The Wishing-Chair Again
Read The Wishing-Chair Again Online
Authors: Enid Blyton
THE WISHING-CHAIR AGAINBY
ENID BLYTON
ILLUSTRATED BY
HILDA McGAVIN
LONDON
GEORGE NEWNES LIMITED
TOWER HOUSE, SOUTHAMPTON STREET,
STRAND, W.C.2
First published 1950
Home for the HolidaysWhere Can the Wishing-Chair Be?
Off to Mr. Spells of Wizard Cottage
Mollie and the Growing Ointment
Mister Grim's School for Bad Brownies
An Afternoon with Cousin Pipkin
MOLLIE and Peter had just arrived home for the holidays. Their schools had broken up the same day, which was very lucky, and Mother had met them at the station.
They hugged her hard. “Mother! It's grand to see you again. How's everyone?”
“Fine,” said Mother. “The garden's looking lovely, your bedrooms are all ready for you, and your playroom at the bottom of the garden is longing for you to go there and play as usual.”
The two children looked at one another. They had a Secret. A very big one. One they couldn't possibly mention even in their letters to one another at school. How they were longing to talk about it now!
“Can we just pop down to our playroom first of all?” asked Peter when they got home.
“Oh, no, dear!” said Mother. “You must come upstairs and wash—and help me to unpack your things. You will have plenty of time to spend in your playroom these holidays.”
The children's secret was in their playroom—and they so badly wanted to see it again. Now they would have to wait. They went upstairs, washed their hands and did their hair, and then went down to tea.
“Can we go to our playroom after we've helped you to unpack?” asked Peter. “Do let us, Mother! We do want to see it again.”
Mother laughed. “Very well—leave me to unpack, and go along. I expect you want to see if I've given away any of your things. Well, I haven't. I never do that without asking you.”
After tea the children went up to their bedrooms to put on old clothes. Peter spoke to Mollie in a low voice.
“Mollie! Do you think Chinky will be down in our playroom waiting for us—with the Wishing-Chair?”
“I do hope so,” said Mollie. “Oh, Peter, it was dreadful trying to keep our Secret all the term long and never saying anything to anyone, or even writing about it to you.”
“Well, it's such a marvellous Secret it's worth keeping well,” said Peter. “Do you remember when we first got the Wishing-Chair, Mollie?”
“Yes,” said Mollie. “We went to a funny little shop that sold old, old things, to get something for Mother's birthday, and we saw heaps of queer enchanted things there. And we were frightened and huddled together in an old chair...”
“And we wished we were safe back at home,” said Peter, “and, hey presto! the chair grew little red wings on its legs, and flew out of a window with us, and took us back to our playroom!”
“Yes. And it wouldn't go back to the shop even when we commanded it to,” said Mollie. “So we had to keep it—our very own Wishing-Chair.”
“And do you remember how we went off in it again, and came to a castle where there was a giant who kept a little servant called Chinky?” said Peter. “And we rescued him and took him home in the Wishing-Chair with us.”
“That was lovely,” said Mollie. “And after that Chinky lived down in our playroom and looked after the chair for us...”
“And told us when it grew its wings so that we could all fly off in it again and have wonderful adventures,” said Peter.
“Then we had to go to school and leave it.”
“But it didn't matter really, because Chinky took the chair home to his mother's cottage and lived with her and took care of it for us,” said Mollie.
“And he said he'd come back as soon as we came home for the holidays, and bring the chair with him so that we could go adventuring again,” finished Peter. “If Mother only knew that's the reason we want to get down to the playroom— to see if Chinky is there, and to see the dear old Wishing-Chair again.”
Mother popped her head in at the door. “Whatever are you two chattering about? Telling each other all that happened during the term, I suppose. Are you going down to the playroom—because if you are, here's the key.”
“
Oh, thank you, Mother. Yes, we're just going,” said Peter, and he took the key. “Come on, Mollie— let's go and see all our toys again.”
“And the Wishing-Chair,” said Mollie in a whisper.
“
And
Chinky.”
They rushed downstairs and out into the garden. It was the end of July and the weather was very hot indeed. The garden was full of flowers, it was lovely, lovely to be home! No more lessons for eight weeks, no more preps, no more scoldings for forgetting this, that and the other.
They raced down to the playroom, which was really a big, airy shed at the bottom of the garden. Peter slid the key into the lock. “Chinky!” he called. “Are you here?”
He unlocked the door. The children went into the playroom and looked round. It was a nice room, with a big rug on the floor, shelves for their books and toys, a cot with Mollie's old dolls in it, and a large dolls' house in the corner.
But there was no Wishing-Chair and no Chinky, the pixie! The children stared round in dismay.
“He's not here,” said Peter. “He said he would come today with the chair. I gave him the date and he wrote it down in his note-book.”
“I hope he's not ill,” said Mollie. They looked all round the playroom, set the musical box going and opened the windows.
They felt disappointed. They had so looked forward to seeing Chinky, and to sitting once more in the Wishing-Chair. Suddenly a little face looked in at the door.
Mollie gave a shout. “Chinky! It's you! We were so worried about you! We hoped you'd be here.”
Both children gave the little pixie a hug. Chinky grinned. “Well, how could I be here waiting for you if the door was locked and the windows fastened, silly? I may be a pixie, but I can't fly through locked doors.
I say, it's good to see you both again. I
have
missed you. Were you very bored away at school?”
“Oh,
no,”
said Peter. “Boarding school is simply lovely. We both loved it—but we're jolly glad to be home again. Eight weeks, Chinky! Marvellous.”
“Chinky, where's the Wishing-Chair?” asked Mollie anxiously. “Nothing's happened to it, has it? Have you got it with you?”
“Well, I brought it here this morning,” said Chinky, “but when I found the door of the playroom was locked and couldn't get in I hid it under the hedge at the bottom of the garden. But you'd be surprised how many people nearly found it!”
“But nobody goes to the bottom of the garden!” said Peter.
“Oh, don't they!” said Chinky. “Well, first of all your gardener thought he'd cut the hedge there today, and I had an awful job dragging the chair from one hiding-place to another. Then an old gipsy woman came by, and she almost saw it, but I barked like a dog and she ran away.”
The children laughed. “Poor old Chinky! You must have been glad when we got here at last.”
“I was,” said Chinky. “Especially when an old brownie came by and began sniffing round. He's got a real nose for smelling out anything magic, and I thought he'd smell out the chair—but I ran out and asked him to come and have dinner with me, and he was so pleased he forgot about the magic smell and came with me.”
“Let's go and get it,” said Peter. “I'm longing to sit in it again. Has it grown its wings much since we left it with you, Chinky?”
“Not once,” said Chinky. “Funny, isn't it? It's just stood in my mother's kitchen like any ordinary chair, and never grown even one red wing! I think it was waiting for you to come back.”
“
I hope it was—because then it may grow its wings heaps of times,” said Peter, “and we'll go off on lots of adventures.”
They went to the hedge. “There it is!” said Mollie in excitement. “I can see one of its legs sticking out.”
So she could. They dragged out the old chair and looked at it. “Just the same!” said Peter in delight. “And how well you've kept it, Chinky. It's polished so brightly.”
