But the Snoogle was not afraid of the wishing-chair. He ran to it and stood by it. “You shall not fly off in your chair now!” he quacked loudly. “Aha! That will punish you.”
“Oh yes, we will!” shouted Chinky, and he ran to push the Snoogle away—but, oh dear, oh dear, whatever do you suppose the Snoogle did? With four hard pecks he pecked off the red wings of the poor wishing-chair! There they lay on the ground, four bunches of red feathers!
“Oh! You wicked creature!” shouted Mollie, in a rage. “You have spoilt our lovely, lovely wishing-chair! Oh, how could you do a thing like that! Oh, Chinky, why did you make the Snoogle angry? Look what he’s done!”
Mollie burst into tears. She couldn’t bear to see the wings of the wishing-chair on the ground, instead of flapping away merrily on its legs. Peter turned pale. He did not know how they would get home now.
Chinky was full of horror. He had not thought that such a thing would happen—but it was done now!
“Well, I think you’ll agree that you can’t fly away now,” said the Snoogle, with a grin. “Take your chair and go down into the kitchen. You can live there now. No one ever comes here—and you can’t get out—so we shall be nice company for one another!”
Chinky picked up the chair. The three of them walked down the steps very sorrowfully.
“We are in a pretty fix now!” said Peter gloomily. “I don’t know what we are going to do now that our wishing-chair can’t fly!”
The Snoogle’s Castle
THE children and Chinky carried the wishing-chair down to the Snoogle’s kitchen. This was a big bare stone place with a huge fire roaring in the grate.
Chinky stood the chair down on the stone floor and sat in it, looking very gloomy.
“I know it was my fault that the wishing-chair’s wings were pecked off,” he said to the others. “Don’t cry, Mollie. There must be some way of getting out of the Snoogle’s castle.”
“I’m not crying because I’m afraid we can’t escape,” said Mollie. “I’m crying because of the poor wishing-chair. Is this the end of all our flying adventures? It is horrid to think we may never go any more!”
“Don’t think about that,” said Chinky. “The first thing is—can we possibly get out of here? Where is the Snoogle, I wonder?”
“Here!” said the quacking voice of the duck-headed Snoogle, and he looked into the kitchen. “If you want any tea, there are cakes in the larder—and you might make some tea and put some cakes on a plate for me too.”
“I suppose we might as well do what he says,” said Peter. He went to the larder and looked inside. He saw a tin there with cakes printed on it. Inside there were some fine chocolate buns. The children put some on a plate for themselves and some on a plate for the Snoogle. Mollie put the kettle on the fire to boil. They all waited for the steam to come out—but nobody said a word. They were too unhappy.
When the kettle boiled Mollie made tea in two teapots. She took one teapot, cup and saucer, and plate of cakes to the Snoogle, who was sitting in the dining-room reading a newspaper. It was upside down, so Mollie didn’t think it was much use to him. But she was too polite to say so. She couldn’t help feeling, too, that it would be much better for all of them if they tried to be friendly with the Snoogle.
She put the tray down by the Snoogle and left him. He opened his great beak before she was out of the room and gobbled up one cake after another. Mollie thought he must be a very greedy creature.
She went back to the kitchen, and she and the others munched chocolate buns and drank hot tea, wondering gloomily what to do next.
“Perhaps we could swim across that moat,” said Mollie at last.
“We’ll look and see, when we can creep away for a few minutes,” said Peter.
“Listen,” said Chinky. “What’s that noise?”
They listened.
“Snore-r-r-r-r-r! Snore-r-r-r-r-r!” went the Snoogle in the dining-room. The three looked at one another.
“What about poking all round to see if there’s any way of escape now?” whispered Peter.
“Come on, then!” said Chinky. They all got up. They went to the kitchen door and opened it. It looked straight on to the moat. How wide and deep and cold it looked!
“Ooh!” said Mollie. “I’d never be able to swim across that, I’m sure. Nor would you, Peter!”
“And look!” said Chinky, pointing down into the water. “There are giant frogs there—they would bite us, I expect!”
Sure enough, as Mollie and Peter peered down into the water they saw the blunt snouts of many giant frogs. “Oooh!” said Mollie. “I’m not going to jump in there!”
“I say!” said Peter. “What about the drawbridge? Couldn’t we let that down ourselves and escape that way?”
“Of course!” said Chinky. “Come on. We’ll find it before the old Snoogle awakes.”
They went through the kitchen and into a big wide hall. They swung open the great front door. A path led down to a gateway that overlooked the moat. The door of the gateway was the drawbridge, drawn up over the entrance.
The three ran down to the gate. Chinky looked carefully at the chains that held up the drawbridge.
“Look!” he said to the others. “These chains are fastened by a padlock. The drawbridge cannot be let down unless the key is fitted into the padlock and the lock is turned. Then the drawbridge will be let down over the moat.”
“Where is the key to the padlock, I wonder,” said Mollie.
“I know,” said Peter. “The Snoogle has it. I saw a big key hanging from him somewhere.”
“Can’t we get it?” asked Mollie. “He’s asleep. Let’s try.”
They tiptoed into the dining-room. The Snoogle was certainly very fast asleep.
“I guess we can get the key without waking him!” whispered Chinky, in delight. “Where is it?”
They looked all round the Snoogle for the key—but they couldn’t see it. And then, at last Peter saw it—or part of it. The Snoogle was sitting on it! They could just see the head of the key sticking out from underneath him.
“No good,” said Chinky, shaking his head and tiptoeing out. “We should certainly wake him if we tried to pull that key out, as he’s sitting on it. I suppose that’s why he sat on it, to stop us getting it!”
“Anyway, I expect the drawbridge would have made an awful noise rattling down on its chains,” said Peter gloomily. “The Snoogle would have heard it and woken up and come after us.”
“What shall we do now?” said Mollie, in despair.
“We can’t swim the moat, We can’t unlock the draw bridge and let it down.”
“There’s one thing we might try,” said Chinky. “I might try to whistle one of the birds down to a window-sill and tell it of our dreadful fix. It would fly back to pixie-land and perhaps the King would send to rescue us. You never know.”
“Yes—do that,” said Mollie, cheering up. The children and the pixie went up the stairs and into a bedroom. They leaned out of the open window. Below lay the silvery moat.
Chinky began to whistle. It was a soft whistle, but a very piercing one. Mollie felt sure that if she had been a bird she would have come in answer to Chinky’s whistle.
Chinky stopped his whistling. He looked anxiously into the sky and waited. No bird came. No bird was to be seen.
“I’ll try again,” said Chinky. He whistled once more. They waited, looking everywhere for the sign of a bird.
“There are no birds in this Snoogle country,” said the pixie, with a sigh. “One would have come if it could.”
“Well,” said Mollie, looking worried, “whatever can we do now? There doesn’t seem to be any way of escape at all—nor any way of getting people to help us.”
“Let’s go into each of the rooms, upstairs and downstairs, and see if there is anyone there,” said Chinky. “We might find a servant or someone—they might help us. You never know!”
So the children and the pixie went into each room, one by one. They were
queer, untidy rooms. It looked as if the Snoogle lived in one for a bit and then, when it became too untidy, went into another one and lived there until the same thing happened!
There was no one at all in any of the rooms. Only the Snoogle lived in the castle, that was plain.
“Well, we’ve been in many fixes,” said the pixie gloomily, “but this is about the tightest fix we’ve ever been in. How I hate the Snoogle for pecking the wings off our dear old wishing-chair!”
The children and Chinky went down into the kitchen again. The Snoogle was no longer snoring in the dining-room. He must be awake!
He was. He came into the kitchen, snapping his duck-beak and waving his cat’s tail.
“Well,” he said, with a grin. “Been all over the castle to find a way of escape? Aha! You won’t find that in a hurry! Well, as you’re here, you may as well wait on me. I’m tired of doing my own cooking and washing-up. You can do it for me.”
“We won’t, then!” said Peter furiously. “It is bad enough to have to be here, without waiting on a duck-headed creature like you!”
“Hush, Peter,” said Mollie suddenly. “Hush! Very well, Snoogle, we will do as you say. Where would you like your supper? There is a cloth in the drawer, but it is dirty. Have you a clean one, so that I can begin to get your supper for you?”
“You are a sensible girl,” said the Snoogle, pleased. “I have a clean cloth upstairs. I will get it.”
He went out of the room. Chinky and Peter turned and stared at Mollie in amazement. What did she mean by giving in so meekly to the horrid Snoogle?
“Peter! Chinky! Look!” said Mollie, and she pointed to the wishing-chair, where it stood in a corner of the kitchen. The others looked—and whatever do you suppose they saw? Guess?
The wishing-chair was growing new wings! Yes, really! Tiny red buds were forming on its legs. They grew fast. They burst into feathers. They were growing into new, strong wings!
“Goodness!” said Peter and Chinky, amazed. “Who would have thought of that! Good old wishing-chair!”
“Quick—here comes the Snoogle. Put the chair behind the table, where he can’t see its wings growing,” said Mollie. So Chinky pushed it behind the table just in time. The Snoogle pattered in, and held out a clean cloth to Mollie.
“Thank you,” said the little girl politely. “And have you got some egg-cups, please? I will boil you some eggs for supper.”
The Snoogle trotted out to fetch some egg-cups. As soon as he was gone, Mollie, Peter, and Chinky crowded into the wishing-chair.
“Home, as quickly as you can, wishing-chair!” shouted Chinky. The chair flapped its new red wings and rose into the air. The Snoogle came running into the kitchen. He quacked with rage. He tried to get hold of the chair as it flew past him.
Chinky kicked out at him and caught him on his big yellow beak. The Snoogle gave a squawk and sat down suddenly.
“Goodbye, goodbye, dear Snoogle!” yelled Chinky, waving his hand. “Do call in and see us when you are passing, and we’ll give you a clean cloth for tea and boil you some eggs!”
The chair flew home at a great rate. At last it came to the playroom and flew into it. It set itself down on the floor, and its wings gave one more flap and vanished.
“Ha! The old wishing-chair is tired!” said Chinky. “I don’t wonder! I hope it will soon grow its wings again. We do have some adventures, don’t we, children!”
“Where’s Mother’s ring, Chinky?” asked Peter, suddenly remembering why they had gone adventuring— to get his mother’s lost ring!
“Here you are,” said Chinky, and he gave Peter the ring. “Won’t your mother be pleased! She won’t guess what a lot of adventures we had getting back her ring for her!”
Peter and Mollie ran off happily. They called their mother and gave her her ring. “You had dropped it in the garden, Mother,” said Peter.
“Thank you! You are kind children to find it for me!” said Mother. But she didn’t guess that Big-Ears the goblin had stolen it—and that the Snoogle had had it too! No—that was the children’s secret.
The Chair Runs Away Again
ONE afternoon Mollie, Peter, and Chinky were in the playroom together, playing at Kings and Queens. They each took it in turn to be a King or a Queen, and they wore the red rug for a cloak, and a cardboard crown covered with gold paper. The wishing-chair was the throne.
It was Peter’s turn to be King. He put on the crown and wound the red rug round his shoulders for a cloak. He did feel grand. He sat down in the wishing-chair and arranged the cloak round him, so that it fell all round the chair and on to the floor too, just like a real king’s cloak.
Then Mollie and Chinky had to curtsy and bow to him, and ask for his commands. He could tell them to do anything he liked.
“Your Majesty, what would you have me do today?” asked Mollie, curtsying low.
“I would have you go and pick me six dandelions, six daisies, and six buttercups,” said Peter, grandly, waving his hand. Mollie curtsied again and walked out backwards, nearly falling over a stool as she did so.
Then Chinky asked Peter what he was to do for him. “Your Majesty, what would you have me do?” he said, bowing low.
“I would have you go to the cupboard and get me a green sweet out of the bottle there,” said Peter commandingly. Chinky went to the cupboard. He couldn’t see the bottle at first. He moved the tins about and hunted for it. He didn’t see what was happening behind him!
Peter didn’t see either. But what was happening was that the wishing-chair was growing its wings— under the red rug that was all around its legs! Peter sat in the chair, waiting impatiently for his commands to be obeyed—and the chair flapped its red wings under the rug and wondered why it could not flap them as easily as usual!
Mollie was in the garden gathering the flowers that Peter had ordered. Chinky was still hunting for the bottle of sweets. The wishing-chair flapped its wings harder than ever—it suddenly rose into the air, and flew swiftly out of the door before Peter could jump out, and before Chinky could catch hold of it. It was gone!
“Hie, Mollie, Mollie!” yelled Chinky in alarm. “The wishing-chair’s gone—and Peter’s gone with it!”
Mollie came tearing into the playroom. “I saw it!” she panted. “Oh, why didn’t Peter or you see that its wings had grown? Now, it’s gone off with Peter, and we don’t know where!”
“We didn’t see its wings growing because the red rug hid its legs!” said Chinky. “It must have grown them under the rug and flown off before any of us guessed!”
“Well, what shall we do?” asked Mollie. “What will happen to Peter?”
“It depends where he’s gone,” said Chinky. “Did you see which way the chair went?”
“Towards the west,” said Mollie. “Peter was yelling and shouting like anything—but he couldn’t stop the chair.”
“Well, we’d better go on a journey of our own,” said Chinky. “I’ll catch Farmer Straw’s two geese. They won’t like it much—but it can’t be helped. We must go after Peter and the chair somehow!”
He ran off down to the farm. Presently Mollie heard the noise of flapping wings, and down from the sky came Chinky, riding on the back of one of the geese, and leading the other by a piece of thick string. The geese hissed angrily as they came to the ground.
“They are most annoyed about it,” said Chinky to Mollie. “They only came when I promised them that I wouldn’t let Farmer Straw take them to market next week.”
“Ss-ss-ss-ss!” hissed the big geese, and one tried to peck at Mollie’s fat legs. Chinky smacked it.
“Behave yourself!” he said. “If you peck Mollie I’ll change your beak into a trumpet, and then you’ll only be able to toot, not cackle or hiss!”
Mollie laughed. “You do say some funny things, Chinky,” she said. She got on to the goose’s back. Up in the air it went, flapping its enormous white wings.
“We’ll go to the cloud castle first of all,” said Chinky. “The fairi
es there may have seen Peter going by and can tell us where they think the chair might have been going.”
So they flew to an enormous white cloud that towered up into the sky. As they drew near it Mollie could see that it had turrets, and was really a cloud castle. She thought it was the loveliest thing she had ever seen.
There was a great gateway in the cloud castle. The geese flew through it and landed in a misty courtyard. Mollie was just going to get off when Chinky shouted to her.
“Don’t get off, Mollie—you haven’t got cloud-shoes on and you’d fall right through to the earth below!”
Mollie stayed on her goose. Small fairies dressed in all the colours of the rainbow came running into the courtyard, chattering in delight to see Mollie and Chinky. They wore cloud-shoes, rather like big flat snow-shoes, and with these they were able to step safely on the cloud that made their castle.
“Come in and have some lemonade!” cried the little folk. But Chinky shook his head.
“We are looking for a boy in a flying chair,” he said. “Have you see him?”
“Yes!” cried the fairies, crowding round the geese, who cackled and hissed at them. “He passed about fifteen minutes ago. The chair had red wings and was flying strongly towards the west. Hurry and you may catch it up!”
“Thank you!” cried Chinky. He shook the string reins of his goose, and he and Mollie flew up into the air once more, and went steadily westwards.
“There is a gnome who lives in a tall tower some miles westwards,” said Chinky. “It is so tall that it sticks out above the clouds. We will make for there, and see if he has seen anything of Peter and the wishing-chair.”
The geese flew on, cackling to one another. They were still in a bad temper. Chinky kept a look out for the tall tower—but Mollie saw it first. It looked very strange. It was sticking right through a big black cloud, and, as it was made of bright silver, it shone brilliantly.
There was a small window at the top. It was open. The geese flew down to the window-sill and Chinky stuck his head inside.