The Wishing-Chair Again (8 page)

Chinky dipped his finger into the jar of ointment. It was curious stuff, bright yellow with green streaks in it.

He rubbed some on to a chair leg and immediately a most wonderful wing sprouted out, big and strong!

“I say—it isn't red, as it always is!” cried Mollie. “It's green and yellow—and a much bigger wing than before. I say, chair, you
will
look grand. Make another wing come, Chinky.”

Soon the Wishing-Chair had four grand green and yellow wings, much bigger than its old red ones. It waved them about proudly.

“You'd better get in the chair and go before it tries its new wings out by itself,” said Great-Aunt Quick-Fingers. So in they all got, Chinky on the back, as usual—and off they went!

“Home, Chair, home!” cried everyone, and it rose high in the air, and flew off to the west. “Goodbye and thank you very much,” cried Chinky and the children, and Great-Aunt waved till they were out of sight.

“Well, that was quite a nice little adventure,” said Peter. “And the chair's got some wonderful new wings. I do hope they'll always grow like this in future —big and strong, and all green and yellow!”

THE children were very pleased with the chair's beautiful new green and yellow wings. “They're much better than the little red ones it used to grow,” said Peter. “Your Great-Aunt's Growing Ointment is marvellous stuff, Chinky. I only hope the chair will grow its wings much oftener now.”

The green and yellow wings disappeared, of course, as soon as they were all safely at home again. The chair stood still in its place, looking quite ordinary. The children patted it.

“Good old Wishing-Chair. Grow your wings again soon. You haven't taken us to the Land of Goodness Knows Where yet, you know!”

The chair didn't grow its wings again that week. Friday came, Saturday, Sunday, Monday. The children grew tired of asking Chinky if the chair was growing its wings yet.

On Tuesday a spell of rainy weather began. It really was too wet to play any games out of doors at all. The children went down to their playroom day after day to play with Chinky, and that was fun. But on Friday Chinky said he really must go and see how his dear old mother was.

“I haven't seen her since I came back to you with the chair,” he said. “I must go today.”

“Oh, bother! We shall have to do without you,” said Mollie. “Just suppose the chair grows its wings, Chinky, and you're not here.”

“
Well, that's easy,” said Chinky, with a grin. “Simply sit in it and wish it to go to my mother's. She will be very pleased to see you, and then we can all three of us go adventuring somewhere.”

“Oh, yes—we'll do that, if only the chair grows wings,” said Peter. “Well, goodbye, Chinky. Will you be back tonight?”

“Yes,” said Chinky. “I'll be sleeping on the old sofa as usual, don't worry. I'm not taking my wand with me, by the way, so keep an eye on it, will you?”

Chinky had just bought a new wand, a very useful one that had quite a bit of magic in it. He was very proud of it, and kept it in the cupboard with the toys and games.

“Yes—we'll look after it for you,” said Peter. “And we won't use it, we promise.”

“I know you won't,” said Chinky. “Well, see you tonight.”

Off he went to catch the bus to his mother's cottage, dressed in his mackintosh and sou'wester. The children felt decidedly dull when he had gone.

“Game of ludo, Mollie?” said Peter.

“No. I'm bored with ludo today,” said Mollie. “
And
with reading,
and
with my dolls,
and
with your railway...”

“
Well, you're not going to be very good company, then,” said Peter, taking down a book. “I'll read. You can tell me when you've finished being bored with everything and we'll think up an exciting game.”

Mollie lay down on the rug and shut her eyes. What a pity it had rained and rained so long. Even if the Wishing-Chair grew its wings, it wouldn't be much fun going out in the rain. They would have to take an umbrella with them.

Mollie opened her eyes and looked out of the window. Why, the sun was shining—and yet it was still raining. There ought to be a rainbow, then!

She looked out of the playroom door to see and, sure enough, there was a rainbow arching over the sky, a very brilliant one indeed.

“I say, Peter, look at this rainbow,” said Mollie. “It's glorious. Oh—wouldn't it be lovely to fly off to a rainbow in the Wishing-Chair! If it looks as beautiful as this far away, whatever would it look like very near to us? Oh, I do wish the Wishing-Chair would grow its wings this very afternoon—then we could really go to the rainbow.”

Peter took no notice. He was deep in his book. Mollie felt cross. Peter really might answer her when she spoke! She wandered round the room and opened a little cupboard where Chinky kept some of his things. There on the shelf was the jar of Growing Ointment that Great-Aunt Quick-Fingers had given him to make the wings of the Wishing-Chair sprout again.

Mollie took down the jar and opened the lid. There was plenty of ointment left—yellow with streaks of green in it. She wondered if perhaps it
would
make the chair's wings grow again, although Chinky's Great-Aunt had said it only acted once on anything.

“I'll try it,” thought Mollie. “And I won't tell Peter! If the wings grow, I'll fly off in the Wishing-Chair without him, and go to Chinky's alone. That will serve him right for not answering when I speak to him!”

She went over to the Wishing-Chair and rubbed a little of the ointment on one of the front legs. Nothing happened at all. She couldn't feel even a tiny bud of a wing beginning to grow.

She tried the ointment on another chair leg. That was no good either. Oh, well—the growing ointment certainly didn't act twice. Great-Aunt Quick-Fingers was right.

Then a wonderful thought came to Mollie. Why shouldn't she try a little of the magic ointment on something else? She looked round. Her dolls, for instance! Oh, if only she could make wings grow on Rosebud, her prettiest doll. That would be really wonderful.

Feeling very excited, Mollie took her doll Rosebud from her cot. She rubbed a little of the green and yellow ointment on to her back—and, hey presto, wing-buds began to form—and little green and yellow wings sprouted out on the doll's back.

And she suddenly left Mollie's knee and flew—yes,
flew
—round the playroom. She flew near Peter and he felt the wind of her little wings. He looked up—and his eyes almost dropped out of his head as he saw Rosebud flying gaily round the room!

“I say,” he said. “I say—look—I
say!
”

Mollie laughed in delight and tried to catch the doll as she flew past. “I've put some of the Growing Ointment on her back,” she said. “You know—what Chinky's Great Aunt gave him for growing wings on the Wishing-Chair. And Rosebud grew wings!”

“Well, I never!” said Peter in amazement, and they both watched the flying doll flap her little wings and go round and round the room.

“I say—do you think my engine would grow wings, too?” said Peter suddenly. He had a wonderful clockwork engine, a perfect model that he was very proud of.

“Oh,
yes
—let's try and see,” said Mollie. So they got the engine and Peter smeared a little of the ointment on to it. It sprouted out small wings at once!

It flew from Peter's hand and joined the doll. The children laughed till their sides ached to see the two toys behaving like this. They really did look extraordinary.

And then Mollie and Peter went quite mad with the ointment. They smeared it on to a top and that flew round the room, spinning as it went! They smeared the skittles and they all shot round and round, some of them bumping into one another in the air.

They made some of the little toy soldiers fly, and they even gave the bricks in their brick box wings to fly with. All these things flapped their way round the room, and Mollie and Peter screamed with laughter as they tried to dodge the flying toys.

Mollie went to the toy cupboard to see if any toy was there that could be made to fly as well. She picked up Chinky's new wand and put it on one side—but, dear me, her fingers were smeared with the Growing Ointment and the wand at once grew tiny, graceful green and yellow wings, too! It flew out of the cupboard and joined the flying toys.

“Oh dear—there goes the wand,” said Mollie. “I do hope Chinky won't mind. I just touched it by accident with the ointment smeared on my fingers, and it grew wings.”

“Look—I've made the teapot fly,” said Peter, and roared with laughter to see it flapping its way round the room. “Look at the skittles colliding again.”

The wind suddenly blew the door wide open. Then a dreadful thing happened. Rosebud the doll, the railway engine, the skittles, the bricks, the top, the teapot, the wand, in fact everything that had grown wings shot straight out of the open door, flew down to the bottom of the garden and vanished!

“Ooooh!” said Mollie in fright.

“They've gone,” said Peter, and rushed to the open door. But he could see nothing. No Rosebud was there, no engine, nothing. They had all vanished into the blue.

“Oh dear—shall we get them back?” said Mollie. “Why did I ever begin to smear the Growing Ointment on anything? It was a very silly idea. Now I've lost Rosebud.”

“And what about my lovely model engine?” said Peter. “And I
say
—Chinky's magic wand has gone, too!”

They stared at one another in dismay. Chinky's new wand, that he had saved up for and was so proud of! It had grown wings and now it had flown out of the door and vanished, too. This was dreadful.

“We shall have to tell Chinky when he gets back tonight, and ask him if we can possibly get the things back,” said Mollie. “If we knew where they had gone we could go and fetch them. Do you suppose they've gone to Great-Aunt Quick-Fingers?”

They said no more to one another, but sat solemnly side by side, hoping and hoping that the things would fly back as unexpectedly as they had flown away. But they didn't.

Chinky came back at half-past six, looking very merry and bright, and bringing a big chocolate cake from his mother. He stopped when he saw their doleful faces.

“What's up?” he said. “Anything happened?”

They told him, and Chinky listened in astonishment. He leapt to his feet when they spoke about his wand.

“WHAT! You don't mean to tell me you were silly enough to meddle with my wand—surely you didn't make my
wand
grow wings, too!”

“It was an accident,” said poor Mollie. “I must have had some of the ointment on my fingers when I moved it—and so it grew wings, too. I'm so sorry, Chinky.”

“Where have the things gone, Chinky?” asked Peter.

“I don't know,” said Chinky. “I haven't the least idea. All I can say is—the next time the Wishing-Chair grows its wings, we'll have to tell it to go wherever the toys have gone—but goodness knows where it will take us to!”

CHINKY was gloomy and cross that evening. The children were sad, and felt ashamed that they had gone quite so mad with the Growing Ointment. They felt very guilty indeed about Chinky's wand. He had been so proud of it.