The Wishing-Chair Again (9 page)

“Will you come and tell us if the Wishing-Chair grows its wings again tonight, Chinky?” asked Mollie when it was time for them to go back to the house.

“I might,” said Chinky gruffly. “And I might not. I might go off by myself in it.”

“Oh, no, don't do that,” begged Mollie. “That would be horrid of you. Dear Chinky, please be nice and forgive us for losing your wand.”

“All right,” said Chinky, cheering up a little.

“I really do feel very upset about losing my doll Rosebud, you know,” went on poor Mollie. “I feel just as upset about her as you feel about your wand.”

“And I'm miserable about my engine,” said Peter. “It was the finest I ever had.”

“Well—we'll hope the Wishing-Chair grows its wings again tonight, then, and we can go and fetch everything,” said Chinky. “I'll come and tap on your windows if it grows its wings.”

But Chinky didn't tap on their windows at all. The chair didn't grow any wings in the night. Molly sighed.

“Just when we so badly want it to fly, it won't grow wings! Now today we've got to behave nicely and be on our best behaviour, because Mother's got visitors. Perhaps we shan't be able to go down to the playroom at all”

At eleven o'clock, when the visitors had arrived and Mother was giving them coffee and the children were handing round plates of biscuits and buns, Chinky appeared at the window.

He was horrified when he saw so many people there and disappeared at once. The children hadn't caught sight of him.

But old Mrs. James had seen him and was most astonished. “What a curious-looking child there is in the garden,” she remarked to the children's mother. “Child?” said Mother, surprised. “There are no children in the garden today. My two are here, as you see.”

“But I'm sure I saw a child peeping in at the window,” said Mrs. James, nodding her head till all the feathers on her hat waved about. “Most peculiar ears this child had, too— kind of pointed.”

Then the two children pricked their own ears up at once! They knew who the peculiar child was—it was Chinky. And he could only have come for one reason—the Wishing-Chair had grown its wings! They looked at one another in despair. Now what were they to do?

There was only one thing. They must do something to make Mother send them out of the room.

So Mollie suddenly spilt the plate of biscuits all over the floor, and Peter spilt a cup of coffee.

Mother looked vexed. “Oh, dear—how clumsy of you!” she said. “Go and ask Jane if she will please bring a cloth, Mollie. And I think you and Peter had better go now. I don't want anything else spilt.”

“Sorry, Mother,” said Peter, and he really was sorry. But
somehow
he had got to get down to the playroom to see what Chinky wanted. Mollie felt the same.

They shot out of the room. Mollie called to Jane to take a cloth to wipe up the coffee, and then both children raced down to the playroom.

“I hope Chinky hasn't gone off in the chair by himself,” panted Peter. “If he saw us with all those visitors he might think we couldn't possibly come—and then he'd fly off alone.”

The got to the playroom door just as Chinky was flying out in the Wishing-Chair. They bumped into one another, and Peter caught hold of one of the chair's legs.

“Just in time!” he cried. “Help us up, Chinky!”

Chinky pulled them up with him. Then the chair flapped its green and yellow wings and flew strongly up into the air.

“I was afraid you wouldn't be able to come,” said Chinky. “I was just setting off by myself. The chair had only grown its wings a few minutes before I peeped in at the window.”

“What fine, big, strong wings it's got now,” said Peter. “They make quite a draught round my legs. It will be able to fly faster now.”

“Where are we going?” asked Mollie.

“I don't know,” said Chinky. “I just said to the Chair, 'Go and find my wand, and Rosebud, and the rest of the toys,' and it seemed to know the place I meant, because it rose up at once. I've no idea where we shall land. I only hope it's somewhere nice.

It would be awful to go to the Village of Slipperies, or to the Land of Rubbish, or somewhere like that.”

“Oh dear—I hope it's somewhere nice, too,” said Mollie. “The chair is flying very high, isn't it?”

“Do you think it may be going to Toyland?” asked Peter. “I wouldn't mind that at all. After all, most of the things were toys. I think it's very likely they may have gone there.”

“It certainly seems to be taking the way to Toyland as far as I remember,” said Chinky, peering down. “I know we pass over the Village of Golliwogs before we reach Toyland, and we're very near that now.”

The children looked down to see if they could see any golliwog in the village they were flying over—but they were too high up to see the people in the streets. They looked as small as ants.

“Yes—there's Toyland, far over there,” said Chinky, pointing. “That must be where we're going.”

But it wasn't. The chair suddenly began to fly down and down at a great rate, and it was plain that it was going to land.

“Well! This isn't Toyland!” said Chinky in surprise. “Good gracious! I do believe it's the school run by Mister Grim, for Bad Brownies. Surely the toys haven't gone there!”

The chair landed in the grounds of a big house, just near a wall. Chinky and the children got off. They pushed the chair under a bush to hide it. Then they looked cautiously round.

From the big building in the distance came a chanting noise. The children and Chinky listened.

“I mustn't scream or whistle or shout
Because Mister Grim is always about,
I mustn't stamp or slam any door
Or jump or slide on the schoolroom floor.
“I mustn't be greedy, untidy or lazy
Because Mister Grim would be driven quite crazy,
I mustn't be slow, and I MUST be quick,
Because Mister Grim has a very BIG STICK!”

“Ooooh!” said Mollie. “I don't like the sound of that. That must be the poor Bad Brownies learning verses for Mister Grim.”

“Yes,” said Chinky. “I do wish we hadn't come here. I've half a mind to get in the Wishing-Chair and go off again. I've always been told that Mister Grim is a very hard master. We don't want to be caught by him.”

“
Caught!”
said Peter. “But we're two children and a pixie—we're not brownies—and this is a school for brownies.”

“I know,” said Chinky. “I just don't like the feel of this place, that's all. If you think it's all right, we'll stay and see if we can possibly find where our toys are.”

“I think we'd better,” said Peter. “Well—what's the first thing to do?”

“Listen—is that the brownies coming out to play?” said Mollie as a perfect babel of noise reached them. Then came the sound of feet running and in a trice about fifty small brownies surrounded them. They all looked merry, mischievous little fellows, too young to have grown their brownie beards yet.

“Who are you? Are you new pupils for this awful school?” asked a small brownie, pushing himself forward. “My name's Winks. What's yours?”

All the little brownies crowded round, listening eagerly. Chinky pushed them back.

“Don't crowd so. No, we haven't come to your school. We came because we're looking for things we've lost, and we think they may be somewhere here. My name's Chinky. These are real children, Peter and Mollie.”

“Well, be careful Mister Grim doesn't see you,” said Winks. “He's in a very bad temper these days— worse than he's ever been.”

“Why?” asked Peter.

“Because we found the cupboard where he kept his canes and we broke the whole lot!” chuckled the Brownie. “Every one of them.”

“Can't he slap you or smack you, though?” said Peter.

“Oh, yes—but we dodge,” said Winks. “Can't dodge a cane very well, though. I say—do be careful he doesn't catch you.”

“What are you looking for?” asked another brownie. “I'm Hoho, you can trust me.”

“Well,” said Chinky, “we came here to look for a lot of flying toys—and my new wand. It had wings, too.”

“Flying toys!” said Winks. “And a flying wand. Well! Have we seen anything like that, boys?”

“Yes!” shouted Hoho at once. “Don't you remember? Yesterday evening we saw  something very peculiar—we thought they were curious birds flying about in the air. They must have been your toys.”

“What happened to them?” asked Peter.

“Well, old Grim was out in the garden smoking his evening pipe,” said Hoho. “And he suddenly looked up and saw them, too. He was very excited, and called out some words we couldn't hear. . . .”

“And what we thought were the peculiar birds came right down to him,” said Winks. “But they must have been your toys on the way to Toyland! He caught sight of them and made them come to him!”

“Well, whatever can
he
do with them?” said Hoho. “We are never allowed any toys at all. I suppose he will sell them to his friend the Magician Sly-Boots.”

“Oh dear,” said Mollie. “Well, we must try and get them before he does. Will you show us where you think Mister Grim might have hidden our toys?”

“Yes, we'll show you!” shouted the brownies. “But do be careful you aren't caught!”

They took Chinky and the children to the big building, all walking on tiptoe and shushing each other.

Hoho led them inside. He pointed to a winding stair. “Go up there,” he whispered. “You'll come to a little landing. On the left side is a door. That's the storeroom, where I expect Mister Grim has put the toys.”

“Creep in—and see if you can find them,” whispered Winks.

“Come on,” said Chinky to the others. “It's now or never! If we find our things we'll take them and rush down and out into the garden, and be off in the Wishing-Chair before Mister Grim even knows we're here!”

“Sh!” said Mollie, and they all began to go up the stairs on tiptoe. “Shhhhhhh!”

UP the stairs went the three, treading very quietly indeed, hoping that not one of the stairs would creak or crack.

The brownies crowded round the door at the bottom of the stairs, holding their breath and watching. Up and up and up—and there was the landing at last! Now for the door on the left.

They saw the door. They tiptoed to it and Peter turned the handle. Would it be locked? No, it wasn't!