“Well?” said Mister Grim. “I am asking you a question—and when I ask questions I expect them to be answered.”
Still no reply from any of the three. Mister Grim leaned forward. “Shall I tell you how you came? You must have friends here among the brownies—and they helped you to climb the wall, and told you to take the toys! Aha! Don't try to say you didn't do that.”
They didn't say a word. Mister Grim got up and put the toys back in the chest. “You,” he said to Chinky, “you are a pixie, and I don't usually take pixies into my school. But you are a very bad pixie, I can see, and I shall keep you here. And I shall keep these two as well. I'm not sure what they are—but even if they are real, proper children, which I very much doubt, they deserve to be punished by being my pupils here for a term.”
“Oh, no!” said Mollie in horror. “What will our mother say? You can't do that.”
“You will see,” said Mister Grim. “Now go downstairs, find the brownie called Winks, and tell him you are to come into class when the bell rings. He will give you books and pencils.”
The three of them had to go downstairs in a row, Mister Grim behind them. They were frightened! This was serious. Unless they could manage somehow to get to their Wishing-Chair, they would simply have to stay at Mister Grim's school!
They found Winks and told him quickly what had happened. He was very sorry. “Bad luck!” he said. “Very bad luck. Well, it's lucky for you that old Grim hasn't got a stick to whip you with just now. Come on—I'll get you your books and things. Sit by me in class and I'll try and help you all I can.”
He took them into a big room and gave them books and pencils. Almost at once a bell rang loudly and all the brownies trooped in quickly. Not one of them spoke a word. They took their places quietly and waited.
“Why are you sent here, Winks?” whispered Chinky as they all waited for Mister Grim to appear.
“Because I used my grandmother's Blue Spell and turned all her pigs blue,” whispered back Winks.
“And I was sent here because I put a spell into my father's shoe-tongues and they were rude to him all the way down our street and back,” whispered Hoho.
“And I was sent because...” began another brownie, when slow and heavy footsteps were heard. In came Mister Grim and stood at his big desk.
“Sit!” he said, as if the Brownies were all little dogs. They sat.
“We have three new pupils,” said Mister Grim. “I regret to say that I caught them stealing—STEALING— from my store-room. If I find out who helped them into this school and told them about the toys they came to steal, I shall take my stick to him. Brrrrrr!”
This was very frightening. Mollie didn't even dare to cry. She comforted herself by thinking of the Wishing-Chair hidden under the bush in the garden. They would run to it as soon as ever they could!
“Now we will have mental numbers,” said Mister Grim, and a little groan ran round the class. “You, boy, what number is left when you take eighty-two and sixty-four from one hundred and three?”
He was pointing at poor Peter. Peter went red. What a silly question! You couldn't take eighty-two and sixty-four from one hundred and three.
“Say six hundred and fifty,” whispered Winks. “He doesn't know the answer himself!”
“Six hundred and fifty,” said Peter boldly. Everyone clapped as if he were right.
“Er—very good,” said Mister Grim. Then he pointed to Mollie. “How many pips are there in seven pounds of raspberry jam?”
“Seven pounds of raspberry jam?” repeated Mollie, wondering if she had heard aright. “Er—well...”
“Say none at all, because your mother only makes raspberry jelly and strains the pips out,” whispered Winks.
“Er—none at all,” said Mollie.
“How do you make that out?” thundered Mister Grim in a very frightening voice.
“Because my mother makes raspberry jelly and strains all the pips out,” said Mollie. Everyone clapped again.
“Silence!” said Mister Grim. “Now you, pixie— and see you are very, very careful in your answer. If I take fifty-two hairs from my beard, how many will there be left?”
Chinky stared desperately at the long beard that swept down to the floor. “Well,” he began... and then Winks whispered to him.
“Say 'the rest'!” he hissed.
“Er—well, the rest of the hair will be left,” he said. Mister Grim suddenly pounded on the desk with his hand. “You, Winks!” he shouted. “I heard you whispering then—you told him the answer—and I believe you told the others the answers, too. Come here! I'll give you the stick. Aha, you think because all my canes were broken that I haven't got one—but I have! You just wait.”
“Please, sir, I'm sorry,” said Winks. “I just thought I'd help them as they were new. I was trying to be good, sir, and helpful, I really was. You're always telling us to be that, sir.”
“No excuses,” said Mister Grim, and he turned to a cupboard behind him. He unlocked it and took out a long, thin stick. He tried it on the desk—crack, crack!
“Come up here, Winks,” he said, and poor Winks went up. He got two strokes on his hands. Mollie was very upset, but Hoho whispered, “Don't worry—Winks always puts a little spell in his hands and he doesn't mind a bit if he's whacked. He doesn't feel it!”
Mollie felt comforted. Winks winked at her as he went back to his seat. Mister Grim went to take a book from a shelf—and as he turned his back Chinky clutched Peter by the elbow.
“Peter!” he hissed, “do you see what his stick is? It's my WAND! He's using it for a stick. Oh my, if only I could get hold of it!”
Peter stared. Yes—the stick on the desk was Chinky's little wand. Oh, if only it had wings now and could fly to Chinky!
But it hadn't. Chinky never took his eyes off it as the class went on and on. “I must get it,” he kept saying to himself. “I MUST get it! But how can I? Oh, for a really good idea!”
Chinky is Naughty
MORNING school came to an end at last. Mister Grim rapped on his desk with his stick— Chinky's wand!
“Attention, all of you!” he said. “Dinner will be in ten minutes' time. Anyone who is late or who has dirty hands or untidy hair will go without.”
Winks groaned. “It's awful,” he said to Peter when Mister Grim had gone out. “There's never enough dinner for everyone, so Mister Grim just says, 'Here, you, your hair is untidy,' or 'Here, you, your nails aren't clean,' and about a dozen of us have to go without our dinner.”
“What a dreadful school!” said Peter. “Why don't you run away?”
“How can we?” said Winks. “You've seen the high wall round the grounds, and all the gates are locked. I wish I could get out of here, it's a horrid place, and I really would be good if I could escape.”
“Would there be room for him in the Wishing-Chair, do you think?” whispered Mollie to Chinky. “He's so nice. I'd like to help him, Chinky.”
“So would I,” whispered back Chinky. “Well, we'll see.”
Poor Chinky was one of those who had to go without his dinner. Mister Grim stood at the door of the dining-hall as each brownie walked in. Every so often he pounced on one and roared at him.
“Here, you, you haven't washed behind your ears! No dinner! Here, you, why aren't your nails scrubbed? No dinner!” And when Chinky tried to slip past him he hit him hard on the shoulder with his hand and roared “Here, you, why haven't you brushed your hair? No dinner!”
“I did brush it,” said Chinky indignantly, “but it's the kind of hair that won't lie down.”
“No dinner today for untidy hair, and no dinner tomorrow for answering back,” said Mister Grim.
“Oh, I say, that's not fair,” said Chinky.
“And no dinner the third day for being rude,” said Mister Grim. “Another word from you and I'll cane you with this new stick of mine!”
He slapped the wand down so hard on a nearby table that Chinky was afraid it would break in half. But fortunatel
y it didn't.
Chinky went out of the room, looking angry and sulky. Horrid Mister Grim! He joined all the brownies who were also to go without their dinner.
Peter and Mollie were very sorry for Chinky. When the pudding came they tried to stuff two tarts into their pockets to take to him. But the pastry fell to pieces and their pockets were all jammy and horrid. Mister Grim saw the crumbs of pastry around their pockets as they marched past him after dinner. He tapped them with the wand.
“Aha! Trying to stuff food into your pockets. Greedy children! No dinner for you tomorrow!”
Peter tried to snatch the wand away from Mister Grim, hoping to run and give it to Chinky, but Mister Grim was too quick for him. Up in the air it went, and poor Peter got a stinging slash on his arm. Fortunately his sleeve was nice and thick, so he didn't feel it much.
“Bad boy!” roared Mister Grim. “Stay in after school this afternoon and write out one thousand times 'I must not snatch'.”
There was a little time before afternoon school. Peter, Chinky, Mollie and Winks had a meeting in a far corner of the grounds.
“Winks, that's my wand Mister Grim has got and is using for a stick,” said Chinky.
Winks whistled. “I say! That's a fine bit of news. We ought to be able to do something about that.”
“But what?” asked Chinky. “I'm so afraid he will break my wand, and then it will be no use. Somehow or other we've got to get it back.”
“Now listen,” said Winks. “A wand will never hit its owner, you know that. Well, what about being very naughty in class this afternoon and having to go up to Mister Grim to be punished—and your wand will refuse to cane you, of course—and surely you can easily get it back then, and do a bit of magic to get yourselves free?”
“Oooh, yes,” said Chinky, looking very cheerful. “That's an awfully good idea of yours, Winks. I'd forgotten that a wand never turns against its owner. I'll be very naughty—and then we'll see what happens.”
They all went in to afternoon school feeling rather excited. What would happen? It would certainly be fun to see Chinky being very naughty, to begin with—and even greater fun to see the wand refusing to punish him!
Chinky began by yawning very loudly indeed. Mister Grim heard him and tapped hard on his desk with the wand—crack! crack!
“Chinky? You are most impolite. Stand up during the rest of the class instead of sitting.”
Chinky stood—but he stood with his back to Mister Grim.
Mister Grim glared. “Bad pixie! You are being impolite again. Stand round the other way!”
Chinky immediately stood on his hands and waved his feet in the air. All the brownies laughed and clapped.
Mister Grim looked as black as thunder. “Come here!” he cried, and Chinky began to walk towards him on his hands. He really looked very funny indeed. Winks laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks.
But Mister Grim didn't try to cane him that time. He told him to go and stand in the corner—the right way up.
So Chinky stood in the corner the right way up, turning every now and then to grin at the others. Mister Grim began firing questions at the class. “Hands up those who know why brownies have long beards. Hands up those who know the magic word for 'disappear.' Hands up those who know why green smoke always comes out of chimneys of witches' houses. Hands up . . .”
He didn't even wait for anyone to answer, so the brownies just shot up their hands at each question and then put them down again and waited for the next. Peter and Mollie thought it was the silliest class they had ever attended!
“And now—can anyone ask me a question I can't answer?” said Mister Grim. “Aha! It would take a clever brownie to do that! Be careful—because if I can answer it, you'll have to come up and be punished. Now, who will ask me a question I can't answer?”
The brownies had all been caught by this trick before, so nobody put up his hand.
Mister Grim pounced on poor Winks. “You, brownie! Can't you think of a question?”
“Yes, sir,” said Winks at once. “I'd like to know why gooseberries wear whiskers. Do they belong to the brownie family?”
Everybody roared at this ridiculous question. Except Mister Grim. He looked as grim as his name. He rapped with his stick on the desk.
“Come up here, Winks. I will not have you upsetting the class like this with your silly remarks.”
“But, sir—can you answer the question? I really do want to know the answer,” said Winks, looking very hurt.
“COME UP HERE!” boomed Mister Grim, and Winks went up, grinning round at the others. He got three strokes of the wand, but it didn't hurt him at all, of course, as he had still got the spell in his hands that prevented the stick from hurting him.
“I've got a question! I've got a question!” suddenly called out Chinky, seeing a chance to get his wand.
“What is it?” said Mister Grim, frowning. “I warn you, if it's a stupid question, I shall give you the stick.”
“Mister Grim, why do horses wear hooves instead of feet? “ cried Chinky.
“Come up here,” said Mister Grim sternly. “That's another silly question.”
“But I want to know,” wailed Chinky, pretending to cry.
The brownies began to laugh again. Mister Grim lost his temper.
“Come up here! “ he roared, and Chinky went. “Hold out your hand,” said Mister Grim. Chinky held it out. Mister Grim brought down the wand as hard as he could—but, dear me, he missed Chinky's hand altogether. The wand simply slipped to one side and didn't touch Chinky's hand at all. Chinky laughed.
“Bad shot, Mister Grim!”
Mister Grim tried again—and again—and again—but each time the wand slid away from Chinky's outstretched hand and hit the desk instead. It was very puzzling indeed for Mister Grim.
The brownies were all laughing again. So were Peter and Mollie. Mister Grim's face was so comical to watch as he tried to hit Chinky's hand and couldn't.
“I shall break this stick in two!” he cried suddenly in a rage.
That gave Chinky a shock. “No,” he shouted. “No, you mustn't do that! You mustn't!”
“Why not?” said Mister Grim, and he put both hands on the wand as if to break it.
Peter, Mollie and Chinky watched in despair, waiting for the crack.
But the wand wasn't going to let itself be broken! It slid out of Mister Grim's big hands and shot over to Chinky, who caught it as it came.
“Ha!” shouted Chinky in delight. “I've got it again—my lovely Wand—I've got it!”
“What! Is it a wand?” cried Mister Grim in astonishment. “I didn't know that. Give it back to me!”
He snatched at it, but Chinky was skipping down the room, waving it.
“I'll give you all a half-holiday! Yes, I will! See my wand waving to give you all a half-holiday! Go into the garden and play, all of you!”
The brownies didn't wait. They rushed out of the room at top speed, shouting and laughing. Soon only Peter, Molly and Chinky were left with Mister Grim. Winks was peeping round the door.
“How DARE you treat me like this!” shouted Mister Grim, marching towards Chinky. “I'll—”
“Go back, go back!” chanted Chinky, and waved his wand at Mister Grim, whose feet at once took him six steps backwards, much to his surprise. “You see, I've got magic in my wand,” cried the pixie. “Aha! I may have powerful magic, Mister Grim, so be careful!”
“Come on, Chinky,” whispered Peter. “Let's go and find the Wishing-Chair and fly off.”
“But I want my doll Rosebud before we go,” said Mollie. “And have you forgotten your engine and all the other toys, Peter? We must take those with us. Mister Grim, give us our toys!”
“Certainly not,” said Mister Grim, and he shook a large key at them. “See this key? It's the key of the store-room, which I've locked. You can't get your toys and you never shall!”
“We'll see about that,” said Chinky. “We'll just see about that, Mister Grim!”<
br />
Home, Wishing-Chair, Home!
MISTER GRIM stared angrily at Chinky, who was still waving his wand to keep the teacher from coming any nearer to him.
“You can't get your toys, so make up your mind about that,” he said. “And stop waving that ridiculous wand. Its magic will soon run out.”
Chinky himself was a bit afraid that it would. It was a very new wand and hadn't very powerful magic in it yet. “I think we'd better go before the wand's magic wears out,” he said in a low voice to Peter and Mollie. “We don't want to get into Mister Grim's power again, do we?”
“Oh no, we don't,” said Mollie at once. “Let's go and find the Wishing-Chair and fly off. Quick!”
She darted out of the door and Peter and Chinky followed. Mister Grim, seeing them running, followed, too. But just outside the door he ran into a crowd of brownies that popped up from nowhere quite suddenly, and over he went! When he got up the children and Chinky were nowhere to be seen.
He began to run down the garden again, but once more he tripped over a mass of brownies. They weren't a bit afraid of him now because Chinky had taken his stick—the wand!
Chinky and the others raced to find the Wishing-Chair. Where was the bush they had hidden it in? Ah, there it was! They ran to the bush—but, oh dear, the chair wasn't there!
“One of the brownies must have found it and taken it,” said Chinky. Just then Winks ran up and pulled at his arm.
“I found your Wishing-Chair and hid it in the shed,” he said. “I was afraid Mister Grim might see it if he walked round the garden. Come along—I'll show you where it is.”
He took the three to an old broken-down shed. The roof had fallen in at one end. There were no windows to the shed, so it was very dark inside. Chinky groped his way in—and immediately fell over the Wishing-Chair.
He felt the legs anxiously to see if the chair still had its wings. Yes—thank goodness—it had!