five children and it-第12部分

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Then　Uncle　Richard　took　them　on　the　beautiful　Medway　in　a　boat；　and

then　they　all　had　tea　at　a　beautiful　pastrycook's；　and　when　they

reached　home　it　was　far　too　late　to　have　any　wishes　that　day。



They　did　not　tell　Uncle　Richard　anything　about　the　Psammead。　　I　do

not　know　why。　　And　they　do　not　know　why。　　But　I　daresay　you　can

guess。



The　day　after　Uncle　Richard　had　behaved　so　handsomely　was　a　very

hot　day　indeed。　　The　people　who　decide　what　the　weather　is　to　be；

and　put　its　orders　down　for　it　in　the　newspapers　every　morning；

said　afterwards　that　it　was　the　hottest　day　there　had　been　for

years。　　They　had　ordered　it　to　be　'warmer　…　some　showers'；　and

warmer　it　certainly　was。　　In　fact　it　was　so　busy　being　warmer　that

it　had　no　time　to　attend　to　the　order　about　showers；　so　there

weren't　any。



Have　you　ever　been　up　at　five　o'clock　on　a　fine　summer　morning？　　It

is　very　beautiful。　　The　sunlight　is　pinky　and　yellowy；　and　all　the

grass　and　trees　are　covered　with　dew…diamonds。　　And　all　the　shadows

go　the　opposite　way　to　the　way　they　do　in　the　evening；　which　is

very　interesting　and　makes　you　feel　as　though　you　were　in　a　new

other　world。



Anthea　awoke　at　five。　　She　had　made　herself　wake；　and　I　must　tell

you　how　it　is　done；　even　if　it　keeps　you　waiting　for　the　story　to

go　on。



You　get　into　bed　at　night；　and　lie　down　quite　flat　on　your　little

back　with　your　hands　straight　down　by　your　sides。　　Then　you　say　'I

must　wake　up　at　five'　（or　six；　or　seven；　or　eight；　or　nine；　or

whatever　the　time　is　that　you　want）；　and　as　you　say　it　you　push

your　chin　down　on　to　your　chest　and　then　bang　your　head　back　on　the

pillow。　　And　you　do　this　as　many　times　as　there　are　ones　in　the

time　you　want　to　wake　up　at。　　（It　is　quite　an　easy　sum。）　Of　course

everything　depends　on　your　really　wanting　to　get　up　at　five　（or

six；　or　seven；　or　eight；　or　nine）；　if　you　don't　really　want　to；

it's　all　of　no　use。　　But　if　you　do　…　well；　try　it　and　see。　　Of

course　in　this；　as　in　doing　Latin　proses　or　getting　into　mischief；

practice　makes　perfect。　　Anthea　was　quite　perfect。



At　the　very　moment　when　she　opened　her　eyes　she　heard　the

black…and…gold　clock　down　in　the　dining…room　strike　eleven。　　So　she

knew　it　was　three　minutes　to　five。　　The　black…and…gold　clock　always

struck　wrong；　but　it　was　all　right　when　you　knew　what　it　meant。　　It

was　like　a　person　talking　a　foreign　language。　　If　you　know　the

language　it　is　just　as　easy　to　understand　as　English。　　And　Anthea

knew　the　clock　language。　　She　was　very　sleepy；　but　she　jumped　out

of　bed　and　put　her　face　and　hands　into　a　basin　of　cold　water。　　This

is　a　fairy　charm　that　prevents　your　wanting　to　get　back　into　bed

again。　　Then　she　dressed；　and　folded　up　her　nightgown。　　She　did　not

tumble　it　together　by　the　sleeves；　but　folded　it　by　the　seams　from

the　hem；　and　that　will　show　you　the　kind　of　well…brought…up　little

girl　she　was。



Then　she　took　her　shoes　in　her　hand　and　crept　softly　down　the

stairs。　　She　opened　the　dining…room　window　and　climbed　out。　　It

would　have　been　just　as　easy　to　go　out　by　the　door；　but　the　window

was　more　romantic；　and　less　likely　to　be　noticed　by　Martha。



'I　will　always　get　up　at　five；'　she　said　to　herself。　　'It　was　quite

too　awfully　pretty　for　anything。'



Her　heart　was　beating　very　fast；　for　she　was　carrying　out　a　plan

quite　her　own。　　She　could　not　be　sure　that　it　was　a　good　plan；　but

she　was　quite　sure　that　it　would　not　be　any　better　if　she　were　to

tell　the　others　about　it。　　And　she　had　a　feeling　that；　right　or

wrong；　she　would　rather　go　through　with　it　alone。　　She　put　on　her

shoes　under　the　iron　veranda；　on　the　red…and…yellow　shining　tiles；

and　then　she　ran　straight　to　the　sand…pit；　and　found　the　Psammead's

place；　and　dug　it　out；　it　was　very　cross　indeed。



'It's　too　bad；'　it　said；　fluffing　up　its　fur　like　pigeons　do　their

feathers　at　Christmas　time。　　'The　weather's　arctic；　and　it's　the

middle　of　the　night。'



'I'm　so　sorry；'　said　Anthea　gently；　and　she　took　off　her　white

pinafore　and　covered　the　Sand…fairy　up　with　it；　all　but　its　head；

its　bat's　ears；　and　its　eyes　that　were　like　a　snail's　eyes。



'Thank　you；'　it　said；　'that's　better。　　What's　the　wish　this

morning？'



'I　don't　know；'　said　she；　'that's　just　it。　　You　see　we've　been　very

unlucky；　so　far。　　I　wanted　to　talk　to　you　about　it。　　But　…　would

you　mind　not　giving　me　any　wishes　till　after　breakfast？　　It's　so

hard　to　talk　to　anyone　if　they　jump　out　at　you　with　wishes　you

don't　really　want！'



'You　shouldn't　say　you　wish　for　things　if　you　don't　wish　for　them。　

In　the　old　days　people　almost　always　knew　whether　it　was

Megatherium　or　Ichthyosaurus　they　really　wanted　for　dinner。'



'I'll　try　not；'　said　Anthea；　'but　I　do　wish　…'



'Look　out！'　said　the　Psammead　in　a　warning　voice；　and　it　began　to

blow　itself　out。



'Oh；　this　isn't　a　magic　wish　…　it's　just　…　I　should　be　so　glad　if

you'd　not　swell　yourself　out　and　nearly　burst　to　give　me　anything

just　now。　　Wait　till　the　others　are　here。'



'Well；　well；'　it　said　indulgently；　but　it　shivered。



'Would　you；'　asked　Anthea　kindly　…　'would　you　like　to　come　and　sit

on　my　lap？　　You'd　be　warmer；　and　I　could　turn　the　skirt　of　my　frock

up　round　you。　　I'd　be　very　careful。'



Anthea　had　never　expected　that　it　would；　but　it　did。



'Thank　you；'　it　said；　'you　really　are　rather　thoughtful。'　　It　crept

on　to　her　lap　and　snuggled　down；　and　she　put　her　arms　round　it　with

a　rather　frightened　gentleness。　　'Now　then！'　it　said。



'Well　then；'　said　Anthea；　'everything　we　have　wished　has　turned　out

rather　horrid。　　I　wish　you　would　advise　us。　　You　are　so　old；　you

must　be　very　wise。'



'I　was　always　generous　from　a　child；'　said　the　Sand…fairy。　　'I've

spent　the　whole　of　my　waking　hours　in　giving。　　But　one　thing　I

won't　give　…　that's　advice。'



'You　see；'　Anthea　went　on；　it's　such　a　wonderful　thing　…　such　a

splendid；　glorious　chance。　　It's　so　good　and　kind　and　dear　of　you

to　give　us　our　wishes；　and　it　seems　such　a　pity　it　should　all　be

wasted　just　because　we　are　too　silly　to　know　what　to　wish　for。'



Anthea　had　meant　to　say　that　…　and　she　had　not　wanted　to　say　it

before　the　others。　　It's　one　thing　to　say　you're　silly；　and　quite

another　to　say　that　other　people　are。



'Child；'　said　the　Sand…fairy　sleepily；　'I　can　only　advise　you　to

think　before　you　speak　…'



'But　I　thought　you　never　gave　advice。'



'That　piece　doesn't　count；'　it　said。　　'You'll　never　take　it！

Besides；　it's　not　original。　　It's　in　all　the　copy…books。'



'But　won't　you　just　say　if　you　think　wings　would　be　a　silly　wish？'



'Wings？'　it　said。　　'I　should　think　you　might　do　worse。　　Only；　take

care　you　aren't　flying　high　at　sunset。　　There　was　a　little　Ninevite

boy　I　heard　of　once。　　He　was　one　of　King　Sennacherib's　sons；　and　a

traveller　brought　him　a　Psammead。　　He　used　to　keep　it　in　a　box　of

sand　on　the　palace　terrace。　　It　was　a　dreadful　degradation　for　one

of　us；　of　course；　still　the　boy　was　the　Assyrian　King's　son。　　And

one　day　he　wished　for　wings　and　got　them。　　But　he　forgot　that　they

would　turn　into　stone　at　sunset；　and　when　they　did　he　fell　slap　on

to　one　of　the　winged　lions　at　the　top　of　his　father's　great

staircase；　and　what　with　HIS　stone　wings　and　the　lions'　stone　wings

…　well；　it's　not　a　pretty　story！　　But　I　believe　the　boy　enjoyed

himself　very　much　till　then。'



'Tell　me；'　said　Anthea；　'why　don't　our　wishes　turn　into　stone　now？

Why　do　they　just　vanish？'



'Autres　temps；　autres　moeurs；'　said　the　creature。



'Is　that　the　Ninevite　language？'　asked　Anthea；　who　had　learned　no

foreign　language　at　school　except　French。



'What　I　mean　is；'　the　Psammead　went　on；　'that　in　the　old　days

people　wished　for　good　solid　everyday　gifts　…　Mammoths　and

Pterodactyls　and　things　…　and　those　could　be　turned　into　stone　as

easy　as　not。　　But　people　wish　such　high…flying　fanciful　things

nowadays。　　How　are　you　going　to　turn　being　beautiful　as　the　day；　or

being　wanted　by　everybody；　into　stone？　　You　see　it　can't　be　done。　

And　it　would　never　do　to　have　two　rules；　so　they　simply　vanish。　　If

being　beautiful　as　the　day　COULD　be　turned　into　stone　it　would　last

an　awfully　long　time；　you　know　…　much　longer　than　you　would。　　just

look　at　the　Greek　statues。　　It's　just　as　well　as　it　is。　　Good…bye。　

I　AM　so　sleepy。'



It　jumped　off　her　lap　…　dug　frantically；　and　vanished。



Anthea　was　late　for　breakfast。　　It　was　Robert　who　quietly　poured　a

spoonful　of　treacle　down　the　Lamb's　frock；　so　that　he　had　to　be

taken　away　and　washed　thoroughly　directly　after　breakfast。　　And　it

was　of　course　a　very　naughty　thing　to　do；　yet　it　served　two

purposes　…　it　delighted　the　Lamb；　who　loved　above　all　things　to　be

completely　sticky；　and　it　engaged　Martha's　attention　so　that　the

others　could　slip　away　to　the　sand…pit　without　the　Lamb。



They　did　it；　and　in　the　lane　Anthea；　breathless　from　the　scurry　of

that　slipping；　panted　out　…



'I　want　to　propose　we　take　turns　to　wish。　　Only；　nobody's　to　have

a　wish　if　the　others　don't　think　it's　a　nice　wish。　　Do　you　agree？'



'Who's　to　have　first　wish？'　asked　Robert　cautiously。



'Me；　if　you　don't　mind；'　said　Anthea　apologetically。　　'And　I've

thought　about　it　…　and　it's　wings。'



There　was　a　silence。　　The　others　rather　wanted　to　find　fault；　but

it　was　hard；　because　the　word　'wings'　raised　a　flutter　of　joyous

excitement　in　every　breast。



'Not　so　dusty；'　said　Cyril　generously；　and　Robert　added；　'Really；

Panther；　you're　not　quite　such　a　fool　as　you　look。'



Jane　said；　'I　think　it　would　be　perfectly　lovely。　　It's　like　a

bright　dream　of　delirium。'

They　found　the　Sand…fairy　easily。　　Anthea　said：



'I　wish　we　all　had　beautiful　wings　to　fly　with。'



The　Sand…fairy　blew　himself　out；　and　next　moment　each　child　felt　a

funny　feeling；　half　heaviness　and　half　lightness；　on　its　shoulders。　

The　Psammead　put　its　head　on　one　side　and　turned　its　snail's　eyes