More Wishing-Chair Stories

by Enid Blyton

  An Adventurous Night

  “THERE must be somebody invisible on the chair with us!” said Chinky. “Quick—feel about on the seat and on the arms and back. Feel everywhere—and catch hold of whoever it is.”

  Well, they all felt here and there, but not one of them could feel anybody. They heard a little giggle, but it was quite impossible to find whoever it was giggling.

  “Surely the chair itself can't have grown a voice—and a giggle,” said Peter at last.

  “Of course not. It wouldn't be so silly,” said Chinky. “Gracious—here we are at the rainbow already!”

  So they were. They landed right on the top of the shimmering bow. “It's like a coloured, curving bridge,” said Mollie, putting her foot down to it. “Oh, Peter—we can walk on it. I never, never thought of that.”

  She jumped down to the rainbow—and immediately she gave a scream.

  “Oh, it's slippery! I'm sliding down! Oh, Peter, help me!”

  Sure enough, poor Mollie had sat down with a bump, and was slithering down the curving rainbow at top speed. “Follow her, Chair, follow her!” yelled Peter.

  “No, don't!” shouted the strange voice, and the chair stopped at once. That made Peter angry. He began to yell at the top of his voice.

  “You do as I tell you, Chair. Follow Mollie, follow Mollie, follow Mollie, follow . . .”

  And because his voice was loud and he shouted without stopping, the chair couldn't hear the other little voice that called to it to stop. It slid down the rainbow headlong after Mollie, who was now nearly at the bottom. Chinky held on tightly, looking scared. Would the chair be able to stop at the bottom of the rainbow?

  It wouldn't have been able to stop, that was certain—but before it reached the bottom it spread its red wings and flew right off the rainbow, hovering in the air before it flew down to Mollie.

  “That was clever of it,” said Peter, with a sigh of relief. “Mollie, are you all right?”

  “I fell on a tuffet of grass, or I'd have had a dreadful bump,” said Mollie. “Let me get on to the chair again. I don't want it to fly off without me. Oh—what's this?”

  She pointed to something half-buried in the grass. It had a handle at one side and she gave it a tug. Something bright and shining flew out of it.

  “Mollie! It's the crock of gold!” shouted Peter, “The one that is hidden where the rainbow end touches. We've found it! All because you slid all the way down and landed by it with a bump. Let's pull it up.”

  He and Chinky jumped off the chair to go to Mollie. All three took hold of the handle of the crock and tugged. It came up out of the ground with a rush, and all three fell over.

  “There it is—and, my word, it's full of gold!” said Peter. He put his hand into the crock and ran the gold through his fingers. “Who would have thought we would be the first to find the gold at the rainbow's end?”

  “Let's carry it to the chair and take it with us,” said Mollie. “I don't know what we're going to do with it, though! We could give it away bit by bit to all the poor people we meet, perhaps.”

  They lifted the gold on to the seat of the nearby wishing-chair. They were just about to climb on beside it when the strange little voice cried out again.

  “Off you go, wishing-chair! Go to the Brownie Mountain!”

  The chair rose up, flapping its wings. It almost got away—but Peter managed to catch hold of the bottom of its right front leg. He held on for all he was worth, and Mollie helped him. They pulled the chair down between them, and climbed on to it.

  “This is amazing!” said Chinky. “Who is it that keeps calling out? Where can he be? Even if he is invisible we should be able to feel him! He nearly got away with the chair, and the gold, too. My word, if I get hold of him I'll turn him into a fly and blow him into a spider's web!”

  “Chair, go to the Old Woman Who Lives in a Shoe!” cried the voice suddenly, and the chair shot off to the east.

  “Oh, no!” yelled Peter, angrily. “We're not going there for the Old Woman to get hold of us. Chair, go where you like!”

  The chair set off to the west, then, changing its course so suddenly that Chinky almost fell off the back. It flew over a land of gleaming towers.

  Chinky peered down. “This is the Land of Bells, I think,” he said. “There are bells in every tower. Yes, listen—you can hear them.”

  “Ding-dong, dong-dong, dell!” rang dozens and dozens of bells, echoing all through the sky round them. The wishing-chair didn't attempt to go down. It kept high above the tall, gleaming towers, and soon it had left the Land of Bells far behind.

  “It's beginning to get really dark now,” said Peter peering down. “Where do you suppose the chair is going to?”

  “I think it's rather cross,” said Chinky. “It's begun to creak a bit. I wonder why? We haven't done anything to make it angry. I wish it wouldn't swing about so. It feels as if it's trying to shake us off.”

  “Yes, it does,” said Mollie. “Hold tight, everyone! I say, look—is that a town down there? Chinky, do you know what it is?”

  Chinky peered down. “Yes—it's the Town of Bad Dreams. Gracious, I hope we don't go there. We don't want to fall into a bad dream and not know how to get out of it!”

  “Go on farther, Chair,” commanded Peter at once. A little voice called out, too, “Go farther! Go to the Brownie Mountain!”

  “There's that voice again,” said Chinky crossly. “Chair, take no notice. You belong to us and you have to do what we say! Go farther—but go where you like. We want an adventure before we go back home.”

  The chair suddenly began to drop downwards. Chinky peered to see where they were going. “We've passed the Town of Bad Dreams. We're dropping down to the Village of Gobbo. Yes—that's right. Dear me, I wonder why? Gobbo is the head of all the brownies, and bad ones are sent to him to be punished.”

  A loud wail rose on the air. “Oh my, oh my! Chair, go to the Brownie Mountain, I tell you!”

  But the chair took no notice. It flew right down to the ground, and immediately two stern-looking brownies came up, both with long beards and shaggy eyebrows.

  “Who has been brought to be punished?” said one. “Which of you is a bad brownie?”

  “Not one of us,” said Peter, puzzled. “Mollie and I are children—and Chinky here is a pixie.”

  “Well, go away again, then,” said one of the brownies. “Landing is not allowed here unless naughty brownies are to be taken before our chief, Gobbo.”

  “Right. Chair, fly away again,” said Peter. Up flew the chair—but one of the brownies suddenly gave a loud cry and caught hold of the right-hand wing. The chair almost tipped over, and Chinky fell right off the back. He landed with a bump on the ground.

  “What did you do that for?” he shouted to the brownie. Then he stared in surprise. The two brownies pulled the children off the chair, which was now back again on the ground—and then they turned the chair upside-down! It creaked angrily.

  “Don't do that!” said Peter, astonished. Then he stared, even more astonished! Underneath the chair, clinging desperately to it, was the naughty little brownie who had peeped and pried outside the playroom!

  “Look at that!” cried Mollie. “It's Nose-About, the tiresome brownie! He must have slipped into the playroom and clung to the underneath of the chair so that we couldn't see him. And he flew off with us, and tried to make the chair go where he wanted to.”

  “And when we found the rainbow gold he wanted to go off to Brownie Mountain with it. That's where he lives, I expect,” said Peter. “It was his voice we kept hearing! He was underneath the seat of the chair all the time.”

  “No wonder the chair took us to the Village of Gobbo, then,” said Chinky. “It knew he was under it and wanted him to be punished. Brownies, take him away. He's a nuisance.”

  “No, no! Mercy, Mercy!” wept the little brownie. “Forgive me! I just wanted a ride, that's all. And when I saw the gold I thought I'd make the chair go to my home with it—then I'd
be rich all my life.”

  “You're very bad and you want punishing,” said Peter. “I'm not at all sorry for you.”

  “One spanking every day for a month,” said one of the brownies, solemnly, clutching hold of the frightened brownie. “And he will never be allowed to go back home.”

  The little brownie wailed loudly. “But my mother will miss me so. She loves me, she does really. I do lots of jobs for her. And my little sister loves me, too. I take her to school each day. Do, do let me go. I only wanted the gold for my mother.”

  Mollie suddenly felt sorry for him. She knew how much her mother would miss her if she were taken away. And perhaps this naughty little brownie was quite good and kind at home.

  She put her hand on the arm of one of the brownies. “Let him go, please. He's sorry now. He won't be bad again.”

  “Oh, yes he will,” said the brownie. “His mother didn't spank him when she should, so he's growing into a perfect nuisance. We'll soon cure him.”

  “No, no, no,” wailed the little brownie. “I'll tell my mother to smack me, really I will. Let me go. I want my mother, I do, I do.”

  “How much will you charge us for letting him go?” asked Mollie, much to Peter's surprise.

  The two brownies talked together about this. “Well,” said one at last, “our master, the Great Gobbo, is laying out some wonderful rose-gardens, but he hasn't enough money to finish them. We will let this brownie go if you pay us a fine of one thousand gold pieces. And that's cheap!”

  “It isn't,” said Mollie. “Peter, help me to count out the gold in this crock. I don't think there are as many as a thousand pieces, though. We'll just see.”

  They all began to count, the little brownie too. They counted one hundred—then two—then three and four and five—and, will you believe it, in that rainbow-crock there were exactly one thousand and one pieces of gold!

  “There you are—a thousand pieces,” said Peter, handing them over. “We'll have the odd one—and the crock, too, because it will look nice on our play-room mantelpiece. Now can we go?”

  “Yes, certainly,” said the brownies, delighted. “But we must warn this little brownie that next time the fine will be two thousand pieces! Goodbye!”

  “Goodbye,” called everyone, and up went the wishing-chair into the air again. Where to next?

  “Thank you,” said the small brownie, in a humble voice. “Thank you very much. Please drop me at Brownie Mountain, will you?”

  Land of Wishes

  “WELL, brownie, you were lucky to have a kind friend like Mollie to pay your fine,” said Chinky, who wasn't really very pleased about it at all. “Behave yourself, please—or I shall tell your mother all about you.”

  The chair was a bit crowded now, with the two children, the brownie, and the pixie, and the empty crock as well. Peter had the one piece of gold that was left. He had put it into his pocket.

  “I'll take you to the Land of Wishes if you like,” said the small brownie, humbly. He was very anxious to please them all now. “You can have as many wishes as you like this weekend because it's the Princess Peronel's birthday. I've an invitation ticket. Look.”

  He pulled a rather crumpled ticket from his pocket. It certainly was an invitation.

  “But it's for you, not for us,” said Peter.

  “It says 'For Brownie Nose-About and Friends’,” said the brownie. “I'm Nose-About—and you're my friends, aren't you? Oh, please do say you are!”

  “Well—all right, we're your friends then,” said Peter. “Mollie certainly was a friend to you in the Village of Gobbo! Chinky, shall we go to the Land of Wishes? I know quite a few wishes I'd like to wish!”

  “Yes, let's go,” said Chinky. “Nose-About, you'd better tell the chair to go, because you're the only one that has the invitation.”

  So, in rather an important voice, Nose-About told the chair where to go. “To the Land of Wishes, please,” he said. “To the Princess Peronel's birthday party.”

  The chair gave a little creak and flew straight upwards. It was very dark now and stars were out in the sky. Mollie began to feel sleepy. She nodded her head and leaned against Peter. Peter nodded his head, too, and both of them slept soundly. Chinky and Nose-About kept guard. The chair flew all night long, for the Land of Wishes was a long, long way away.

  The sun was up and the sky was full of light when at last the two children awoke. Below them was a land of flowers and lakes and streams and shining palaces. How lovely!

  “Does everyone live in a palace here?” asked Mollie, marvelling at so many palaces.

  “Oh, yes. It's easy enough to wish for one,” said Nose-About, peering down. “And then when you're tired of living in an enormous place with windows everywhere, you just wish for a rose-covered cottage. Would you like a palace for a bit? I'll wish you one!”

  The chair flew downwards. It landed in a field of shining, star-like flowers. “Here we are,” said the brownie. “I'll wish for a palace to begin with—and then we can be princes and a princess, and go to the Princess Peronel's birthday party. I wish for a palace with one thousand and one windows!”

  And silently and shimmeringly a tall, slender palace rose up around them. The sun shone in through hundreds of windows.

  “I'll just count if there are a thousand and one,” said Nose-About.

  “Oh no! We simply can't count up to a thousand and one all over again!” groaned Peter. “I say—look at the wishing-chair. It's standing on that platform there wishing it was a throne!”

  “I wish it was a throne!” said Mollie at once. And dear me, the good old wishing-chair changed into a gleaming throne, with a big red velvet cushion on its seat and tassels hanging down its back. It looked very grand indeed.

  Peter went and sat on it. “I wish I was a Prince!” he said. And to Mollie's enormous surprise her brother suddenly looked like a very handsome little prince, with a circlet of gold round his head and a beautiful cloak hanging from his velvet-clad shoulders. He grinned at Mollie. “Better wish yourself to be a Princess before I order you about!” he said. “I feel like giving a whole lot of orders! Where's my horse? Where are my dogs? Where are my servants?”

  Well, before very long Mollie was a Princess, and looked quite beautiful in a dress that swept the ground and twinkled with thousands of bright jewels as she walked. Chinky wished himself a new suit and a new wand. Nose-About still felt very humble so he didn't wish for anything for himself but only things for the others.

  He wished for horses and dogs and cats and servants and ice-creams and everything he could think of.

  “I think we've got enough dogs, Nose-About,” said Peter at last. “And I'd rather not have any more ice-creams. I feel rather as if I'd like a good breakfast. All the clocks you wished for have just struck nine o'clock. I feel hungry.”

  The brownie wished for so much porridge and bacon and eggs that there was enough for the cats and dogs too. The servants had taken the horses out of the palace, which made Mollie feel more comfortable, because when the brownie had first wished for them they kept galloping round the enormous room. She was afraid of being knocked over.

  That was a most exciting morning. When the children got into the way of wishing there was no end to the things they thought of!

  “I feel like snowballing! I wish for plenty of snow!” said Peter, suddenly. And outside the palace windows fell the snowflakes, thick and fast. There was soon enough for a game. It was very easy to wish the snow away when they were tired of snowballing and wish for something else—an aeroplane they could fly, or a train they could drive.

  “I wish this would last all over our weekend,” sighed Mollie. “I'm enjoying it so.”

  “Well—I suppose it will,” said Peter, “now you've wished it, the wish will come true. But what about Mother? She won't like it if we stay away all the time.”

  “I'll wish her here, then,” said Mollie. But Peter wouldn't let her.

  “No. Don't,” he said. “If she's with Granny she wouldn't li
ke leaving her—and it would upset Granny to see Mother suddenly disappear. We'll just enjoy ourselves here, and then try and explain to Mother when we get home.”

  The Princess's party was wonderful. It began at four o'clock that afternoon, and lasted till past midnight. There was a birthday cake that was so very big it took six little servants to cut it into slices. One hundred candles burned on it! How old Peronel must be!

  “A hundred years old is young for a fairy,” said Chinky. “See how beautiful the Princess still is.”

  She certainly was. Peter wished hard for a dance with her—and at once she glided over to him, and danced as lightly as a moth. “Now I can say I've danced with a princess!” thought Peter, pleased.

  The next day came and slid away happily. Then the next day and the next. The children grew used to having every single wish granted.

  “A big chocolate ice at once!” And hey presto, it came. “A tame lion to ride on!” There it was, purring like a cat. “Wings on my back to fly high above the trees!” And there they were, fluttering strongly, carrying Mollie high in the air. What a truly lovely feeling.

  On that fourth day the children didn't wish quite so many things. “Tired of wishing?” asked Chinky, who hadn't really wished many things. “Ah—people always get tired of wishes coming true after a time.”

  “I can't seem to think of any more,” said Peter.

  “I keep thinking of Mother,” said Mollie. “I do so hope she isn't worried about us. We've got to go back home today, Peter—do you realise that? It's the day we have to go back to school. It's a pity we've had so little time at home. We shall hardly have seen Daddy and Mother at all.”

  “Oh goodness—how the weekend has flown,” said Peter. “I wanted to do quite a lot of things at home, too. I wanted to get out my electric train—and didn't you want to take your dolls out just once in their pram, Mollie?”

  “Yes. I did,” said Mollie. “Oh dear—I do wish we had the weekend in front of us still, so that we could enjoy being at home, too! I feel as if we've rather wasted it now. Peter, I think we ought to go back. We've a train to catch, you know. We mustn't be late back for school.”