The Wishing-Chair Again Read Online Free PDF Page B

a different driver, and was not nearly so crowded. In fact there would have been plenty of room inside for Peter and Mollie if they hadn't noticed that one of the passengers happened to be Mr. Sleep-Alone, Chinky's strange and bad-tempered cousin.
    “We'd better travel with the driver on the outside seat again,” said Peter. “Sleep-Alone might recognize us and lose his temper again.”
    The bus travelled fast down the lane, going round corners in a hair-raising style. “Do you like going round corners on two wheels?” asked Peter, clutching at Mollie to prevent her from falling off.
    “Well, it saves wear and tear on the others,” said the driver, and honked madly at a family of rabbits gossiping in the lane.
    The bus suddenly ran straight at a very steep hill and disappeared into a black hole, which proved to be a long and bumpy tunnel. It came out again and stopped dead beside a little blue river, its front wheels almost touching the water.
    “I always do that to give the passengers a fright,” said the driver. “Must give them something for their money's worth!”
    The children were really very glad to get out. They looked for a boat and saw plenty cruising about on the water, all by themselves. “Look at that!” said Peter. “They must go by magic or something.”
    One little yellow boat sailed over to them and rocked gently beside them. They got into it. The boat didn't move.
    “Tell it where to go, silly!” called the bus-driver, who was watching them with great interest.
    “To the Mill,” said Peter, and immediately the boat shot off down-stream, doing little zigzags now and again in a very light-hearted manner. It wasn't long before they came to an old Mill. Its big water-wheel was working and made a loud noise. Behind it was a hill, and on the top was what looked like a small castle.

    “That's where Mr. Spells lives,” said Peter. “Come on—out we get, and up the hill we go.”
    So up the hill they went and came at last to the curious castle-like house.
    But when they got near they heard loud shouts and thumps and yells, and they stopped in alarm.
    “Whatever's going on?” said Mollie. “Is somebody quarrelling?”
    The children tiptoed to the house and peeped in at one of the windows, the one where the noise seemed to be coming from. They saw a peculiar sight!
    Chinky and a nasty-looking little goblin seemed to be playing musical chairs! The children saw the six chairs there that they had seen the day before in Mr. Polish's shop, and first Chinky would dart at one and look at it carefully and try to pull it away, and then the goblin would. Then Mr. Spells, who looked a very grand kind of enchanter, would pull the chairs away from each and then smack both the goblin and Chinky with his stick.
    Roars and bellows came from the goblin and howls from Chinky. Oh, dear. Whatever was happening?
    “Chinky must have found out that the chairs had gone to Mr. Spells, and gone to get our own chair,” said Peter. “And the goblin must have gone to get it at the same time. Can you see the blue handkerchief we tied on our own chair, Mollie?”
    “No. It's gone. Somebody took it off,” said Mollie. “I believe I can see it sticking out of Chinky's pocket —I expect he guessed we marked the chair that way and took the hanky off in case the goblin or Mr. Spells guessed there was something unusual about that particular chair.”
    “Sir!” cried Chinky suddenly, turning to Mr. Spells, “I tell you once more that I am only here to fetch back one of these chairs, a wishing-chair, which belongs to me and my friends. This goblin stole it from us—and now he's come to get it back again from you. He'll sell it again, and steal it—he's a bad fellow.”
    Smack! The goblin thumped Chinky hard and he yelled. Mr. Spells roared like a lion, “I don't believe either of you. You're a couple of rogues. These chairs are MY CHAIRS, all of them, and I don't believe any of them is a wishing-chair. Wishing-chairs