Edith Nesbit: Children's Books Collection (Illustrated Edition). Эдит Несбит

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      "Yes, please," said the Psammead; "and, before we go any further, will you wish something for me?"

      "Can't you do wishes for yourself?"

      "Of course not," it said; "we were always expected to give each other our wishes—not that we had any to speak of in the good old Megatherium days. Just wish, will you, that you may never be able, any of you, to tell anyone a word about Me."

      "Why?" asked Jane.

      "Why, don't you see, if you told grown-ups I should have no peace of my life. They'd get hold of me, and they wouldn't wish silly things like you do, but real earnest things; and the scientific people would hit on some way of making things last after sunset, as likely as not; and they'd ask for a graduated income-tax, and old-age pensions, and manhood suffrage, and free secondary education, and dull things like that; and get them, and keep them, and the whole world would be turned topsy-turvy. Do wish it! Quick!"

      Anthea repeated the Psammead's wish, and it blew itself out to a larger size than they had yet seen it attain.

      "And now," it said as it collapsed, "can I do anything more for you?"

      "Just one thing; and I think that clears everything up, doesn't it, Jane? I wish Martha to forget about the diamond ring, and mother to forget about the keeper cleaning the windows."

      "It's like the 'Brass Bottle,'" said Jane.

      "Yes, I'm glad we read that or I should never have thought of it."

      "Now," said the Psammead faintly, "I'm almost worn out. Is there anything else?"

       It burrowed, and disappeared, scratching fiercely to the last

      "No; only thank you kindly for all you've done for us, and I hope you'll have a good long sleep, and I hope we shall see you again some day."

      "Is that a wish?" it said in a weak voice.

      "Yes, please," said the two girls together.

      Then for the last time in this story they saw the Psammead blow itself out and collapse suddenly. It nodded to them, blinked its long snail's eyes, burrowed, and disappeared, scratching fiercely to the last, and the sand closed over it.

      "I hope we've done right?" said Jane.

      "I'm sure we have," said Anthea. "Come on home and tell the boys."

      Anthea found Cyril glooming over his paper boats, and told him. Jane told Robert. The two tales were only just ended when mother walked in, hot and dusty. She explained that as she was being driven into Rochester to buy the girls' autumn school-dresses the axle had broken, and but for the narrowness of the lane and the high soft hedges she would have been thrown out. As it was, she was not hurt, but she had had to walk home. "And oh, my dearest dear chicks," she said, "I am simply dying for a cup of tea! Do run and see if the water boils!"

      "So you see it's all right," Jane whispered. "She doesn't remember."

      "No more does Martha," said Anthea, who had been to ask after the state of the kettle.

      As the servants sat at their tea, Beale the gamekeeper dropped in. He brought the welcome news that Lady Chittenden's diamonds had not been lost at all. Lord Chittenden had taken them to be re-set and cleaned, and the maid who knew about it had gone for a holiday. So that was all right.

      "I wonder if we ever shall see the Psammead again," said Jane wistfully as they walked in the garden, while mother was putting the Lamb to bed.

      "I'm sure we shall," said Cyril, "if you really wished it."

      "We've promised never to ask it for another wish," said Anthea.

      "I never want to," said Robert earnestly.

      They did see it again, of course, but not in this story. And it was not in a sand-pit either, but in a very, very, very different place. It was in a——— But I must say no more.

      THE PHOENIX AND THE CARPET

       Table of Contents

       I. The Egg

       II. The Topless Tower

       III. The Queen Cook

       IV. Two Bazaars

       V. The Temple

       VI. Doing Good

       VII. Mews From Persia

       VIII. The Cats, the Cow, and the Burglar

       IX. The Burglar’s Bride

       X. The Hole in the Carpet

       XI. The Beginning of the End

       XII. The End of the End

       XIII. May-Blossom and Pearls

       XIV. The Finding of the Treasure

      Chapter I.

       The Egg

       Table of Contents

      It began with the day when it was almost the Fifth of November, and a doubt arose in some breast – Robert’s, I fancy – as to the quality of the fireworks laid in for the Guy Fawkes celebration.

      ‘They were jolly cheap,’ said whoever it was, and I think it was Robert, ‘and suppose they didn’t go off on the night? Those Prosser kids would have something to snigger about then.’

      ‘The ones I got are all right,’ Jane said; ‘I know they are, because the man at the shop said they were worth thribble the money—’

      ‘I’m sure thribble isn’t grammar,’ СКАЧАТЬ