by E. Nesbit
CHAPTER IV
WINGS
The next day was very wet--too wet to go out, and far too wet to thinkof disturbing a Sand-fairy so sensitive to water that he still, afterthousands of years, felt the pain of once having his left whiskerwetted. It was a long day, and it was not till the afternoon that allthe children suddenly decided to write letters to their mother. It wasRobert who had the misfortune to upset the ink well--an unusually deepand full one--straight into that part of Anthea's desk where she hadlong pretended that an arrangement of mucilage and cardboard paintedwith Indian ink was a secret drawer. It was not exactly Robert's fault;it was only his misfortune that he chanced to be lifting the ink acrossthe desk just at the moment when Anthea had got it open, and that thatsame moment should have been the one chosen by the Lamb to get underthe table and break his squeaking bird. There was a sharp convenientwire inside the bird, and of course the Lamb ran the wire into Robert'sleg at once; and so, without anyone's meaning to do it the secret drawerwas flooded with ink. At the same time a stream was poured over Anthea'shalf-finished letter.
So that her letter was something like this--
"DARLING MOTHER,--I hope you are quite well, and I hope Granny is better. The other day we...."
Then came a flood of ink, and at the bottom these words in pencil--
"It was not me upset the ink, but it took such a time clearing up, so no more as it is post-time.--From your loving daughter "ANTHEA."
Robert's letter had not even been begun. He had been drawing a ship onthe blotting paper while he was trying to think of what to say. And ofcourse after the ink was upset he had to help Anthea to clean out herdesk, and he promised to make her another secret drawer, better thanthe other. And she said, "Well, make it now." So it was post-time andhis letter wasn't done. And the secret drawer wasn't done either.
Cyril wrote a long letter, very fast, and then went to set a trap forslugs that he had read about in the _Home-made Gardener_, and when itwas post-time the letter could not be found, and it was never found.Perhaps the slugs ate it.
Jane's letter was the only one that went. She meant to tell her motherall about the Psammead,--in fact they had all meant to do this,--but shespent so long thinking how to spell the word that there was no time totell the story properly, and it is useless to tell a story unless you_do_ tell it properly, so she had to be contented with this--
"MY DEAR MOTHER DEAR,--We are all as good as we can, like you told us to, and the Lamb has a little cold, but Martha says it is nothing, only he upset the gold-fish into himself yesterday morning. When we were up at the sand-pit the other day we went round by the safe way where carts go, and we found a"--
Half an hour went by before Jane felt quite sure that they could none ofthem spell Psammead. And they could not find it in the dictionaryeither, though they looked. Then Jane hastily finished her letter--
"We found a strange thing, but it is nearly post-time, so no more at present from your little girl,
"JANE.
"P.S.--If you could have a wish come true what would you have?"
Then the postman was heard blowing his horn, and Robert rushed out inthe rain to stop his cart and give him the letters. And that was how ithappened that, though all the children meant to tell their mother aboutthe Sand-fairy, somehow or other she never got to know. There were otherreasons why she never got to know, but these come later.
The next day Uncle Richard came and took them all to Maidstone in awagonette--all except the Lamb. Uncle Richard was the very best kind ofuncle. He bought them toys at Maidstone. He took them into a shop andlet them all choose exactly what they wanted, without any restrictionsabout price, and no nonsense about things being instructive. It is verywise to let children choose exactly what they like, because they arevery foolish and inexperienced, and sometimes they will choose a reallyinstructive thing without meaning to do so. This happened to Robert, whochose, at the last moment, and in a great hurry, a box with pictures onit of winged bulls with men's heads and winged men with eagles' heads.He thought there would be animals inside, the same as on the box. Whenhe got it home it was a Sunday puzzle about ancient Nineveh! The otherschose in haste, and were happy at leisure. Cyril had a model engine, andthe girls had two dolls, as well as a china tea-set with forget-me-notson it, to be "between them." The boys' "between them" was bow and arrow.
Then Uncle Richard took them on the beautiful Medway in a boat, and thenthey all had tea at a beautiful confectioner's and when they reachedhome it was far too late to have any wishes that day.
They did not tell Uncle Richard anything about the Psammead. I do notknow 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 dayindeed. The people who decide what the weather is to be, and put itsorders down for it in the newspapers every morning, said afterwards thatit was the hottest day there had been for years. They had ordered it tobe "warmer--some showers," and warmer it certainly was. In fact it wasso busy being warmer that it had no time to attend to the order aboutshowers, so there weren't any.
Have you ever been up at five o'clock on a fine summer morning? It isvery beautiful. The sunlight is pinky and yellowy, and all the grass andtrees are covered with dew-diamonds. And all the shadows go the oppositeway to the way they do in the evening, which is very interesting andmakes you feel as though you were in a new other world.
Anthea woke at five. She had made herself wake, and I must tell you howit 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_ wakeup at five" (or six, or seven, or eight, or nine, or whatever the timeis that you want), and as you say it you push your chin down on yourchest and then whack your head back on the pillow. And you do this asmany times as there are ones in the time you want to wake up at. (It isquite an easy sum.) Of course everything depends on your really wantingto get up at five (or six, or seven, or eight, or nine); if you don'treally 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-goldclock down in the dining-room strike eleven. So she knew it was threeminutes to five. The black-and-gold clock always struck wrong, but itwas all right when you knew what it meant. It was like a person talkinga foreign language. If you know the language it is just as easy tounderstand as English. And Anthea knew the clock language. She was verysleepy, but she jumped out of bed and put her face and hands into abasin of cold water. This is a fairy charm that prevents your wanting toget back into bed again. Then she dressed, and folded up her nightdress. She did not tumble it together by the sleeves, but folded it bythe seams from the hem, and that will show you the kind ofwell-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 beenjust 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 tooawfully pretty for anything."
Her heart was beating very fast, for she was carrying out a plan quiteher own. She could not be sure that it was a good plan, but she wasquite sure that it would not be any better if she were to tell theothers about it. And she had a feeling that, right or wrong, she wouldrather go through with it alone. She put on her shoes under the ironverandah, on the red-and-yellow shining tiles, and then she ran straightto the sand-pit, and found the Psammead's place, and dug it out; it wasvery cross indeed.
"It's too bad," it said, fl
uffing up its fur as pigeons do theirfeathers at Christmas time. "The weather's arctic, and it's the middleof the night."
"I'm so sorry," said Anthea gently, and she took off her white pinaforeand 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," she said; "that's just it. You see we've been veryunlucky, so far. I wanted to talk to you about it. But--would you mindnot giving me any wishes till after breakfast? It's so hard to talk toanyone 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. Inthe old days people almost always knew whether it was Megatherium orIchthyosaurus they really wanted for dinner."
"I'll try not to do so," said Anthea, "but I do wish"--
"Look out!" said the Psammead in a warning voice, and it began to blowitself out.
"Oh, this isn't a magic wish--it's just--I should be so glad if you'dnot 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 mylap? You'd be warmer, and I could turn the skirt of my frock up aroundyou. 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 toher lap and snuggled down, and she put her arms round it with a ratherfrightened gentleness. "Now then!" it said.
"Well then," said Anthea, "everything we have wished has turned outrather horrid. I wish you would advise us. You are so old, you must bevery wise."
"I was always generous from a child," said the Sand-fairy. "I've spentthe whole of my waking hours in giving. But one thing I won'tgive--that's advice."
"You see," Anthea went on, "it's such a wonderful thing--such asplendid, glorious chance. It's so good and kind and dear of you to giveus our wishes, and it seems such a pity it should all be wasted justbecause we are too silly to know what to wish for."
Anthea had meant to say that--and she had not wanted to say it beforethe others. It's one thing to say you're silly, and quite another tosay that other people are.
"Child," said the Sand-fairy sleepily, "I can only advise you to thinkbefore 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 careyou aren't flying high at sunset. There was a little Ninevite boy Iheard of once. He was one of King Sennacherib's sons, and a travellerbrought him a Psammead. He used to keep it in a box of sand on thepalace 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 forwings and got them. But he forgot that they would turn into stone atsunset, and when they did he fell on to one of the winged lions at thetop of his father's great staircase; and what with _his_ stone wingsand the lion's stone wings--well it's not a very pretty story! But Ibelieve the boy enjoyed himself very much till then."
"Tell me," said Anthea, "why don't our wishes turn into stone now? Whydo they just vanish?"
"_Autre temps autres moeurs_," said the creature.
"Is that the Ninevite language?" asked Anthea, who had learned noforeign language at school except French.
"What I mean is," the Psammead went on, "that in the old days peoplewished for good solid everyday gifts,--Mammoths and Pterodactyls andthings,--and those could be turned into stone as easy as not. But peoplewish such high-flying fanciful things nowadays. How are you going toturn being beautiful as the day, or being wanted by everybody, intostone? You see it can't be done. And it would never do to have tworules, so they simply vanish. If being beautiful as the day _could_ beturned into stone it would last an awfully long time, you know--muchlonger than you would. Just look at the Greek statues. It's just aswell 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 aspoonful of molasses down the Lamb's frock, so that he had to be takenaway and washed thoroughly directly after breakfast. And it was ofcourse a very naughty thing to do; yet it served two purposes--itdelighted the Lamb, who loved above all things to be completely sticky,and it engaged Martha's attention so that the others could slip away tothe sand-pit without the Lamb.
They did it, and in the lane Anthea, breathless from the hurry of thatslipping, panted out--
"I want to propose we take turns to wish. Only, nobody's to have a wishif 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 thoughtabout it--and it's _wings_."
There was a silence. The others rather wanted to find fault, but it washard, because the word "wings" raised a flutter of joyous excitement inevery 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 brightdream 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 funnyfeeling, half heaviness and half lightness, on its shoulders. ThePsammead put its head on one side and turned its snail eyes from oneside to the other.
The Sand-fairy blew himself out]
"Not so bad," it said dreamily. "But really, Robert, you're not quitesuch an angel as you look." Robert almost blushed.
The wings were very big, and more beautiful than you can possiblyimagine--for they were soft and smooth, and every feather lay neatly inits place. And the feathers were of the most lovely mixed changingcolors, like the rainbow, or iridescent glass, or the beautiful scumthat sometimes floats on water that is not at all nice to drink.
"Oh--but how can we fly?" Jane said, standing anxiously first on onefoot and then on the other.
"Look out!" said Cyril; "you're treading on my wing."
"Does it hurt?" asked Anthea with interest; but no one answered, forRobert had spread his wings and jumped up, and now he was slowly risingin the air. He looked very awkward in his knickerbocker suit--his bootsin particular hung helplessly, and seemed much larger than when he wasstanding in them. But the others cared but little how he looked,--or howthey looked, for that matter. For now they all spread out their wingsand rose in the air. Of course you all know what flying feels like,because everyone has dreamed about flying, and is seems so beautifullyeasy--only, you can never remember how you did it; and as a rule youhave to do it without wings, in your dreams, which is more clever anduncommon, but not so easy to remember the rule for. Now the fourchildren rose flapping from the ground, and you can't think how good theair felt as it ran against their faces. Their wings were tremendouslywide when they were spread out, and they had to fly quite a long wayapart so as not to get in each other's way. But little things like thisare easily learned.
All the words in the English Dictionary, and in the Greek Lexicon aswell, are, I find, of no use at all to tell you exactly what it feelslike to be flying, so I will not try. But I will say that to look _down_on the fields and woods instead of _along_ at them, is something likelooking at a beautiful live map, where, instead of silly colors onpaper, you have real moving sunny woods and green fields laid out oneafter the other. As Cyril said, and I can't think where he got hold ofsuch a strange expression, "It does you a fair treat!" It was mostwonderful and more like real magic than any wish the children had hadyet. They flapped and flew and saile
d on their great rainbow wings,between green earth and blue sky; and they flew over Rochester and thenswerved round towards Maidstone, and presently they all began to feelextremely hungry. Curiously enough, this happened when they were flyingrather low, and just as they were crossing an orchard where some earlyplums shone red and ripe.
They flew over Rochester]
They paused on their wings. I cannot explain to you how this is done,but it is something like treading water when you are swimming, and hawksdo it extremely well.
"Yes, I daresay," said Cyril, though no one had spoken. "But stealing isstealing even if you've got wings."
"Do you really think so?" said Jane briskly. "If you've got wings you'rea bird, and no one minds birds breaking the commandments. At least,they may _mind_, but the birds always do it, and no one scolds them orsends them to prison."
It was not so easy to perch on a plum-tree as you might think, becausethe rainbow wings were so _very_ large; but somehow they all managed todo it, and the plums were certainly very sweet and juicy.
Fortunately, it was not till they had all had quite as many plums aswere good for them that they saw a stout man, who looked exactly asthough he owned the plum-trees, come hurrying through the orchard gatewith a thick stick, and with one accord they disentangled their wingsfrom the plum-laden branches and began to fly.
The man stopped short, with his mouth open. For he had seen the boughsof his trees moving and twitching, and he had said to himself, "Themyoung varmint--at it again!" And he had come out at once, for the ladsof the village had taught him in past seasons that plums want lookingafter. But when he saw the rainbow wings flutter up out of theplum-tree he felt that he must have gone quite mad, and he did not likethe feeling at all. And when Anthea looked down and saw his mouth goslowly open, and stay so, and his face become green and mauve inpatches, she called out--
"Don't be frightened," and felt hastily in her pocket for athreepenny-bit with a hole in it, which she had meant to hang on aribbon round her neck, for luck. She hovered round the unfortunateplum-owner, and said, "We have had some of your plums; we thought itwasn't stealing, but now I am not so sure. So here's some money to payfor them."
She swooped down toward the terror-stricken grower of plums, and slippedthe coin into the pocket of his jacket, and in a few flaps she hadrejoined the others.
The farmer sat down on the grass, suddenly and heavily.
The farmer sat down on the grass suddenly and heavily]
"Well--I'm blessed!" he said. "This here is what they call delusions, Isuppose. But this here threepenny"--he had pulled it out and bittenit,--"_that's_ real enough. Well, from this day forth I'll be a betterman. It's the kind of thing to sober a chap for life, this is. I'm gladit was only wings, though. I'd rather see the birds as aren't there, andcouldn't be, even if they pretend to talk, than some things as I couldname."
He got up slowly and heavily, and went indoors, and he was so nice tohis wife that day that she felt quite happy, and said to herself, "Law,whatever have a-come to the man!" and smartened herself up and put ablue ribbon bow at the place where her collar fastened on, and looked sopretty that he was kinder than ever. So perhaps the winged childrenreally did do one good thing that day. If so, it was the only one; forreally there is nothing like wings for getting you into trouble. But, onthe other hand, if you are in trouble, there is nothing like wings forgetting you out of it.
This was the case in the matter of the fierce dog who sprang out at themwhen they had folded up their wings as small as possible and were goingup to a farm door to ask for a crust of bread and cheese, for inspite of the plums they were soon just as hungry as ever again.
Now there is no doubt whatever that, if the four had been ordinarywingless children, that black and fierce dog would have had a good biteout of the brown-stockinged leg of Robert, who was the nearest. But atits first growl there was a flutter of wings, and the dog was left tostrain at his chain and stand on his hind-legs as if he were trying tofly too.
They tried several other farms, but at those where there were no dogsthe people were far too frightened to do anything but scream; and atlast, when it was nearly four o'clock, and their wings were gettingmiserably stiff and tired, they alighted on a church-tower and held acouncil of war.
"We can't possibly fly all the way home without dinner _or_ tea," saidRobert with desperate decision.
"And nobody will give us any dinner, or even lunch, let alone tea," saidCyril.
"Perhaps the clergyman here might," suggested Anthea. "He must know allabout angels"--
"Anybody could see we're not that," said Jane. "Look at Robert's bootsand Squirrel's plaid necktie."
"Well," said Cyril firmly, "if the country you're in won't _sell_provisions, you _take_ them. In wars I mean. I'm quite certain you do.And even in other stories no good brother would allow his little sistersto starve in the midst of plenty."
"Plenty?" repeated Robert hungrily; and the others looked vaguely roundthe bare leads of the church-tower, and murmured, "In the midst of?"
"Yes," said Cyril impressively. "There is a larder window at the side ofthe clergyman's house, and I saw things to eat inside--custard puddingand cold chicken and tongue--and pies--and jam. It's rather a highwindow--but with wings"--
"How clever of you!" said Jane.
"Not at all," said Cyril modestly; "any born general--Napoleon or theDuke of Marlborough--would have seen it just the same as I did."
"It seems very wrong," said Anthea.
"Nonsense," said Cyril. "What was it Sir Philip Sidney said when thesoldier wouldn't give him a drink?--'My necessity is greater than his.'"
"We'll club together our money, though, and leave it to pay for thethings, won't we?" Anthea was persuasive, and very nearly in tears,because it is most trying to feel enormously hungry and unspeakablysinful at one and the same time.
"Some of it," was the cautious reply.
Everyone now turned out its pockets on the lead roof of the tower, wherevisitors for the last hundred and fifty years had cut their own andtheir sweethearts' initials with penknives in the soft lead. There wasfive-and-seven-pence halfpenny altogether, and even the upright Antheaadmitted that that was too much to pay for four people's dinners. Robertsaid he thought eighteenpence.
Every one now turned out his pockets]
And half-a-crown was finally agreed to be "handsome."
So Anthea wrote on the back of her last term's report, which happened tobe in her pocket, and from which she first tore her own name and that ofthe school, the following letter:--
"DEAR REVEREND CLERGYMAN,--We are very hungry indeed because of having to fly all day, and we think it is not stealing when you are starving to death. We are afraid to ask you for fear you should say 'No,' because of course you know about angels, but you would not think we were angels. We will only take the necessities of life, and no pudding or pie, to show you it is not grediness but true starvation that makes us make your larder stand and deliver. But we are not highwaymen by trade."
"Cut it short," said the others with one accord. And Anthea hastilyadded--
"Our intentions are quite honourable if you only knew. And here is half-a-crown to show we are sinseer and grateful.
"Thank you for your kind hospitality.
"FROM US FOUR."
The half-crown was wrapped in this letter, and all the children feltthat when the clergyman had read it he would understand everything, aswell as anyone could who had not even seen the wings.
"Now," said Cyril, "of course there's some risk; we'd better flystraight down the other side of the tower and then flutter low acrossthe churchyard and in through the shrubbery. There doesn't seem to beanyone about. But you never know. The window looks out into theshrubbery. It is embowered in foliage, like a window in a story. I'll goin and get the things. Robert and Anthea can t
ake them as I hand themout through the window; and Jane can keep watch,--her eyes aresharp,--and whistle if she sees anyone about. Shut up, Robert! she canwhistle quite well enough for that, anyway. It ought not to be a verygood whistle--it'll sound more natural and birdlike. Now then--off wego!"
I cannot pretend that stealing is right. I can only say that on thisoccasion it did not look like stealing to the hungry four, but appearedin the light of a fair and reasonable business transaction. They hadnever happened to learn that a tongue,--hardly cut into,--a chicken anda half, a loaf of bread, and a syphon of soda-water cannot be bought inthe stores for half-a-crown. These were the necessaries of life, whichCyril handed out of the larder window when, quite unobserved and withouthindrance or adventure, he had led the others to that happy spot. Hefelt that to refrain from jam, apple pie, cake, and mixed candied peel,was a really heroic act--and I agree with him. He was also proud of nottaking the custard pudding,--and there I think he was wrong,--because ifhe had taken it there would have been a difficulty about returning thedish; no one, however starving, has a right to steal china pie-disheswith little pink flowers on them. The soda-water syphon was different.They could not do without something to drink, and as the maker's namewas on it they felt sure it would be returned to him wherever they mightleave it. If they had time they would take it back themselves. Theman appeared to live in Rochester, which would not be much out of theirway home.
These were the necessaries of life]
Everything was carried up to the top of the tower, and laid down on asheet of kitchen paper which Cyril had found on the top shelf of thelarder. As he unfolded it, Anthea said, "I don't think _that's_ anecessity of life."
"Yes, it is," said he. "We must put the things down somewhere to cutthem up; and I heard father say the other day people got diseases fromgermans in rain-water. Now there must be lots of rain-water here,--andwhen it dries up the germans are left, and they'd get into the things,and we should all die of scarlet fever."
"What are germans?"
"Little waggly things you see with microscopes," said Cyril, with ascientific air. "They give you every illness you can think of. I'm surethe paper was a necessary, just as much as the bread and meat and water.Now then! Oh, I'm hungry!"
I do not wish to describe the picnic party on the top of the tower. Youcan imagine well enough what it is like to carve a chicken and a tonguewith a knife that has only one blade and that snapped off short abouthalf-way down. But it was done. Eating with your fingers is greasy anddifficult--and paper dishes soon get to look very spotty and horrid. Butone thing you _can't_ imagine, and that is how soda-water behaves whenyou try to drink it straight out of a syphon--especially a quite fullone. But if imagination will not help you, experience will, and you caneasily try it for yourself if you can get a grown-up to give you thesyphon. If you want to have a really thorough experience, put the tubein your mouth and press the handle very suddenly and very hard. You hadbetter do it when you are alone--and out of doors is best for thisexperiment.
However you eat them, tongue and chicken and new bread are very goodthings, and no one minds being sprinkled a little with soda-water on areally fine hot day. So that everyone enjoyed the dinner very muchindeed, and everyone ate as much as it possibly could: first, because itwas extremely hungry; and secondly, because, as I said, tongue andchicken and new bread are very nice.
Now, I daresay you will have noticed that if you have to wait for yourdinner till long after the proper time, and then eat a great deal moredinner than usual, and sit in the hot sun on the top of achurch-tower--or even anywhere else--you become soon and strangelysleepy. Now Anthea and Jane and Cyril and Robert were very like you inmany ways, and when they had eaten all they could, and drunk all therewas, they became sleepy, strangely and soon--especially Anthea, becauseshe had gotten up so early.
The children were fast asleep]
One by one they left off talking and leaned back, and before it was aquarter of an hour after dinner they had all curled round and tuckedthemselves up under their large soft warm wings and were fast asleep.And the sun was sinking slowly in the west. (I must say it was in thewest, because it is usual in books to say so, for fear careless peopleshould think it was setting in the east. In point of fact, it was notexactly in the west either--but that's near enough.) The sun, I repeat,was sinking slowly in the west, and the children slept warmly andhappily on--for wings are cosier than eider-down quilts to sleep under.The shadow of the church-tower fell across the churchyard, and acrossthe Vicarage, and across the field beyond; and presently there were nomore shadows, and the sun had set, and the wings were gone. And stillthe children slept. But not for long. Twilight is very beautiful, but itis chilly; and you know, however sleepy you are, you wake up soon enoughif your brother or sister happens to be up first and pulls your blanketsoff you. The four wingless children shivered and woke. And there theywere,--on the top of a church-tower in the dusky twilight, with bluestars coming out by ones and twos and tens and twenties over theirheads,--miles away from home, with three shillings and three-halfpencein their pockets, and a doubtful act about the necessities of life tobe accounted for if anyone found them with the soda-water syphon.
They looked at each other. Cyril spoke first, picking up the syphon--
"We'd better get along down and get rid of this beastly thing. It's darkenough to leave it on the clergyman's doorstep, I should think. Comeon."
There was a little turret at the corner of the tower, and the littleturret had a door in it. They had noticed this when they were eating,but had not explored it, as you would have done in their place. Because,of course, when you have wings and can explore the whole sky, doors seemhardly worth exploring.
Now they turned towards it.
"Of course," said Cyril "this is the way down."
It was. But the door was locked on the inside!
And the world was growing darker and darker. And they were miles fromhome. And there was the soda-water syphon.
I shall not tell you whether anyone cried, nor, if so, how many cried,nor who cried. You will be better employed in making up your minds whatyou would have done if you had been in their place.
