Produced by Jo Churcher
THE PHOENIX AND THE CARPET
E. Nesbit
TO
My Dear Godson HUBERT GRIFFITH and his sister MARGARET
TO HUBERT
Dear Hubert, if I ever found A wishing-carpet lying round, I'd stand upon it, and I'd say: 'Take me to Hubert, right away!' And then we'd travel very far To where the magic countries are That you and I will never see, And choose the loveliest gifts for you, from me.
But oh! alack! and well-a-day! No wishing-carpets come my way. I never found a Phoenix yet, And Psammeads are so hard to get! So I give you nothing fine-- Only this book your book and mine, And hers, whose name by yours is set; Your book, my book, the book of Margaret!
E. NESBIT DYMCHURCH September, 1904
CONTENTS
1 The Egg 2 The Topless Tower 3 The Queen Cook 4 Two Bazaars 5 The Temple 6 Doing Good 7 Mews from Persia 8 The Cats, the Cow, and the Burglar 9 The Burglar's Bride 10 The Hole in the Carpet 11 The Beginning of the End 12 The End of the End
CHAPTER 1. THE EGG
It began with the day when it was almost the Fifth of November, and adoubt arose in some breast--Robert's, I fancy--as to the quality of thefireworks 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 wouldhave something to snigger about then.'
'The ones _I_ got are all right,' Jane said; 'I know they are, becausethe man at the shop said they were worth thribble the money--'
'I'm sure thribble isn't grammar,' Anthea said.
'Of course it isn't,' said Cyril; 'one word can't be grammar all byitself, so you needn't be so jolly clever.'
Anthea was rummaging in the corner-drawers of her mind for a verydisagreeable answer, when she remembered what a wet day it was, and howthe boys had been disappointed of that ride to London and back on thetop of the tram, which their mother had promised them as a reward fornot having once forgotten, for six whole days, to wipe their boots onthe mat when they came home from school.
So Anthea only said, 'Don't be so jolly clever yourself, Squirrel. Andthe fireworks look all right, and you'll have the eightpence that yourtram fares didn't cost to-day, to buy something more with. You ought toget a perfectly lovely Catharine wheel for eightpence.'
'I daresay,' said Cyril, coldly; 'but it's not YOUR eightpence anyhow--'
'But look here,' said Robert, 'really now, about the fireworks. We don'twant to be disgraced before those kids next door. They think becausethey wear red plush on Sundays no one else is any good.'
'I wouldn't wear plush if it was ever so--unless it was black to bebeheaded in, if I was Mary Queen of Scots,' said Anthea, with scorn.
Robert stuck steadily to his point. One great point about Robert is thesteadiness with which he can stick.
'I think we ought to test them,' he said.
'You young duffer,' said Cyril, 'fireworks are like postage-stamps. Youcan only use them once.'
'What do you suppose it means by "Carter's tested seeds" in theadvertisement?'
There was a blank silence. Then Cyril touched his forehead with hisfinger and shook his head.
'A little wrong here,' he said. 'I was always afraid of that with poorRobert. All that cleverness, you know, and being top in algebra sooften--it's bound to tell--'
'Dry up,' said Robert, fiercely. 'Don't you see? You can't TEST seeds ifyou do them ALL. You just take a few here and there, and if thosegrow you can feel pretty sure the others will be--what do you callit?--Father told me--"up to sample". Don't you think we ought to samplethe fire-works? Just shut our eyes and each draw one out, and then trythem.'
'But it's raining cats and dogs,' said Jane.
'And Queen Anne is dead,' rejoined Robert. No one was in a very goodtemper. 'We needn't go out to do them; we can just move back the table,and let them off on the old tea-tray we play toboggans with. I don'tknow what YOU think, but _I_ think it's time we did something, andthat would be really useful; because then we shouldn't just HOPE thefireworks would make those Prossers sit up--we should KNOW.'
'It WOULD be something to do,' Cyril owned with languid approval.
So the table was moved back. And then the hole in the carpet, thathad been near the window till the carpet was turned round, showed mostawfully. But Anthea stole out on tip-toe, and got the tray when cookwasn't looking, and brought it in and put it over the hole.
Then all the fireworks were put on the table, and each of the fourchildren shut its eyes very tight and put out its hand and graspedsomething. Robert took a cracker, Cyril and Anthea had Roman candles;but Jane's fat paw closed on the gem of the whole collection, theJack-in-the-box that had cost two shillings, and one at least of theparty--I will not say which, because it was sorry afterwards--declaredthat Jane had done it on purpose. Nobody was pleased. For the worst ofit was that these four children, with a very proper dislike of anythingeven faintly bordering on the sneakish, had a law, unalterable as thoseof the Medes and Persians, that one had to stand by the results of atoss-up, or a drawing of lots, or any other appeal to chance, howevermuch one might happen to dislike the way things were turning out.
'I didn't mean to,' said Jane, near tears. 'I don't care, I'll drawanother--'
'You know jolly well you can't,' said Cyril, bitterly. 'It's settled.It's Medium and Persian. You've done it, and you'll have to stand byit--and us too, worse luck. Never mind. YOU'LL have your pocket-moneybefore the Fifth. Anyway, we'll have the Jack-in-the-box LAST, and getthe most out of it we can.'
So the cracker and the Roman candles were lighted, and they wereall that could be expected for the money; but when it came to theJack-in-the-box it simply sat in the tray and laughed at them, as Cyrilsaid. They tried to light it with paper and they tried to light it withmatches; they tried to light it with Vesuvian fusees from the pocketof father's second-best overcoat that was hanging in the hall. And thenAnthea slipped away to the cupboard under the stairs where the broomsand dustpans were kept, and the rosiny fire-lighters that smell so niceand like the woods where pine-trees grow, and the old newspapers and thebees-wax and turpentine, and the horrid an stiff dark rags that are usedfor cleaning brass and furniture, and the paraffin for the lamps. Shecame back with a little pot that had once cost sevenpence-halfpenny whenit was full of red-currant jelly; but the jelly had been all eaten longago, and now Anthea had filled the jar with paraffin. She came in, andshe threw the paraffin over the tray just at the moment when Cyril wastrying with the twenty-third match to light the Jack-in-the-box. TheJack-in-the-box did not catch fire any more than usual, but the paraffinacted quite differently, and in an instant a hot flash of flame leaptup and burnt off Cyril's eyelashes, and scorched the faces of allfour before they could spring back. They backed, in four instantaneousbounds, as far as they could, which was to the wall, and the pillar offire reached from floor to ceiling.
'My hat,' said Cyril, with emotion, 'You've done it this time, Anthea.'
The flame was spreading out under the ceiling like the rose of fire inMr Rider Haggard's exciting story about Allan Quatermain. Robert andCyril saw that no time was to be lost. They turned up the edges of thecarpet, and kicked them over the tray. This cut off the column of fire,and it disappeared and there was nothing left but smoke and a dreadfulsmell of lamps that have been turned too low.
All hands now rushed to the rescue, and the paraffin fire was only abundle of trampled carpet, when suddenly a sharp crack beneath theirfeet made the amateur firemen start back. Another crack--the carpetmoved as if i
t had had a cat wrapped in it; the Jack-in-the-box had atlast allowed itself to be lighted, and it was going off with desperateviolence inside the carpet.
Robert, with the air of one doing the only possible thing, rushed to thewindow and opened it. Anthea screamed, Jane burst into tears, andCyril turned the table wrong way up on top of the carpet heap. But thefirework went on, banging and bursting and spluttering even underneaththe table.
Next moment mother rushed in, attracted by the howls of Anthea, and in afew moments the firework desisted and there was a dead silence, andthe children stood looking at each other's black faces, and, out of thecorners of their eyes, at mother's white one.
The fact that the nursery carpet was ruined occasioned but littlesurprise, nor was any one really astonished that bed should prove theimmediate end of the adventure. It has been said that all roads lead toRome; this may be true, but at any rate, in early youth I am quite surethat many roads lead to BED, and stop there--or YOU do.
The rest of the fireworks were confiscated, and mother was not pleasedwhen father let them off himself in the back garden, though he said,'Well, how else can you get rid of them, my dear?'
You see, father had forgotten that the children were in disgrace, andthat their bedroom windows looked out on to the back garden. So thatthey all saw the fireworks most beautifully, and admired the skill withwhich father handled them.
Next day all was forgotten and forgiven; only the nursery had tobe deeply cleaned (like spring-cleaning), and the ceiling had to bewhitewashed.
And mother went out; and just at tea-time next day a man came with arolled-up carpet, and father paid him, and mother said--
'If the carpet isn't in good condition, you know, I shall expect you tochange it.' And the man replied--
'There ain't a thread gone in it nowhere, mum. It's a bargain, if everthere was one, and I'm more'n 'arf sorry I let it go at the price; butwe can't resist the lydies, can we, sir?' and he winked at father andwent away.
Then the carpet was put down in the nursery, and sure enough therewasn't a hole in it anywhere.
As the last fold was unrolled something hard and loud-sounding bumpedout of it and trundled along the nursery floor. All the childrenscrambled for it, and Cyril got it. He took it to the gas. It was shapedlike an egg, very yellow and shiny, half-transparent, and it had an oddsort of light in it that changed as you held it in different ways. Itwas as though it was an egg with a yolk of pale fire that just showedthrough the stone.
'I MAY keep it, mayn't I, mother?' Cyril asked.
And of course mother said no; they must take it back to the man who hadbrought the carpet, because she had only paid for a carpet, and not fora stone egg with a fiery yolk to it.
So she told them where the shop was, and it was in the Kentish TownRoad, not far from the hotel that is called the Bull and Gate. It wasa poky little shop, and the man was arranging furniture outside on thepavement very cunningly, so that the more broken parts should show aslittle as possible. And directly he saw the children he knew them again,and he began at once, without giving them a chance to speak.
'No you don't' he cried loudly; 'I ain't a-goin' to take back nocarpets, so don't you make no bloomin' errer. A bargain's a bargain, andthe carpet's puffik throughout.'
'We don't want you to take it back,' said Cyril; 'but we found somethingin it.'
'It must have got into it up at your place, then,' said the man, withindignant promptness, 'for there ain't nothing in nothing as I sell.It's all as clean as a whistle.'
'I never said it wasn't CLEAN,' said Cyril, 'but--'
'Oh, if it's MOTHS,' said the man, 'that's easy cured with borax. But Iexpect it was only an odd one. I tell you the carpet's good through andthrough. It hadn't got no moths when it left my 'ands--not so much as anhegg.'
'But that's just it,' interrupted Jane; 'there WAS so much as an egg.'
The man made a sort of rush at the children and stamped his foot.
'Clear out, I say!' he shouted, 'or I'll call for the police. A nicething for customers to 'ear you a-coming 'ere a-charging me with findingthings in goods what I sells. 'Ere, be off, afore I sends you off with aflea in your ears. Hi! constable--'
The children fled, and they think, and their father thinks, that theycouldn't have done anything else. Mother has her own opinion.
But father said they might keep the egg.
'The man certainly didn't know the egg was there when he brought thecarpet,' said he, 'any more than your mother did, and we've as muchright to it as he had.'
So the egg was put on the mantelpiece, where it quite brightened up thedingy nursery. The nursery was dingy, because it was a basement room,and its windows looked out on a stone area with a rockery made ofclinkers facing the windows. Nothing grew in the rockery except Londonpride and snails.
The room had been described in the house agent's list as a 'convenientbreakfast-room in basement,' and in the daytime it was rather dark. Thisdid not matter so much in the evenings when the gas was alight, but thenit was in the evening that the blackbeetles got so sociable, and used tocome out of the low cupboards on each side of the fireplace where theirhomes were, and try to make friends with the children. At least, Isuppose that was what they wanted, but the children never would.
On the Fifth of November father and mother went to the theatre, andthe children were not happy, because the Prossers next door had lots offireworks and they had none.
They were not even allowed to have a bonfire in the garden.
'No more playing with fire, thank you,' was father's answer, when theyasked him.
When the baby had been put to bed the children sat sadly round the firein the nursery.
'I'm beastly bored,' said Robert.
'Let's talk about the Psammead,' said Anthea, who generally tried togive the conversation a cheerful turn.
'What's the good of TALKING?' said Cyril. 'What I want is for somethingto happen. It's awfully stuffy for a chap not to be allowed out in theevenings. There's simply nothing to do when you've got through yourhomers.'
Jane finished the last of her home-lessons and shut the book with abang.
'We've got the pleasure of memory,' said she. 'Just think of lastholidays.'
Last holidays, indeed, offered something to think of--for they hadbeen spent in the country at a white house between a sand-pit and agravel-pit, and things had happened. The children had found a Psammead,or sand-fairy, and it had let them have anything they wished for--justexactly anything, with no bother about its not being really for theirgood, or anything like that. And if you want to know what kind of thingsthey wished for, and how their wishes turned out you can read it all ina book called Five Children and It (It was the Psammead). If you've notread it, perhaps I ought to tell you that the fifth child was the babybrother, who was called the Lamb, because the first thing he ever saidwas 'Baa!' and that the other children were not particularly handsome,nor were they extra clever, nor extraordinarily good. But they were notbad sorts on the whole; in fact, they were rather like you.
'I don't want to think about the pleasures of memory,' said Cyril; 'Iwant some more things to happen.'
'We're very much luckier than any one else, as it is,' said Jane. 'Why,no one else ever found a Psammead. We ought to be grateful.'
'Why shouldn't we GO ON being, though?' Cyril asked--'lucky, I mean, notgrateful. Why's it all got to stop?'
'Perhaps something will happen,' said Anthea, comfortably. 'Do you know,sometimes I think we are the sort of people that things DO happen to.'
'It's like that in history,' said Jane: 'some kings are full ofinteresting things, and others--nothing ever happens to them, excepttheir being born and crowned and buried, and sometimes not that.'
'I think Panther's right,' said Cyril: 'I think we are the sort ofpeople things do happen to. I have a sort of feeling things would happenright enough if we could only give them a shove. It just wants somethingto start it. That's all.'
'I wish they taught magic at school,' Jane
sighed. 'I believe if wecould do a little magic it might make something happen.'
'I wonder how you begin?' Robert looked round the room, but he got noideas from the faded green curtains, or the drab Venetian blinds, orthe worn brown oil-cloth on the floor. Even the new carpet suggestednothing, though its pattern was a very wonderful one, and always seemedas though it were just going to make you think of something.
'I could begin right enough,' said Anthea; 'I've read lots about it. ButI believe it's wrong in the Bible.'
'It's only wrong in the Bible because people wanted to hurt otherpeople. I don't see how things can be wrong unless they hurt somebody,and we don't want to hurt anybody; and what's more, we jolly wellcouldn't if we tried. Let's get the Ingoldsby Legends. There's a thingabout Abra-cadabra there,' said Cyril, yawning. 'We may as well play atmagic. Let's be Knights Templars. They were awfully gone on magic. Theyused to work spells or something with a goat and a goose. Father saysso.'
'Well, that's all right,' said Robert, unkindly; 'you can play the goatright enough, and Jane knows how to be a goose.'
'I'll get Ingoldsby,' said Anthea, hastily. 'You turn up the hearthrug.'
So they traced strange figures on the linoleum, where the hearthrug hadkept it clean. They traced them with chalk that Robert had nickedfrom the top of the mathematical master's desk at school. You know, ofcourse, that it is stealing to take a new stick of chalk, but it is notwrong to take a broken piece, so long as you only take one. (I do notknow the reason of this rule, nor who made it.) And they chanted all thegloomiest songs they could think of. And, of course, nothing happened.So then Anthea said, 'I'm sure a magic fire ought to be made ofsweet-smelling wood, and have magic gums and essences and things in it.'
'I don't know any sweet-smelling wood, except cedar,' said Robert; 'butI've got some ends of cedar-wood lead pencil.'
So they burned the ends of lead pencil. And still nothing happened.
'Let's burn some of the eucalyptus oil we have for our colds,' saidAnthea.
And they did. It certainly smelt very strong. And they burned lumpsof camphor out of the big chest. It was very bright, and made a horridblack smoke, which looked very magical. But still nothing happened. Thenthey got some clean tea-cloths from the dresser drawer in the kitchen,and waved them over the magic chalk-tracings, and sang 'The Hymn of theMoravian Nuns at Bethlehem', which is very impressive. And still nothinghappened. So they waved more and more wildly, and Robert's tea-clothcaught the golden egg and whisked it off the mantelpiece, and it fellinto the fender and rolled under the grate.
'Oh, crikey!' said more than one voice.
And every one instantly fell down flat on its front to look under thegrate, and there lay the egg, glowing in a nest of hot ashes.
'It's not smashed, anyhow,' said Robert, and he put his hand under thegrate and picked up the egg. But the egg was much hotter than any onewould have believed it could possibly get in such a short time, andRobert had to drop it with a cry of 'Bother!' It fell on the top bar ofthe grate, and bounced right into the glowing red-hot heart of the fire.
'The tongs!' cried Anthea. But, alas, no one could remember where theywere. Every one had forgotten that the tongs had last been used to fishup the doll's teapot from the bottom of the water-butt, where the Lambhad dropped it. So the nursery tongs were resting between the water-buttand the dustbin, and cook refused to lend the kitchen ones.
'Never mind,' said Robert, 'we'll get it out with the poker and theshovel.'
'Oh, stop,' cried Anthea. 'Look at it! Look! look! look! I do believesomething IS going to happen!'
For the egg was now red-hot, and inside it something was moving. Nextmoment there was a soft cracking sound; the egg burst in two, and out ofit came a flame-coloured bird. It rested a moment among the flames, andas it rested there the four children could see it growing bigger andbigger under their eyes.
Every mouth was a-gape, every eye a-goggle.
The bird rose in its nest of fire, stretched its wings, and flew outinto the room. It flew round and round, and round again, and where itpassed the air was warm. Then it perched on the fender. The childrenlooked at each other. Then Cyril put out a hand towards the bird. It putits head on one side and looked up at him, as you may have seen a parrotdo when it is just going to speak, so that the children were hardlyastonished at all when it said, 'Be careful; I am not nearly cool yet.'
They were not astonished, but they were very, very much interested.
They looked at the bird, and it was certainly worth looking at. Itsfeathers were like gold. It was about as large as a bantam, only itsbeak was not at all bantam-shaped. 'I believe I know what it is,' saidRobert. 'I've seen a picture.'
He hurried away. A hasty dash and scramble among the papers on father'sstudy table yielded, as the sum-books say, 'the desired result'. Butwhen he came back into the room holding out a paper, and crying, 'I say,look here,' the others all said 'Hush!' and he hushed obediently andinstantly, for the bird was speaking.
'Which of you,' it was saying, 'put the egg into the fire?'
'He did,' said three voices, and three fingers pointed at Robert.
The bird bowed; at least it was more like that than anything else.
'I am your grateful debtor,' it said with a high-bred air.
The children were all choking with wonder and curiosity--all exceptRobert. He held the paper in his hand, and he KNEW. He said so. Hesaid--
'_I_ know who you are.'
And he opened and displayed a printed paper, at the head of which was alittle picture of a bird sitting in a nest of flames.
'You are the Phoenix,' said Robert; and the bird was quite pleased.
'My fame has lived then for two thousand years,' it said. 'Allow me tolook at my portrait.' It looked at the page which Robert, kneeling down,spread out in the fender, and said--
'It's not a flattering likeness... And what are these characters?' itasked, pointing to the printed part.
'Oh, that's all dullish; it's not much about YOU, you know,' said Cyril,with unconscious politeness; 'but you're in lots of books.'
'With portraits?' asked the Phoenix.
'Well, no,' said Cyril; 'in fact, I don't think I ever saw any portraitof you but that one, but I can read you something about yourself, if youlike.'
The Phoenix nodded, and Cyril went off and fetched Volume X of the oldEncyclopedia, and on page 246 he found the following:--
'Phoenix--in ornithology, a fabulous bird of antiquity.'
'Antiquity is quite correct,' said the Phoenix, 'but fabulous--well, doI look it?'
Every one shook its head. Cyril went on--
'The ancients speak of this bird as single, or the only one of itskind.'
'That's right enough,' said the Phoenix.
'They describe it as about the size of an eagle.'
'Eagles are of different sizes,' said the Phoenix; 'it's not at all agood description.'
All the children were kneeling on the hearthrug, to be as near thePhoenix as possible.
'You'll boil your brains,' it said. 'Look out, I'm nearly cool now;' andwith a whirr of golden wings it fluttered from the fender to the table.It was so nearly cool that there was only a very faint smell of burningwhen it had settled itself on the table-cloth.
'It's only a very little scorched,' said the Phoenix, apologetically;'it will come out in the wash. Please go on reading.'
The children gathered round the table.
'The size of an eagle,' Cyril went on, 'its head finely crested with abeautiful plumage, its neck covered with feathers of a gold colour, andthe rest of its body purple; only the tail white, and the eyes sparklinglike stars. They say that it lives about five hundred years in thewilderness, and when advanced in age it builds itself a pile of sweetwood and aromatic gums, fires it with the wafting of its wings, and thusburns itself; and that from its ashes arises a worm, which in time growsup to be a Phoenix. Hence the Phoenicians gave--'
'Never mind what they gave,' said the Phoenix, ruffl
ing its goldenfeathers. 'They never gave much, anyway; they always were people whogave nothing for nothing. That book ought to be destroyed. It'smost inaccurate. The rest of my body was never purple, and as formy--tail--well, I simply ask you, IS it white?'
It turned round and gravely presented its golden tail to the children.
'No, it's not,' said everybody.
'No, and it never was,' said the Phoenix. 'And that about the wormis just a vulgar insult. The Phoenix has an egg, like all respectablebirds. It makes a pile--that part's all right--and it lays its egg, andit burns itself; and it goes to sleep and wakes up in its egg, and comesout and goes on living again, and so on for ever and ever. I can't tellyou how weary I got of it--such a restless existence; no repose.'
'But how did your egg get HERE?' asked Anthea.
'Ah, that's my life-secret,' said the Phoenix. 'I couldn't tell it toany one who wasn't really sympathetic. I've always been a misunderstoodbird. You can tell that by what they say about the worm. I might tellYOU,' it went on, looking at Robert with eyes that were indeed starry.'You put me on the fire--' Robert looked uncomfortable.
'The rest of us made the fire of sweet-scented woods and gums, though,'said Cyril.
'And--and it was an accident my putting you on the fire,' said Robert,telling the truth with some difficulty, for he did not know how thePhoenix might take it. It took it in the most unexpected manner.
'Your candid avowal,' it said, 'removes my last scruple. I will tell youmy story.'
'And you won't vanish, or anything sudden will you? asked Anthea,anxiously.
'Why?' it asked, puffing out the golden feathers, 'do you wish me tostay here?'
'Oh YES,' said every one, with unmistakable sincerity.
'Why?' asked the Phoenix again, looking modestly at the table-cloth.
'Because,' said every one at once, and then stopped short; only Janeadded after a pause, 'you are the most beautiful person we've everseen.' 'You are a sensible child,' said the Phoenix, 'and I will NOTvanish or anything sudden. And I will tell you my tale. I had resided,as your book says, for many thousand years in the wilderness, which isa large, quiet place with very little really good society, and I wasbecoming weary of the monotony of my existence. But I acquired the habitof laying my egg and burning myself every five hundred years--and youknow how difficult it is to break yourself of a habit.'
'Yes,' said Cyril; 'Jane used to bite her nails.'
'But I broke myself of it,' urged Jane, rather hurt, 'You know I did.'
'Not till they put bitter aloes on them,' said Cyril.
'I doubt,' said the bird, gravely, 'whether even bitter aloes (the aloe,by the way, has a bad habit of its own, which it might well cure beforeseeking to cure others; I allude to its indolent practice of floweringbut once a century), I doubt whether even bitter aloes could have curedME. But I WAS cured. I awoke one morning from a feverish dream--it wasgetting near the time for me to lay that tiresome fire and lay thattedious egg upon it--and I saw two people, a man and a woman. They weresitting on a carpet--and when I accosted them civilly they narrated tome their life-story, which, as you have not yet heard it, I will nowproceed to relate. They were a prince and princess, and the story oftheir parents was one which I am sure you will like to hear. In earlyyouth the mother of the princess happened to hear the story of a certainenchanter, and in that story I am sure you will be interested. Theenchanter--'
'Oh, please don't,' said Anthea. 'I can't understand all thesebeginnings of stories, and you seem to be getting deeper and deeper inthem every minute. Do tell us your OWN story. That's what we really wantto hear.'
'Well,' said the Phoenix, seeming on the whole rather flattered, 'tocut about seventy long stories short (though _I_ had to listen to themall--but to be sure in the wilderness there is plenty of time), thisprince and princess were so fond of each other that they did not wantany one else, and the enchanter--don't be alarmed, I won't go intohis history--had given them a magic carpet (you've heard of a magiccarpet?), and they had just sat on it and told it to take them rightaway from every one--and it had brought them to the wilderness. And asthey meant to stay there they had no further use for the carpet, so theygave it to me. That was indeed the chance of a lifetime!'
'I don't see what you wanted with a carpet,' said Jane, 'when you've gotthose lovely wings.'
'They ARE nice wings, aren't they?' said the Phoenix, simpering andspreading them out. 'Well, I got the prince to lay out the carpet, and Ilaid my egg on it; then I said to the carpet, "Now, my excellent carpet,prove your worth. Take that egg somewhere where it can't be hatched fortwo thousand years, and where, when that time's up, some one will lighta fire of sweet wood and aromatic gums, and put the egg in to hatch;"and you see it's all come out exactly as I said. The words were nosooner out of my beak than egg and carpet disappeared. The royal loversassisted to arrange my pile, and soothed my last moments. I burnt myselfup and knew no more till I awoke on yonder altar.'
It pointed its claw at the grate.
'But the carpet,' said Robert, 'the magic carpet that takes you anywhereyou wish. What became of that?'
'Oh, THAT?' said the Phoenix, carelessly--'I should say that that is thecarpet. I remember the pattern perfectly.'
It pointed as it spoke to the floor, where lay the carpet which motherhad bought in the Kentish Town Road for twenty-two shillings andninepence.
At that instant father's latch-key was heard in the door.
'OH,' whispered Cyril, 'now we shall catch it for not being in bed!'
'Wish yourself there,' said the Phoenix, in a hurried whisper, 'and thenwish the carpet back in its place.'
No sooner said than done. It made one a little giddy, certainly, and alittle breathless; but when things seemed right way up again, there thechildren were, in bed, and the lights were out.
They heard the soft voice of the Phoenix through the darkness.
'I shall sleep on the cornice above your curtains,' it said. 'Pleasedon't mention me to your kinsfolk.'
'Not much good,' said Robert, 'they'd never believe us. I say,' hecalled through the half-open door to the girls; 'talk about adventuresand things happening. We ought to be able to get some fun out of a magiccarpet AND a Phoenix.'
'Rather,' said the girls, in bed.
'Children,' said father, on the stairs, 'go to sleep at once. What doyou mean by talking at this time of night?'
No answer was expected to this question, but under the bedclothes Cyrilmurmured one.
'Mean?' he said. 'Don't know what we mean. I don't know what anythingmeans.'
'But we've got a magic carpet AND a Phoenix,' said Robert.
'You'll get something else if father comes in and catches you,' saidCyril. 'Shut up, I tell you.'
Robert shut up. But he knew as well as you do that the adventures ofthat carpet and that Phoenix were only just beginning.
Father and mother had not the least idea of what had happened in theirabsence. This is often the case, even when there are no magic carpets orPhoenixes in the house.
The next morning--but I am sure you would rather wait till the nextchapter before you hear about THAT.