 Chapter 1 of the Story of the Amulet. There were once four children who spent their summer holidays in a white house, happily situated between a sand-pit and a chalk-pit. One day they had the good fortune to find in the sand-pit a strange creature. Its eyes run long horns like snail's eyes, and it could move them in and out like telescopes. It had ears like a bat's ears, and its tubby body was shaped like a spider's and covered with thick, soft fur, and it had hands and feet like a monkey's. It told the children, whose names were Cyril, Robert, Anthea, and Jane, that it was a samyad or sand-fairy. Samyad is pronounced Samyad. It was old, old, old, and its birthday was almost at the very beginning of everything. And it had been buried in the sand for thousands of years, but it still kept its fairy likeness, and part of this fairy likeness was its power to give people whatever they wished for. You know, fairies have always been able to do this. Cyril, Robert, Anthea, and Jane now found their wishes come true. But somehow they never could think of just the right things to wish for, and their wishes sometimes turned out very oddly indeed. In the end their unwise wishings landed them in what Robert called a very tight place indeed, and the Samyad consented to help them out of it and return for their promise never to ask it to grant them any more wishes, and never to tell anyone about it, because it did not want to be bothered to give wishes to anyone ever any more. At the moment of parting Jane said politely, I wish we were going to see you again some day. And the Samyad, touched by this friendly thought, granted the wish. The book about all this is called Five Children in It, and it ends up in a most tiresome way by saying, the children did see the Samyad again, but it was not in the sandpit, it was, but I must say no more. The reason that nothing more could be said was that I had not then been able to find out exactly when and where the children met the Samyad again. Of course I knew they would meet it, because it was a beast of its word, and when it said a thing would happen, that thing happened without fail. How different from the people who tell us about what weather is going to be on Thursday next in London, the South Coast and Channel! The summer holidays during which the Samyad had been found, and the wishes given, had been wonderful holidays in the country, and the children had the highest hopes of just such another holiday for the next summer. The winter holidays were beguiled by the wonderful happenings of the phoenix in the carpet, and the loss of these two treasures would have left the children in despair, but for the splendid hope of their next holiday in the country. The world, they felt, and indeed had some reason to feel, was full of wonderful things, and they were really the sort of people that wonderful things happen to. So they looked forward to the summer holiday, but when it came everything was different and very, very horrid. Father had to go out to Manchuria to telegraph news about the war to the tiresome paper he wrote for, the Daily Bellower or something like that was its name, and mother, poor dear mother, was away in Madeira because she had been very ill, and the lamb, I mean the baby, was with her, and Aunt Emma, who was mother's sister, had suddenly married Uncle Reginald, who was father's brother, and they had gone to China, which is much too far off for you to expect to be asked to spend the holidays in, however fond your aunt and uncle may be of you. So the children were left in the care of old nurse, who lived in Fitzroy Street, near the British Museum, and though she was always very kind to them, and indeed spoiled them far more than would be good for the most grown up of us, the four children felt perfectly wretched, and when the cab had driven off with father, and all his boxes, and guns, and the sheepskin, with blankets, and the alimony mesquite inside it, the stoutest heart quailed, and the girls broke down all together, and sobbed in each other's arms, while the boys each looked out of one of the long gloomy windows of the parlor, and tried to pretend that no boy would be such a muff as to cry. I hope you notice that they were not cowardly enough to cry till their father had gone. They knew he had quite enough to upset them about that, but when he was gone, everyone felt as if it had been trying not to cry all its life, and that it must cry now, if it died for it. So they cried. Tea, with shrimps and water-cress, cheered them a little. The water-cress was arranged in a hedge round a fat glass salt cellar, a tasteful device they had never seen before, but it was not a cheerful meal. After tea, Antia went up to the room that had been father's, and when she saw how dreadfully he wasn't there, and remembered how every minute was taking him further and further from her, and nearer and nearer to the guns of the Russians, she cried a little more. Then, she thought of mother, ill and alone, and perhaps at that very moment wanting a little girl to put odour-clone on her head, and make her sudden cups of tea, and she cried more than ever. And then Antia, as she cried more than ever, and then she remembered what mother had said, the night before she went away, about Antia being the eldest girl, and about trying to make the others happy and things like that. So she stopped crying, and thought instead. And when she had thought as long as she could bear, she washed her face and combed her hair, and went down to the others. Trying her best to look as though crying were an exercise she had never even heard of. She found the parlor in deepest gloom, hardly relieved at all by the efforts of Robert, who, to make time pass, was pulling Jane's hair, not hard, but just enough to tease. Look here, said Antia. Let's have a palaver. This word dated from the awful day when Cyril had carelessly wished that there were red Indians in England, and there had been. The word brought back memories of last summer holidays, and everyone groaned. They thought of the white house, with the beautiful tangled garden, late roses, asters, marigold, sweet mignonette, and feathery asparagus, of the wilderness which some had once meant to make into an orchard, but which was now, as Father said, five acres of tistles haunted by the ghosts of baby cherry trees. They thought of the view across the valley, where the lion kilns look like Aladdin's palaces in the sunshine. And they thought of their own sandpit, with its fringe of yellowy grasses and pale stringy stalked wild flowers, and the little holes in the cliff there were the little San Martin's little front doors, and they thought of the free, fresh air, smelling of thyme and sweet briar, and the scent of the wood-smoke from the cottages in the lane, and they looked round old nurse's stuffy parlor, and Jane said, Oh, how different it all is! It was. Old nurse had been in the habit of letting lodgings, till Father gave her the children to take care of, and her rooms were furnished for letting. Now, it is a very odd thing that no one ever seems to furnish a room for letting in a bit the same way as one would furnish it for living in. This room had heavy dark red-stuff curtains, the colour that blood would not make a stain on, with coarse lace-curtains inside. The carpet was yellow and violet, with bits of grey and brown oil-cloth in odd places, the fireplace had shavings and tinsel in it. There was a very varnished mahogany chiffonere, or sideboard, with a lock that wouldn't act. There were hard chairs, far too many of them, with crochet anti-macassars slipping off their seats, all of which sloped the wrong way. The table wore a cloth of a cruel green colour, with a yellow chain-stitch pattern round it. Over the fireplace was a looking-glass that made you look much uglier than you really were, however plain you might be to begin with. Then there was a mantel-board, with maroon plush and wool fringe that didn't match the plush, a dreary clock like a black marble tomb. It was as silent as the grave, too, for it had long since forgotten how to tick. And there were painted glass vases that never had any flowers in, and a painted tambourine that no one ever played, and painted brackets with nothing on them, and a maple-framed engravings of the Queen, the Houses of Parliament, the Plains of Heaven, and of a blunt-nosed Woodman's flat return. There were two books, Last December's Bradshaw, and an odd volume of plumbridge's commentary on the Thessalonians. There were, but I cannot dwell longer on this painful picture. It was indeed, as Jane said, very different. Let's have a palaver! said Anthea again. What about? said Cyril Yawning. There's nothing to have anything about! said Robert, kicking the leg of the table miserably. I don't want to play! said Jane, and her tone was grumpy. Anthea tried very hard not to be cross. She succeeded. Look here! she said. Don't think I want to be preachy or a beast in any way, but I want to, what Father calls, define the situation. Do you agree? Fire ahead! said Cyril, without enthusiasm. Well, then, we all know the reason we're staying here, is because nurse couldn't leave her house in account with the poor learned gentleman on the top floor, and there was no one else, Father, and trust to take care of us. And you know, it's taken a lot of money, but there's going to Madeira to be made well. Jane sniffed miserably. Yes, I know! said Anthea in a hurry. But don't let's think about how horrid it all is. I mean, we can't go to things that cost a lot, but we must do some thing, and I know there are heaps of things you can see in London without paying for them. And I thought we'd go and see them. We're all quite old now, and we haven't got the lamb. Jane sniffed harder than before. I mean, no one can say no because of him, dear pet. And I thought, we must get nurse to see how quite old we are, and let us go out by ourselves, or else we shall never have any sort of a time at all, and I vote we see everything there is. And let's begin by asking nurse to give us some bits of bread, and we'll go to St. James's Park. There are ducks there, I know. We can feed them. Only we must make nurse, let us go by ourselves. Hurrah for liberty! said Robert. But she won't. Yes, she will! said Jane unexpectedly. I thought about that this morning, and I asked Father, and he said yes. And what's more, he told old nurse we might. Only he said we must always say where we wanted to go, and if it was right, she would let us. Three cheers for thoughtful Jane! cried Cyril. Now roused at last from his yawning despair. I say, let's go now! So they went. Old nurse only begging them to be careful of crossings, and to ask a policeman to assist in the more difficult cases. But they were used to crossings, for they had lived in Camden Town, and knew the Kentish Town Road where the trams were rushed up and down like mad at all hours of the day and night, and seem as though, if anything, they would rather run you over than not, they had promised to be home by dark. But it was July, so dark would be very late indeed, and long past bedtime. They started a walk to St. James's Park, and all their pockets were stuffed with bits of bread and the crusts of toast to feed the ducks with. They started, I repeat, but they never got there. Between Fitzroy Street and St. James's Park there are a great many streets, and if you go the right way you'll pass a great many shops that you can't possibly help stopping to look at. The children stop to look at several, with gold lace and beads and pictures and jewellery and dresses, and hats and oysters and lobsters in their windows, and their sorrow did not seem nearly so impossible to bear as it had done in the best parlor at No. 300 Fitzroy Street. Presently, by some wonderful chance turn of Roberts, who had been voted captain because the girls thought it would be good for him, and indeed he thought so himself, and of course Cyril couldn't vote against him because it would have looked like a mean jealousy. They came into the little interesting criss-crossy streets that held the most interesting shops of all, the shops where live things were sold. There was one shop window entirely filled with cages and all sorts of beautiful birds in them. The children were delighted till they remembered how they'd once wished for wings themselves, and had had them, and then they felt how desperately unhappy anything with wings must be if it had shut up in a cage and not allowed to fly. It must be fairly beastly to be a bird in a cage, said Cyril. Come on, they went on, and Cyril tried to think out a scheme for making his fortune as a gold digger at Klondike, and then buying all the caged birds in the world and setting them free. Then they came to a shop that sold cats, but the cats were in cages, and the children could not help wishing someone would buy all the cats and put them in hearth-rugs, which are the proper places for cats. And there was the dog-shop, and that was not a happy thing to look at either, because all the dogs were chained or caged, and all the dogs, big and little, looked at the four children with sad, wistful eyes and wagged, beseeching tails, as if they were trying to say, Buy me, buy me, buy me, and let me go for a walk with you. Oh, do buy me, and buy my poor brothers too, do, do, do! They almost said, do, do, do, plain to the ear as they whined. Oh, but one big Irish terrier, and he growled when Jane patted him. Grr! he seemed to say, as he looked at them from the back corner of his eye. You won't buy me. Nobody will. Ever. I shall die chained up, and I don't know that I care how soon it is either. I don't know that the children would have understood all this. Only once they had been in a besieged castle. So they knew how hateful it is to be kept in when you want to get out. Of course, they could not buy any of the dogs. They did indeed ask the price of the very, very smallest. And it was sixty-five pounds, but that was because it was a Japanese toy spaniel, like the Queen once had a portrait painted with, when she was only Princess of Wales. But the children thought, if the smallest was all that money, the biggest would run into thousands. So they went on, and they did not stop at any more cat or dog or bird shops, but pass them by, and at last they came to a shop that seemed as though it only sold creatures that didn't much mind where they were, such as goldfish and white mice, and sea-anemies and other aquarium beasts, and lizards and toads and hedgehogs and tortoises, and tame rabbits and guinea pigs. And there they stopped for a long time, and fed the guinea pigs with bits of bread to the cage-bars, and wondered whether it would be possible to keep a sandy-coloured double lop in the basement of the house in Fitzroy Street. I don't suppose old nurse would mind very much, said Jane. Robertson most awfully tamed sometimes. I expected would know her voice and follow her all about. She tumbled over twenty times a day, said Cyril. Now a snake! There aren't any snakes, said Robert Hastley, and besides, I never could cotton to snakes, somehow. I wonder why. Worms are as bad, said Anthea, and eels and slugs. I think it's because we don't like things that haven't got legs. The father says snakes have got legs hidden away inside of them, said Robert. Yes, and he says we've got tails hidden away inside us. But it doesn't either for come to an thing really, said Anthea. I hate things that haven't any legs. It's worse when they have too many! said Jane, much as should her. Think of centipedes! They stood there on the pavement, a cause of some inconvenience to the passers-by, and thus beguiled a time with conversation. Cyril was leaning his elbow on the top of a hutch that had seemed empty when they'd inspected the whole edifice of hutches one by one, and he was trying to reawaken the interest of a hedgehog that had curled itself into a ball earlier in the interview, when a small, soft voice, just below his elbow, said, quietly, plainly, and quite unmistakably, not in any squeak or whine that had to be translated, but in damn right common English. Buy me, too! Please buy me! Cyril started as though he'd been pinched and jumped a yard away from the hutch. Come back! Oh, come back! said the voice, rather louder, but still softly, stoop down and pretend to be tying up your bootlace. I see it's undone, as usual. Cyril mechanically obeyed. He knelt on one knee on the dry, hot, dusty pavement, peered into the darkness of the hutch, and found himself, face to face with, the Samyad. It seemed much thinner than when he'd last seen it. It was dusty and dirty, and its fur was untidy and ragged. It had hunched itself up into a miserable lump, and its long, snail's eyes were drawn in quite tight so that they hardly showed at all. Listen, said the Samyad, in a voice that sounded as though it would begin to cry in a minute. I don't think the creature who keeps his shop will ask a very high price for me. I've bitten him more than once, and I've made myself look as common as I can. He's never had a glance from my beautiful, beautiful eyes. Tell the others I'm here, but tell them to look at some of these low, common beasts while I'm talking to you. The creature inside mustn't think you care much about me, or he'll put a price upon me far, far beyond your means. I remember in the dear old days last summer you never had much money. Oh! I never thought I should be so glad to see you. I never did! It sniffed and shot out its long, snail's eyes expressly to drop a tear well away from its fur. Tell the others I'm here, and then I'll tell you exactly what to do about buying me. Cyril tied his bootlace into a hard knot, stood up, and addressed the others in firm tones. Look here! he said. I'm not kidding, and I appeal to your honour. An appeal which in this family was never made in vain. Don't look at that, Hutch. Look at the white rat. Now you're not to look at that, Hutch, whatever I say. He stood in front of it to prevent mistakes. Now get yourself ready for a great surprise. In that, Hutch, there's an old friend of ours. Don't look! Yes, it's the Samyad, the good old Samyad. He wants us to buy it. It says you're not to look at it. Look at the white rat and count your money on your honour. Don't look! The others responded nobly. They looked to the white rat till they quite stared him out of countenance, so that he went and sat up on his hind legs in a far corner, and hid his eyes at his front paws, and pretended he was washing his face. Cyril stooped again, busying himself with the other bootlace, and listened for the Samyad's further instructions. Go in! said the Samyad, and asked the price of lots of other things. Then say, What do you want for that monkey that's lost its tail? The mangy old thing in the third hutch from the end. Oh, don't mind my feelings. Call me a mangy monkey. I've tried hard enough to look like one. I don't think he'll put a high price on me. I've bitten him eleven times since I came here the day before yesterday. If he names a bigger price than you can afford, say you wish you had the money. But you can't give us wishes. I've promised never to have another wish from you, so the bewildered Cyril. Don't be a silly little idiot! said the Samfarian, trembling but affectionate tones. But find out how much money you've got between you, and do exactly what I tell you. Cyril, pointing a stiff and unmeaning finger at the white rat, so as to pretend that its charms alone employed his tongue, explained matters to the others. Well, the Samyad hunched itself, and bunched itself, and did its very best to make itself look uninteresting. Then the four children filed into the shop. How much do you want for that white rat, as Cyril? Eight pence, was the answer. And the guinea pigs? Eight pence to five bob, according to the breed. And the lizards? Nine pence each. And toads? Four pence. Ah, look here! So the greasy owner of all this caged life with sudden ferocity, which made the whole party back hurdly unto the wainscotting of hutches, with which the shop was lined. Look here! I ain't a go and have you coming in here at turning the whole place out of winder, and prizing every animal in the stock just for your larks. So don't think it. If you're a boyer, be a boyer. But I never had a customer yet, as wanted to buy mice, and lizards, and toads, and guineas all at once. So how'd you go's? Oh, wait a minute! Said this wretched Cyril, feeling how foolishly, yet well-meaningly he had carried out the Samyid's instructions. Just tell me one thing. What do you want for the mangy old monkey in the third hut from the end? The shopman only saw in this a new insult. Mind you young monkey yourself? Said he. Get along with your bloom and shake! How'd you go's? Oh, don't be so cross! Said Jane, losing her head altogether. Don't you see he really does want to know that. Oh, does he indeed? Sneered the merchant. Then he scratched his ear suspiciously, for he was a sharp businessman, and he knew the ring of truth when he heard it. His hand was bandaged, and three minutes before he would have been glad to sell the mangy old monkey for ten shillings. Now, how'd he do's? Does he? He said. Then two pun tens, my price! He's not got his fellow that monkey ain't, nor yet his match. Not this sorely the equator, which he comes from, and the only one ever seen in London, ought to be in the zoo, two pun ten, down on the nail, or how'd you go's? The children looked at each other. Twenty-three shillings and fivepence was all they had in the world, and it would have been merely three and fivepence, but for the sovereign which father had given to them, between them, at parting. We've only twenty-three shillings and fivepence, said Cyril, rattling the money in his pocket. Twenty-three farthings and someone's old cheek, said the dealer, for he did not believe that Cyril had so much money. There was a miserable pause. Then Ante remembered and said, Oh, I wish we had two pounds ten! So do I, miss, I'm sure. So the man with bitter politeness. Oh, I wish you had, I'm sure. Ante's hand was on the counter. Something seemed to slide under it. She lifted it. There lay five bright half-sovereigns. Why, I have got it after all, she said. Here's the money. Now, let's have the sammy. The monkey, I mean. The dealer looked hard at the money, but he made haste to put it in his pocket. Oh, I only hope you came by it honest, he said, shrugging his shoulders. He scratched his ear again. Well, he said, I suppose I must let you have it. But it's worth triple the money, so it is. He slowly led the way out to the hutch, opened the door gingerly, and made a sudden fierce grab at the sammyad, which the sammyad acknowledged in one last long lingering bite. Here, take that brute! said the shopman, squeezing the sammyad so tight that he nearly choked it. It's bit me to the marrow, itav! The man's eyes opened as Ante held at her arms. Don't blame me if it tears your face off its bones! he said. And the sammyad made a leap from his dirty horny hands and Anteia caught it in hers, which were not very clean, certainly, but at any rate were soft and pink and held it kindly and closely. But you can't take it home like that, Cyril said. We shall have a crowd after us. And indeed two errand-boys and the policemen had already collected. I can't give you nothing, only a paper bag, or like what we put the tortoises in. So the man grudgingly. So the whole party went into the shop, and the shopman's eyes nearly came out of his head when, having given Anteia the largest paper bag he could find, he saw her hold it open and the sammyad carefully creeped into it. Well, he said, If that there don't be cock-fighting, but perhaps you met the brute before. Yes, said Cyril affably. He's an old friend of ours. Father known that! The man rejoined. You shouldn't have had him run to twice the money. However, he added, as the children disappeared. I ain't done so bad, as soon as he only gave farth-bought for the beast. But then there's the bites to take into account. The children, trembling in agitation and excitement, carried home the sammyad, trembling in his paper bag, when they got it home, Anteia nursed it and stroked it and would have cried over it, if she hadn't remembered how it hated to be wet. When it recovered enough to speak, it said, Get me sand, silver sand from the oil and colour shop, and get me plenty! They got the sand, and they put it in the sammyad and they ran back together, and rubbed itself, and rolled itself, and shook itself, and scraped itself, and scratched itself, and preened itself, till it felt clean and comfy. And then it scrabbled a hasty hole in the sand, and went to sleep in it. The children hid the bath under the girl's bed, and had supper. Old nurse had got them a lovely supper of bread and butter and fried onions. She was full of kind and delicate thoughts. When Anteia woke next morning, the sammyad was snuggling down between her shoulder and Jane's. You have saved my life! it said. I know that man would have thrown cold water on me sooner or later, and then I should have died. I saw him wash out a guinea pig's hut yesterday morning. I'm still frightfully sleepy. I think I'll go back to sand for another nap. Wake the boys in the stormhouse of Jane, and when you've had your breakfast, we'll have a talk. Don't you want any breakfast? asked Anteia. I dare say I shall pick a bit presently, it said. But sand is all I care about. It's meat and drink to me, and coals and fire and wife and children. But these words are clambered down by the bed-clothes and scrambled back into the bath, where they heard it scratching itself out of sight. Well, said Anteia, anyhow our holidays won't be dull now. We've found the sammyad again. No, said Jane, beginning to put on her stockings. We shan't be dull, but it'll only be like having a pet dog now it can't give us wishes. Oh, don't be so discontented, said Anteia. If it can't do anything else, it can tell us about megatheriums and things. End of chapter 1, the Sammyad. Chapter 2 of the Story of the Amulet This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Porick. Chapter 2 The Half Amulet Long ago, that is to say last summer, the children, finding themselves embarrassed by some wish which the Sammyad had granted them and which the servants had not received in a proper spirit, had wished that the servants might not notice the gifts which the Sammyad gave. And when they parted from the Sammyad, their last wish had been that they should meet it again. Therefore, they had met it, and it was jolly lucky for the Sammyad, as Robert pointed out. Now, of course, you see that the Sammyad's being where it was, was the consequence of one of their wishes, and therefore was a Sammyad wish. And as such, could not be noticed by the servants. And it was soon plain that in the Sammyad's opinion old nurse was still a servant, although she now had a house of her own, for she never noticed the Sammyad at all. And that was as well, for she would never have consented to allow the girls to keep an animal and a bath of sand under their bed. When breakfast had been cleared away, it was a very nice breakfast with hot rolls to it, a luxury quite out of the common way, Anthea went and dragged out the bath and woke the Sammyad. It stretched and shook itself. You must have bolted your breakfast most unwholesomely, it said. You can't have been five minutes over it. We've been nearly an hour. said Anthea. Come, you know you promised. Now look here, said the Sammyad, sitting back on the sand and shooting at its long eyes suddenly. We'd better begin as we mean to go on. It won't do to have any misunderstanding. So I tell you plainly that. Oh, please! Anthea pleaded. Do wait till we get to the others. They'll think it most awfully sneakish of me to talk to you without them. Do come down. There's a deer. She knelt before the sand-bath and held at her arms. The Sammyad must have remembered how glad it had been to jump into those same little arms only the day before, for it gave a grudging little grunt and jumped once more. Anthea wrapped it in her pinafore and carried it downstairs. It was welcomed in a thrilling silence. At last Anthea said, Now then, what place is this? asked the Sammyad, shooting its eyes out and turning them slowly round. It's a sitting-room, of course, said Robert. Then I don't like it, said the Sammyad. Never mind, said Anthea kindly. We'll take you anywhere you like if you want us to. What was it you were going to say upstairs when I said the others wouldn't like it if I stayed talking to you without them? It looked keenly at her, and she blushed. Don't be silly, it said sharply. Of course. It's quite natural that you should like your brothers and sisters to know exactly how good and unselfish you were. I wish you wouldn't, said Jane. Anthea was quite right. What was it you were going to say when she stopped you? I'll tell you, since you're so anxious to know, I was going to say this. You've saved my life, and I'm not ungrateful, but it doesn't change your nature or mine. You're still very ignorant, and rather silly, and I am worth a thousand of you any day of the week. Of course you are, Anthea was beginning, but it interrupted her. It's very rude to interrupt, it said. What I mean is that I'm not going to stand any nonsense. And if you think what you've done is to give you the right to pet me or make me demean myself by playing with you, you'll find out that what you think doesn't matter a single penny. See, it's what I think that matters. I know, said Cyril. It always was, if you remember. Well, said the Samyad, then that settled. We're to be treated as we deserve. I, with respect, and all of you with, but I don't wish to be offensive. Do you want me to tell you how I got into that horrible den you brought me out of? Oh, I'm not ungrateful. I haven't forgotten it, and I shan't forget it. Do tell us, said Anthea. I know you're awfully clever, but even with all your cleverness I don't believe you can possibly know how respectfully we do respect you, don't we? The others all said yes and fidgeted in their chairs. Robert spoke the wishes of all when he said, I do wish you'd go on. So it sat up on the green cover table and went on. When you had gone away, it said, I went to stand for a bit and slept. I was tired out with all your silly wishes, and I felt as though I hadn't really been to sand for a year. To sand, Jane repeated, where I sleep, you go to bed, I go to sand. Jane yawned, the mention of bed made her feel sleepy. All right, said the Samyad in offended tones. I'm sure I don't want to tell you a long tale. A man caught me, and I bit him, and he put me in a bag with a dead hair and a dead rabbit, and he took me to his house and put me out of the bag into a basket with holes that I could see through, and I bit him again. And then he brought me to this city, which I'm told is called the modern Babylon, though it's not a bit like the old Babylon, and he sold me to the man you bought me from, and then I bit them both. Now, what's your news? There's not quite so much biting in our story, said Sirle regretfully. In fact, there isn't any. My father's gone to Manchuria, and mother and the lamb have gone to Medira, because mother was ill, and don't I just wish that we're both safe home again? Merely from habit the sand fairy began to blow itself out, but it stopped short suddenly. I forgot, it said. I can't give you any more wishes. No, but look here, said Sirle. Couldn't we call an old nurse her to say she wishes they were safe home? I'm sure she does. No, go. Said the Samyad. It's just the same as you're wishing yourself if you could get someone else to wish for you. It won't act. But it did yesterday with the man in the shop, said Robert. Ah, yes, said the creature. But you didn't ask him to wish, and you didn't know what would happen if he did. That can't be done again. It's played out. Then you can't help us at all. Said Jane. Oh, I did think you could do something. I've been thinking about it ever since we saved your life yesterday. I thought you'd be certain to be able to fetch back father, even if you couldn't manage mother. And Jane began to cry. Now don't. Said the Samyad hastily. You know I would always upset me if you cry. I can't feel safe a moment. Look here, you must have some new kind of charm. That's easier said than done. Not a bit of it. Said the creature. There is one of the strongest charms in the world, not a stone's throw from where you bought me yesterday. The man I bit so. The first one, I mean, went into a shop to ask how much something cost. I think he said it was a concertina. And while he was telling the man in the shop how much too much he wanted for it, I saw the charm and a sort of tray, and a lot of other things. If you can only buy that, you will be able to have your heart's desire. The children looked at each other and then at the Samyad. Then Cyril coughed awkwardly and took sudden courage to say what everyone was thinking. I do hope you won't be waxy, he said, but it's like this. When you used to give us our wishes, they almost always got us into some row or other, and we used to think you wouldn't have been pleased if they hadn't. Now, about this charm, we haven't got over and above too much tin, and if we blew it all on this charm and it turns out not to be up to much, well, you see what I'm driving at, don't you? I see that you don't see more than the length of your nose, and that's not far, said the Samyad crossly. Look here, I had to give you the wishes, and of course they turned out badly, in a sort of way, because you hadn't the sense to wish for what was good for you. But this charm's quite different. I haven't got to do this for you. It's just my own generous kindness that makes me tell you about it. So it's bound to be all right. See, don't be cross, said Antia. Please, please don't. You see, it's all we've got. We shan't have any more pocket money till Daddy comes home, unless he sends us some in a letter. But we do trust you, and I say all of you, as you went on, don't you think it's worth spending all the money if there's even the chanciest chance of getting Father and Mother back safe now? Just think of it, oh, do let's. I don't care what you do, said the Samyad. I'll go back to Sand again to leave made-up your minds. No, don't, said everybody, and Jane added, we're quite mind-made-up. Don't you see we are? Let's get our hats. Will you come with us? Of course, said the Samyad. How else would you find the shop? So everybody got its hat. The Samyad was put into a flat bass bag that had come from Farringdon Market with two pounds of filleted place in it. Now contained about three pounds and a quarter of solid Samyad, and the children took it in turns to carry it. It's not half the weight of the lamb, Robert said, and the girls sighed. The Samyad poked a wary eye out of the top of the basket every now and then, and told the children which turnings to take. How on earth do you know? asked Robert. I can't think how you do it. And the Samyad said sharply, No, I don't suppose you can. At last they came to the shop. It had all sorts and kinds of things in the window, concertinas, and silk anchorchiefs, china vases and teacups, blue Japanese jars, pipes, swords, pistols, lace collars, silver spoons tied up in half-dozens, and wedding-rings in a red lacquered basin. There were officers, epaulettes, and doctor's lancets. There were tea-caddies and laid with red turtle-shell, and brass curly-whirlies, plates of different kinds of money, and stacks of different kinds of plates. There was a beautiful picture of a little girl washing a dog, which Jane liked very much. And in the middle of the window there was a dirty silver tray full of mother-of-pearl card counters, old seals, pace-buckles, snuff-boxes, and all sorts of little dingy odds and ends. The Samyad put its head quite out of the fish-basket to look in the window when Cyril said, There's a tray there with rubbish in it. And then its long, snail's eyes saw something that made them stretch out so much that they were as long and thin as new slate-pencils. Its fur bristled thickly, and its voice was quite hoarse with excitement as it whispered, That's it! That's it! There, under that blue and yellow buckle, you can see a bit sticking out. It's red. Do you see? Is it that thing something like a horseshoe, asked Cyril, and red, like the common ceiling-wax you do apparsals with? Yes, that's it, said the Samyad. Now, you just do as you did before. Ask the price of other things. That blue buckle would do. Then the man will get the tray out of the window. I think you'd better be the one. It's a Twenthea. We'll wait out here. So the others flattened their noses against the shop window, and presently a large, dirty, short-fingered hand with a very big diamond ring came stretching to the green half-curtains at the back of the shop window, and took away the tray. They could not see what was happening in the interview between Anthe and the diamond ring, and it seemed to them that she had had time, if she had had money, to buy everything in the shop. But for the moment came when she stood before them her faith reathed in grins, as Cyril said later, and in her hand the charm. It was something like this. Drawing omitted. And it was made of a red, smooth, softly shiny stone. I've got it! Anthe whispered, just opening her hand to give the others a glimpse of it. Two, let's go home. We can't stand here like stuck pigs looking at it in the street. So home they went. The parlour in Fitzroy Street was very flat background to magic happenings. Down in the country among the flowers and green fields, anything had seemed, and indeed had been, possible. But it was hard to believe that anything really wonderful could happen so near Tottenham Court Road. But the Samyad was there, and eating itself was wonderful, and it could talk. And it had shown them where a charm could be bought, and make the owner of it perfectly happy. So the four children hurried home, taking very long steps, with their chins stuck out and their mouths shut very tight indeed. They went so fast that the Samyad was quite shaken about in its fish bag, but it did not say anything, perhaps for fear of attracting public notice. They got home at last, very hot indeed, and set the Samyad on the green tablecloth. Now then, said Cyril, but the Samyad had to have a place of sand fetched for it, versus quite faint. When it had refreshed itself a little, it said, Now then, let me see the charm, and Anthea laid it on the green table-cover. The Samyad shut out his long eyes to look at it, then it turned them reproachfully on Anthea and said, There's only half of it here. This was indeed a blow. It was all there was, said Anthea, with timid firmness. She knew it was not her fault. There should be another piece, said the Samyad, and a sort of pin to fasten the two together. Isn't half any good? Won't it work without the other bit? It cost seven and six. Oh, bother, bother, bother! Don't be silly little idiots, said everyone and the Samyad together. Then there was a wretched silence. Cyril broke it. What shall we do? Go back to the shop and see if they haven't got the other half, said the Samyad. I'll go to sand till you come back. Cheer up! Even the bit you've got is some good, but it'll be no end of a bother if you can't find the other. So Cyril went to the shop and the Samyad to sand and the other three went to dinner, which was now ready. And old nurse was very cross that Cyril was not ready too. The three were watching at the windows when Cyril returned and even before he was near enough for them to see his face there was something about the slouch of his shoulders and set of his knicker-bockers and the way he dragged his boots along that showed but too plainly that his errand had been in vain. Well, they all said, hoping against hope on the front doorstep. No go, Cyril answered. The man said the thing was perfect. He said it was a Roman lady's locket and people shouldn't buy curios if they didn't know anything about and then he never went back in a bargain because it wasn't business and he expected his customers to act the same. He was simply nasty. That's what he was. And I want my dinner. It was plain that Cyril was not pleased. The unlikeliness of anything really interesting happening in that parlor lay like a weight of lead on everyone's spirits. Cyril had his dinner and just as he was swallowing the last mouthful of apple-pudding there was a scratch at the door and they opened it and in walked the Samyad. Well, it said when it had heard the news things might be worse. Tony, you won't be surprised if you have a few adventures before you get the other half. You want to get it, of course. Rather was the general reply and we don't mind adventures. No, said the Samyad. I seem to remember that about you. Well, sit down and listen with all your ears. Eight, are there? Right, I'm glad you know it arithmetic. Now, pay attention because I don't intend to tell you everything twice over as the children settled themselves on the floor. It was far more comfortable than the chairs as well as more polite to the Samyad who was stroking its whiskers on the hearth rug. A sudden cold pain caught at Antia's heart father, mother, the darling lamb all far away then a warm, comfortable feeling flowed through her. The Samyad was here and at least half a charm and there were to be adventures. If you don't know what a cold pain is I am glad for your sakes and I hope you never may. Now, said the Samyad cheerly you are not particularly nice nor particularly clever and you're not at all good looking. Still, you've saved my life. Oh, when I think of that man and his pail of water so I'll tell you all I know at least, of course I can't do that because I know far too much but I'll tell you all I know about this red thing Do, do, do, do said everyone well then said the Samyad this thing is half of an amulet that can do all sorts of things it can make the corn grow and the waters flow and the trees bear fruit and the little new beautiful babies come not that babies are beautiful of course I broke off to say but their mothers think they are and as long as you think of things true it is true as far as you're concerned Robert yawned the Samyad went on the complete amulet can keep off all the things that make people unhappy jealousy, bad temper pride, disagreeableness greediness, selfishness laziness evil spirits people call the money amulet was made don't you think it would be nice to have it very to the children quite without enthusiasm and it can give you strength and courage that's better said Cyril and virtue I suppose it is nice to have that to Jane but not with much interest and it can give you your hearts desire now you're talking said Robert of course I am retorted the Samyad tartly so there's no need for you to hearts desire is good enough for me said Cyril yes but and he ventured all that's what the whole charm can do there's something that the half we've got can win off its own bat isn't there she appealed to the Samyad it nodded yes it said and the half is the power to take you anywhere you like to look for the other half this seemed a brilliant prospect till Robert asked does it know where to look the Samyad shook its head and answered I don't think it's likely do you no then said Robert we might as well look for a needle hey yes it is a bottle not a bundle father said so not at all said the Samyad briskly you think you know everything but you're quite mistaken the first thing is to get the thing to talk can it Jane questioned Jane's question didn't mean that she thought it couldn't the feeling of magic was growing deeper and thicker and seemed to fill the room like a dream of a scented fog of course it can I suppose you can read oh yes everyone was rather hurt to the question well then all you've got to do is read the name that's written on the part of the charm that you've got and as soon as you say the name out loud the thing will have power to do well several things there was a silence the red charm was passed from hand to hand there's no name on it said Cyril at last nonsense said the Samyad what's that? oh that said Cyril it's not reading it looks like pictures of chickens this was what was on the charm hieroglyphics omitted I've no patience with you said the Samyad if you can't read you must find someone who can a priest now we don't know any priests Byzantia we know a clergyman he's called a priest in the prayer book you know but he only knows Greek and Latin and Hebrew is any of those I know the Samyad stamped a furry foot angrily I wish I'd never seen you it said you aren't any more good than so many stone images not so much if I'm to tell the truth is there no wise man in your Babylon who can pronounce the names of the great ones there's a poor learned gentleman who dares said Antia we might try him he's a lot of stone images in his room and iron-looking ones too we peeped in once when he was out old nurse says he doesn't eat enough to keep a canary alive he spends it all on stones and things try him said the Samyad only be careful if he knows a greater name than this and uses it against you your charm will be of no use bind him first with a chains of honor and upright dealing and then ask his aid oh yes you'd better all go you can put me to sand as you go upstairs I must have a few minutes peace and quietness so the four children hastily wash their hands and brush their hair this was Antia's idea and went up to knock at the door of the poor learned gentleman and to bind him with the chains of honor and upright dealing end of chapter 2 chapter 3 of the story of the amulet this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Porick chapter 3 the past the learned gentleman had let his dinner get quite cold it was mutton chop and as it lay on the plate it looked like a brown island in the middle of a frozen pond because the grease of the gravy had become cold and consequently white it looked very nasty and it was the first thing the children saw when after knocking three times and receiving no reply one of them ventured to turn the handle and softly to open the door the chop was on the end but ran down one side of the room the table had images on it and queer shaped stones and books and there were glass cases fixed against the wall behind with little strange things in them the cases were rather like the ones you see in jeweler shops the poor learned gentleman was sitting at a table in the window looking at something very small which he held in a pair of fine pincers he had a round spyglass sort of thing in one eye which reminded the children of watchmakers and also of the long snail's eyes of the samyad the gentleman was very long and thin and his long, thin boots stuck out under the other side of his table he did not hear the door open and the children stood hesitating at last robert gave the door a push and they all started back for in the middle of the wall that the door had hidden was a mummy case very very, very big painted in red and yellow and green and black and the face of it seemed to look at them quite angrily you know what a mummy case is like, of course if you don't you'd better go to the british museum at once and find out anyway, it's not at all the sort of thing that you expect to meet in the top floor front in bloomsbury looking as though it would like to know what business you had there so everyone said rather loud and their boots clattered as they stumbled back the learned gentleman took the glass out of his eye and said I beg your pardon in a very soft, quite pleasant voice the voice of a gentleman who's been to oxford it's us that beg yours said sirle politely we are sorry to disturb you come in said the gentleman rising with the most distinguished courtesy anthea told herself I am delighted to see you won't you sit down oh no, no, not there allow me to move up a Paris he cleared a chair and stood smiling and looking kindly through his large round spectacles he treats us like grown-ups whispered robert and he doesn't seem to know how many of us there are hush said anthea it isn't manners to whisper you say sirle go ahead we are very sorry to disturb you said sirle politely but we did knock three times and you didn't say come in or run away now or that you couldn't be bothered just now are you busy or any of the things people do say when you knock at doors so we opened it we knew you were in because we heard you sneeze while we were waiting not at all said the gentleman do sit down he has found out there are four of us said robert as the gentleman cleared three more chairs he put the things off them carefully on the floor the first chair had things like bricks the tiny, tiny birds feet have walked over when the bricks were soft only the marks were in regular lines the second chair had round things on it like very large fat long pale beads and the last chair had a pile of dusty papers on it the children sat down we know you were very very learned said sirle said sirle and we have got a charm and we want you to read the name on it because it isn't in Latin or Greek or Hebrew or any of the languages we know a thorough knowledge of even those languages is a very fair foundation on which to build an education to the gentleman politely oh said sirle blushing but we only know them to look at except Latin and I'm only in Caesar with that the gentleman took off his spectacles and laughed his laugh sounded rusty sirle thought as though it wasn't often used of course he said I'm sure I beg your pardon I think I must have been in a dream you are the children who live downstairs are you not yes I've seen you as I have passed in and out and you have found something that you think to be an antiquity and you've brought it to show me that was very kind I should like to inspect it I'm afraid we didn't think about you liking to inspect it said the truthful anthea it was just for us because we wanted to know the name on it oh yes and I say Robert interjected I don't think it's rude of us if we ask you first before we show it to be bound in the what you call it of in the bounds of honour and upright dealing said anthea I'm afraid I don't quite follow you so the gentleman with gentle nervousness well it's this way said sirle we've got part of a charm and the Sammy I mean something told us it would work half of one but it won't work unless we can say the name that's on it but of course if you've got another name that can lick ours our charm will be no go so we want you to give us your word of honour as a gentleman though I'm sure now I've seen you that it's not necessary but still I've promised to ask you so we must will you please give us your honourable word not to say any name stronger than the name in our charm the gentleman had put on his spectacles again and was looking at sirle through them he now said bless me more than once adding who told you all this I can't tell you said sirle I'm very sorry but I can't some faint memory of a far off childhood must have come to the learned gentleman just then I see he said it is some sort of game that you're engaged in of course yes well I will certainly promise yet I wonder how you heard of the names of power we can't tell you that either said sirle and auntie said here is our charm and held it out with politeness but without interest the gentleman took it but after the first glance all his body suddenly stiffened as a pointers does when he sees a partridge excuse me he said in quite a changed voice and carry the charm to the window he looked at it he turned it over he fixed his spyglass in his eye and looked again no one said anything only Robert made a shuffling noise with his feet until auntie nudged him to shut up at last the learned gentleman drew a long breath where did you find this he asked we didn't find it we bought it as a shop Jacob Absalom the name is not far from chairing cross said sirle seven and six bins for us added Jane it's not for sale I suppose you do not wish to part with us I ought to tell you that it is extremely valuable extraordinarily valuable I may say yes said sirle we know that so of course we want to keep it keep it carefully then said the gentleman impressively and if ever you should wish to part with it may I ask you to give me the refusal of it the refusal I mean do not sell it to anyone else until you have given me the opportunity of buying it all right said sirle we won't but we don't want to sell it we want to make it do things I suppose you can play at that as well as at auntie else said the gentleman but I'm afraid the days of magic are over they aren't really said auntie earnestly you'd see they aren't and if I could tell you better last summer holidays only I mustn't thank you very much and can you read the name yes I can read it will you tell it us the name said the gentleman he kow seche er he kow seche said sirle thanks awfully I do hope you haven't taken up too much of your time not at all said the gentleman and do let me entreat you to be very very careful of that most valuable specimen they said thank you in all the different polite ways they could think of and filed out of the door and down the stairs auntie was last halfway down to the first landing she turned and ran up again the door was still open and the learned gentleman and the mummy case were standing opposite to each other and both looked as though they had stood like that for years the gentleman started when auntie put her hand on his arm I hope you won't be cross and say it's not my business but do look at your chop I think you ought to eat it father forgets his dinner some time until he's writing and mother always says I ought to remind him if she's not at home to do it herself because it's so bad to miss your regular meals so I thought perhaps he wouldn't mind my reminding you because you don't seem to have anyone else to do it she glanced at the mummy case it certainly did not look as though it would ever think of reminding people of their meals the learned gentleman looked at her for a moment before he said thank you my dear it was a kindly thought no I haven't anyone to remind me about things like that he sighed and looked at the chop it looks very nasty said auntie yes he said it does I'll eat it immediately before I forget as he ate it he sighed more than once perhaps because the chop was nasty perhaps because he longed for the charmer to the children did not want to sell perhaps because it was so long since anyone cared whether he ate his chops or forgot them and they caught the others at the stairfoot they woke the Samyed and it taught them exactly how to use the word of power and to make the charm speak I'm not going to tell you how this is done because you might try to do it and for you any such trying would be almost sure to end in disappointment because in the first place it's a thousand million to one against your ever getting hold of the right sort of charm and if you did there would be hardly any chance that all of your finding a learned gentleman clever enough and kind enough to read the word for you the Samyed crouched in a circle on the floor in the girl's bedroom because in the parlor they might have been interrupted by old nurses coming in to lay the cloth for tea and the charm was put in the middle of the circle the sun shone splendidly outside and the room was very light through the open window came the home and rattle of London and in the street below they could hear the voice of the milkman when all was ready the Samyed signed to Antia to say the word and she said it instantly the whole light of all the world seemed to go out the room was dark the world outside was dark darker than the darkest night that ever was and all the sounds went out too so that there was a silence deeper than any silence you have ever even dreamed of imagining it was like being suddenly deaf and blind only darker and quieter even than that but before the children had got over the sudden shock of it enough to be frightened a faint beautiful light began to show in the middle of the circle and at the same moment a faint beautiful voice began to speak the light was too small for one to see anything by and the voice was too small for you to hear what it said you could just see the light and just hear the voice but the light grew stronger it was greeny like glowworms lamps and it grew and grew till it was though thousands and thousands of glowworms were signalling to their winged sweethearts in the circle and the voice grew not so much in loudness as in sweetness though it grew louder too till it was so sweet that you wanted to cry with pleasure just to the sound of it it was like nightingales and the sea and the fiddle and the voice of your mother when you've been a long time away and she meets with the door when you get home and the voice said speak what is it that you would hear I cannot tell you what language the voice used I only know that everyone present understood it perfectly if you come to think of it there must be some language that everyone could understand if we only knew what it was nor can I tell you how the charm spoke nor whether it was the charm that spoke or some presence in the charm the children could not have told you either indeed they could not look at the charm while it was speaking because the light was too bright they looked instead at the green radiance on the faded Kidderminster carpet at the edge of the circle they all felt very quiet and not inclined to ask questions or fidget with their feet for this was not like the things that had happened in the country when the Samy had given them their wishes that had been funny somehow and this was not it was something like Arabian knights magic and something like being in church no one cared to speak it was Searle who said at last please we want to know where the other half of the charm is the part of the amulet which is lost so the beautiful voice was broken and ground into the dust of the shrine that held it it and the pin that joined the two halves are themselves dust and the dust is scattered over many lands and sunk in many seas oh I say murmured Robert and a blank silence fell then it's all up said Searle at last it's no use are looking for a thing that smashed into dust and the dust scattered all over the place if you would find it to the voice you must seek it where it still is perfect as ever I don't understand said Searle in the past you may find it to the voice I wish we may find it said Searle the Samy had whispered crossly don't you understand the thing existed the thing existed in the past if you were in the past too you could find it it's very difficult to make you understand things time and space are only forms of thought I see said Searle no you don't said the Samy had and it doesn't matter if you don't either what I mean is that if you're only made the right way you could see everything happening in the same place at the same time now do you see I'm afraid I don't said Antia I'm sorry I'm so stupid well at any rate you see this that lost harm of the amulet is in the past past therefore it is in the past we must look for it I mustn't speak to the charm myself ask of things find out where can we find the other part of you as Searle obediently in the past so the voice what part of the past I may not tell you if you will choose a time I will take you to the place that then held it you yourselves must find it when did you see it last asked Antia I mean when was it taken away from you the beautiful voice answered that was thousands of years ago the amulet was perfect then and lay in a shrine the last of many shrines and I worked wonders then came strange men with strange weapons and destroyed my shrine and the amulet they bore away with many captives but of these one my priest knew the word power and spoke it for me so that the amulet became invisible and thus returned to my shrine but the shrine was broken down an ear any magic could rebuild it one spoke a word before which my power bowed down and was still and the amulet lay there still perfect but enslaved then one coming with stones to rebuild the shrine dropped a hewn stone on the amulet as it lay and one half was sundered from the other I had no power to seek for that which was lost and there being none to speak the word of power I could not rejoin it so the amulet lay and the dust of the desert many thousand years and at last came a small man a conqueror with an army and after him a crowd of men who sought to seem wise and one of these found half the amulet and brought it to this land but none could read the name so I lay still and this man dying and his son after him the amulet was sold by those who came after to a merchant and from him you bought it and it is here and now the name of power having being spoken I also am here this is what the voice said I think it must have meant Napoleon by the small man a conqueror because I know I have been told that he took an army to Egypt and that afterwards a lot of wise people went grubbing in the sand and fished up all sorts of wonderful things older than you would think possible and of these I believe this charm to have been one and the most wonderful one of all everyone listened and everyone tried to think it is not easy to do this clearly I have been listening to the kind of talk I have told you about at last Robert said can you take us into the past to the shrine where you and the other thing were together if you could take us there we might find the other part still there after all these thousands of years still there silly said Cyril don't you see if we go back into the past it won't be thousands of years ago it will be now for us won't it he appealed to the Samyad who said you're not so far off the idea as you usually are well will you take us back to when there was a shrine and you were safe in it all of you yes said the voice you must hold me up and speak the word of power and one by one beginning with the first born you shall pass through me into the past but let the last that passes be the one that holds me and let him not lose his hold lest you lose me and so remain in the past forever that's a nasty idea said Robert when you desire to return the beautiful voice went on hold me up towards the east and speak the word then passing through me you shall return to this time and it shall be the present to you but how a bell rang loudly oh crikey exclaimed Robert that's tea will you please make a proper daylight again so we can go down and thank you so much for all your kindness we enjoyed ourselves very much indeed thank you added anthea politely the beautiful light faded slowly the great darkness and silence came and these suddenly changed to the dazzlement of day and the great soft rustling sound of London that is like some vast beast turning over in its sleep the children rubbed their eyes the Samyad ran quickly to its sandy bath and the others went down to tea and until the cups were actually filled tea seemed less real than the beautiful voice and the greeny light after tea and the persuaded the others to allow her to hang the charm round her neck with a piece of string it would be so awful if it got lost she said it might get lost anywhere you know and would be rather beastly for us to have to stay in the past for ever and ever wouldn't it end of chapter three recording by Porick