The Wishing-Chair Again (2 page)

“Ah, that was my mother did that,” said Chinky. “She said such a wonderful chair should have a wonderful polish, and she was at it every day, rub, rub, rub till the chair groaned!”

Peter carried the chair back to the playroom. Chinky went in front to make sure there was nobody looking. They didn't want any questions asked about why chairs should be hidden in hedges. They set it down in its old place in the playroom. Then they all climbed into it.

“It's just the same,” said Peter. “We feel a bit more squashed than usual because Mollie and I seem to have grown at school. But
you
haven't grown, Chinky.”

“No. I shan't grow any more,” said Chinky. “Don't you wish the chair would grow its wings and go flapping off somewhere with us now?”

“Oh,
yes,”
said Mollie. “Chair, do grow your wings —just to please us! Even if it's only to take us a little way up into the air and back.”

But the chair didn't. The children looked anxiously down at its legs to see if the red buds were forming that sprouted into wings, but there was nothing there.

“It's no good,” said Chinky. “It won't grow its wings just because it's asked. It can be very obstinate, you know. All I hope is that it hasn't forgotten
how
to grow wings after being still so long. I shouldn't like the magic to fade away.”

This was a dreadful thought. The children patted the arms of the chair. “Dear Wishing-Chair! You haven't forgotten how to grow wings, have you?”

The chair gave a remarkable creak, a very long one. Everyone laughed. “It's all right!” said Chinky. “That's its way of telling us it hasn't forgotten. A creak is the only voice it's got!”

Mother came down the garden. “Children! Daddy's home. He wants to see you!”

“Right!” called back Peter. He turned to Chinky. “See you tomorrow, Chinky. You can cuddle up on the old sofa as usual, with the rug and the cushion, for the night. You'll live in our playroom, won't you, as you did before, and tell us when the chair grows its wings?”

“Yes. I shall like to live here once more,” said Chinky. “Goodbye. It's fine to see you again.”

The children ran back to the house. They had a very nice evening indeed telling their parents everything that had happened in the term. Then off they went to bed, glad to be in their own dear little rooms again.

But they hadn't been asleep very long before Peter began to dream that he was a rat being shaken by a dog. It was a very unpleasant dream, and he woke up with a jump.

It was Chinky shaking him by the arm. “Wake up! “ whispered the pixie. “The chair's grown its wings already. They're big, strong ones, and they're flapping like anything. If you want an adventure, hurry up!”

Well! What a thrill! Peter woke Mollie and they pulled on clothes very quickly and ran down the garden. They heard a loud flapping noise as they reached the playroom shed. “It's the chair's wings,” panted Chinky. “Come on—we'll just sit in it before it goes flying off!”

THE children raced in at the playroom door and made for the Wishing-Chair. They could see it easily in the bright moonlight. It was just about to fly off when they flung themselves in it. Chinky squeezed between them, sitting on the top of the back of the chair.

“Good old Wishing-Chair!” said Peter. “You didn't take long to grow your wings! Where are we going?”

“Where would you like to go?” said Chinky. “Wish, and we'll go wherever you wish.”

“Well—let me see—oh dear, I simply can't think of anywhere,” said Mollie. “Peter, you wish—quickly.”

“Er—Wishing-Chair, take us to—to—oh, goodness knows where I want it to go!” cried Peter. “I simply don't . . .”

But dear me, the Wishing-Chair was off! It flapped its wings very strongly indeed, rose up into the air, flew towards the door and out of it—then up into the air it went, flapping its red wings in the moonlight.

Chinky giggled. “Oh, Peter—you said 'Take us to Goodness Knows Where',” said the pixie. “And that's just about where we're going!”

“Gracious—is there
really
a land called Goodness Knows Where?” said Peter, in surprise.

“Yes. Don't you remember when we went to the Land of Scallywags once, the Prince of Goodness Knows Where came to see me,” said Chinky. “I was pretending to be a King. Well, I suppose it's
his
Land we're going to.”

“Where is it?” said Mollie.

“Goodness knows!” said Chinky. “I don't. I've never met anyone who did, either.”

“The Wishing-Chair seems to know,” said Peter, as it flew higher and higher in the air.

But it didn't know, really. It dropped downwards after a time and came to a tiny village that looked almost as if it were made of
Meccano
. Peter leaned out of the chair and gazed with great interest at it. “Look at that bridge,” he said. “I've made plenty of bridges like that with my
Meccano
set. Hey, chair, whatever are you doing now?”

The chair hadn't landed in the village. It had flown a few feet above the queer little houses and had then shot upwards again. Now it was flying away from it very fast.

“Blow!” said Peter. “Just as I was having a good look at that
Meccano
bridge.”

The chair flew on again, and then came to a heaving mass of water. Was it the sea? Or a lake? The children didn't know. “Look at that lovely silver moon-path on the sea,” said Mollie, leaning out of the chair. “I'm sure it leads to the moon!”

The chair seemed to think so, too. It flew down to the water, got on the moon-path and followed it steadily, up and up and up.

“Hey! This isn't the way to Goodness Knows Where!” cried Chinky, in alarm. “It's the way to the moon. Don't be silly, Chair, for goodness' sake!”

The chair stopped and hovered in mid-air as if it had heard Chinky and was changing its mind. To the children's great relief it left the moon-path and flew on till it came to a little island. This was perfectly round and flat, and had one big tree standing up in the middle of it. Under the tree was a boat and someone was fast asleep in it.

“Oh, that's my cousin, Sleep-Alone,” said Chinky, in surprise. “He's a funny fellow, you know—can't bear to sleep if anyone else is within miles of him. So he has a boat and an aeroplane, and each night he takes one or the other and goes off to some lonely place to sleep. Hey there, Sleep-Alone!”

Chinky's shout made the children jump. The chair jumped, too, and Mollie was almost jerked off. She clutched at the arm.

The little man in the boat awoke. He was more like a brownie than a pixie and had a very long beard, which he had wound neatly round his neck like a scarf. He was most surprised to see the Wishing-Chair landing on the island just near him. He scowled at Chinky.

“What's all this? Coming and shouting at me in the middle of the night! Can't I ever sleep alone?”

“You always do!” said Chinky. “Don't be so cross. Aren't you surprised to see us?”

“Not a bit,” said Sleep-Alone. “You're always turning up when I don't want to have company. Go away. I've a cold coming on and I feel gloomy.”

“Is that why you've got your beard wound round your neck—to keep it warm?” asked Mollie. “How long is it when it unwinds?”

“I've no idea,” said Sleep-Alone, who seemed really a very disagreeable fellow. “Where are you going in the middle of the night? Are you quite mad?”

“We're going to Goodness Knows Where,” said Chinky. “But the chair doesn't seem to know the way. Do
you
know it?”

“Goodness knows where it is,” said Sleep-Alone, pulling his beard tighter round his neck. “Better ask her.”

The children and Chinky stared. “Ask who?” said Chinky.

“Goodness, of course,” said Sleep-Alone, settling down in his boat again.

“What do you mean, Goodness?” said Peter, feeling muddled.

“I mean what I said. Goodness knows where it is, so why don't you go and ask her,” said Sleep-Alone. “Go and ask Goodness!”

“Oh—is Goodness the name of a person then?” said Mollie, suddenly seeing light.

“You are a very stupid little girl, I think,” said Sleep-Alone. “Am I to go on and on saying the same thing over and over again? Now good night, and go and find Goodness if you want to disturb someone else.”

“Where does she live?” bellowed Chinky in Sleep-Alone's ear, afraid that he would go to sleep before he told them anything else.

That was too much for Sleep-Alone. He shot up and reached for an oar. Before Chinky could get out of the way he had given him such a slap with the oar-blade that Chinky yelled at the top of his voice. Then Sleep-alone turned on the two children, waving the oar in a most alarming manner.

Peter pulled Mollie to the chair. He put out a hand and dragged Chinky to it too, shouting, “Go to Goodness, Chair, go to Goodness, wherever she is!” Up rose the chair so very suddenly that Chinky fell off and had to be dragged up again, getting another slap with the oar as he struggled.

Sleep-Alone roared after them. “Now I'm thoroughly awake and I shan't go to sleep tonight. You wait until I see you again, Chinky, I'll fly you off in my aeroplane to the Land of Rubbish and drop you in the biggest dustbin there!”

“He's not a very nice cousin to have, is he?” said Mollie, when they had left Sleep-Alone well behind. “I hope we don't see him again.”

“Who is this Goodness, I wonder?” said Peter.

“Never heard of her,” said Chinky. “But the chair really seems to know where it's going this time, so I suppose it knows Goodness all right!”

The Wishing-Chair was flying very steadily to the east now. It had left the water behind and was now over some land that lay shining in the moonlight. The children could see towers and pinnacles, but they were too high up to see anything clearly.

The chair suddenly flew downwards. It came to a small cottage. All three of its chimneys were smoking. The smoke was green, and the children knew that was a sign that a witch lived there.

“I say—that's witch-smoke,” said Peter, nervously. He had met witches before on his adventures, and he knew quite a bit about them.

“I hope the chair has come to the right place,” said Mollie, as it landed gently on the path just outside the door of the little cottage.

They jumped off the chair, dragged it under a tree and went to knock at the door. A little old woman opened it. She looked so ordinary that the children felt sure she wasn't a witch.

“Please, is this where Goodness lives?” asked Chinky, politely.

“Not exactly. But I keep a Book of Goodness,” said the old woman. “Have you come to seek advice from it?”

“Well—we rather wanted to know where the Land of Goodness Knows Where is,” said Chinky. “And we were told that only Goodness knew where it was!”

“Ah, well—you will have to consult my Goodness Book then,” said the old woman. “Wait till I get on my things.”

She left them in a tiny kitchen and disappeared. When she came back, what a difference in her! She had on a tall, pointed hat, the kind witches and wizards wear, and a great cloak that kept blowing out round her as if she kept a wind under its folds. She no longer looked an ordinary little old woman—she was a proper witch, but her eyes were kind and smiling.

She took down from a shelf a very big book indeed. It seemed to be full of names and very tiny writing. “What are your names?” she asked. “I must look you up in my Goodness Book before you can be told what you want to know.”

They told her, and she ran her finger down column after column. “Ah—Peter—helped a boy with his homework for a whole week last term—remembered his mother's birthday—owned up when he did something wrong—my word, there's a whole list of goodness here. And Mollie, too—gave up her half-holiday to stay in with a friend who was ill—told the truth when she knew she would get into trouble for doing so—quite a long list of goodness for her, too.”

“Now me,” said Chinky. “I've been living with my mother. I do try to be good to her.” The old woman ran her finger down the list again and nodded her head. “Yes—-did his mother's shopping and never grumbled—took her breakfast in bed each day—never forgot to feed the dog—yes, you're all right, Chinky.”

“What happens next?” said Peter. The witch took her Book of Goodness to a curious hole in the middle of the kitchen floor. It suddenly glowed as if it were full of shining water. The witch held the book over it, and out of it slid little gleaming streaks of colour. “That's your Goodness going into the magic pool,” she said. “Now, ask what you want to know.”

Chinky asked, in rather a trembling voice, “We want to know where the Land of Goodness Knows Where is.”

And dear me, a very extraordinary thing happened! On the top of the shining water appeared a shimmering map. In the middle of it was marked “Land of Goodness Knows Where.” The children and Chinky leaned over it eagerly, trying to see how to get there.

“Look—we fly due east to the rising sun,” began Chinky, then he stopped. They had all heard a very peculiar noise outside. A loud creaking noise.

“The chair's calling to us!” cried Chinky and he rushed to the door. “Oh, look—it's flying away—and somebody else is in it. Somebody's stolen the Wishing-Chair! Whatever shall we do?”