LITMIR.BIZ

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a fire with today’s newspaper – it will not burn well, and there are other reasons against it), and tore it into four quarters, and screwed each of these into a loose ball, and put them on the cinders; then she got a bundle of wood and broke the string, and stuck the sticks in so that their front ends rested on the bars, and the back ends on the back of the paper balls. In doing this she cut her finger slightly with the string, and when she broke it, two of the sticks jumped up and hit her on the cheek. Then she put more cinders and some bits of coal – no dust. She put most of that on her hands, but there seemed to be enough left for her face. Then she lighted the edges of the paper balls, and waited till she heard the fizz-crack-crack-fizz of the wood as it began to burn. Then she went and washed her hands and face under the tap in the back kitchen

      Of course, you need not bark your knuckles, or cut your finger, or bruise your cheek with wood, or black yourself all over; but otherwise, this is a very good way to light a fire in London. In the real country, fires are lighted in a different and prettier way. But it is always good to wash your hands and face afterwards, wherever you are.

      While Anthea was delighting the poor little blackbeetles with the cheerful blaze, Jane had set the table for – I was going to say tea, but the meal of which I am speaking was not exactly tea. Let us call it a tea-ish meal. There was tea, certainly, for Anthea’s fire blazed and crackled so kindly that it really seemed to be affectionately inviting the kettle to come and sit upon its lap. So the kettle was brought and tea made. But no milk could be found – so everyone had six lumps of sugar to each cup instead. The things to eat, on the other hand, were nicer than usual. The boys looked about very carefully, and found in the pantry some cold tongue, bread, butter, cheese, and part of a cold pudding – very much nicer than cook ever made when they were at home. And in the kitchen cupboard was half a Christmassy cake, a pot of strawberry jam, and about a pound of mixed candied fruit, with soft crumbly slabs of delicious sugar in each cup of lemon, orange, or citron.

      It was indeed, as Jane said, ‘a banquet fit for an Arabian Knight’.

      The Phoenix perched on Robert’s chair, and listened kindly and politely to all they had to tell it about their visit to Lyndhurst, and underneath the table, by just stretching a toe down rather far, the faithful carpet could be felt by all – even by Jane, whose legs were very short.

      ‘Your slaves will not return tonight,’ said the Phoenix. ‘They sleep under the roof of the cook’s stepmother’s aunt, who is, I gather, hostess to a large party tonight in honour of her husband’s cousin’s sister-in-law’s mother’s ninetieth birthday.’

      ‘I don’t think they ought to have gone without leave,’ said Anthea, ‘however many relations they have, or however old they are; but I suppose we ought to wash up.’

      ‘It’s not our business about the leave,’ said Cyril, firmly, ‘but I simply won’t wash up for them. We got it, and we’ll clear it away; and then we’ll go somewhere on the carpet. It’s not often we get a chance of being out all night. We can go right away to the other side of the equator, to the tropical climes, and see the sun rise over the great Pacific Ocean.’

      ‘Right you are,’ said Robert. ‘I always did want to see the Southern Cross and the stars as big as gas-lamps.’

      ‘Don't go,’ said Anthea, very earnestly, ‘because I couldn’t. I’m sure Mother wouldn’t like us to leave the house and I should hate to be left here alone.’

      ‘I’d stay with you,’ said Jane loyally.

      ‘I know you would,’ said Anthea gratefully, ‘but even with you I’d much rather not.’

      ‘Well,’ said Cyril, trying to be kind and amiable, ‘I don’t want you to do anything you think’s wrong, but—’

      He was silent; this silence said many things.

      ‘I don’t see,’ Robert was beginning, when Anthea interrupted:

      ‘I’m quite sure. Sometimes you just think a thing’s wrong, and sometimes you know. And this is a know time.’

      The Phoenix turned kind golden eyes on her and opened a friendly beak to say:

      ‘When it is, as you say, a “know time”, there is no more to be said. And your noble brothers would never leave you.’

      ‘Of course not,’ said Cyril rather quickly. And Robert said so too.

      ‘I myself,’ the Phoenix went on, ‘am willing to help in any way possible. I will go personally – by carpet or on the wing – and fetch you anything you can think of to amuse you during the evening. In order to waste no time I could go while you wash up. – Why,’ it went on in a musing voice, ‘does one wash up teacups and wash down the stairs?’

      ‘You couldn’t wash stairs up, you know,’ said Anthea, ‘unless you began at the bottom and went up feet first as you washed. I wish cook would try that way for a change.’

      ‘I don’t,’ said Cyril, briefly. ‘I should hate the look of her elastic-side boots sticking up.’

      ‘This is mere trifling,’ said the Phoenix. ‘Come, decide what I shall fetch for you. I can get you anything you like.’

      But of course they couldn’t decide. Many things were suggested – a rocking-horse, jewelled chessmen, an elephant, a bicycle, a motor-car, books with pictures, musical instruments, and many other things. But a musical instrument is agreeable only to the player, unless he has learned to play it really well; books are not sociable, bicycles cannot be ridden without going out of doors, and the same is true of motor-cars and elephants. Only two people can play chess at once with one set of chessmen (and anyway it’s very much too much like lessons for a game), and only one can ride on a rocking-horse. Suddenly, in the midst of the discussion, the Phoenix spread its wings and fluttered to the floor, and from there it spoke.

      ‘I gather,’ it said, ‘from the carpet, that it wants you to let it go to its old home, where it was born and brought up, and it will return within the hour laden with a number of the most beautiful and delightful products of its native land.’

      ‘What is its native land?’

      ‘I didn’t gather. But since you can’t agree, and time is passing, and the tea-things are not washed down – I mean washed up—’

      ‘I votes we do,’ said Robert. ‘It’ll stop all this jaw, anyway. And it’s not bad to have surprises. Perhaps it’s a Turkey carpet, and it might bring us Turkish delight.’

      ‘Or a Turkish patrol,’ said Robert.

      ‘Or a Turkish bath,’ said Anthea.

      ‘Or a Turkish towel,’ said Jane.

      ‘Nonsense,’ Robert urged, ‘it said beautiful and delightful, and towels and baths aren’t that, however good they may be for you. Let it go. I suppose it won’t give us the slip,’ he added, pushing back his chair and standing up.

      ‘Hush!’ said the Phoenix; ‘how can you? Don’t trample on its feelings just because it’s only a carpet.’

      ‘But how can it do it – unless one of us is on it to do the wishing?’ asked Robert. He spoke with a rising hope that it might be necessary for one to go – and why not Robert? But the Phoenix quickly threw cold water on his new-born dream.

      ‘Why, you just write your wish on a paper, and pin it on the carpet.’

      So a leaf was torn from Anthea’s arithmetic book, and on it Cyril wrote in large round-hand the following:

      We wish you to go to your dear native home, and bring back the most beautiful and delightful productions of it you can – and not to be gone long, please.

      Signed

      Cyril.

       Robert.

       Anthea.

       Jane.

      Then

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