull because there was the theatre to look forward to and also the possible growth of hairs on the carpet for which everyone kept looking anxiously.

By four o'clock Jane was almost sure that several hairs were beginning to grow.

The phoenix perched on the fender and its conversation as usual was entertaining and instructive but it seemed a little absent-minded and even a little sad.

Don't you feel well phoenix dear asked Anthea stooping to take an iron off the fire.

I'm not sick replied the golden bird with a gloomy shake of the head but I am getting old.

Why you've hardly been hatched any time at all.

Time remarked the phoenix is measured by heartbeats.

I'm sure the palpitations I've had since I've known you are enough to blanch the feathers of any bird.

But I thought you lived 500 years said Robert and you've hardly begun this set of years.

Think of all the time that's before you.

Time said the phoenix is as you're probably aware merely a convenient fiction.

There is no such thing as time.

I have lived in these two months at a pace which generously counterbalances 500 years of life in the desert.

I am old I am weary I feel as if I ought to lay my egg and lay me down to my fiery sleep but unless I'm careful I shall be hatched again instantly and that is a misfortune which I really do not think I could endure.

But do not let me intrude these desperate personal reflections on your youthful happiness.

What is the show at the theatre tonight?

Wrestlers?

Gladiators?

A combat of camel leopards and unicorns?

I don't think so said Cyril.

It's called The Water Babies and if it's like the book there isn't any gladiating in it.

There are chimney sweeps and professors and a lobster and an otter and a salmon and children living in the water.

It sounds chilly.

The phoenix shivered and went to sit on the tongs.

I don't suppose there will be real water said Jane and theatres are very warm and pretty with a lot of gold and lamps.

Wouldn't you like to come with us?

I was just going to say that said Robert in injured tones only I know how rude it is to interrupt.

Do come phoenix old chap it will cheer you up.

It'll make you laugh like anything.

So that evening the phoenix snugged inside the waistcoat of Robert's Eatons a very tight fit it seemed both to Robert and to the phoenix and was taken to the play.

Robert had to pretend to be cold at the glittering many mirrored restaurant where they ate dinner with father in evening dress with a very shiny white shirt front and mother looking lovely in her grey evening dress that changes into pink and green when she moves.

Robert pretended that he was too cold to take off his greatcoat so he sat sweltering through what would otherwise have been a most thrilling meal.

He felt he was a blot on the smart beauty of the family and he hoped the phoenix knew what he was suffering for its sake.

Of course we are all pleased to suffer for the sake of others but we like them to know it unless we are the very best and noblest kind of people and Robert was just ordinary.

Father was full of jokes and fun and everyone laughed all the time even with their mouths full which is not manners.

Robert thought father wouldn't have been quite so funny about his keeping his overcoat on if he'd known the truth and there Robert was probably right.

When dinner was finished to the last grape the children were taken to the theatre guided to a box close to the stage and left.

Father's parting words were now don't you stir out of this box I shall be back before the end of the play be good and you will be happy.

Is this zone torrid enough for the abandonment of greatcoats Bob?

No?

Well then I should say you were sickening for something.

Goodbye.

He went and Robert was at last able to remove his coat mop his perspiring brow and release the crushed and dishevelled phoenix.

Robert had to arrange his damp hair at the looking glass at the back of the box and the phoenix had to preen its disordered feathers for some time before either of them was fit to be seen.

When the lights went up fully the phoenix balancing itself on the gilded back of a chair swayed in ecstasy How fair a scene is this?

It murmured.

Have you brought me hither to lift up my heart with emotions of joyous surprise?

Tell me my Robert is it not that this is my true temple?

You can call this your temple if you like said Robert.

Hush the music is beginning.

I'm not going to tell you about the play.

One can't tell everything in a story and perhaps you've seen the water babies anyway.

What I must tell you though is that although Cyril and Jane and Robert and Anthea enjoyed it as much as any children possibly could the pleasure of the phoenix was far far greater than theirs.

This is indeed my temple it said again and again.

What radiant rights and all to do honour to me.

The songs in the play it took to be hymns in its honour.

The choruses were choric songs in its praise.

The electric lights it said were magic torches lighted for its sake and it was so charmed by the footlights that the children could hardly persuade it to sit still.

But when the limelight was shown it could contain its approval no longer.

It flapped its golden wings and cried in a voice that could be heard all over the theatre.

Well done my servants ye have my favour and my countenance.

Little Tom on the stage stopped short in what he was saying.

A deep breath was drawn by hundreds of lungs every eye in the house turned to the box where the luckless children cringed and people hissed or said shh or even turn them out.

Then the play went on.

An attendant presently came to the box and spoke wrathfully.

It wasn't us indeed it wasn't said Anthea it was the bird.

The man said well then they must keep their bird very quiet.

Disturbing everyone like that he said.

It won't do it again said Robert glancing imploringly at the golden bird.

I'm sure it won't.

You have my leave to depart said the phoenix gently.

Well he is a beauty and no mistake said the attendant only I'd cover him up during the acts it upsets the performance.

And he went Don't speak again there's a deer said Anthea you wouldn't like to interfere with your own temple would you?

So now the phoenix was quiet but it kept whispering to the children.

It wanted to know why there was no altar no fire no incense and it became so excited and fretful and tiresome that four at least of the party of five wished deeply that it had been left at home.

What happened next was entirely the fault of the phoenix.

No one could ever understand afterwards how it did happen.

No one that is except the guilty bird itself and the four children.

The phoenix was balancing itself on the gilt back of the chair swaying backwards and forwards and up and down as you may see your own domestic parrot do.

All eyes were on the stage where the lobster was delighting the audience with the song if you can't walk straight walk sideways.

When the phoenix murmured warmly No altar no fire no incense and then before any of the children could even begin to think of stopping it it spread its bright wings and swept around the theatre brushing its gleaming feathers against delicate hangings and gilded woodwork.

It seemed to have made but one circular wing sweep such as you may see a gull make over grey water on a stormy day.

Next moment it was perched again on the chair back but all round the theatre where it had passed little sparks shone like tinsel seeds then little smoke wreaths curled up like growing plants little flames opened like flower buds.

People whispered then people screamed Fire!

Fire!

The curtain went down the lights went up Fire!

Cried everyone and made for the doors A magnificent idea said the phoenix complacently An enormous altar fire supplied free of charge Doesn't the incense smell delicious?

The only smell was the stifling smell of smoke and burning silk and scorching varnish.

The little flames had opened now into great flame flowers The people in the theatre were shouting and pressing toward the doors Oh,

How could you?

Cried Jane Let's get out Father said Stay here said Anthea very pale and trying to speak in her ordinary voice He didn't mean stay and be roasted said Robert Cyril opened the door of the box A fierce waft of smoke and hot air made him shut it again It wasn't possible to get out that way They looked over the front of the box Could they climb down?

It would be possible certainly but would they be much better off?

Look at the people moaned Anthea We couldn't get through And indeed the crowd around the doors looked as thick as flies in the jam-making season I wish we'd never seen the phoenix cried Jane Even at that awful moment Robert looked round to see if the bird had overheard a speech which however natural was hardly polite or grateful But it was gone Look here said Cyril I'm sure it's all right Let's wait here as father said We can't do anything else said Anthea Look here said Robert I'm not frightened No,

I'm not The phoenix will see us through somehow I believe in the phoenix The phoenix thanks you oh Robert said a golden voice at his feet and there was the phoenix itself on the wishing carpet Quick it said stand on those portions of the carpet which are truly antique and authentic A sudden jet of flame stopped its words Alas the phoenix in the unintentional heat of the moment had set fire to the paraffin with which that morning the children had anointed the carpet It burned merrily The children tried in vain to stamp it out but in the end they had to stand back and let it burn itself out When the paraffin had burned away it had taken with it all the darns of scotch heather mixture fingering Only the fabric of the old carpet was left and that was full of holes Come said the phoenix I'm cool now The four children got onto what was left of the carpet Very careful they were not to leave a leg or a hand hanging over one of the holes It was very hot The theatre was a pit of fire Everyone else had got out Jane had to sit on Anthea's lap Home said Cyril and instantly the cool draught from under the nursery door played on their legs as they sat They were all on the carpet still and the carpet was lying in its proper place on the nursery floor as calm and unmoved as though it had never been to the theatre or taken part in a fire in its life Four long breaths of deep relief were instantly breathed The draught which they had never liked before was for the moment quite pleasant and they were safe and everyone else was safe The theatre had been quite empty when they left They presently found themselves all talking at once Somehow none of their adventures had given them so much to talk about None other had seemed so real Did you notice?

They said and do you remember?

Then suddenly Anthea's face turned pale under the dirt it had collected during the fire Oh!

She cried Mother and father They'll think we're burnt to cinders Oh!

Let's go this minute and tell them we aren't We should only miss them said the sensible Cyril Well,

You go then said Anthea or I will Only do wash your face first Mother will be sure to think you're burnt to a cinder if she sees you like that and she'll faint Oh!

I wish we'd never got to know that,

Phoenix Hush!

Said Robert It's no use being rude to the bird It can't help its nature Perhaps we'd better wash too No one had noticed the phoenix since it had bidden them to step on the carpet and no one noticed that no one had noticed All were partially clean and Cyril was just plunging into his greatcoat to go and look for his parents when the sound of father's latch key in the front door sent everyone bounding up the stairs Are you all safe?

Cried mother's voice Are you all safe?

And the next moment she was kneeling on the lino of the hall trying to kiss four damp children all at once and laughing and crying by turns while father stood looking on and saying he was blessed But how did you guess we'd come home?

Said Cyril later when everyone was calm enough for talking Well,

It was rather a rum thing We heard the garrik was on fire and of course we went straight there said father We couldn't find you of course and we couldn't get in but the fireman told us everyone was safely out and then I heard a voice at my ear say Cyril,

Anthea,

Robert and Jane and something touched me on the shoulder It was a great yellow pigeon and it got in the way of my seeing who'd spoken It fluttered off and then someone said in the other ear they're safe at home and when I turned again to see who it was speaking hanged if there wasn't that confounded pigeon on my other shoulder dazed by the fire I suppose Your mother said it was the voice of I said it was the bird that spoke said mother and so it was or at least I thought so then It wasn't a pigeon it was an orange-coloured cockatoo But I don't care who it was that spoke it was true and you're safe Mother began to cry again and father said bed was a good place after the pleasures of the stage So everyone went there Robert had a talk to the phoenix that night Oh very well said the bird when Robert had said what he felt Didn't you know that I had power over fire?

Do not distress yourself I,

Like my high priests in Lombard Street can undo the work of flames Kindly open the casement It flew out That was why the paper said next day that the fire at the theatre had done less damage than had been anticipated As a matter of fact it had done none for the phoenix spent the night in putting things straight How the management accounted for this and how many of the theatre officials still believed that they were mad on that night will never be known Next day mother saw the burned holes in the carpet It caught where it was paraffinny said Anthea I must get rid of that carpet at once said mother But what the children said in sad whispers to each other as they pondered over last night's events was we must get rid of that phoenix Chapter 12 The End of the End Egg,

Toast,

Tea,

Milk,

Teacup and sugar Saucer,

Egg spoon,

Knife That's all I think remarked Anthea as she put the last touches to mother's breakfast tray and went very carefully up the stairs She crept into mother's room and set the tray on a chair Is your head better,

Mummy dear?

She asked In the soft little voice she kept expressly for mother's headaches I've brought your bracky That's very nice said mother sleepily Anthea knew exactly what to do for mothers with headaches who had breakfast in bed She fetched warm water and put eau de cologne in it and bathed mother's face and hands Then mother was able to think about breakfast But what's the matter with my girl?

She asked when her eyes got used to the light Oh,

I'm just so sorry you're ill Anthea said It's that horrible fire and you being so frightened Father said so and we all feel as if it was our faults It wasn't your fault a bit you darling goosey said mother How could it be?

That's just what I can't tell you said Anthea Mother laughed The fire wasn't your faults No,

I don't want the egg,

Dear I'll go to sleep again Tell cook not to bother me about meals You can order what you like for lunch Anthea closed the door very mousily and instantly went downstairs and ordered what she liked for lunch She ordered a pair of turkeys a large plum pudding cheesecakes and almonds and raisins Cook told her to go along do And when lunch came it was just hashed mutton and semolina pudding burnt When Anthea rejoined the others she found them all plunged in the gloom where she was herself For everyone knew the days of the carpet were numbered Indeed so worn was it that you could almost have numbered its threads After a month of magic happenings the time was at hand when life would go back to its dull ordinary way Mother's going to send away the carpet as soon as she's well enough said Robert Fancy us with coconut matting when we've walked under live coconut trees on the island where you can't have whooping cough Pretty island said the lamb Paint,

Box,

Sands and sea all shiny sparkly His brothers and sisters had often wondered whether he remembered the island Now they knew that he did Yes said Cyril No more cheap return trips by carpet for us That's a dead cert They were talking about the carpet but what they were thinking about was the phoenix The golden bird had been so kind so friendly so polite and so instructive And now it had set fire to a theatre and made mother ill Nobody blamed the bird but everyone saw it must not be asked to prolong its visit In fact in plain English it must be asked to go The four children felt like base spies and treacherous friends Each child was quite sure that one of them ought to speak out in a fair and firm way but nobody wanted to be the one They couldn't talk the whole thing over as they would have liked to do because the phoenix was in the nursery cupboard among the black beetles and the odd shoes and the broken chessmen But Anthea tried It's very horrid,

She said I do hate thinking things about people and not being able to say the things you're thinking because of the way they would feel when they wondered what they'd done to make you think things like that Anthea was so anxious that the phoenix should not understand what she said that her speech completely baffled everyone It was not until she pointed to the cupboard in which all believed the phoenix to be that Cyril understood Yes,

He said while Jane and Robert were trying to tell each other how deeply they didn't understand But after recent eventfulness a new leaf has to be turned over and after all mother is more important than the feelings of any of the lower forms of creation How beautifully you do it,

Said Anthea absently beginning to build a card house for the lamb Mixing up what you're saying,

I mean We ought to practice doing it so as to be ready for mysterious occasions We're talking about that she said to Jane and Robert nodding towards the cupboard where the phoenix was The ancient philosophers said a golden voice well understood the art of which you speak Of course it was the phoenix who had not been in the cupboard at all but had been cocking a golden eye at them from the coolness during the whole conversation Pretty dicky,

Remarked the lamb Canary dicky Poor misguided infant,

Said the phoenix There was a painful pause The phoenix must have understood their veiled illusions It wasn't wanting an intelligence Uh,

We were just saying,

Cyril began And I hope he was going to say nothing but the truth But the phoenix interrupted him and all breathed more freely as it spoke I gather,

It said,

That you have some tidings of a fatal nature to communicate to our degraded brothers who run to and fro forever yonder It pointed a claw at the cupboard where the black beetles lived Canary,

Talk,

Said the lamb joyously Go and show mummy,

He wriggled off Anthea's lap Mummy's asleep,

Said Jane hastily Meanwhile,

The carpet lay bare to sight with all its holes Ah,

Said the bird,

It isn't long for this world Everything comes to an end,

Said Robert It's awful Sometimes the end is peace,

Remarked the phoenix I imagine that unless it comes soon the end of your carpet will be in pieces Yes,

Said Cyril,

Respectfully kicking what was left of the carpet The movement of its bright colours caught the eye of the lamb who went down on all fours instantly and began to pull at the red and blue threads Aggedy,

Daggedy,

Gaggedy,

He murmured And before anyone could have winked even if they had wanted to and it wouldn't have been the slightest use the middle of the floor showed bare an island of boards surrounded by a seal linoleum The magic carpet was gone and so was the lamb There was a horrible silence The lamb,

The baby,

All alone had been wafted away on the untrustworthy carpet so full of holes and magic And no one could know where he was and no one could follow him because there was now no carpet to follow on Jane bursts into tears But the lamb never wished,

Said Cyril He was only talking bosh The carpet understands all speech,

Said the phoenix even bosh I know not this bosh land but be assured that its tongue is not unknown to the carpet Do you mean then,

Said Anthea in terror that when he was saying aggedy,

Daggedy,

Or whatever it was that he meant something by it?

All speech has meaning,

Said the phoenix There,

I think you're wrong,

Said Cyril People sometimes say things that don't mean anything in particular Oh,

Never mind that now,

Moaned Anthea Do you think aggedy,

Daggedy,

Meant something to him and the carpet?

Beyond doubt,

It held the same meaning to the carpet as to the luckless infant,

The phoenix said calmly But what did it mean?

Oh,

What?

Unfortunately,

The bird rejoined,

I never studied bosh Jane sobbed noisily But the others were calm with what is sometimes called the calmness of despair The lamb was gone The lamb,

Their own precious baby brother who had never been for a moment out of sight of eyes that loved him He was gone He had gone alone into the great world with no other companion and protector than a carpet with holes in it The children had never really understood before what an enormously big place the world is and the lamb might be anywhere in it It's no use going to look for him Cyril,

In flat and wretched tones,

Only said what the others were thinking Do you wish him to return?

The phoenix asked It seemed to speak with some surprise Of course we do,

Replied everybody Isn't he more trouble than he's worth?

Asked the bird doubtfully No,

No,

We want him back,

We do Then,

Said the wearer of gold plumage If you'll excuse me,

I'll just pop out and see what I can do Cyril flung open the window and the phoenix popped out And at that moment mother's bell rang A breathless stillness held the children Robert,

Said Anthea,

You go out Oh,

I don't know where,

To the dustbin anywhere And I shall tell mother you and the lamb are out Deceit is very wrong,

We know But it seemed to Anthea that it was her plain duty to keep her mother from being frightened about the lamb for as long as possible Mother's bell rang again Oh,

Eliza's never answered it,

Cried Anthea She never does,

Oh I must go And she went Her heart beat bumpingly as she climbed the stairs And opened the door softly Yes,

Mother,

She said Dearest,

Said mother,

The lamb Anthea tried to be brave She tried to say that the lamb and Robert were out Perhaps she tried too hard Anyway,

When she opened her mouth,

No words came Though she stood with it open It seemed easier to keep from crying with one's mouth in that unusual position The lamb,

Mother went on,

He was very good at first But he's pulled the toilet cover off the dressing table With all the brushes and pots and things And now he's so quiet,

I'm sure he's in some dreadful mischief And I can't see him from here And if I got out of bed to see,

I'm sure I should have fainted Do you mean he's here,

Said Anthea Of course he's here,

Said mother,

Impatiently Where did you think he was?

Anthea went round the foot of the big mahogany bed He's not here now,

She said That he had been there was plain From the toilet cover on the floor The scattered pots and bottles,

The wandering brushes and combs He must have crept out then,

Said mother Do keep him with you,

There's a darling If I don't get some sleep,

I shall be a wreck when father comes home Anthea closed the door softly Then she tore downstairs and burst into the nursery crying He must have wished he was with mother He's been there all the time,

Aggoty dag The unusual word was frozen on her lip,

As people say in books For there on the floor lay the carpet And on the carpet,

Surrounded by his brothers and by Jane,

Sat the lamb He had covered his face and clothes with vaseline and violet powder But he was easily recognisable in spite of this disguise You were right,

Said the phoenix,

Who was also present It is evident that,

As you say,

Aggoty dag is bosh for I want to be where my mother is And so the faithful carpet understood it But how,

Said Anthea,

Catching up the lamb and hugging him How did he get back here?

Oh,

Said the phoenix,

I flew to my friend the Samoyed And wished that your infant brother were restored to your midst And immediately it was so Oh,

I am glad,

I am glad,

Cried Anthea,

Hugging the baby Cyril,

You and Robert roll that carpet up and put it in the beetle cupboard He might say aggoty dag again And it might mean something completely different next time Now,

My lamb,

Anthea will clean you a little Come on I hope the beetles don't go wishing,

Said Cyril,

As they rolled up the carpet Two days later,

Mother was well enough to go out And that evening the coconut matting came home The children had talked and talked and thought and thought But they had not found any polite way Of telling the phoenix that they didn't want it to stay any longer The matting was laid down and the phoenix awoke and fluttered down onto it It shook its crested head I like not this carpet,

It said It is harsh and unyielding and it hurts my golden feet We've jolly well got to get used to it hurting our golden feet,

Said Cyril This then,

Said the bird,

Supersedes the wishing carpet Yes,

Said Robert,

If you mean that it's instead of it And the magic web,

Inquired the phoenix with sudden eagerness It's the rag and bottle man's day tomorrow,

Said Anthea,

In a low voice He will take it away The phoenix fluttered up to its favourite perch on the chair back Hear me,

It cried,

Oh youthful children of men And restrain your tears of misery and despair For what must be,

Must be And I would not remember you,

Thousands of years hence As base ingrates and crawling worms of low selfishness I should hope not indeed,

Said Cyril Weep not,

The bird went on I really do beg that you won't weep I will not seek to break the news to you gently Let the blow fall at once The time has come when I must leave you All four children breathed a long sigh of relief Needn't have bothered so about how to break the news to it,

Whispered Cyril Ah,

Sigh not so,

Said the bird gently All meetings end in partings I must leave you I have sought to prepare you for this Ah,

Do not give way Must you really go so soon,

Murmured Anthea It was what she'd often heard her mother say To calling ladies in the afternoon I must really Thank you so much,

Dear,

Replied the bird Just as though it had been one of the ladies I am weary,

It went on I desire to rest After all the happenings of this last moon I do desire really to rest And I ask of you one last boon Any little thing we can do,

Said Robert Now that it had really come to parting with the phoenix Whose favourite he had always been Robert did feel almost as miserable as the phoenix thought they all did I ask but the relic designed for the rag and bottle man Give me what is left of the carpet and let me go Dare we,

Said Anthea,

Would mother mind I have dared greatly for your sakes,

Remarked the bird Well then,

We will,

Said Robert The phoenix fluffed out its feathers joyously Nor shall you regret it,

Children of golden hearts,

It said Quick,

Spread the carpet and leave me alone But first,

Pile high the fire Then,

While I am immersed in the sacred preliminary rites Do ye prepare sweet-smelling woods and spices For the last act of parting The children spread out what was left of the carpet And after all,

Though this was just what they would have wished to have happened All hearts were sad Then they put half a scuttle of coal on the fire And went out,

Closing the door on the phoenix Left at last alone with the carpet One of us must keep watch,

Said Robert excitedly As soon as they were all out of the room And the others can go and buy sweet woods and spices Get the very best that money can buy and plenty of them I want it to have a jolly good send-off It's the only thing that'll make us feel less horrid inside It was felt that Robert,

As the pet of the phoenix Ought to have the last melancholy pleasure Of choosing the materials for its funeral pyre I'll keep watch if you like,

Said Cyril I don't mind And besides,

It's raining hard and my boots let in the wet So they left Cyril standing like a Roman sentinel Outside the door Inside which the phoenix was getting ready for the great change And they all went out to buy the precious things for the last sad rites Robert is right,

Anthea said This is no time for being careful about money Let's go to the stationers first And buy a whole pack of lead pencils They're cheaper if you buy them by the packet This was a thing that they had always wanted to do But it needed the great excitement of a funeral pyre And a parting from a beloved phoenix To screw them up to the extravagance The people at the stationers said The pencils were real cedar wood So I hope they were The stationers should always speak the truth At any rate,

They cost one and four pence Also,

They spent seven pence three farthings On a little sandalwood box Because,

Said Anthea I know sandalwood smells sweet And when it's burned,

It smells very sweet indeed At the grocers,

They bought all the spices They could remember the names of Shell-like mace Cloves like blunt nails Peppercorns,

Ginger Fragrant cinnamon Allspice too And caraway seeds Camphor and oil of lavender were bought at the chemist's And also a little scent sachet labelled Violette de Palme They took the things home and found Cyril still on guard When they had knocked in the golden voice of the phoenix That had come in They went in There lay the carpet Or what was left of it And on it lay an egg Exactly like the one out of which the phoenix had been hatched The phoenix was walking round and round the egg Clucking with joy and pride It's as fine an egg as I ever laid in all my born days It said Everyone said yes,

It was indeed a beauty The things the children had bought Were now taken out of their papers And arranged on the table And when the phoenix had been persuaded to leave its egg for a moment And look at the materials for its last fire It was quite overcome Never,

Never have I had a finer pyre than this will be You shall not regret it,

It said Wiping away a golden tear Then a paper was written Ordering the carpet to take the egg somewhere Where it wouldn't be hatched for another two thousand years The phoenix tore itself away from its cherished egg Which it watched with yearning tenderness Till,

The paper being pinned on The carpet hastily rolled itself up round the egg And both vanished forever from the nursery of the house in Camden Town Oh dear,

Oh dear,

Said everybody Bear up,

Said the bird Do you think I don't suffer Being parted from my precious new laid egg like this?

Come,

Conquer your emotions and build my fire Oh,

Cried Robert suddenly Completely breaking down I can't bear you to go The phoenix perched on his shoulder And rubbed its beak softly against his ear The sorrows of youth soon appear but as dreams,

It said Farewell,

Robert of my heart I have loved you well The fire had burnt to a red glow One by one the spices and sweet words were laid on it Some smelt nice and some The caraway seeds and the violet palm sachet among them Smelt worse than you would think possible Farewell,

Farewell,

Farewell,

Said the phoenix In a faraway voice Oh,

Goodbye,

Said everyone And now all were in tears The bright bird fluttered seven times around the rim And settled in the hot heart of the fire The sweet gums and spices and woods flared and flickered around it But its golden feathers did not burn It seemed to grow red hot to the very inside heart of it And then,

Before the eight eyes of its friends It fell together,

A heap of white ashes And the flames met and joined above it Whatever have you done with the carpet?

Asked Mother next day We gave it to someone who wanted it very much The name began with a P,

Said Jane The others instantly hushed her Oh well,

It wasn't worth tuppence,

Said Mother The person who began with a P said we shouldn't lose by it,

Jane went on Before she could be stopped I dare say,

Said Mother,

Laughing But that very night a great box came Addressed to the children by all their names Eliza never could remember the name of the carrier who brought it It wasn't Carter Patterson,

All the parcels delivery It was a big wooden box And it had to be opened with a hammer and the kitchen poker The long nails came squeaking out And boards scrunched as they were wrenched off Inside the box was soft paper With beautiful Chinese patterns on it Blue and green and red and violet And under the paper,

Well,

Almost everything lovely that you can think of Everything of reasonable size,

I mean For of course,

There were no motors or flying machines Or thoroughbred chargers But there really was almost everything else Everything the children had always wanted Toys and games and books Chocolate,

Candied cherries,

Paint boxes and photographic cameras And all the presents they'd always wanted to give to Father and Mother and the lamb Only they never had the money for them At the very bottom of the box was a tiny golden feather No one saw it but Robert And he picked it up and hid it in the breast of his jacket Which had been so often the nesting place of the golden bird When he went to bed,

The feather was gone It was the last he ever saw of the phoenix Pinned to the lovely fur cloak that Mother had always wanted Was a paper and it said In return for the carpet With gratitude,

P You may guess how Father and Mother turned it over They decided at last the person who'd have the carpet And whom,

Curiously enough,

The children were quite unable to describe Must be an insane millionaire Who amused himself by playing at being a rag and bone man But the children knew better They knew that this glorious and delightful box of treasures Was really the very,

Very,

Very end of the phoenix and the carpet The Aunt and Amabelle by E.

Nesbitt It is not pleasant to be a fish out of water To be a cat in water is not what anyone would desire To be in a temper is uncomfortable And no one can fully taste the joys of life If he is in a little Lord Fauntleroy suit But by far the most uncomfortable thing to be Is in disgrace Sometimes amusingly called coventry By the people who are not in it We have all been there It is a place where the heart sinks and aches Where familiar faces are clouded and changed Where any remark that one may tremblingly make Is received with stony silence Or with the assurance that nobody wants to talk to such a naughty child If you are only in disgrace and not in solitary confinement You will creep about a house that is like the one you've had such jolly times in And yet as unlike it as a bad dream is to a June morning You will long to speak to people and be afraid to speak You will wonder whether there is anything you can do That will change things at all You've said you're sorry and that has changed nothing You will wonder whether you are to stay forever in this desolate place Outside all hope and love and fun and happiness And though it has happened before and has always in the end come to an end You can never be quite sure that this time it is not going to last forever It is going to last forever said Annabelle who was eight What shall I do?

Oh,

Whatever shall I do?

What she had done ought to have formed the subject of her meditations And she had done what had seemed to her all the time And in fact still seemed a self-sacrificing and noble act She was staying with an aunt Measles or a new baby or the painters in the house I forget which the cause of her banishment And the aunt who was really a great aunt and quite old enough to know better Had been grumbling about her head gardener to a lady who called in blue spectacles And a beady bonnet with violet flowers in it He hardly lets me have a plant for the table said the aunt And that border in front of the breakfast room window It's just bare earth and I expressly ordered chrysanthemums to be planted there He thinks of nothing but his greenhouse The beady violet blue glass lady snorted and said She didn't know what we were coming to And she would have just half a cup please With not quite so much milk thank you very much Now what would you have done?

Minded your own business most likely and not got into trouble at all Not so Annabelle Enthusiastically anxious to do something which should make the great aunt see What a thoughtful unselfish little girl she really was The aunt's opinion of her being at present quite otherwise She got up very early in the morning She took the cutting out scissors from the workroom table drawer And stole like an errand of mercy she told herself to the greenhouse Where she busily snipped off every single flower she could find Macfarlane was at his breakfast Then with the points of the cutting out scissors She made nice deep little holes in the flower bed Where the chrysanthemums ought to have been And stuck the flowers in Chrysanthemums,

Geraniums,

Primulas,

Orchids and carnations It would be a lovely surprise for auntie Then the aunt came down to breakfast and saw the lovely surprise Annabelle's world turned upside down and inside out Suddenly and surprisingly and there she was in Coventry And not even the housemaid would speak to her Her great uncle who she passed in the hall on her way to her own room Did indeed as he smoothed his hat murmur Sent to Coventry eh?

Never mind it'll soon be over And went off to the city banging the front door behind him He meant well but he did not understand Annabelle understood or thought she did And knew in her miserable heart that she was sent to Coventry for the last time And that this time she would stay there I don't care she said quite untruly I'll never try to be kind to anyone again And that wasn't true either She was to spend the whole day alone in the best bedroom The one with the four post bed and the red curtains And the large wardrobe with a looking glass in it That you could see yourself in to the very ends of your strap shoes The first thing Annabelle did was to look at herself in the glass She was still sniffing and sobbing and her eyes were swimming in tears Another one rolled down her nose as she looked That was very interesting Another rolled down and that was the last Because as soon as you get interested in watching your tears they stop Next she looked out of the window And saw the decorated flower bed just as she'd left it Very bright and beautiful Well it does look nice she said I don't care what they say Then she looked around the room for something to read There was nothing The old fashioned best bedrooms never did have anything Only on the large dressing table On the left hand side of the oval swing glass Was one book covered in red velvet And on it very twisterly embroidered in yellow silk And mixed up with misleading leaves and squiggles Were the letters A,

B,

C Perhaps it's a picture alphabet said Annabelle And was quite pleased Though of course she was much too old to care for alphabets Only when one is very unhappy and very dull Alphabets are better than nothing She opened the book Why it's only a timetable she said I suppose it's for people when they want to go away And auntie puts it here in case they suddenly make up their minds to go And feel they can't wait another minute I feel like that Only it's no good and I expect other people do too She had learned how to use the dictionary And this seemed to go the same way She looked up the names of all the places she knew Brighton was where she had once spent a month Rugby where her brother was at school And home which was Amberley And she saw the times when the trains left for these places And wished she could go by those trains And once more she looked round the best bedroom Which was her prison And thought of the Bastille And wished she had a toad to tame Like the poor Viscount Or a flower to watch growing Like Picciola And she was very sorry for herself And very angry with her aunt And very grieved at the conduct of her parents She had expected better things from them And now they had left her in this dreadful place Where no one loved her and no one understood her There seemed to be no place for toads or flowers in the best room It was carpeted all over Even in its least noticeable corners It had everything a best room ought to have And everything was of dark shining mahogany The toilet table had a set of red and gold glass things A tray,

Candlesticks,

A ring stand Many little pots with lids And two bottles with stoppers When the stoppers were taken out They smelt very strange Something like very old scent And something like cold cream Also very old And something like going to the dentist I do not know whether the scent of those bottles Had anything to do with what happened It certainly was a very extraordinary scent Quite different from any perfume that I smell nowadays But I remember that when I was a little girl I smelt it quite often But then there are no best rooms now Such as there used to be The best rooms now are gay with chintz and mints And there are always flowers and books And little tables to put your teacup on And sofas and armchairs And they smell of varnish and new furniture When Annabelle had sniffed at both bottles And looked in all the pots Which were quite clean and empty Except for a pearl button and two pins in one of them She took up the ABC again To look for Whitby where her godmother lived And it was then that she saw the extraordinary name Where you want to go to This was odd But the name of the station from which it started Was still more extraordinary For it was not Euston or Cannon Street or Marylebone The name of the station was Big Wardrobe in Spare Room And below this name Really quite unusual for a station Annabelle read in small letters Single Fares Strictly Forbidden Return Tickets No Class Nuppence Trains leave Big Wardrobe in Spare Room all the time And under that in still smaller letters You had better go now What would you have done?

Rubbed your eyes and thought you were dreaming Well if you had nothing more would have happened Nothing ever does when you behave like that Annabelle was wiser She went straight to the Big Wardrobe And turned its glass handle I expect it's only shelves and people's best hats She said But she only said it People often say what they don't mean So that if things turn out as they don't expect They can say I told you so But this is most dishonest to oneself And being dishonest to oneself Is almost worse than being dishonest to other people Annabelle would never have done it If she had been herself But she was out of herself with anger and unhappiness Of course it wasn't hats It was most amazingly a crystal cave Very oddly shaped like a railway station It seemed to be lighted by stars Which is of course unusual in a booking office And over the station clock was a full moon The clock had no figures Only now in shining letters all round it 12 times And the nows touched So the clock was bound to be always right How different from the clock you go to school by A porter in white satin hurried forward To take Annabelle's luggage Her luggage was the ABC Which she still held in her hand Lots of time miss,

He said Grinning in a most friendly way I am glad you're going You will enjoy yourself What a nice little girl you are This was cheering Annabelle smiled At the pigeonhole that tickets come out of Another person also in white satin Was ready with a mother of pearl ticket Round like a card counter Here you are miss,

He said With the kindest smile Price nothing and refreshments free all the way It's a pleasure,

He added To issue a ticket to a nice little lady like you The train was entirely of crystal too And the cushions were of white satin There were little buttons Such as you have for electric bells And on them what you want to eat What you want to drink What you want to read In silver letters Annabelle pressed all the buttons at once And instantly felt obliged to blink The blink over she saw on the cushions By her side a silver tray With vanilla ice,

Boiled chicken and white sauce Almonds blanched,

Peppermint creams And mashed potatoes And a long glass of lemonade Beside the tray was a book It was Mrs Ewing's Bad-Tempered Family And it was bound in white vellum There is nothing more luxurious Than eating while you read Unless it be reading while you eat Annabelle did both They are not the same thing As you will see if you think the matter over And just as the last thrill Of the last spoonful of ice died away And the last full stop of the Bad-Tempered Family Met Annabelle's eye The train stopped And hundreds of railway officials In white velvet shouted Where you ought to go to?

Get out!

A velvety porter Who was somehow like a silkworm As well as like a wedding handkerchief Opened the door Now he said Come on out Miss Annabelle Unless you want to go to where you don't want to go to She hurried out onto an ivory platform Not on the ivory if you please Said the porter The white Axminster carpet It's laid down expressly for you Annabelle walked along it And saw ahead of her a crowd Also all in white What's all that?

She asked the friendly porter It's the mayor,

Dear Miss Annabelle He said With your address My address is the old cottage Amberley She said At least it used to be And she found herself face to face with the mayor He was very like Uncle George But he bowed low to her Which was not Uncle George's habit And he said Welcome dear little Annabelle Please accept this admiring address From the mayor And Burgesses And apprentices And all the rest of it Of where you want to go to The address was in silver letters on white silk And it said Welcome dear Annabelle We know you meant to please your aunt It was very clever of you To think of putting the greenhouse flowers In the bare flower bed You couldn't be expected to know That you ought to ask leave Before you touch other people's things Oh but,

Said Annabelle Quite confused I did But the band struck up And drowned her words The instruments of the band Were all of silver And the bandsman's clothes of white leather The tune they played was Cheerio Then Annabelle found that she was taking part In a procession Hand in hand with the mayor And the band playing like mad all the time The mayor was dressed entirely in cloth of silver And as they went along He kept saying close to her ear You have our sympathy You have our sympathy Till she felt quite giddy There was a flower show All the flowers were white There was a concert All the tunes were old ones There was a play called Put yourself in her place And there was a banquet With Annabelle in the place of honour They drank her health in white wine way And then through the crystal hall Of a thousand gleaming pillars Where thousands of guests all in white Were met to do honour to Annabelle The shout went up Speech,

Speech I cannot explain to you What had been going on in Annabelle's mind Perhaps you know Whatever it was It began like a very tiny butterfly In a box that couldn't keep quiet But fluttered and fluttered and fluttered And when the mayor rose and said Dear Annabelle You whom we all love and understand Dear Annabelle You who were so unjustly punished For trying to give pleasure To an unresponsive aunt Poor,

Ill-used,

Ill-treated,

Innocent Annabelle Blameless,

Suffering Annabelle We await your words That fluttering,

Tiresome,

Butterfly thing inside her Seemed suddenly to swell to the size and strength Of a fluttering albatross And Annabelle got up from her seat of honour On the throne of ivory and silver and pearl And said,

Choking a little and extremely red About the ears Ladies and gentlemen I don't want to make a speech I just want to say Thank you And to say,

To say She stopped and all the white crowd cheered To say,

She went on as the cheers died down That I wasn't blameless and innocent And all those nice things I ought to have thought And they were auntie's flowers But I did want to please her It's all so mixed Oh,

I wish auntie was here And instantly,

Auntie was there Very tall and quite nice looking In a white velvet dress and an ermine cloak Speech,

Cried the crowd,

Speech from auntie Auntie stood on the step of the throne beside Annabelle And said,

I think perhaps that I was hasty And I think Annabelle meant to please me But all the flowers that were meant for the winter Well,

I was annoyed I'm sorry Oh,

Auntie,

So am I So am I,

Cried Annabelle And the two began to hug each other on the ivory step While the crowd cheered like mad And the band struck up that well-known air If you only understood Oh,

Auntie,

Said Annabelle among hugs This is such a lovely place Come and see everything We may,

Mayn't we?

She asked the mayor The place is yours,

He said And now you can see many things that you couldn't see before We are the people who understand And now you are one of us And your aunt is another I mustn't tell you all they saw Because these things are secrets Only known to the people who understand Perhaps you don't yet belong to that happy nation And if you do,

You will know without my telling you And when it grew late And the stars were drawn down Somehow to hang among the trees Annabelle fell asleep in her aunt's arms Beside a white foaming fountain On a marble terrace Where white peacocks came to drink She woke on the big bed in the spare room But her aunt's arms were still around her Annabelle,

She was saying,

Annabelle Oh,

Auntie,

Said Annabelle sleepily I am so sorry,

It was stupid of me And I did mean to please you It was stupid of you,

Said the aunt But I am sure you meant to please me Come down to supper And Annabelle has a confused recollection Of her aunt saying that she was sorry Adding,

Poor little Annabelle If the aunt really did say it,

It was fine of her And Annabelle is quite sure that she did say it Annabelle and her great aunt are now the best of friends But neither of them has ever spoken to the other Of the beautiful city called Where You Are Annabelle is too shy to be the first to mention it And no doubt the aunt has her own reasons For not broaching the subject But of course they both know That they have been there together And it's easy to get on with people When you and they alike belong to the people who understand By the way,

If you look in the ABC that your people have You will not find where you want to go to It is only in the red velvet bound copy That Annabelle found in her aunt's best bedroom The sums that came right If 27 barrels full of apples cost £25,

13 shillings and threepence What would the same barrels be worth If they'd been packed by a dishonest person Who only put in seven ninths of apples in each barrel And the rest sawdust?

This was the sum It doesn't look very hard perhaps to you Who have studied ardently for years At a board school or a high school Or a preparatory school for the sons of gentlemen But to Edwin it looked as hard as a ship's biscuit But he went for it like a man And presently produced an answer And his master wrote a big curly R across the sum Perhaps you don't know that a big curly R means right As for the answer to the sum I will try to get a fellow of Trinity College,

Cambridge Who is a very terrible person To work it out for you And if he can do it I will put the answer at the end of this story I can't work it out myself Edwin was glad to see the large curly R He saw it so seldom That to meet it was a real pleasure But what's the use he said Everything else leads to something else Except lessons If you put seeds in the garden they come up flowers Unless they're rotten seeds Or you forget where you put them And if you buy a rabbit Well there it is Unless it dies of course And if you eat your dinner Well you're not hungry anymore for an hour or two But lessons He bit his pen holder angrily And put his head into his desk To look for nibs To play simpkins minor with You know the game of nibs of course He held up the lid of the desk on his head As I dare say you have often done And the inside of the desk was darkish So that the sudden light at the very back of the desk Showed quite brightly and unmistakably Those firework fuses Oh crikey Was Edwin's first thought But it was no firework fusee It was like glowworms Only a thousand times more bright and white For it was the light of pure reason And it glowed from the glorious eyes Of the arithmetic fairy You didn't know that there was an arithmetic fairy If you knew as much as I do It would be simply silly for me to try and tell you stories Wouldn't it Her wonderful eyes gleamed and flashed Straight into the round goggling eyes of the amazed Edwin Upon my word she said Edwin said nothing Did no one ever tell you The fairy went on shaking out her dress Which was woven of the integral calculus And trimmed with a dazzling fringe of logarithms Did no one ever tell you That the things that happen when you've done your sums right Happen when you're grown up I don't care what happens then Edwin dared to say For the flashing eyes were kind eyes I shall be a pirate or a bush ranger or something The fairy drew herself up And her graceful garland of simple equations Trembled as Edwin breathed heavily A pirate said she A nice sort of pirate Who can't calculate his men's share of the plunder To three-seventeenths of a gold link of the dead captain's chain A fine bush ranger who can't arrange the forty-two bullets From the revolvers of his seven dauntless followers So that each of the fifteen enemies gets his fair share Go along with you Said the arithmetic fairy But Edwin's eyes were,

As I said,

Wide open,

Goggling I say,

He suddenly remarked,

How jolly pretty you are The arithmetic fairy has but one weakness She loves a pretty speech If blunt,

So much the worse,

Yet even bluntness She looked down and played shyly With the bunch of miscellaneous examples In vulgar fractions which adorned her waistband I suppose you can't be expected to understand yet She said,

And she said it very gently Edwin took courage When I do things,

I want something to happen at once I want a white rabbit and I want it now She didn't recognise the quotation Get your master to set you a little simple multiplication sum In white rabbits,

She said Goodbye,

My child,

You'll know me better in time And as you know me better,

You'll love me more Aye,

You're lovely now,

Said Edwin The fairy laughed and spread her dazzling wings Glistening with all the glories of higher mathematics Edwin closed dazzled eyes and opened them As the desk lid shut down on his head Swayed by no uncertain hand It was the mathematical master's hand,

In fact A new example was set Curiously enough,

White rabbits were in it If 7,

563 white rabbits,

It began Edwin,

His brain in a whirl,

Worked it correctly By a sort of inspiration Like an ancient prophet or a calculating machine When he returned with his books in a strap To the red villa,

Whose gables meant home for him He found an excited crowd Dancing around the white painted gates The whole of the front garden As well as most of the back garden Was a seething mass of white rabbits 7,

563 there were,

To be exact I alone know this The joyous Edwin and his distracted parents Were never able to count them What a lot of hutches we shall want,

Edwin thought gaily But when his father came home from the stock exchange Where he spent his days in considering 7 and 5 eighths And 10 to 3 divided by 32 No doubt under the direct guidance of the arithmetic fairy He said at once,

Send for the polterer This was done Only one pair of white rabbits remained the property of Edwin But these,

By the power of the arithmetic fairy Became 10 by Christmas The rabbits disposed of Peace spread a longing wing over the villa But was not allowed to settle Oh please mum,

The startled cook Capple crooked exclaimed in the hall The cellar is chock full of apples Most of them bad I never see no one deliver them Nor yet give no receipt The cook,

For once in a lurid career,

Spoke the truth The cellar was full of apples 19 pounds 19 and tuppence and one third of a penny,

To be accurate Edwin went to bed feeling now quite sure That he had not dreamed the arithmetic fairy And anxiously wondering what tomorrow's sums would be about Not,

He trusted,

About snakes or Sunday school teachers The next day's sum was about oranges Edwin did it correctly And went home a prey to the most golden apprehensions Nor were these unfounded The whole of the dining room and most of the hall Up to the seventh step of the neatly carpeted stairs Was golden with oranges Edwin's father said some severe things About practical jokers And sent for the green grocer Edwin ate nine three-sevenths oranges And went to bed yellow But not absolutely unhappy But now he was quite sure On the following day his sum dealt with elephants And in such numbers that gave his father On returning from business Yielded to a very natural annoyance And gave notice to his landlord That he should at lady day leave a villa Where elephants and oranges occurred to such an extent No one suspected Edwin of having anything to do With these happenings And indeed it wasn't his fault So how and why could or should he have owned up to it?

I wish I had time to tell you of the events that occurred When Edwin's sums were set in buttered muffins Of the 75 pigs travelling in a circle at varying rates I can only say that part of this circle Ran through Edwin's mother's drawing room Nor can I here relate the tale of the 300 lightning conductors Which were suddenly found to be attached To the once happy villa home Edwin's mother cried all day when she was not laughing And people came from far and near to see the haunted house For when it came to 4,

000 white owls and a church steeple Everyone felt that it was more than a mere accident Edwin's master had a pretty taste in sums And about once a term he used to set a sum about canes Edwin worked that sum wrong on purpose So I suppose it served him right That the canes should be at home before he was Just as they would have been if he had worked the sum properly And as he had borrowed his father's razor that morning To sharpen a slate pencil The 57 canes were not all thrown away But it was the sum about the cistern That convinced Edwin of the desperate need Of finding the arithmetic fairy And begging her to take back the present she had given him It wasn't polite to do this but Edwin had to do it You see the cistern had to leak three pints in 13 minutes and a quarter But the cistern at home happened to have a little leak of its own already Where Edwin had tried his new drill on it And the two leaks together managed so well That when Edwin got home he found water dripping From all the top bedroom ceilings And the staircase was a sort of Niagara Falls It was very exciting But when the plumber came he let Edwin's father know All about the little drilled hole And Edwin got the credit of the leak in the sum Which was much larger and most unfair His father spoke to Edwin about this matter in his study And it was then that Edwin saw he must put an end To the sums that came true So he went up to his bedroom with his candle and his arithmetic book Directly he put the candle on the chest of drawers A big splash of water from the ceiling fell right on the flame And it went out He had to go right downstairs to get another light Then he put the candle on the dressing table Splash,

Out it went Chair,

Splash,

Out At last he got the candle to stay alight on the washstand Which was by some curious accident the only dry place Then he opened his book Somewhere in the book he knew there must be something that fetched the fairy He said the multiplication table up to nine times After that as you know the worst is over But no fairy appeared Then he read aloud the instructions for working the different rules Including the examples given There was no result Then he called to the fairy but she didn't come And then he tried counting Then counting and calling mixed with other things Like this Oh good fairy One,

Two,

Three,

Four,

Five,

Six,

Seven Do come and help me Eight,

Nine,

Ten,

Eleven Beautiful,

Dear,

Kind,

Lovely fairy Nine nines are eighty-one Dear fairy,

Do come Seven million,

Two hundred thousand,

Six hundred and fifty-nine I will always love you if you'll come to me now Three sevenths of five ninths Of five twelfths of sixteen fiftieths You were so kind the other day Two and two are four And three are seven Do come now You've no idea what an awful mess you've got me into Seven nines are sixty-three Though I know you meant it kindly Dear fairy Thirteen from thirty-seven leaves twenty-four Do come and see what a hole I'm in Do come and the product will give you the desired result Edwin stopped out of breath He looked round him for the fairy But his room with the water dripping from the roof and the wet towels and basins on the floor was not a fairy-like place Edwin saw with a sigh that it was no go I'll have another go in prep tomorrow,

He said This he did The mathematical master was pleased with himself that day because he'd succeeding in preventing his best boy from yielding to the allurements of the headmaster and the classical side Of course his class knew at once what kind of temper the mathematical master was in You know we always know that And Edwin ventured to ask that the examples that day might be about a model steam engine Only one,

Sir,

Please,

He was careful to explain The master kindly consented and by great good fortune the example did not deal with a faulty boiler nor with any other defect but concerned itself solely with a model engine's speed So Edwin knew when he had worked this sum exactly what pace the model engine he would find at home would be good for He worked the sum right Then he put his head into his desk and began again Oh,

Good fairy,

If a sum of £4,

700 is to be divided between A,

B and C do come and help me Three-tenths of a pound is six shillings Dear fairy,

11,

12,

13,

14 Oh,

Lovely fairy And so on But no fairy came And Simpkins Minor whispered What are you chunnering about?

And stuck a pin into Edwin's leg Can't you do the beastly example?

Then quite suddenly Edwin knew what he had to do He made up an example for himself This was it If 7,

535 fairies were in my desk at school and I subtracted 710 and added 1006 and the rest flew away in 783 equal gangs how many would be left over in the desk?

When he had worked it,

The answer was one Very quickly he opened his desk again and there was the arithmetic fairy looking more lovely than ever in a rich gown of indices lined with surds that fell to her feet in oscillating curves In her hand like a sceptre shone the starry glory of the binomial theorem But her eyes were starrier still She smiled But her first words were severe You careless boy,

She said Why can't you learn to be accurate?

It's the merest chance you've got me You should have stated your problem more clearly and you should have said 7,

000 arithmetic fairies Why?

Suppose you had found one fairy in your desk and it had been the grammar fairy or the football fairy What would you have done then?

Is there a football fairy?

Edwin asked Of course There's a fairy for everything you have to learn There's a patience fairy There's a good-tempered fairy and a fairy to teach people to make bread and another to teach them to make love Didn't you really know that?

No,

Said Edwin But I say,

Look here I am looking,

She said fixing her bright eyes on Edwin's goggling ones exactly as at their first meeting No,

I mean Oh,

He said So I hear,

She said No,

But No kidding,

Said he Of course there's no kidding,

Said she Dear,

Kind,

Pretty fairy Edwin began again That's better,

Said the fairy Didn't you hear all I was saying to you yesterday when the water was dripping from the ceiling all over the room?

From 19 several spots,

Of course I did Well then,

Said Edwin You mean you're tired of having things happen when you do your sums correctly?

You prefer it the old way?

Yes,

Please,

Said Edwin If you're sure you don't mind I know you meant it for kindness But oh,

It is most beastly when you get into the thick of it He was thinking of the elephants,

I fancy I only did it to please you,

Said the fairy I'll make everything as it was before Does that please you?

And there's your third wish You know we always give three wishes It's customary in the profession What would you like?

Edwin hadn't attended properly to this speech So he'd only heard As it was before,

And then what would you like?

So he said I should like to see you again someday The arithmetic fairy smiled at him And her beauty grew more and more radiant She hadn't expected this I made sure you would ask for a pony or a cricket bat Or a pair of white mice,

She said You shall see me again,

Edwin Goodbye And the bright vision faded away In a dim mist of rosy permutations When Edwin got home,

He heard that a model engine Had been discovered in the larder And had been given to his younger brother There are some wrongs,

Some sorrows To which even a pen like mine cannot hope to do justice Edwin is now a quiet-looking grown-up person In a black frock coat And his hair is slowly withdrawing itself From the top of his learned head I suppose it feels itself unworthy To cover so great a brain The fairy has been with him unseen This many a year And the other day,

He saw her He had been Senior Wrangler,

Of course That was nothing to Edwin And he was Astronomer Royal But that,

After all,

He had a right to expect But it was when he took breath from his researches one day And suddenly found that he had invented A brand new hypernebular hypothesis That he thought of the fairy And thinking of her,

He beheld her She was lightly poised above a pile of books Based on Newton's Principia And topped with his own latest work The Fourth and Further Dimensions He knew her at once And now he appreciated,

More than ever in his youth The radiance of her eyes and of her wings For now he understood it Dear beautiful fairy,

He said How glad I am to see you again I've been with you all the time,

She said I wish I could do something more for you Is there anything you want?

The great mathematician,

Who was Edwin Ran his hand over his thin hair No,

He said,

No And then he remembered the school in Simpkins Minor And the old desk he used to keep firework fusees in Unless,

He added Unless you could make me young again She dropped a little tear,

Clear as a solved problem I can't do that,

She said You can't have everything The only person who could do that for you Is the love fairy If you had found her instead of me You could have been always young But you wouldn't have invented the hypernebular hypothesis I suppose I shall never find her now Said Edwin And as he spoke,

He looked out of the window to the garden Where a woman was gathering roses I wonder,

Said she The love fairy doesn't live in school desks Or books on fourth dimensions I wonder,

Said Edwin Does the love fairy live in gardens?

I wonder,

Echoed the arithmetic fairy A little sadly And she spread her bright wings and flew out of the open window And out of this story Edwin went out into the rose garden And did he find the love fairy?

I wonder P.

S.

The fellow of Trinity says The answer to that sum is 19 pounds,

19 shillings And tuppence and one third of a penny Does the fellow of Trinity speak the truth?

I wonder Kind little Edmund Or the caves and the cockatrice Edmund was a boy The people who didn't like him Said he was the most tiresome boy that ever lived But his grandmother and his other friends Said that he had an inquiring mind And his granny often added That he was the best of boys But she was very kind Edmund loved to find out about things Perhaps you will think that in that case He was constant in his attendance at school Since there,

If anywhere,

We may learn Whatever there is to be learned But Edmund didn't want to learn things He wanted to find things out Which is quite different His inquiring mind led him to take clocks to pieces To see what made them go To take locks off doors To see what made them stick It was Edmund who cut open the India rubber ball To see what made it bounce And he never did see Any more than you did When you tried the same experiment Edmund lived with his grandmother She loved him very much In spite of his inquiring mind And hardly scolded him at all When he frizzled up her tortoiseshell comb In his anxiety to find out Whether it was made of real tortoiseshell Or of something that would burn Edmund went to school,

Of course Now and then And sometimes he couldn't prevent himself From learning something But he never did it on purpose It is such a waste of time,

He said They only know what everybody knows I want to find out new things That nobody has thought of but me I don't think you're likely to find out anything That none of the wise men in the whole world Have thought of all these thousands of years,

Said Granny But Edmund didn't agree with her He played truant whenever he could For he was a kind-hearted boy And couldn't bear to think of a master's time and labour Being thrown away on a boy like himself Who didn't wish to learn,

Only to find out When there were so many worthy lads Thirsting for instruction in geography and history And reading and ciphering And Mr Smiles's self-help Other boys played truant too,

Of course And these went nutting or blackberrying Or wild plum gathering But Edmund never went on the side of the town Where the green woods and hedges grew He always went up the mountain Where the great rocks were And the tall dark pine trees And where other people were afraid to go Because of the strange noises that came out of the caves Edmund wasn't afraid of these noises Even though they were very strange and terrible But he wanted to find out what made them One day he did He had invented,

All by himself A very ingenious and new kind of lantern Made with a turnip and a tumbler And when he took the candle out of Granny's bedroom candlestick To put in it,

It gave quite a splendid light He had to go to school the next day And he was caned for being absent without leave Although he very straightforwardly explained That he'd been too busy making the lantern To have time to come to school But the day after he got up very early And he took the lunch Granny had ready for him To take to school Two boiled eggs and an apple turnover And he took his lantern And went off straight as a dart To the mountains to explore the caves The caves were very dark But his lantern lighted them up beautifully And they were most interesting caves With stalactites and stalagmites and fossils And all the things you read about In the instructive books for the young But Edmund didn't care for any of these things just then He wanted to find out what made the noises That people were afraid of And there was nothing actually in the caves to tell him Presently he sat down in the biggest cave And listened very carefully And it seemed to him that he could distinguish Three different sorts of noises There was a heavy rumbling sound Like a very large old gentleman asleep after dinner And there was a smaller sort of rumble Going on at the same time And there was a sort of crowing,

Clucking sound Such as a chicken might make If it happened to be as big as a haystack It seems to me,

Said Edmund to himself That the clucking is nearer than the others So he started up again And explored the caves once more He found out nothing But about halfway up the wall of the cave He saw a hole So he climbed up to it and crept in And it was the entrance to a rocky passage And now the clucking sounded more plainly than before And he could hardly hear the rumbling at all I am going to find out something at last,

Said Edmund And on he went The passage wound and twisted And twisted and turned And turned and wound But Edmund kept on My lantern's burning better and better,

Said he presently But the next minute He saw that all the light didn't come from his lantern It was a pale yellow light And it shone down the passage far ahead of him Through what looked like the chink in a door I expect it's the fire in the middle of the earth,

Said Edmund Who had not been able to help learning about that at school But quite suddenly The fire ahead gave a pale flicker And went down And the clucking ceased The next moment Edmund turned a corner And found himself in front of a rocky door The door was ajar He went in And there was a round cave Like the dome of St Paul's In the middle of the cave was a hole Like a very big hand-washing basin And in the middle of the basin Edmund saw a large pale person sitting This person had a man's face And a griffin's body With big feathery wings And a snake's tail And a coxcomb and neck feathers Whatever are you?

Asked Edmund I'm a poor starving coquetrice Answered the pale person In a very faint voice And I shall die Oh I know I shall My fire's gone out I can't think how it happened I must have been asleep I have to stir it seven times round with my tail Once in a hundred years to keep it alight And my watch must have been wrong And now I shall die I think I've said before What a kind-hearted boy Edmund was Cheer up said he I'll light your fire for you And off he went And in a few minutes he came back With a great armful of sticks From the pine trees outside And with these and a lesson book or two That he'd forgotten to lose before And which quite by an oversight Was safe in his pocket He lit a fire all around the coquetrice The wood blazed up and presently Something in the basin caught fire And Edmund saw that it was a sort of liquid That burned like the brandy in the snapdragon And now the coquetrice stirred it with his tail And flapped his wings in it So that some of it splashed out on Edmund's hand And burnt it rather badly But the coquetrice grew red and strong and happy And its comb grew scarlet and its feathers glossy And it lifted itself up and crowed Coquetrice a doodle-doo Very loudly and clearly Edmund's kindly nature was charmed To see the coquetrice so much improved in health And he said Don't mention it Delighted I'm sure When the coquetrice began to thank him But what can I do for you?

Said the creature Tell me stories Said Edmund What about?

Said the coquetrice About true things That they don't know at school Said Edmund So the coquetrice began And he told him about mines And treasures And geological formations And about gnomes and fairies and dragons He told him about glaciers And the stone age And the beginning of the world And about the unicorn and the phoenix And about magic black and white And Edmund ate his eggs and his turnover And listened And when he got hungry again He said goodbye and went home But he came again the next day For more stories And the next day And the next For a long time He told the boys at school About the coquetrice And his wonderful true tales And the boys liked the stories But when he told the master He was caned for untruthfulness But it is true Said Edmund Just look where the fire burnt my hand I see you've been playing with fire Into mischief as usual Said the master And he caned Edmund harder than ever The master was ignorant and unbelieving But I'm told that some schoolmasters Are not like that Now,

One day Edmund made a new lantern Out of something chemical That he borrowed from the school laboratory And with it he went exploring again To see if he could find the things That made the other sorts of noises And in quite another part of the mountain He found a dark passage All lined with brass So that it was like the inside of a huge telescope And at the very end of it He found a bright green door There was a brass plate on the door That said Mrs D knock and ring And a white label that said Call me at three Edmund had a watch It had been given to him on his birthday Two days before And he'd not yet had time to take it to pieces And see what made it go So it was still going He looked at it now It said a quarter to three Edmund sat down on the brass doorstep And waited till three o'clock Then he knocked and rang And there was a rattling and puffing inside The great door flew open And Edmund had only just time to hide behind it When out came an immense yellow dragon Who wriggled off down the brass cave Like a long rattling worm Or perhaps more like a monstrous centipede Edmund crept slowly out And saw the dragon stretching herself On the rocks in the sun And he crept past the great creature And tore down the hill into the town He burst into school crying out There's a great dragon coming Somebody ought to do something Or we shall all be destroyed He was caned for untruthfulness Without any delay His master was never one for postponing a duty But it's true,

Said Edmund You just see if it isn't He pointed out of the window And everyone could see A vast yellow cloud Rising up into the air above the mountain It's only a thundershower,

Said the master And caned Edmund more than ever This master was not like some masters I know He was very obstinate And wouldn't believe his own eyes If they told him anything different From what he'd been saying Before his eyes spoke So while the master was writing Lying is very wrong And liars must be caned It is all for their own good On the blackboard For Edmund to copy out 700 times Edmund sneaked out of school And ran for his life across the town He wanted to warn his granny But she wasn't at home So then he made off Through the back door of the town And raced up the hill To tell the coquettrice And ask for his help It never occurred to him That the coquettrice might not believe him You see,

He'd heard so many wonderful tales from him And had believed them all And when you believe all a person's stories They ought to believe yours It's only fair At the mouth of the coquettrice's cave Edmund stopped,

Very much out of breath To look back at the town As he ran,

He'd felt his little legs tremble and shake While the shadows of the great yellow cloud fell upon him Now he stood once more between warm earth and blue sky And looked down on the green plain Dotted with fruit trees and red-roofed farms And plots of gold corn In the middle of that plain The grey town lay With its strong walls with the holes pierced for the archers And its square towers with holes For dropping melted lead on the heads of strangers Its bridges and its steeples The quiet river edged with willow and alder And the pleasant green garden place in the middle of the town Where people sat on holidays to smoke their pipes And listen to the band Edmund saw it all And he saw two creeping across the plain Marking her way by a black line As everything withered at her touch The great yellow dragon And he saw she was many times bigger than the whole town Oh my poor dear granny said Edmund For he had a feeling heart As I may have told you before The yellow dragon crept nearer and nearer Licking her greedy lips with her long red tongue And Edmund knew that in the school His master was still teaching earnestly And still not believing Edmund's tale the least little bit He'll jolly well have to believe it soon Said Edmund to himself And although he was a very tender-hearted boy I'm afraid he was not as sorry as he ought to have been To think of the way in which his master Was going to learn how to believe what Edmund said Then the dragon opened her jaws wider and wider and wider Edmund shut his eyes For though his master was in the town The amiable Edmund shrank from beholding the actual sight When he opened his eyes again There was no town Only a bare place where it had stood And the dragon licking her lips And curling herself up to go to sleep Just as the cat does When she's quite finished with a mouse Edmund gasped once or twice And then ran into the cave to tell the cockatrice Well said the cockatrice thoughtfully When the tale had been told What then?

I don't think you quite understand Said Edmund The dragon has swallowed up the town Does that matter?

Said the cockatrice But I live there Said Edmund Never mind Said the cockatrice Turning over in the pool of fire To warm its other side Which was chilly Because Edmund had as usual Forgotten to close the cave door You can live here with me I'm afraid I haven't made my meaning clear Said Edmund patiently You see my granny is in the town And I can't bear to lose my granny like this I don't know what a granny may be Said the cockatrice Who seemed to be growing weary of the subject But if it's a possession to which you attach any importance Of course it is Says Edmund Losing patience at last Oh do help me What can I do?

If I were you Said his friend Stretching itself out in the pool of flame So that the waves covered him up to his chin I should find the drakeling And bring it here But why?

Said Edmund He had gotten into the habit of asking why at school And the master had always found it trying As for the cockatrice He was not going to stand that sort of thing for a moment Oh don't talk to me He said Splashing angrily in the flames I give you advice Take it or leave it I shan't bother about you anymore If you bring the drakeling here to me I'll tell you what to do next If not,

Not And the cockatrice drew the fire up close around his shoulders Tucked himself up in it And went to sleep Now this was exactly the right way to manage Edmund Only no one had ever thought of trying to do it before He stood for a moment looking at the cockatrice The cockatrice looked at Edmund out of the corner of his eye And began to snore very loudly And Edmund understood once and for all That the cockatrice wasn't going to put up with any nonsense He respected the cockatrice very much from that moment And set off at once to do exactly as he was told Perhaps for the first time in his life Though he had played truant so often He knew one or two things that perhaps you don't know Though you have always been so good And gone to school regularly For instance,

He knew that a drakeling is a dragon's baby And he felt sure that what he had to do Was to find the third of the three noises That people used to hear coming from the mountains Of course,

The clucking had been the cockatrice And the big noise,

Like a large gentleman asleep after dinner Had been the big dragon So the smaller rumbling must have been the drakeling He plunged boldly into the caves And searched and wandered and wandered and searched And at last he came to a third door in the mountain And on it was written,

The baby is asleep Just before the door stood 50 pairs of copper shoes And no one could have looked at them for a moment Without seeing what sort of feet they were made for For each shoe had five holes in it For the drakeling's five claws And there were 50 pairs Because the drakeling took after his mother And had a hundred feet,

No more and no less He was the kind called Draco centipedes In the learned books Edmund was a good deal frightened But he remembered the grim expression of the cockatrice's eye And the fixed determination of his snore Still rang in his ears In spite of the snoring of the drakeling Which was in itself considerable He screwed up his courage Flung the door open And called out,

Hello you drakeling Get out of bed this minute The drakeling stopped snoring And said sleepily,

It ain't time yet Your mother says you are too Anyhow and look sharp about it what's more Said Edmund,

Gaining courage from the fact That the drakeling had not yet eaten him The drakeling sighed And Edmund could hear it getting out of bed The next moment it began to come out of its room And to put on its shoes It was not nearly so big as its mother Only about the size of a baptist chapel Hurry up said Edmund As it fumbled clumsily with the 17th shoe Mother said I was never to go out without my shoes Said the drakeling So Edmund had to help it to put them on It took some time And was not a comfortable occupation At last the drakeling said it was ready And Edmund who had forgotten to be frightened Said come on then And they went back to the cockatrice The cave was rather narrow for the drakeling But it made itself thin As you may see a fat worm do When it wants to get through a narrow crack In a piece of hard earth Here it is said Edmund And the cockatrice woke up at once And asked the drakeling very politely To sit down and wait Your mother will be here presently Said the cockatrice Stirring up its fire The drakeling sat down and waited But it watched the fire with hungry eyes I beg your pardon it said at last But I am always accustomed To having a little basin of fire As soon as I get up And I feel rather faint May I?

It reached out a claw Toward the cockatrice's basin Certainly not said the cockatrice sharply Where were you brought up?

Did they never teach you that We must not ask for all we see,

Eh?

I beg your pardon said the drakeling humbly But I am really very hungry The cockatrice beckoned Edmund To the side of the basin And whispered in his ear so long And so earnestly That one side of the dear boy's hair Was quite burnt off And he never once interrupted The cockatrice to ask why But when the whispering was over Edmund whose heart As I may have mentioned was very tender Said to the drakeling If you are really hungry poor thing I can show you where there is plenty of fire And off he went through the caves And the drakeling followed When Edmund came to the proper place He stopped There was a round iron thing in the floor Like the ones the men shoot the coals down Into your cellar Only much larger Edmund heaved it up by a hook That stuck out at one side And a rush of hot air came up That nearly choked him But the drakeling came close And looked down with one eye And sniffed and said That smells good Yes said Edmund Well that's the fire In the middle of the earth There's plenty of it All done to a turn You'd better go down And begin your breakfast Haven't you So the drakeling Wriggled through the hole And began to crawl Faster and faster Down the slanting shaft That leads to the fire In the middle of the earth And Edmund doing exactly As he had been told for a wonder Caught the end of the drakeling's tail And ran the iron hook through it So that the drakeling was held fast And it couldn't turn round And wriggle up again Because as everyone knows The way to the fires below Is very easy to go down But quite impossible to come back on There was something about it in Latin Beginning acilis descensus So there was the drakeling Fast by the silly tail of it And there was Edmund Very busy and important And very pleased with himself Hurrying back to the cockatrice Now,

Said he Well,

Now,

Said the cockatrice Go to the mouth of the cave And laugh at the dragon So that she hears you Edmund very nearly said why But he stopped in time And instead said She won't hear me Oh very well,

Said the cockatrice No doubt you know best And he began to tuck himself Up again in the fire So Edmund did as he was bid And when he began to laugh His laughter echoed in the mouth of the cave Till it sounded like the laughter Of a whole castle full of giants And the dragon,

Lying asleep in the sun Woke up and said very crossly What are you laughing at?

At you,

Said Edmund And went on laughing The dragon bore it as long as she could But like everyone else She couldn't stand being made fun of So presently she dragged herself Up the mountain very slowly Because she'd just had a rather heavy meal And stood outside and said What are you laughing at?

In a voice that made Edmund feel As if he should never laugh again Then the good cockatrice called out At you,

You've eaten your own drakeling Swallowed it with the town Your own little drakeling He he he,

Ha ha ha And Edmund too found the courage to cry Ha ha,

Which sounded like tremendous laughter In the echo of the cave Dear me,

Said the dragon I thought the town stuck in my throat rather I must take it out and look through it more carefully And with that she coughed And there was the town on the hillside Edmund had run back to the cockatrice And it had told him what to do So before the dragon had time to look through the town again For her drakeling The voice of the drakeling itself was heard Howling from inside the mountain Because Edmund was pinching its tail As hard as he could in the round iron door Like the one where the men pull the coals Out of the sacks into the cellar And the dragon heard the voice and said Why,

Whatever's the matter with baby?

He's not here And made herself thin and crept into the mountain To find her drakeling The cockatrice kept on laughing as loud as it could And Edmund kept on pinching And presently the great dragon Very long and narrow she'd made herself Found her head where the round hole was With the iron lid Her tail was a mile or two off Outside the mountain When Edmund heard her coming He gave one last nip to the drakeling's tail And then heaved up the lid and stood behind it So that the dragon couldn't see him Then he loosed the drakeling's tail from the hook And the dragon peeped down the hole Just in time to see her drakeling's tail Disappear down the smooth slanting shaft With one last squeak Whatever may have been the poor dragon's other faults She was an excellent mother She plunged head first into the hole And slid down the shaft after her baby Edmund watched her head go And then the rest of her She was so long Now that she'd stretched herself thin That it took all night It was like watching a goods train go by in Germany When the last joint of her tail had gone Edmund slammed down the iron door He was a kind-hearted boy And he was glad to think That dragon and drakeling Would now have plenty to eat of their favourite food He thanked the cockatrice for his kindness And got home just in time to have breakfast And get to school by nine Of course he couldn't have done this If the town had been in its old place by the river In the middle of the plain But it had taken root on the hillside Just where the dragon left it Well said the master Where were you yesterday?

Edmund explained And the master at once caned him For not speaking the truth But it is true said Edmund Why the whole town was swallowed by the dragon Nonsense said the master There was a thunderstorm and an earthquake That's all And he caned Edmund more than ever But said Edmund Who always would argue Even in the least favourable circumstances How do you account for the town Being on the hillside now Instead of by the river as it used to be It was always on the hillside said the master And all the class said the same For they had more sense than to argue With the person who carried a cane But look at the maps said Edmund Who wasn't going to be beaten in argument Whatever he might be in the flesh The master pointed to the map on the wall And there was the town on the hillside And nobody but Edmund could see That of course the shock of being swallowed by the dragon Had upset all the maps and put them wrong And then the master caned Edmund again Explaining that this time it was not for untruthfulness But for his vexatious argumentative habits This will show you what a prejudiced and ignorant man Edmund's master was How different from the revered head of the nice school Where your good parents are kind enough to send you The next day Edmund thought he would prove his tale By showing people the cockatrice And he actually persuaded some people To go into the cave with him But the cockatrice had bolted himself in And wouldn't open the door So Edmund got nothing except a scolding For taking people on a wild goose chase A wild goose said they is nothing like a cockatrice And poor Edmund could not say a word Though he knew how wrong they all were The only person who believed him was his granny But then she was very kind And had always said he was the best of boys But one good thing came of this long story Edmund has never been quite the same boy since He doesn't argue quite so much And he agreed to be apprenticed to a locksmith So that he might one day be able to pick the lock Of the cockatrice's front door And learn some more of the things That other people don't know

Reviews

I know I’ve missed several chapters of this, and I was so excited to see the 8hr version posted! When the individual chapters were first released I didn’t have a dog named Phoenix but now I do, renamed Pheenie. Thank you Mandy for publishing these labours of love, much appreciated! 🙏❤️