Invisible Stanley. Jeff Brown

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      Arthur put out a hand, exploring. ‘Ouch!’ said Stanley’s voice. ‘You poked my nose!’ Arthur gasped.

      Mrs Lambchop stepped forward. ‘If I may . . .?’ Gently, using both hands, she felt about.

      A giggle rose from the bed. ‘That tickles !’

      ‘Oh, my!’ said Mrs Lambchop.

      She looked at Mr Lambchop and he at her, as they had during past great surprises. Stanley’s flatness had been the first of these. Another had come the evening they discovered a young genie, Prince Haraz, in the bedroom with Stanley and Arthur, who had summoned him accidentally from a lamp.

      Mrs Lambchop drew a deep breath. ‘We must face facts, George. Stanley is now invisible.’

      ‘You’re right !’ said a startled voice from the bed. ‘I can’t see my feet! Or my pyjamas!’

      ‘Darndest thing I’ve ever seen,’ said Mr Lambchop. ‘Or not seen, I should say. Try some other pyjamas, Stanley.’

      Stanley got out of bed, and put on different pyjamas, but these too vanished, reappearing when he took them off. It was the same with the shirt and slacks he tried next.

      ‘Gracious!’ Mrs Lambchop shook her head. ‘How are we to keep track of you, dear?’

      ‘I know!’ said Arthur. Untying a small red balloon, a party favour, that floated above his bed, he gave Stanley the string to hold. ‘Try this,’ he said.

      The string vanished, but not the balloon.

      ‘There!’ said Mrs Lambchop. ‘At least we can tell, approximately, where Stanley is. Now let’s all have breakfast. Then, George, we must see what Doctor Dan makes of this.’