Adventures of the Wishing-Chair

BY

ENID BLYTON

ILLUSTRATED BY

HILDA McGAVIN

LONDON

GEORGE NEWNES LIMITED

TOWER HOUSE

SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C.2

First Published                       1937

Second Edition                      1939

Third Edition                          1940

Fourth Edition                        1940

Fifth Edition                           1942

Sixth Edition                          1948

Seventh Edition                      1950

Dear children,

When the first stories of the Wishing-Chair came to an end in
Sunny Stories
you were so sad that you wrote hundreds of letters to me, begging me to put all the tales into one big book for you, so that you might read them over again. So I did, and here they are!

Since then you have had another
Sunny Stories
serial about Peter, Mollie and Chinky, and I have put this into a big book for you, too. It is called
The Wishing-Chair Again.

You will be glad to meet your old friends once more and go with them on their adventures. You will wish you had a Wishing-Chair too! I expect you have sat on every chair in the house to see if it is a wishing one. If you are ever lucky enough to find one, let me know!

Love to you all, from your friend,

1.
     
The Strange Old Shop
2.
     
The Giant’s Castle
3.
     
The Grabbit Gnomes
4.
     
The Ho-Ho Wizard
5.
     
The Old, Old Man
6.
     
Poor Lost Chinky
7.
     
The Land of Dreams
8.
     
The Runaway Chair
9.
     
The Lost Cat
10.
 
The Witch Kirri-Kirri
11.
 
The Disappearing Island
12.
 
The Magician’s Party
13.
 
The Wishing-Chair is Foolish
14.
 
The Polite Goblin
15.
 
The Spinning House
16.
 
Witch Snippit
17.
 
The Silly Boy
18.
 
the windy wizard
19.
 
Mr. Twisty
20.
 
two bad children
21.
 
The Horrid Quarrel
22.
 
The Enchanter Clip-Clap
23.
 
The Strange Tower
24.
 
The Great Escape
25.
 
Big-Ears The Goblin
26.
 
The Snoogle
27.
 
The Snoogle’s Castle
28.
 
The chair Runs Away again
29.
 
The Land of Scally-Wags
30.
 
The Prince’s Spells
31.
 
The Last Adventure of All

Original Illustrations

What’s A Shilling?

THE adventures really began on the day that Mollie and Peter went out to spend three shillings on a present for their mother’s birthday.

They emptied the money out of their money-box and counted it.

“
Three shillings
!” said Peter. “Good! Now, what shall we buy Mother?”

“Mother loves old things,” said Mollie. “If we could find an old shop somewhere, full of old things— you know, funny spoons, quaint vases, old glasses, and beads—something of that sort would be lovely for Mother. She would love an old tea-caddy to keep the tea in, I’m sure, or perhaps an old, old vase.”

“All right,” said Peter. “We’ll go and find one of those shops this very day. Put on your hat and come on, Mollie.”

Off they went, and ran into the town.

“It’s a shop with the word ‘Antiques’ over it that we want,” said Peter. “Antiques means old things. Just look out for that, Mollie.”

But there seemed to be no shop with the word ‘Antiques’ printed over it at all. The children left the main street and went down a little turning. There were more shops there, but still not the one they wanted. So on they went and came to a small, narrow street whose houses were so close that there was hardly any light in the road!

And there, tucked away in the middle, was the shop with ‘Antiques’ printed on a label inside the dirty window.

“Good!” said Peter. “Here is a shop that sells old things. Look, Mollie, do you see that strange little vase with swans set all round it? I’m sure Mother would like that. It is marked two shillings and sixpence. We could buy that
and
some flowers to put in it!”

So into the old dark shop they went. It was so dark that the children stumbled over some piled-up rugs on the floor. Nobody seemed to be about. Peter went to the counter and rapped on it. A tiny door at the back opened and out came the strangest little man, no higher than the counter top. He had pointed ears like a pixie. The children stared at him in surprise. He looked very cross, and spoke sharply.

“What do you want, making a noise like that?”

“We want to buy the vase with swans round it,” said Peter.

Muttering and grumbling to himself, the little chap picked up the vase and pushed it across the counter. Peter put down half a crown. “Can I have some paper to wrap the vase in?” he asked politely. “You see, it’s for my mother’s birthday, and I don’t want her to see me carrying it home.”

Grumbling away to himself, the little man went to a pile of boxes at the back of the shop and began to open one to look for a piece of paper The children watched. To their enormous surprise a large black cat with golden eyes jumped out of the box and began to spit and snarl at the little man. He smacked it and put it back again. He opened another box.

Out of that came a great wreath of green smoke that wound about the shop and smelt strange. The little man caught hold of it as if it were a ribbon and tried to stuff it back into the box again. But it broke off and went wandering away. How he stamped and raged! The children felt quite frightened.

“We’d better go without the paper,” whispered Mollie to Peter, but just then another extraordinary thing happened. Out of the next box came a crowd of blue butterflies. They flew into the air, and the little man shouted with rage again. He darted to the door and shut it, afraid that the butterflies would escape. To the children’s horror they saw him lock the door too, and put the key into his pocket!

“We can’t get out till he lets us go!” said Mollie. “Oh dear, why did we ever come here? I’m sure that little man is a gnome or something.”

The little fellow opened another box, and, hey presto, out jumped a red fox! It gave a short bark and then began to run about the shop, its nose to the ground. The children were half afraid of being bitten, and they both sat in an old chair together, their legs drawn up off the ground, out of the way of the fox.

It was the most curious shop they had ever been in.

Fancy keeping all those queer things in boxes! Really, there must be magic about somewhere. It couldn’t be a proper shop.

The children noticed a little stairway leading off the shop about the middle, and suddenly, at the top of this, there appeared somebody else! It was somebody tall and thin, with such a long beard that it swept the ground. On his head was a pointed hat that made him seem taller still.

“Look!” said Mollie. “Doesn’t he look like a wizard?”

“Tippit, Tippit, what are you doing?” cried the newcomer, in a strange, deep voice, like the rumbling of faraway thunder.

“Looking for a piece of paper!” answered the little man, in a surly tone. “And all I can find is butterflies and foxes, a black cat, and—”

“What! You’ve dared to open those boxes!” shouted the other angrily. He stamped down the stairs, and then saw the children.

“And who are
you
?” he asked, staring at them. “How dare you come here?”