don’t like people seeing me here.”
So he hopped out and went to play with the fairy folk there—and a good thing he did too—for in about ten minutes Mother came down the garden followed by the little man in the straw hat.
“Are you there, Peter and Mollie?” she said. “Oh, this man, Mr. Twisty, says he will buy anything old— and he saw an old chair here he would like to buy. I couldn’t remember it—which is it?”
Poor Mollie and Peter! They had kept their wishing-chair such a secret—and now the secret was out! They really didn’t know what to say.
Mother saw the chair and looked puzzled. “I don’t remember that chair at all,” she said.
“I’ll give you two pounds for it,” said Mr. Twisty. “Tisn’t worth it—but I’ll take it for that.”
“That seems a lot of money for a playroom chair,” said Mother. “Well, fetch it tonight, and you can have it.”
“Oh, Mother, Mother!” shrieked the two children, in despair. “you don’t understand. It’s our own, very own chair. We love it. It’s a very precious sort of chair.”
“Whatever do you mean?” said Mother, in surprise. “It doesn’t look at all precious to me.”
Well, Mollie and Peter knew quite well that they couldn’t say it was a wishing-chair and grew wings.
It would be taken away from them at once, then, and put into a museum or something. Whatever were they to do?
“Two pounds for that dirty old chair,” said Mr. Twisty, looking slyly at Mother.
“Very well,” said Mother.
“I’ll send for it tonight,” said Mr. Twisty, and he bowed and went off up the garden path.
“Don’t look so upset, silly-billies!” said Mother. “I’ll buy you a nice comfy wicker-chair instead.”
Mollie and Peter said nothing. Mollie burst into tears as soon as Mother had gone. “It’s too bad!” she sobbed. “It’s our own wishing-chair—and that horrible Mr. Twisty is buying it for two pounds.”
Chinky came in, and they told him what had happened. He grinned at them, and put his arm round Mollie. “Don’t cry,” he said. “I’ve got a good plan.”
“What?” asked Mollie.
“I can get Mr. Knobbles, the pixie carpenter who lives out in the field over there, to make me a chair almost exactly like the wishing-chair!” said Chinky. “We’ll let Mr. Twisty have that one—not ours! He won’t know the difference. He doesn’t know ours is a wishing-chair—he just thinks it’s an old and valuable chair. Well, he can buy one just like it—without the magic in it!”
“Ooh!” said Mollie and Peter, pleased. “Can you really get one made in time?”
“I think so,” said Chinky. “Come along with me and see.”
So they squeezed under the hedge at the bottom of the garden and crossed the field beyond to where a big oak tree stood. Chinky pulled a root aside, that stuck out above the ground—and under it was a trap-door!
“You simply never know where the little folk live!” said Mollie excitedly. Chinky rapped on the door. It flew up and a bald-headed pixie with enormous ears popped his head out. Chinky explained what he wanted and the pixie invited them into his workshop underground. It was a dear little place, scattered with small tables, chairs, and stools that the carpenter had been making.
“Do you think you could make us the chair in time?” asked Mollie eagerly.
“Well, if I could get a quick-spell, I could,” said the pixie. “A quick-spell makes you work three times as fast as usual, you know. But they are so expensive.”
“Oh,” said Mollie and Peter, in dismay. “Well, we’ve hardly any money.”
“Wait!” said Chinky, grinning at them in his wicked way. “Remember that Mr. Twisty is paying two pounds for the chair! Can you make the chair and buy the quick-spell for two pounds, Mr. Knobbles?”
Mr. Knobbles worked out a sum on a bit of paper and said he just could. He came back to the playroom with the children and saw their own chair. He nodded his head and said he
So he hopped out and went to play with the fairy folk there—and a good thing he did too—for in about ten minutes Mother came down the garden followed by the little man in the straw hat.
“Are you there, Peter and Mollie?” she said. “Oh, this man, Mr. Twisty, says he will buy anything old— and he saw an old chair here he would like to buy. I couldn’t remember it—which is it?”
Poor Mollie and Peter! They had kept their wishing-chair such a secret—and now the secret was out! They really didn’t know what to say.
Mother saw the chair and looked puzzled. “I don’t remember that chair at all,” she said.
“I’ll give you two pounds for it,” said Mr. Twisty. “Tisn’t worth it—but I’ll take it for that.”
“That seems a lot of money for a playroom chair,” said Mother. “Well, fetch it tonight, and you can have it.”
“Oh, Mother, Mother!” shrieked the two children, in despair. “you don’t understand. It’s our own, very own chair. We love it. It’s a very precious sort of chair.”
“Whatever do you mean?” said Mother, in surprise. “It doesn’t look at all precious to me.”
Well, Mollie and Peter knew quite well that they couldn’t say it was a wishing-chair and grew wings.
It would be taken away from them at once, then, and put into a museum or something. Whatever were they to do?
“Two pounds for that dirty old chair,” said Mr. Twisty, looking slyly at Mother.
“Very well,” said Mother.
“I’ll send for it tonight,” said Mr. Twisty, and he bowed and went off up the garden path.
“Don’t look so upset, silly-billies!” said Mother. “I’ll buy you a nice comfy wicker-chair instead.”
Mollie and Peter said nothing. Mollie burst into tears as soon as Mother had gone. “It’s too bad!” she sobbed. “It’s our own wishing-chair—and that horrible Mr. Twisty is buying it for two pounds.”
Chinky came in, and they told him what had happened. He grinned at them, and put his arm round Mollie. “Don’t cry,” he said. “I’ve got a good plan.”
“What?” asked Mollie.
“I can get Mr. Knobbles, the pixie carpenter who lives out in the field over there, to make me a chair almost exactly like the wishing-chair!” said Chinky. “We’ll let Mr. Twisty have that one—not ours! He won’t know the difference. He doesn’t know ours is a wishing-chair—he just thinks it’s an old and valuable chair. Well, he can buy one just like it—without the magic in it!”
“Ooh!” said Mollie and Peter, pleased. “Can you really get one made in time?”
“I think so,” said Chinky. “Come along with me and see.”
So they squeezed under the hedge at the bottom of the garden and crossed the field beyond to where a big oak tree stood. Chinky pulled a root aside, that stuck out above the ground—and under it was a trap-door!
“You simply never know where the little folk live!” said Mollie excitedly. Chinky rapped on the door. It flew up and a bald-headed pixie with enormous ears popped his head out. Chinky explained what he wanted and the pixie invited them into his workshop underground. It was a dear little place, scattered with small tables, chairs, and stools that the carpenter had been making.
“Do you think you could make us the chair in time?” asked Mollie eagerly.
“Well, if I could get a quick-spell, I could,” said the pixie. “A quick-spell makes you work three times as fast as usual, you know. But they are so expensive.”
“Oh,” said Mollie and Peter, in dismay. “Well, we’ve hardly any money.”
“Wait!” said Chinky, grinning at them in his wicked way. “Remember that Mr. Twisty is paying two pounds for the chair! Can you make the chair and buy the quick-spell for two pounds, Mr. Knobbles?”
Mr. Knobbles worked out a sum on a bit of paper and said he just could. He came back to the playroom with the children and saw their own chair. He nodded his head and said he
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