by Enid Blyton
“All right. Chinky, we'd better change the throne back to the wishing-chair,” said Peter. “Wish for its wings, will you? They've gone, but a wish will bring them back, in the Land of Wishes!”
It did, of course. As soon as the throne had changed back into the wishing-chair they knew so well, Chinky wished for the wings to grow—and they sprouted out gaily, at once, looking bigger than ever.
“You coming, Nose-About?” said Peter to the little brownie.
“No. I'm going back home to my mother,” he said. “Goodbye. Thank you for being kind to me.”
“Well, you've certainly repaid our kindness!” said Mollie. “I've never had such a wonderful time in my life. Now—are we all ready? Wishing-chair, home, please, as fast as you can!”
It was a long, long way back from the Land of Wishes. They all three went sound asleep, and the chair was careful not to jolt them at all in case they fell off. It flew down to the playroom at last, and went in gently at the door. It tipped out Mollie and Peter on to their mattresses, and Chinky on to his cushion. The crock that had contained the rainbow gold tipped out, too, and fell on to the carpet. Luckily it didn't break.
The children groaned a little, and then slept on soundly, curled up on their mattresses. The chair stood still. Its red wings disappeared gradually. It was just a chair.
And then there came a loud knocking at the door, and a loud voice, too.
“Master Peter! Miss Mollie! How late you are sleeping! Haven't you had your breakfast yet? Your mother has telephoned to say that Granny is much better and she'll be home to lunch. Isn't that good news?”
The children woke up with a jump and stared at Mrs. Williams' smiling face. She was looking in at the door. Peter sat up and rubbed his eyes.
“Well, I declare!” said Mrs. Williams. “You are not in your night-things! You don't mean to say you didn't go to bed properly last night? Do wake up. It's half-past ten already!”
“Half-past ten?” said Mollie, amazed “What day is it, Mrs. Willy?”
“Saturday, to be sure!” said Mrs. Williams, surprised. “You came home yesterday, that was Friday—and so today's Saturday!”
“But—but surely it's Tuesday or perhaps even Wednesday,” said Mollie, remembering the wonderful weekend in the Land of Wishes. “Aren't we due back at school?”
“Bless us all, you're asleep and dreaming!” said Mrs. Williams. “Well, I must be getting on with my work. It's Saturday morning, half-past ten, and your mother will be home for lunch. Now—do you understand that?”
And off she went, quite puzzled. She hadn't seen Chinky on the cushion. He was still fast asleep!
Mollie looked at Peter and her eyes shone. “Peter, oh Peter!” she said, “do you remember that I wished we had the weekend in front of us still? Well, that wish has come true, too. We've had the weekend once in our palace—and now we're going to have it all over again at home. Could anything be nicer!”
“Marvellous!” said Peter, jumping up. “Simply marvellous! Wake up, you lazy old Chinky. We've good news for you. It's not Tuesday—it's only Saturday!”
So there they are, just going to welcome their mother back again, and looking forward to a wonderful half-term.
“Crreee-eee-eak!” says the good old wishing-chair, happily.
Santa Claus and the Wishing-Chair
I AM sure you have not forgotten the adventures of Peter and Mollie with their wishing-chair! Well, one Christmas they had a fine adventure with Chinky, their pixie friend, and the good old chair.
Christmas was coming. Peter and Mollie were home from boarding-school and were very excited.
“Two more days till Christmas!” said Peter. “Then stockings, and crackers, and pudding, and Christmas tree, and parties. Oooh!”
The next day came—and that was Christmas Eve. “Only today,” said Mollie, “then Christmas!”
They went down to their playroom, which was built at the bottom of the garden. The wishing-chair was there, but Chinky, their friend, was not. He had gone Christmas shopping.
“Chinky said he would hang his stocking up on the back of the wishing-chair,” said Mollie. “Then Santa Claus would fill it for him. Where shall we put the presents we have bought for him, Peter?”
They put them on the sofa in the corner, and then ran back to the house. They had not been for any rides on the wishing-chair so far these holidays—but they had been so busy doing their Christmas shopping that they had hardly paid any attention to the magic chair.
The children hung up their stockings that night at the end of their beds. Mother tucked them up, kissed them, and put out the light.
“Now, go to sleep quickly,” she said. “No staying awake and peeping.”
So they went straight off to sleep, and began to dream about parties and presents. But in the middle of the night Peter suddenly woke up. He had heard a queer noise in his sleep. What could it be?
It was someone tapping on the window-pane outside. Tap-tap-tap! Tap-tap-tap!
“Mollie! Wake up!” cried Peter. “There's someone knocking at the window.”
Mollie sat up, rubbing her eyes.
“Do you suppose it's Santa Claus?” she said, in an excited voice.
“Of course not! He comes down the chimney,” said Peter. “Come on. Let's see who it is.”
They went to the window and opened it—and in popped Chinky the pixie, shivering with cold, and panting with excitement.
“Mollie! Peter! Something's happened! I was asleep in the playroom when I heard a galloping noise—and I looked out of the window. And I saw Santa Claus and his reindeer in the sky, and the reindeer were running away. Something had frightened them. Then I heard a crash, and I'm sure the reindeer have galloped into some trees, and broken the sleigh. Will you come with me and see?”
The children dressed quickly, for it was a cold night. They put on their warmest coats and crept downstairs. Soon they were at the bottom of the garden. The moon came out from behind a cloud and lighted up everything for them.
“It's nearly midnight,” said Chinky. “I do hope Santa Claus hasn't been hurt.”
He hurried them into the field at the back of the garden and ran towards some big elm trees—and there they saw a strange sight.
The sleigh and the reindeers had got caught in the trees. The children and Chinky could quite clearly see them in the moonlight.
“Oh dear,” said Mollie, half-frightened. “I wonder where Santa Claus is?”
“There's somebody climbing down the tree—look!” said Chinky. So there was—and even as the children watched, someone jumped down from the tree and came towards them.
“It's Santa Claus,” said Peter. Sure enough, it was. There was no mistake about it, for there were the bright twinkling eyes, the snow-white beard, and the red, hooded coat.
“Good evening, sir,” said Chinky. “I'm afraid you've had an accident.”
“I certainly have,” said Santa Claus, in a worried voice. “Something frightened my reindeer and they ran away at top speed. They ran into the top of that tall tree and wrecked my sleigh. Now what am I to do? It's Christmas night and I've thousands of stockings to fill.”
Santa Claus still had his sack with him, and it was bulging full of toys. He put it down on the ground and wiped his hot forehead.
“What will happen to the poor reindeer?” asked Mollie.
“Oh, I've sent a message to my reindeer stables, and they will send along two or three men to free them from the branches and take them home,” said Santa Claus. “And now the next thing is—what will happen to me? Here am I, Santa Claus, with a big sack of toys to fill every one's stockings—and no way to get to those stockings.”
It was then that Peter had his wonderful idea. He nearly cried with excitement as he spoke.
“Santa Claus, oh, Santa Claus!I know what you can do. Borrow our wishing-chair.”
“Whatever is the boy talking about?” said Santa Claus, puzzled. “Wishing-chair! There aren't such things nowadays.”
“Well, we've got one,” said Mollie, overjoyed at Peter's idea. “Come on, Santa. We'll take you to where we keep it, and then you'll see for yourself. You could fly in it to every chimney quite easily.”
They dragged the big jolly man across the field and through the hedge into their garden. Chinky was just as excited as everyone else. They all went into the playroom and Chinky lighted the lamp.
“There you are,” he said proudly, holding the lamp over the old wishing-chair. “There's the wonderful chair. And look! It's grown its wings all ready to take you, Santa. It might have known you were coming.”
Santa stared at the rose-red wings that were slowly flapping to and fro on the legs of the chair. His eyes shone in the lamplight.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes. The very thing. I didn't know there was a wishing-chair in the world nowadays. May I borrow it, children?”
“Yes,” said Mollie.
"On one condition," said Peter suddenly.
"What's that?" asked Santa Claus, putting his great bag over his shoulder.
"Take us with you in the chair for just a little while, so that we can see how you slip down the chimneys and into the bedrooms," begged Peter. "Oh do!"
“But will the chair hold all of us?” said Santa doubtfully. “I'm rather heavy, you know.”
“Oh, the chair is as strong as ten horses,” said Chinky eagerly. “You don't know the adventures it has had, Santa. Get in, and we'll go.”
Santa sat down in the chair. He filled it right up. He took Mollie on his knee. Chinky climbed to the back of the chair, where he always sat—and Peter sat on the sack of toys. The chair gave a creak, flapped its wings fast, and rose into the air.
“We're off!” cried Mollie, in excitement. “Oh, who would have thought that we'd be flying to the house-tops with Santa Claus tonight. What a fine adventure we'll have!”
The wishing-chair rose high into the air once it got out-of-doors. Mollie shivered, for the air was frosty. Santa Claus covered her up with part of his wide coat. They passed the elm tree where the sleigh and the reindeer had got caught. “Look,” said Peter. “There are your men freeing the reindeer from the branches, Santa Claus.”
“Good!” said Santa. “They will be quite all right now. Hallo, the chair is flying down to this roof. Who lives here, children?”
“Fanny and Tommy Dawson,” said Peter. “Oh, have you got presents for their stocking, Santa? They are such nice, kind children.”
“Yes, I know,” said Santa, looking at a big notebook where many names were written down. “Ah! Fanny wants two twin dolls and a puzzle, and Tommy wants a train and some lines. Put your hand into the sack, Peter, please, and take them out.”
Peter put his hand into the enormous sack, and the first things he felt were the dolls, the puzzle, and the train with lines! He pulled them out.
“You might see if there are any oranges and nuts there too,” said Santa. “I always like to give a little extra something to good children.”
Peter put his hand into the sack again and felt a handful of nuts, apples, and oranges. He gave them to Santa. The chair flew down to a flat piece of roof just by a big chimney. Santa put Mollie off his knee and stood up.
“Watch me slip down this chimney!” he said—and in a second he was gone! It was astonishing how such a big man could get down the chimney.
“Quick!” said Chinky, patting the chair. “Get in, Mollie. We'll fly the chair down to Fanny's window and peep in to see what Santa Claus does there. He won't mind.”
The chair rose off the roof and flew down to a little window. It put two of its legs there and balanced itself most unsafely, flapping its wings all the time so that it wouldn't fall. Chinky and the children peered in at the window.
Fanny and Tommy always had a night-light, and they could see the room quite clearly. Fanny was asleep in her cot, and Tommy was asleep in his small bed.
“Look! There's Santa's feet coming out of the fireplace!” said Chinky excitedly. “Don't they look funny! And now there's his knees—and his waist—and all of him. It's funny he doesn't get black!”
Santa Claus slipped right out of the fireplace and tiptoed to Fanny's bed. There was a stocking hanging at the end. Santa put the oranges, apples, and nuts at the bottom, and then stuffed in the puzzle and the twin dolls.
Fanny didn't stir! She was quite sound asleep. Santa Claus went to Tommy next and filled his stocking too. Then he tiptoed back to the chimney, put his head up, and was soon lost to sight. The wishing-chair flew back to the roof and waited there for Santa. Up he came, puffing and blowing.
“I saw you peeping in at the window!” he said. “You gave me quite a fright at first. Come along now—to the next house where there are children!”
It was not far off, for Harry and Ronald, two big boys, lived next door! Santa looked them up in his notebook and found that they were good, clever boys. Neither of them had asked for anything in their stockings. They had just left it to Santa Claus to choose for them.
“Now, let me see,” said Santa. “Clever boys, my notebook says. What about a book on aeroplanes for Harry, and a big Meccano set—and a book on ships for Ronald, and a really difficult puzzle? Put your hand in the sack, Peter, and see what you can find.”
Peter slipped in his hand—and, of course, he found the books, the Meccano, and the puzzle at once! It almost seemed as if the toys arranged themselves just right for Santa Claus! It was part of his magic, Peter supposed.
He handed the things out to Santa Claus, and then took apples, nuts, oranges, and a few crackers from the sack too. Santa Claus got off the chair and went down the chimney again.
“Come on, chair,” said Mollie. “Let's go and peep in at the window again!”
So the chair flew down to the window-sill and tried to balance itself. Harry and Ronald had no night-light, but the moon shone well in at their window, and the children and Chinky could easily see what was happening inside.
They saw Santa creep out of the chimney, and go to Harry's stocking—and then, just as Santa was turning to go to Ronald's bed, the wishing-chair fell off the window-sill! The sill was very narrow indeed, and the chair simply couldn't stay there!
The children gave a small squeal, for they were frightened when the chair fell. Of course, it at once rose up again to the roof, flapping its strong wings. But the noise had awakened Ronald, and he sat up!
The children didn't see what happened, but Santa Claus told them when he at last came up the chimney once more.
“You shouldn't have made such a noise,” he said. “You woke Ronald, and I had to hide behind a chair till he lay-down and went to sleep again! I might have had to wait for an hour!”
“We're very sorry,” said Chinky. “The chair slipped and we thought we were falling! Perhaps we'd better not peep in at the windows anymore.”
“I suppose we couldn't come down a chimney with you, could we?” asked Mollie longingly. “I've always wanted to do that.”
“Yes, you can if you like,” said Santa; “but you mustn't make any noise. Now who's next on the list.'' Oh, Joy Brown, seven years old.”
Nobody said anything, but Mollie and Peter thought a lot. Joy was not a bit like her name—she was a spiteful, unkind child, who didn't bring joy to anyone. Mollie was surprised that Santa Claus should take presents to Joy.
But he wasn't going to! He read a few lines out loud and then pursed up his mouth. “Dear, dear! Joy seems to be a bad girl. Listen to this! ‘Joy Brown—unkind, selfish, and never gives any happiness to anyone. Does not deserve any toys this Christmas.’ Well, well, well—we must miss her out, I'm afraid.”
So the wishing-chair flew past Joy's house. There was nothing in that naughty little girl's stocking the next morning!
“This is George's house,” said Peter eagerly, as the chair flew down on to a sloping roof. It was so sloping that they all had to hold on to the nearest chimney. “Can't we go down with you, Santa?”
Santa nodded, so Mollie tried to get
into the chimney. But she stuck fast and couldn't go down! Then Peter tried, but he stuck fast too, and so did Chinky. Santa Claus laughed softly.
“Ah! You don't know my trick! I could never get down some of these narrow chimneys if I didn't use some magic oil to make the chimney slippery! In the old days chimneys were very wide and there was no difficulty, but nowadays the chimneys are narrow and small. Stand back, Chinky, and I'll pour a little of my oil down.”
Santa Claus tipped a small bottle up, and a few drops fell down the chimney. “Now try, Mollie,” said Santa.
Santa nodded, so Mollie tried to get into the chimney.
So Mollie tried again, and this time she slid down the chimney quite easily, and crept out of the bottom into George's bedroom! It did seem queer! There was George in bed, and he was snoring very gently, so Mollie knew he must be asleep.
Then Peter slid down, then Chinky, and last of all Santa Claus. “You can fill George's stocking if you like,” he whispered to Peter. “You're a friend of George's, aren't you? I know you like him very much.”
“Yes, he's a fine boy,” said Peter, and he took the books, the fruit, and the box of small motor-cars that Santa gave him. Soon George's stocking was full to the top!
“It's fun playing at being Santa Claus!” said Peter. Then they all crept up the chimney again, but Chinky had a dreadful time trying not to sneeze, because the soot got up his nose and tickled it.
“A-tishoo!” he said, when he stood on the roof again, holding firmly to a chimney. “A-tishoo!”
“Sh!” said Santa in alarm. “Don't do that!”
“A-tishoo!” said poor Chinky. “I can't help it. A-tishoo!”
Santa Claus bundled him into the chair and they all flew off to another house. “Now this must be the last house you visit with me,” said Santa Claus, seeing Mollie yawning and rubbing her eyes. “You must be fresh and lively on Christmas Day, or people will wonder what is the matter with you. You may come down the chimney here, and then I shall fly back to your own house with you, and go on my journey by myself!”