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class="calibre1">Between Fitzroy Street and St Jamesā€™s Park there are a great many streets, and, if you go the right way you will pass a great many shops that you cannot possibly help stopping to look at. The children stopped 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 parlour at No. 300, Fitzroy Street.

Presently, by some wonderful chance turn of Robertā€™s (who had been voted Captain because the girls thought it would be good for himā€” and indeed he thought so himselfā€”and of course Cyril couldnā€™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 allā€”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 had once wished for wings themselves, and had had themā€”and then they felt how desperately unhappy anything with wings must be if it is shut up in a cage and not allowed to fly.

ā€˜It must be fairly beastly to be a bird in a cage,ā€™ said Cyril. ā€˜Come on!ā€™

They went on, and Cyril tried to think out a scheme for making his fortune as a gold-digger at Klondyke, 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 on hearthrugs, 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, ā€˜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!ā€™ They almost said, ā€˜Do! do! do!ā€™ plain to the ear, as they whined; all but one big Irish terrier, and he growled when Jane patted him.

ā€˜Grrrrr,ā€™ he seemed to say, as he looked at them from the back corner of his eyeā€”ā€˜YOU wonā€™t buy me. Nobody willā€”everā€”I shall die chained upā€”and I donā€™t know that I care how soon it is, either!ā€™

I donā€™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 poundsā€”but that was because it was a Japanese toy spaniel like the Queen once had her 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 thousandsā€”so they went on.

And they did not stop at any more cat or dog or bird shops, but passed them by, and at last they came to a shop that seemed as though it only sold creatures that did not much mind where they wereā€”such as goldfish and white mice, and sea-anemones 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 through 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.

ā€˜I donā€™t suppose old Nurse would mind VERY much,ā€™ said Jane. ā€˜Rabbits are most awfully tame sometimes. I expect it would know her voice and follow her all about.ā€™

ā€˜Sheā€™d tumble over it twenty times a day,ā€™ said Cyril; ā€˜now a snakeā€”ā€™

ā€˜There arenā€™t any snakes, said Robert hastily, ā€˜and besides, I never could cotton to snakes somehowā€”I wonder why.ā€™

ā€˜Worms are as bad,ā€™ said Anthea, ā€˜and eels and slugsā€”I think itā€™s because we donā€™t like things that havenā€™t got legs.ā€™

ā€˜Father says snakes have got legs hidden away inside of them,ā€™ said Robert.

ā€˜Yesā€”and he says WEā€™VE got tails hidden away inside usā€”but it doesnā€™t either of it come to anything REALLY,ā€™ said Anthea. ā€˜I hate things that havenā€™t any legs.ā€™

ā€˜Itā€™s worse when they have too many,ā€™ said Jane with a shudder, ā€˜think of centipedes!ā€™

They stood there on the pavement, a cause of some inconvenience to the passersby, and thus beguiled the time with conversation. Cyril was leaning his elbow on the top of a hutch that had seemed empty when they had 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 unmistakablyā€”not in any squeak or whine that had to be translatedā€”but in downright common Englishā€”

ā€˜Buy meā€”doā€”please buy me!ā€™

Cyril started as though he had been pinched, and jumped a yard away from the hutch.

ā€˜Come backā€”oh, come back!ā€™ said the voice, rather louder but still softly; ā€˜stoop down and pretend to be tying up your bootlaceā€”I see itā€™s undone, as usual.ā€™

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 withā€”the Psammead!

It seemed much thinner than when he had 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 snailā€™s eyes were drawn in quite tight so that they hardly showed at all.

ā€˜Listen,ā€™ said the Psammead, in a voice that sounded as though it would begin to cry in a minute, ā€˜I donā€™t think the creature who keeps this shop will ask a very high price for me. Iā€™ve bitten him more than once, and Iā€™ve made myself look as common as I can. Heā€™s never had a glance from my beautiful, beautiful eyes. Tell the others Iā€™m hereā€”but tell them to look at some of those low, common beasts while Iā€™m talking to you. The creature inside mustnā€™t think you care much about me, or heā€™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. Ohā€”I never thought I should be so glad to see youā€”I never did.ā€™ It sniffed, and shot out its long snailā€™s eyes expressly to drop a tear well away from its fur. ā€˜Tell the others Iā€™m here, and then Iā€™ll tell you exactly what to do about buying me.ā€™ Cyril tied his bootlace into a hard knot, stood up and addressed the others in firm tonesā€”

ā€˜Look here,ā€™ he said, ā€˜Iā€™m not kiddingā€”and I appeal to your honour,ā€™ an appeal which in this family was never made in vain. ā€˜Donā€™t look at that hutchā€”look at the white rat. Now you are not to look at that hutch whatever I say.ā€™

He stood in front of it to prevent mistakes.

ā€˜Now get yourselves ready for a great surprise. In that hutch thereā€™s an old friend of oursā€”DONā€™T look!ā€”Yes; itā€™s the Psammead, the good old Psammead! it wants us to buy it. It says youā€™re not to look at it. Look at the white rat and count your money! On your honour donā€™t look!ā€™

The others responded nobly. They looked at 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 with his front paws, and pretended he was washing his face.

Cyril stooped again, busying himself with the other bootlace and listened for the Psammeadā€™s further instructions.

ā€˜Go in,ā€™ said the Psammead, ā€˜and ask the price of lots of other things. Then say, ā€œWhat do you want for that monkey thatā€™s lost its tailā€”the mangy old thing in the third hutch from the end.ā€ Ohā€”donā€™t mind MY feelingsā€”call me a mangy monkeyā€”Iā€™ve tried hard enough to look like one! I donā€™t think heā€™ll put a high price on meā€”Iā€™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.ā€™

ā€˜But you canā€™t give us wishes. Iā€™ve promised never to have another wish from you,ā€™ said the bewildered Cyril.

ā€˜Donā€™t be a silly little idiot,ā€™ said the Sand-fairy in trembling but affectionate tones, ā€˜but find out how much money youā€™ve got between you, and do exactly what I tell you.ā€™

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, while the Psammead hunched itself, and bunched itself, and did its very best to make itself look uninteresting. Then the four children filed into the shop.

ā€˜How much do you want for that white rat?ā€™ asked Cyril.

ā€˜Eightpence,ā€™ was the answer.

ā€˜And the guinea-pigs?ā€™

ā€˜Eighteenpence to five bob, according to the breed.ā€™

ā€˜And the lizards?ā€™

ā€˜Ninepence each.ā€™

ā€˜And toads?ā€™

ā€˜Fourpence. Now look here,ā€™ said the greasy owner of all this caged life with a sudden ferocity which made the whole party back hurriedly on to the wainscoting of hutches with which the shop was lined. ā€˜Lookee here. I ainā€™t agoinā€™ to have you a cominā€™ in here a turninā€™ the whole place outer winder, anā€™ prizing every animile in the stock just for your larks, so donā€™t think it! If youā€™re a buyer, BE a buyerā€”but I never had a customer yet as wanted to buy mice, and lizards, and toads, and guineas all at once. So hout you goes.ā€™

ā€˜Oh! wait a minute,ā€™ said the wretched Cyril, feeling how foolishly yet well-meaningly he had carried out the Psammeadā€™s instructions. ā€˜Just tell me one thing. What do you want for the mangy old monkey in the third hutch from the end?ā€™

The shopman only saw in this a new insult.

ā€˜Mangy young monkey yourself,ā€™ said he; ā€˜get along with your blooming cheek. Hout you goes!ā€™

ā€˜Oh! donā€™t be so cross,ā€™ said Jane, losing her head altogether, ā€˜donā€™t you see he really DOES want to know THAT!ā€™

ā€˜Ho! does ā€˜e indeed,ā€™ sneered the merchant. Then he scratched his ear suspiciously, for he was a sharp business man, 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 ā€˜mangy old monkeyā€™ for ten shillings. Nowā€” ā€˜Ho! ā€˜e does, does ā€˜e,ā€™ he said, ā€˜then two pun tenā€™s my price. Heā€™s not got his fellow that monkey ainā€™t, nor yet his match, not this side of 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 hout you goes!ā€™

The children looked at each otherā€”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 ā€˜between themā€™ at parting. ā€˜Weā€™ve only twenty-three shillings and fivepence,ā€™ said Cyril, rattling the money in his pocket.

ā€˜Twenty-three farthings and somebodyā€™s own cheek,ā€™ said the dealer, for he did not believe that Cyril had so much money.

There was a miserable pause. Then Anthea remembered, and saidā€”

ā€˜Oh! I WISH I had two pounds ten.ā€™

ā€˜So do I, Miss, Iā€™m sure,ā€™

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