The Wishing-Chair Again Read Free

same thing over and over again? Now good night, and go and find Goodness if you want to disturb someone else.”
    “Where does she live?” bellowed Chinky in Sleep-Alone's ear, afraid that he would go to sleep before he told them anything else.
    That was too much for Sleep-Alone. He shot up and reached for an oar. Before Chinky could get out of the way he had given him such a slap with the oar-blade that Chinky yelled at the top of his voice. Then Sleep-alone turned on the two children, waving the oar in a most alarming manner.
    Peter pulled Mollie to the chair. He put out a hand and dragged Chinky to it too, shouting, “Go to Goodness, Chair, go to Goodness, wherever she is!” Up rose the chair so very suddenly that Chinky fell off and had to be dragged up again, getting another slap with the oar as he struggled.
    Sleep-Alone roared after them. “Now I'm thoroughly awake and I shan't go to sleep tonight. You wait until I see you again, Chinky, I'll fly you off in my aeroplane to the Land of Rubbish and drop you in the biggest dustbin there!”
    “He's not a very nice cousin to have, is he?” said Mollie, when they had left Sleep-Alone well behind. “I hope we don't see him again.”
    “Who is this Goodness, I wonder?” said Peter.
    “Never heard of her,” said Chinky. “But the chair really seems to know where it's going this time, so I suppose it knows Goodness all right!”
    The Wishing-Chair was flying very steadily to the east now. It had left the water behind and was now over some land that lay shining in the moonlight. The children could see towers and pinnacles, but they were too high up to see anything clearly.
    The chair suddenly flew downwards. It came to a small cottage. All three of its chimneys were smoking. The smoke was green, and the children knew that was a sign that a witch lived there.
    “I say—that's witch-smoke,” said Peter, nervously. He had met witches before on his adventures, and he knew quite a bit about them.
    “I hope the chair has come to the right place,” said Mollie, as it landed gently on the path just outside the door of the little cottage.
    They jumped off the chair, dragged it under a tree and went to knock at the door. A little old woman opened it. She looked so ordinary that the children felt sure she wasn't a witch.
    “Please, is this where Goodness lives?” asked Chinky, politely.
    “Not exactly. But I keep a Book of Goodness,” said the old woman. “Have you come to seek advice from it?”
    “Well—we rather wanted to know where the Land of Goodness Knows Where is,” said Chinky. “And we were told that only Goodness knew where it was!”
    “Ah, well—you will have to consult my Goodness Book then,” said the old woman. “Wait till I get on my things.”
    She left them in a tiny kitchen and disappeared. When she came back, what a difference in her! She had on a tall, pointed hat, the kind witches and wizards wear, and a great cloak that kept blowing out round her as if she kept a wind under its folds. She no longer looked an ordinary little old woman—she was a proper witch, but her eyes were kind and smiling.
    She took down from a shelf a very big book indeed. It seemed to be full of names and very tiny writing. “What are your names?” she asked. “I must look you up in my Goodness Book before you can be told what you want to know.”
    They told her, and she ran her finger down column after column. “Ah—Peter—helped a boy with his homework for a whole week last term—remembered his mother's birthday—owned up when he did something wrong—my word, there's a whole list of goodness here. And Mollie, too—gave up her half-holiday to stay in with a friend who was ill—told the truth when she knew she would get into trouble for doing so—quite a long list of goodness for her, too.”
    “Now me,” said Chinky. “I've been living with my mother. I do try to be good to her.” The old woman ran her finger down the list again and nodded her