More Wishing-Chair Stories

by Enid Blyton

  “Ah—the children's favourite chocolate buns!” thought the robin. “I can hear them now, banging at the front door. What a pity their mother isn't here to welcome them!”

  Mrs. Williams, the cook, hurried to the front door. Two children burst in at once, each carrying a small case. It was Mollie and Peter, home for the half-term!

  “Hallo, Mrs. Willy! Where's Mother?” cried Peter.

  “Welcome home, Master Peter,” said Mrs. Williams, “and you, too, Miss Mollie. Your mother says she's very, very sorry, but she's had to go off to your Granny, who's been taken ill. But she'll be home before you have to go back to school on Tuesday—and I'm to look after you.”

  “Oh,” said the children, disappointed. Home didn't somehow seem like home without Mother there. They felt rather miserable.

  “What about Daddy?” asked Mollie.

  “He's away,” said Mrs. Williams. “Didn't your mother tell you that in her last letter?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Mollie, remembering. “I forgot. Oh dear—half-term without either Mother or Daddy—how horrid!”

  “I've made you your favourite chocolate buns,” said Mrs. Williams, following them indoors. “And I've got ice-cream for you, too, and honey in the comb. And your mother says she has ordered twenty-four bottles of ginger-beer and orangeade for you this weekend, and you can take it down to your playroom.”

  “Oh, well—that sounds good,” said Peter, cheering up. “We'll just pop upstairs with our things, Mrs. Willy—and then what about your honey in the comb and chocolate buns? We're starving! We simply never get enough to eat at school, you know!”

  “Rubbish!” said Mrs. Williams. “You're both as plump as can be!”

  The two children went up the stairs two at a time. They stood at a landing window, looking down to the bottom of the garden. They could quite well see the roof of their playroom there. They looked at each other in excitement.

  “I hope Chinky is there,” said Mollie. “Because if he is, and has got the Wishing-Chair with him, we shall be able to fly off on an adventure or two without bothering about anyone! It's always difficult to slip off in it when Mother and Daddy are at home—and we just have to keep the chair a secret. It would be too dreadful if it was put into a museum, and taken right away from us. It must be very, very valuable.”

  “Yes. We're really very lucky to have a wishing-chair of our own,” said Peter. “It's a long time since we got it now. Come on—let's put our things in our bedrooms, and then ask Mrs. Willy to let us take our tea down to the playroom. Perhaps Chinky is there.”

  “He may be waiting outside,” said Mollie. “He can't get in because the door is locked. I shall love to see his dear little pixie face again. We're lucky to have a pixie for a friend!”

  Mrs. Willy was quite pleased to let them have a tray of goodies to take down to the playroom with them. She piled it with buns and new bread and butter, and a slab of honey in the comb, biscuits, and ice-cream out of the fridge. It did look good!

  “I'll take some ginger-beer down under my arm,” said Peter. “I can manage the tray, too, if you'll bring the biscuits and ice-cream—they look as if they might slip about!”

  “I'll get the key of the playroom, too,” said Mollie, and she took it off its hook. Then, feeling excited, the two of them went carefully down the garden path, carrying everything between them. Would Chinky be waiting for them?

  He was, of course, because the robin had flown down to tell him that the children were coming. He hid behind some tall hollyhocks, and leapt out on them as they came up to the door of the playroom.

  “Mollie! Peter! I'm here!”

  “Chinky! We are glad to see you!” said Mollie. “Wait till I put down all this stuff and I'll give you a hug! There!”

  She gave the little pixie such a hug that he almost choked. He beamed all over his face. “Where's the key?” he said. “I'll open the door. I want to get the wishing-chair inside before anyone sees it. There's a tiresome little brownie who keeps on wanting to sit in it.”

  He unlocked the door of the playroom and they all went in. Chinky helped them with the food, and then ran to get the wishing-chair. He staggered in with it, beaming.

  “I tipped that tiresome brownie off the seat, and he fell into some nettles,” said Chinky. “He shouted like anything. Well, does the chair look just the same as ever?”

  “Oh, TO!” said Mollie, in delight, looking at the polished wooden chair. “Your mother does keep it well polished, Chinky. Did it grow its wings and fly off at all, while we were away at school this term?”

  “It grew its wings once,” said Chinky, “but as I was in bed with a cold I couldn't fly off anywhere exciting in it—so I tied it to one of the legs of my bed, in case it tried to do anything silly, like flying out of the window.”

  Mollie giggled. “And did it try?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes—it woke me up in the middle of the night, flapping its wings and tugging at my bed,” said Chinky with a grin. “But it couldn't get away, and in the morning its wings had gone again. So that was all right.”

  “I do so hope it will grow its wings this weekend,” said Peter. “We've only got a few days' holiday, then we go back to school again—and as Mother and Daddy are both away we really could go off on an adventure or two without any difficulty.”

  “I expect it will,” said Chinky, looking at the chair. He felt its legs to see if there were any bumps coming, which meant that its wings were sprouting. But he couldn't feel any. What a pity!

  Soon they were all sitting down enjoying Mrs. Williams's buns and ice-cream. It was a hot day, so they drank rather a lot of the ginger-beer.

  “It won't last long if we drink it at this rate!” said Peter. “I say—I wonder if Mrs. Willy would mind if we lived down here in the playroom all this weekend—slept here, too?”

  “That would be fun!” said Mollie. “I don't see why we shouldn't. You could come too, Chinky.”

  It was very easy to arrange. Mrs. Williams smiled and nodded. “Yes, you do that,” she said. “Your mother said I was to let you do what you liked, so long as it wasn't anything silly. I'll take down bedding for you.”

  “Oh, no,” said Peter, hurriedly. “We'll take it all down, Mrs. Willy.” He didn't want any questions about the wishing-chair! “And Mrs. Willy, we could have all our meals down there, if you like. We don't want anything hot, you know, this weather. If you could give us some tins and a bottle of milk, we could pick our own fruit and salad out of the garden. We shouldn't be any bother to you at all then.”

  “You're no bother!” said Mrs. Williams. “But you do just what you like this weekend, so long as you're good and happy. I'll give you tins and milk and anything else you want—and don't be afraid I'll come bothering you, because I won't! I know how children like to have their own little secrets, and I shan't come snooping round!”

  Well, that was grand! Now they could go and live in the playroom, and sleep there, too—and if the wishing-chair grew its wings at any time, they would know at once! They would hear it beginning to creak, and see the bumps growing on its legs and the wings sprouting. Not a minute would be wasted!

  It was fun taking down everything to the gay little playroom. Chinky kept out of sight, of course, because nobody knew anything about him. He was as much of a secret as the wishing-chair!

  “There now,” said Mollie, at last. “Everything is ready for us—food—drink, too—bedding—and a cushion and rug for you, Chinky. We're going to have a lovely time! Wishing-chair, grow your wings as soon as you can, and everything will be perfect!”

  The wishing-chair gave the tiniest little cree-ee-eak. “Did you hear that?” said Chinky. “Perhaps it will grow its wings soon. We'll have to keep a watch. Where shall we go to, if it does grow its wings?”

  “Is there a Land of Lost Things, or something like that?” said Peter. “I got into awful trouble this term because I lost my watch. Or what about going to a Land of Circuses or Fairs? I'd love to see a whole lot of t
hose at once.”

  “I never heard of those lands,” said Chinky. “Why don't we just let the chair take us somewhere on its own? It would be fun not to know where we are going!”

  “Oooh, yes,” said Peter. “That would be really exciting. Chair, do you hear us? Grow your wings and you can take us anywhere you like. But do, do hurry up!”

  Cree-ee-eak

  MOLLIE and Peter spent a very jolly evening with Chinky, down in the playroom. They played snap and happy families and ludo, and all the time they watched the wishing-chair to see if it would grow its wings. They did so long to fly off on an adventure again.

  But the chair stood there quietly, and when it was half-past eight the children were so sleepy that they felt they really must go to bed.

  “We'd better go and have a bath up at the house,” said Peter. “I feel dirty, travelling all the way home by train. We'll dress properly again, just in case the wishing-chair grows its wings and flies off with us. We'll say good-night to Mrs. Willy, too, so that she doesn't feel she's got to come down to see if we're all right.”

  Just as they went out of the door they saw somebody disappearing round the corner. “Who was that peeping?” said Mollie at once. “Quick, run and see, Peter.”

  Peter raced round the corner of the playroom and saw a little brownie dive into a bush. He yelled at him.

  “Hey, what do you think you are doing, peeping about here? You wait till I catch you!”

  A cheeky face looked out of the bush. “I just want to see your chair grow wings, that's all. It's a wishing-chair, isn't it? Can't I watch it grow wings?”

  “No, you can't,” said Peter. “No peeping and prying in our garden, please! Keep out!”

  The brownie made a rude face and pulled his head back into the leaves. Chinky ran out of the playroom to see what the shouting was about.

  “It's that brownie you told us about, the one who sat in the wishing-chair,” said Peter. “Keep an eye open for him, Chinky. We don't want him telling everyone our secret.”

  “I'll watch,” said Chinky. He yelled at the bush where the brownie had gone.

  “Hey, you little snooper! If I see you again I'll tie you to a witch's broomstick and send you off to the moon!”

  There was no answer. The children went off to the house to have their bath and Chinky went back to the playroom.

  Mrs. Willy gave Peter and Mollie a jam sponge sandwich she had made, and another bottle of milk. “Could you give us some eggs, too?” asked Peter. “Then we could boil them ourselves for breakfast on our own little stove. We wouldn't need to come in for breakfast then.”

  Mrs. Willy laughed. “You're not going to bother me much, are you?” she said. “Well, here you are, four new-laid eggs—and you'd better take a new loaf down with you, and some more butter. You're sure you'll be all right?”

  “Oh, yes” said Mollie. “We love being on our own like this with Ch—”

  Peter gave her such a nudge that she almost fell over. She stopped and went red. Goodness gracious, she had almost said Chinky's name! Mrs. Williams didn't seem to have noticed anything, though. She added a pot of marmalade to the tray, and Peter took it.

  “Well, I suppose I'll see you when you want more food!” she said. “And not before. Have a nice time—and don't get into mischief!”

  Peter and Mollie went down the garden path with the tray. Good! Now they wouldn't need to go up to the house for breakfast, so if the chair grew its wings that night they would have time for a nice long adventure!

  Just as they got near the playroom they heard a noise of shouting and slapping.

  “I told you I'd smack you if I found you peeping again!” they heard Chinky say. “Coming right into the playroom like that!” Slap, slap, slap! “Howl all you like, you'll get a worse smacking if you come back again. What's up with you that you won't do as you're told?”

  “You horrid thing!” wept the little brownie. “Your hand's very hard. You hurt me. I'll pay you out, yes, I will!”

  Slap! Yell! Howl! Then came the sound of running feet and the little brownie almost bumped into the two children. He knocked the tray and an egg leaped right off it and landed on his head. It broke, and in an instant he had a cap of yellow yolk!

  Mollie and Peter laughed. The little brownie couldn't think what had happened to him. “I'll pay you out,” he cried. “I will, I will!”

  He disappeared into the tall hollyhocks, grumbling and wailing. Dear, dear—what a silly little fellow he was, to be sure!

  “Well, he's gone,” said Peter. “And so is one of our eggs. Never mind, we've still got three left, one for each of us. Hey, Chinky, you've been having more trouble with that brownie, I see.”

  “Yes. But I don't think he'll be back again in a hurry,” said Chinky. “I smacked him hard. I know who he is now. He's little Nose-About, a spoilt little brownie who sticks his nose into everything. His mother didn't spank him enough when he was little, so people have to keep on spanking him now. I say—what a lovely sponge sandwich! Are we going to have some now?”

  They sat down to have their supper. It was a lovely summer's evening, still quite light. As they sat by the doorway, munching big slices of jam sandwich, a purple cloud blew up. Big drops of rain fell, and yet the sun still shone brightly, for it was not covered by the cloud.

  “There's a rainbow, look!” said Mollie, and they all gazed at the lovely, shimmering rainbow that suddenly shone out in the sky. “I do wish the chair would grow its wings, because I'd love to go to the rainbow and see if I could find a crock of gold where it touches the ground.”

  “Yes, I'd like that, too,” said Chinky. “I don't believe anyone has ever found the crock of gold yet. They say you have to slide right down the rainbow itself and land with a bump on the patch of ground where the crock is hidden.”

  “Let's go right into the garden and see if we can spot where the rainbow-end touches,” said Mollie. So out they went, but as the end of the rainbow disappeared behind some high trees they couldn't make up their minds where it touched.

  “It's miles away, anyhow,” said Peter. “Isn't it a lovely thing? It's like a bridge of many colours.”

  They heard a sudden little scuffling sound and turned quickly. “Was that that tiresome brownie again?” said Chinky, frowning. “Anybody see him?”

  Nobody had. Nobody had spied him scuttling into the playroom. Nobody saw where he went. Peter felt uneasy. “I believe he's slipped into the playroom,” he said. “We'd better look.”

  They went in and hunted round. They looked into every corner, and Mollie even looked inside the dolls' house because she thought he might have been able to squeeze himself in at the door.

  “He's not in the playroom,” said Peter at last. “We've looked simply everywhere. Let's shut the door now, and keep him out. It's still very light, and the rainbow is still lovely, though not so bright as it was. We'd better go to bed. I'm really sleepy.”

  Mollie looked longingly at the wishing-chair. “If only it would grow its wings!” she said. “I just feel like an adventure!”

  The two children had mattresses to lie on. Chinky had a cushion and a rug. They all settled down, yawning. How lovely the very first evening was! Half-term seemed to be quite long when it was still only the first day.

  Mollie fell asleep first. Chinky gave an enormous yawn, and then he fell asleep, too. Peter lay watching the rainbow fading gradually. He could see part of it through the window.

  His eyes fell shut. His thoughts went crooked, and he was almost asleep when something woke him.

  “Creeeee-eak!”

  Peter opened his eyes. What was that noise that had slipped into his first moment of dreaming? His eyes shut again.

  “Cree-ee-ee-EAK!”

  Ah! That woke up Peter properly. He sat up quickly. He knew that noise all right! It was made by the wishing-chair. It was about to grow its lovely wings of green and yellow! He sat and stared at the chair.

  Could he see bumps coming on its legs? He was alm
ost sure he could. Yes—there was a big one on the right front leg—and now another on the left. He could see bumps on the back legs, too.

  Then one bump sprouted a few red feathers! Hurrah! The wishing-chair was growing its wings for them. What luck!

  Peter reached over to Chinky and gave him a little shake. He did the same to Mollie. “Wake up! The chair's growing its wings. We can fly off in it tonight!”

  Both Mollie and Chinky woke up with a jump. Chinky leapt up and ran to the chair. His face beamed at them.

  “Yes! Look at its lovely wings sprouting out—good big ones! Quick, open the door, and we'll all get into the chair—and away we'll go!”

  Peter flung the door open. Chinky and Mollie were already sitting in the chair. It flapped its wings and rose a few inches. “Wait for Peter!” cried Mollie, in a fright. Peter leapt across to the chair and sat himself firmly on the seat. Chinky sat himself on the back to make more room. Ah—they were off!

  “Tell the chair where to go,” said Peter. “Or shall we just let it take us where it wants to?”

  “Chair, go to the rainbow!” suddenly cried a voice.

  And the chair, which was flying in the opposite direction, changed its course and flew towards the almost-faded rainbow. It had flown right out of the door and up into the air, the children and Chinky holding fast to it, all feeling very excited.

  “Who said that?” asked Peter. “Did you, Mollie? Or you, Chinky?”

  They both said no. All three gazed at one another, puzzled. Then who had said it? There was nobody on the chair but themselves. Whose voice had commanded the chair to go to the rainbow?

  “I expect it was that silly little brownie, calling from the ground,” said Peter at last. “He must have seen us flying off, and yelled out to the chair to go to the rainbow. Well—shall we go?”

  “Might as well,” said Chinky. “Go on, Chair—go to the rainbow!”

  And immediately a voice chimed in: “That's what I said! Go to the rainbow, Chair!”

  Who could it be? And where was the speaker? How very, very peculiar!