Adventures of the Wishing-Chair (16 page)

The children went red. “I didn’t mean what I said,” said Mollie, in a little voice.

“I expect Chinky was to blame too,” said his mother. “He went out to buy himself a new handkerchief—and though I’ve been waiting and waiting for him he hasn’t come back—so I wondered if he had gone back to you again.”

“No, he didn’t come back,” said Peter. “I wonder what’s happened to him. We’ll stay a little while, if you don’t mind, and see if he comes back.”

Chinky didn’t come back—but in a short while a round, fat pixie came running up the path and into the kitchen, puffing and panting.

“Oh, Mrs. Twinkle!” he cried, when he saw Chinky’s mother. “A dreadful thing has happened to Chinky!”

“What!” cried every one in alarm.

“He had bought himself a nice new red handkerchief and was walking down the lane home again when a big yellow bird swooped down from the air, caught hold of Chinky by the belt, and flew off with him!” cried the pixie.

“Oh my, oh my!” wept Mrs. Twinkle. “I know that bird. It belongs to the enchanter Clip-clap. He always sends that bird of his out when he wants to capture someone to help him. Poor Chinky!”

“Don’t cry!” said Peter, putting his arms round the old woman. “We’ll go and look for Chinky. The magic chair we have will take us. We will try to bring him back safely. It’s a very good thing we came to look for him! Come on, Mollie—get into the wishing-chair and we’ll tell it to go to wherever Chinky is!”

In they both got. Peter told the chair to go to Chinky, and it rose into the air.

“Another adventure!” said Mollie. “I do hope it turns out all right!”

THE wishing-chair rose high up and flew steadily towards the west. It had a long way to go so it flew faster than usual, and all its four wings flapped swiftly.

“I wonder where the enchanter lives,” said Mollie. “I hope he won’t capture us too!”

“Well, all this would never have happened if we hadn’t quarrelled with Chinky,” said Peter. “He wouldn’t have gone back home then—and wouldn’t have gone out to buy a new handkerchief—and wouldn’t have been captured by the yellow bird that swooped down on him and took him away!”

“I shall never quarrel again,” said Mollie. It made her very sad when she remembered the unkind things she had said that morning.

The chair flew over a wood. Mollie leaned over the arm of the chair and looked down.

“Look, Peter,” she said. “What is that funny thing sticking out of the wood?”

Peter looked. “It’s a very, very high stone tower,” he said. “Isn’t it strange? It’s just a tower by itself. It doesn’t seem to be part of a castle or anything. I say! The chair is flying down to it! Do you suppose that is where the enchanter lives?”

“It must be,” said Mollie. The children looked eagerly downwards to see what sort of tower this was. It certainly was very queer! It had a pointed roof but no chimneys at all. The chair circled all round it as it flew downwards, trying to find a window. But there was not a single window to be seen!

“This really is a very magic sort of tower!” said Mollie. “Not a window anywhere! Well, there must be a door at the bottom to get in by.”

The chair flew to the ground and stayed there. The children jumped off. They went to the tower and looked for a door. There was not one to be seen!

The tower was quite round, and very tall indeed, higher than the highest tree—but it had no doors and no windows, so it seemed quite impossible to get into it. Mollie and Peter walked round and round it a great many times, but no matter how they looked, they could see no way to get in.

“Do you suppose Chinky is in there,” said Mollie at last.

“Sure to be,” said Peter gloomily. “We told the chair to take us to where Chinky was, you know.”

“Well, what are we going to do?” asked Mollie. “Shall we call for Chinky loudly?”

“No,” said Peter at once. “If you do that the enchanter will know we are here and may capture us too. Don’t do anything like that, Mollie.”

“Well, how else are we to tell Chinky we are here?” said Mollie. “We must
do
something, Peter. It’s no good standing here looking for doors and windows that aren’t there.”

“Sh!” said Peter suddenly, and he pulled Mollie behind a tree. He had heard a noise.

Mollie caught hold of the wishing-chair and pulled that behind the tree too—and only just in time!

There came a loud noise, like the clip-clapping of thunder. A great door appeared in the round tower, half as high as the tower itself. It opened—and out came the enchanter Clip-clap! He was very tall and thin, and he had a long beard that reached the ground. He wore it in a plait and it looked very queer.

“See you finish that spell properly!” he called to someone in the tower. Then there came another loud dapping noise, just like a roll and crash of thunder, and the door in the tower closed—and vanished! The enchanter strode away through the wood, his head almost as high as the trees!

“Goodness!” said Mollie. “We only just got behind this tree in time. It’s impossible to get into that tower, Peter. We should never know how to make that door appear.”

“What
are
we to do!” sighed Peter. “I hate to think of poor old Chinky a prisoner in there—and all because we quarrelled with him, too.”

“Let’s hide the chair under a bush and see if we can find anyone living near here,” said Mollie. “We might find someone who could help us.”

So they carefully hid the chair under a bramble-bush, and piled bracken over it too. Then they found a little path and went down it, wondering where it led to.

It led to a small and pretty cottage. The name was on the gate... Dimple Cottage. Mollie liked the sound of it. She thought they would be quite safe in going there.

They knocked. To their enormous surprise the door was opened by a brown mouse! She wore a check apron and cap, and large slippers on her feet. The children stared. They could never get used to this sort of thing, although they had seen many strange sights by now.

“Good afternoon,” said the mouse.

“Good afternoon,” said Peter, and then didn’t know what else to say.

“Do you want to see my mistress?” asked the mouse.

“Well, yes, perhaps it would be a good idea,” said Peter. So the mouse asked them in and showed them into a tiny drawing-room.

“What are we going to
say?”
whispered Peter—but before Mollie had time to answer, someone came into the room.

It was a small elf, with neat silvery wings, silvery golden hair, and a big dimple in her cheek when she smiled. Mollie and Peter liked her at once.

“Good afternoon,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

Both talking at once, the two children told her their troubles—how they had quarrelled with Chinky—and he had gone home—and been caught by the yellow bird belonging to the enchanter Clip-clap—and how their wishing-chair had brought them to the strange tower.

“But we don’t know how to get into it and we are afraid of being caught by Clip-clap too,” said Peter. “I don’t know if you can help us?”

“I don’t think I can,” said the elf, whose name was Dimple. “No one knows a spell powerful enough to get into the enchanter’s tower. I’ve lived here for three hundred years and no one has ever got into that tower except the enchanter and his servants and friends. I wouldn’t try if I were you.”

“We
must,”
said Mollie. “You see, Chinky is our own friend—and we must help him if we can.”

“Yes—we have to help our friends,” said the elf. “Wait a minute—I wonder if my mouse knows anything that might help us. Harriet! Harriet!”

The little servant mouse came running in. “Yes, Madam,” she said.

“Harriet, these children want to get into the enchanter’s tower,” said Dimple. “Do you know of any way in?”

“Well yes, Madam, I do,” said Harriet.

“Oh, do you!” cried Mollie, in delight. “Do, do tell us, Harriet!”

“My auntie lives down in the cellars of the tower,” said the little mouse. “Sometimes, on my afternoon off, I go to see her.”

“And how do you get into the tower?” asked Dimple.

“Down the mouse-hole, of course,” said Harriet. “There’s one on the far side of the tower. I always scamper down there.”

“Oh,” said the children, in disappointment, looking at the small mouse. “
We
couldn’t get down a mouse-hole. We are too big. You are a big mouse, but even so
_,
the mouse-hole would not take us!”

Mollie was so disappointed that she cried into her handkerchief. Dimple patted her on the back.

“Don’t do that,” she said. “I can give you a spell to make you small. Then you can slip down the mouse-hole with Harriet, and see if you can find Chinky.”

“Oh thank you, thank you!” cried the children, in delight. “That
is
kind of you!”

Dimple went to a shelf and took down a box. Out of it she shook two pills. They were queer because they were green one side and red the other!

“Here you are,” she said. “Eat these and you will be small enough to go down the hole. They taste horrid, but never mind.”

The children each chewed up a pill. They certainly had a funny taste—but they were very magic indeed, and no sooner were they eaten than Mollie and Peter felt as though they were going down in a lift—for they suddenly grew very tiny indeed! They looked up at Dimple, and she seemed enormous to them!

“Harriet, take off your apron and cap and take these children to your auntie,” said Dimple. So Harriet carefully folded up her cap and apron and then went out with the children. She took them to the tower and showed them a small hole under the wall.

“Down here!” she said—and down they all went!

THE hole was dark and smelt a bit funny. Mollie clung tightly to Peter’s hand. It was strange being so small. Harriet the mouse went on in front, and they could see her little gleaming eyes as she turned round now and again. Once Peter trod on her tail and she gave an angry squeal.

“So sorry,” said Peter. “I keep forgetting you have such a long tail, Harriet.”

At last they came to a place where the tunnel widened out into a room. It was very warm there. A large mouse pounced on Harriet and gave her a hug.