Adventures of the Wishing-Chair by Enid Blyton Page B

right,” said Peter. “I don’t either. What shall we do first?”
    “We’ll spill some ink across the seat,” said Mollie.
    “Come on, then,” said Peter. So they shouted goodbye to Chinky, who wished them good luck, and ran up to the house. They went into the study. The wishing-chair stood there, looking very good and proper. Mother had put a fine new cushion into it. Mollie took it out. She didn’t want to spoil anything that belonged to Mother.
    Peter got the ink-bottle, and the two children emptied ink across the seat of the chair. Then they went to tell Mother.

    She was cross!” How very, very careless of you!” she scolded. “You shall not go out to tea today, Peter and Mollie. I am very much annoyed with you. It’s a good thing the ink didn’t get on to my new cushion.”
    Mollie and Peter said nothing. They did not go out to tea that day, and they were sad about it—but they kept thinking that perhaps they might get their wishing-chair back—so they did not get too unhappy.
    The next day Peter sat in the wishing-chair and kicked his boots against the legs as hard as he could, so that they were scratched and dented. Mother heard him kicking and put her head into the study to see what was going on there.
    “Peter!” she cried, “why aren’t you out in the garden on this fine day—and do stop kicking your feet against that chair! Oh, you bad boy, see what you have done!”
    She ran over to the chair and looked at the legs. They were scratched!
    “This is very naughty, Peter,” said Mother. “Yesterday you and Mollie spilt ink on this chair — and now you have kicked it like this. You will go to bed for the rest of the day!”
    Poor Peter! He went very red, but he marched upstairs without a word. It was horrid to have to be so careless with a chair, especially one he loved so much — but still, somehow or other he had, to get it back to the playroom! Suppose it grew its wings when Mother was sitting in it and flew away with her. Whatever would she do? She would be so frightened!
    Mollie was sorry that Peter had been sent to bed. She crept into his room and gave him a piece of chocolate to eat.

    “I’m going to slit the seat now,” she whispered. “I expect I’ll be sent to bed too — but surely after chair isn’t good enough for the study and we’ll have it back again!”
    So Mollie went downstairs, and took her work-basket into the study. She got out her scissors and began to cut out some dolls’ clothes—and then, oh dear, she ran her scissors into the seat of the chair and made a big cut there!
    Mother came in after a while—and she saw the slit at once. She stared in horror.
    “Mollie! Did you do that?”

    “I’m afraid I did, Mother,” said Mollie.
    “Then you are as bad as Peter,” said Mother crossly. “Go to bed too. This chair is simply dreadful now— inky, torn, and scratched! It will have to go back to the playroom. I can’t have it in the study. You are two bad children, and I am ashamed of you both.”
    It was dreadful to have Mother so cross. Mollie cried when she got into bed—but she was comforted when she thought that the wishing-chair was really going back to the playroom. She and Peter had to stay in bed all day, and they were very tired of it. But when the next day came, they carried the chair back to their playroom and called Chinky.
    “We’ve got the chair, Chinky!” they cried. “Hurrah! But we did get into trouble. We both went to bed for the day, and Mother was dreadfully cross. We shall have to be extra nice to her now to make up —because we didn’t really mean to vex her. Only we had to get the chair back somehow!”
    “Good for you!” said Chinky, pleased. He looked at the chair and grinned.
    “My word!” he said. “You did do some damage to it, didn’t you! What a mess it’s in! Mollie, you’d better get your needle and cotton and mend the seat—and Peter and I had better polish up the legs a bit and try and hide the