The children and Chinky were disappointed, but they knew Santa was right. They really were beginning to feel very sleepy. They slipped down that chimney with Santa, and Mollie filled Angela's stocking herself with all kinds of exciting things. Mollie wondered what Angela would say if she knew that she, Mollie, had filled her stocking and not Santa Claus. It wouldn't be any use telling her, for she wouldn't believe it!
Then Santa Claus told the wishing-chair to fly back to the playroom, and very soon it was there, standing on the floor.
“Goodbye, dear old Santa!” said Mollie, and she gave the jolly old man a hug. So did Peter. Chinky shook hands with him very solemnly. Then they watched him fly off in their chair to fill hundreds more stockings. He waved to them as he went out of sight.
“Oh, I'm so sleepy!” said Mollie. “Good-night, Chinky dear—see you tomorrow!”
They ran up the garden, crept into the house, and were soon fast asleep. And in the morning, what a wonderful surprise!
Santa Claus had come back at the end of his journey, and his last visit had been to Mollie and Peter. He must have climbed down their chimney whilst they slept, and he had filled their stockings from top to toe! They were almost bursting with good things! The presents had even overflowed on to the floor!
“Oh, here's just what I wanted!” cried Mollie, picking up a book. “Mr. Galliano's Circus! And here's a doll that opens and shuts its eyes—and a toy typewriter—and a doll's bathroom—and, oh look, Peter, you've got six different kinds of aeroplanes!”
Peter had plenty of other things beside those. The two children were very happy indeed. Mother was most astonished when she saw all their toys.
“Why, anyone would think you were great friends of Santa Claus, by the way he has spoilt you with so many presents!” she said.
“We are friends of his!” said Mollie happily.
After breakfast they went down to the playroom to wish Chinky a Merry Christmas—and do you know, he had as many things as they had, too! So you can guess what a fine Christmas morning they had, playing with everything.
“Good old Santa Claus, and good old wishing-chair!” said Peter, patting the chair, which was safely back in its place. “I do hope Santa Claus is having as good a Christmas as we are!”
Well, I expect he was, don't you?
More About The Wishing-Chair
YOU remember the wishing-chair, don't you, that Mollie and Peter had, with Chinky the pixie?
Well, Mollie and Peter went to boarding-school, and Chinky took the chair home to his mother until the holidays came. And you can guess that the very first day of the holidays Mollie and Peter rushed down to the playroom at the bottom of the garden to see if Chinky was there!
“Chinky's not here!” said Mollie, in disappointment.
“Nor is the chair!” said Peter,
But just at that very moment there came a whizzing noise, and in at the door flew the good old wishing-chair, with Chinky sitting as usual on the back, grinning all over his merry pixie face.
“Chinky! Oh, Chinky!” yelled Mollie and Peter, in delight. Chinky leapt off the chair and ran to the two children. They flung their arms round one another and hugged like bears.
“Oh, it's good to see you again, Chinky,” said Mollie happily.
“You don't know how I've missed you and Peter!” said Chinky. “Now we'll have some more adventures!”
“Well, first of all, tell us any news you have,” said Peter. But Chinky pointed to the wishing-chair. It was flapping its red wings as hard as ever it could, making quite a draught.
“The chair's glad to see you, too!” said Chinky, laughing. “And it badly wants to take us somewhere. Come on—let's get in and go whilst the chair has its wings.”
Mollie and Peter sat on the seat as they always used to do, and Chinky sat on the back. The chair flapped its wings, rose into the air, and flew off.
“Oh,” said Mollie. “What fun it is to fly off in the wishing-chair again! I do so like it!”
The children leaned over and looked at the towns and villages they were flying over. They knew exactly when they came to the borders of Fairyland, for Fairyland always had a soft blue mist hanging around it.
“Where are we going?” asked Peter.
“Don't know,” said Chinky. “This is the first time the chair has had a fly since you went to school. It's been a proper well-behaved, ordinary chair in my mother's house for weeks—now it's enjoying a good fly!”
The chair flew on and on. The children watched the towers of Giantland pass—the blue seas of Pixieland—the hills of the Red Goblins—and still the chair flew on.
At last it flew downwards. The children felt excited. Chinky looked down to see where they were going.
“I’ve never been here before,” he said. “I don't even know the name of the land.”
The chair came to rest in a little town. The children jumped off, but Chinky still sat on the back of the chair, trying to think where they had come to.
A lot of little folk came running up. They had very wide-open eyes, long ears, long noses and no chin at all. Mollie wasn't sure that she liked the look of them.
“What is this land?” asked Chinky.
“It's Disappearing Land,” said one of the little folk, smiling. “You'll have to be careful you don't vanish.”
Mollie remembered the Disappearing Island. It had disappeared suddenly just as they were going to land on it. Would this country disappear suddenly too? She asked Chinky.
“No,” said Chinky. “But we may disappear if we don't look out! I think we'd better go off again. I don't want to vanish somewhere!”
The children sat down in the wishing-chair once more. But its wings had gone. It wouldn't fly at all.
“Oh!” said Chinky. “First disappearing trick! I suppose they've done that to keep us here. Now, hold hands, all of us then if one of us vanishes the others can still feel him and take him along. We may as well have a look round whilst we are here. We'll remember where the chair is just by that yellow lamp-post. Come on!”
They went down the little, winding street. The strange little folk hurried everywhere, nodding and smiling. There was a market nearby, and the children and Chinky went to see what was being sold.
It was a strange village. Mollie was looking at a crooked little house with twisty chimneys when it quite suddenly disappeared and she was staring at nothing. It gave her such a shock.
Peter got a shock too. A dog with big pointed ears came running up to him and licked his fingers. Peter bent down to pat it—and found he was patting air! The dog had vanished under his very nose!
Even Chinky got caught too—and he was used to strange things! He went to buy three rosy apples off a stall. He gave the old dame there three pennies—but just as he took the apples from her they disappeared into nothing! There was Chinky, his three pennies given to the old dame, and his hands trying to take hold of three apples that had disappeared!
“I want my money back,” he said to the old woman, who was grinning widely. “I haven't got my apples.”
“Well, I gave them to you,” said the old woman. “They are not here! You can't have your money back.”
Chinky was angry. He stalked off down the street with Peter and Mollie. He kicked crossly at the kerb. At once it disappeared!
“I say! Don't do that,” said Peter, in alarm. “You might kick the whole street away!”
Chinky was pleased to find he could kick things away. He kicked very hard indeed at a lamp-post. But that didn't disappear! It just stood there, as solid as ever—and Chinky gave a loud yell and hopped about holding his poor toe!
Mollie and Peter couldn't help laughing. Peter leaned against a shop window and roared at Chinky—and then, very suddenly, the window behind him vanished and he fell over backwards! The whole shop had disappeared!
Peter stopped laughing and picked himself up. Then it was Chinky's turn to laugh. Peter did look so very much astonished!
“This is a funny sort
of town,” said Mollie, looking round her carefully, not quite certain what was going to disappear next. As she spoke, three chimneys disappeared off a cottage, and a door nearby vanished as well. It seemed as if every-thing that she looked at disappeared!
“I am hungry,” said Chinky, wishing he had the three apples he had bought. “Look! There's a shop selling buns. I wonder if they'll disappear if I buy some!”
He walked into the shop. A pointed-eared girl sat knitting behind the counter as Chinky went in, and disappeared. But she didn't seem to mind at all.
“Have you any currant buns?” asked Chinky, looking round, hoping the whole shop wouldn't disappear before he had bought the buns.
“Yes, fresh made today,” said the girl, and she pointed to some fine big ones, with plenty of currants in, and looking nice and sticky on the top.
“I'll take three, please,” said Chinky. He didn't give the girl the pennies until he had the bag of buns safely in his hand. Then he ran out of the shop and showed the buns to the others.
“Look at the lovely, juicy currants!” he said. “Come on—let's sit down on this seat and eat our buns.”
They sat down on the seat—but it at once vanished under them, and the three of them rolled over on the path. How all the little folk of the village laughed and laughed!
“I do think the way things disappear here is silly!” said Chinky, rubbing his head. “Where are the buns?”
“In the bag,” said Mollie. “Good thing they are, or they would have rolled in the road!”
But the buns had disappeared out of the bag, which was quite empty. The children stared into it in disgust. “Oh, let's go back to the wishing-chair,” said Peter. “I'm tired of this place.”
“Oooh, Peter!” said Mollie suddenly. “Look! Your feet have disappeared!”
Peter stared down at his feet—and it was true, they had gone!
“Well, I can still walk all right,” he said. “So they must be there although we can't see them. Thank goodness for that! Oooh, Chinky! Where's your mouth?”
Chinky hadn't got a mouth! It had disappeared!
A big wind suddenly swept round the corner of the street and took off Chinky’s cap. He ran after it, and Peter ran too—and do you know, when they turned round to go back to Mollie, she had disappeared as well!
“Oh! Mollie! Mollie!” cried Peter, in alarm. “Where are you?”
But there was no answer. Peter turned to Chinky. “Chinky! Did you see where Mollie went?”
But Chinky had now gone too! There was nobody at all where Chinky had been standing, putting on his hat again. Peter felt more alarmed than ever. This would never do!
“Bother!” he said fiercely. “Chinky said we'd better keep hold of each other's hands, in case this happened—and we all forgot about it—and now, on our very first holiday adventure, this has happened! Mollie! Chinky!”
Nobody answered Peter. And then a strange thing happened. Peter disappeared too! He felt as if he was there all right—but he couldn't see himself! He held out his hand and it wasn't there! He kicked up a foot—and it wasn't there either! Then he knew that he was invisible too.
“Now what am I to do?” he thought. “This is dreadful. Let me think.”
He stood and thought. Little folk came up and bumped into him for they couldn't see him. At first Peter was cross—then, as he saw their astonished faces, he remembered that he couldn't be seen. He ran and stood in a doorway where no one would bump into him.
“What's to be done, what's to be done?” thought Peter. “The others are in the same fix as I am. What will they do? Why—they will try to get back to the wishing-chair, I expect! That's what I must do too! We left it by the yellow lamp-post!” And off he went to find it.
The End of the Adventure
PETER made his way back to where they had left the wishing-chair. He did hope he might meet Mollie and Chinky there. He soon saw the yellow lamp-post in the distance, where the chair had been left.
“Good!” thought Peter, hurrying. “I'll soon be back with the chair again—and I'll sit in it and wait there till the others come.”
But as he got nearer he could see a crowd round the chair. The strange little folk of the village were shouting to one another about it, and two of the pointed-eared men had hold of the chair.
“I tell you I shall have this chair!” yelled one man, and he pulled hard.
“And I tell you I want it!” shouted the other, angrily, and he pulled the other way.
“Goodness! The chair will be in bits soon,” thought Peter, and he ran at top speed to the crowd of people. “Leave that chair alone!” he shouted. “It's not yours—it belongs to me!”
Everyone looked round—but, of course, they couldn't see Peter, for he was quite invisible. They only heard his voice.
“Who are you?” they said.
“I'm Peter, and I want my chair,” said the little boy. He pushed his way through the crowd and took hold of the chair firmly. At once the other two who were holding it began to pull away hard. But Peter didn't let go.
“Show yourself, show yourself!” shouted the crowd.
“I don't know how to,” said Peter. “I suddenly disappeared, and I can't even see myself. But I'm real enough, and if anyone begins to be horrid to me I've got fists that can hit hard. And you won't see them coming, either! Now, let go my chair, please.”
“We don't believe it's yours, we don't believe it's yours!” cried everyone, siding with the two men who had got hold of the poor wishing-chair.
Peter didn't know what to do. He certainly couldn't get the chair away by himself. “Oh, wishing-chair, we are in a fix!” he groaned. “Our very first holiday adventure, too! It's bad luck!”
Suddenly the wishing-chair decided to help matters itself. It grew its wings very fast. It flapped them strongly. It rose into the air—and with it it took Peter, who was holding it—and the two little men as well!
The crowd shouted in surprise to see the chair rise up. The two little men were full of fear. They hung on with all their might. Peter climbed up and sat safely in the chair. He had got away from the crowd, at any rate. He wondered what to do with the little men who were hanging on to the chair. He couldn't make them fall—they might be hurt.
The chair rose high up. Peter suddenly cried out in alarm. “Hie, wishing-chair! Don't go home yet! We've left Mollie and Chinky behind! Fly down again, quickly.”
The chair flew down at once. As soon as it was safely on the ground the two little men began to quarrel again about who was to have the chair. Peter got really angry. He pushed them both hard. They fell over.
“I wish you'd stop this,” said Peter. “What's the good of quarrelling about my chair? I’m going to have it, not you. Leave go!”
But they wouldn't. Peter picked up a twig and rapped their hands sharply. They let go at once—and before they could take hold again, what do you think happened? Why, the wishing-chair most obligingly disappeared! Peter blinked in surprise, for he still wasn't used to seeing things disappear so suddenly.
Then he knew what to do. If he picked up the chair and ran off with it, the two little men wouldn't know where it had gone—for they could see neither Peter nor the chair, now! So Peter felt for the chair, and, quick as lightning, snatched it up and ran down the street! The two little men stared all round in astonishment, and then began to slap each other hard.
“Just what they both want!” thought Peter, pleased. He ran on and on and then stopped. He put the chair down just inside a field gate, sat down in it firmly, and tried to think what to do. How in the world could he find Mollie and Peter?
“If I go through the village again, yelling out Mollie and Chinky's names, maybe they'll hear me and come to me,” thought Peter. “They must be very worried, because they don't know where the chair is!”
Back he went to the village, carrying the chair on his shoulder. As he went he shouted loudly, “MOLLIE! CHINKY! MOLLIE! CHINKY!”
Suddenly he heard Mollie's voice, a
nswering. How glad Peter was! It came from the other side of the road. “Peter! I can hear you! I'm still invisible. Where are you?”
“I'm standing by the fruit-shop here!” yelled back Peter. “I've got the chair, too!”
In half a minute he felt Mollie's hands touching him, and then she hugged him and felt for the good old wishing-chair too. “Now we must get Chinky,” said Peter. “What have you been doing all this time, Mollie?”
“Oh, I've been looking for you,” said Mollie. “I went back to the yellow lamp-post but the chair was gone.”
Just then someone they couldn't see bumped into them. He couldn't see them either, for they were still invisible. As soon as the person who bumped into them felt the chair, he gave a yell, and caught hold of it.
Peter snatched at the chair too. He pulled and Mollie helped him. They were not going to lose their precious chair! But the one who was pulling against them was very strong, and suddenly the chair was tugged right away, and they could no longer feel it. They couldn't see it either, of course—it was gone!
“Oh, it's gone, it's gone!” cried Mollie, almost in tears. “Oh, Peter, what shall we do now?”
“Mollie! Peter! Is it you!” cried a voice gladly. “It's me, Chinky! I didn't know I was pulling against you! I just came along the street, bumped into the chair, felt it was ours and grabbed it. When I felt someone pulling hard against me, I jerked till I got it! Hurrah! We're all together again!”
How pleased everyone was! “I've been looking everywhere for you,” said Chinky, climbing on to the back of the chair. “My word—fancy the chair disappearing, too! This is a most uncomfortable sort of place. Come on—let's get away as soon as we can.”
They all got on to the chair. It flapped its wings and rose up suddenly into the air. “Oooh!” said Mollie, “that was quick—it felt like a lift going up!”
“Chinky, how are we going to get ourselves right again?” asked Peter. “We can't go home like this.”
“I can get some of that magic paint we once used at Witch Snippit's spinning house,” said Chinky. “Then we'll paint ourselves back again. That's easy. I'll send one of my friends to get the paint for us.”