The Phoenix and the Carpet | Page 7

can be wrong unless they hurt somebody, and we
don't want to hurt anybody; and what's more, we jolly well couldn't if
we tried. Let's get the Ingoldsby Legends. There's a thing about
Abra-cadabra there,' said Cyril, yawning. 'We may as well play at
magic. Let's be Knights Templars. They were awfully gone on magic.
They used to work spells or something with a goat and a goose. Father
says so.'
'Well, that's all right,' said Robert, unkindly; 'you can play the goat
right enough, and Jane knows how to be a goose.'
'I'll get Ingoldsby,' said Anthea, hastily. 'You turn up the hearthrug.'
So they traced strange figures on the linoleum, where the hearthrug had
kept it clean. They traced them with chalk that Robert had nicked from
the top of the mathematical master's desk at school. You know, of
course, that it is stealing to take a new stick of chalk, but it is not wrong
to take a broken piece, so long as you only take one. (I do not know the
reason of this rule, nor who made it.) And they chanted all the
gloomiest songs they could think of. And, of course, nothing happened.
So then Anthea said, 'I'm sure a magic fire ought to be made of
sweet-smelling wood, and have magic gums and essences and things in
it.'
'I don't know any sweet-smelling wood, except cedar,' said Robert; 'but
I've got some ends of cedar-wood lead pencil.'
So they burned the ends of lead pencil. And still nothing happened.
'Let's burn some of the eucalyptus oil we have for our colds,' said
Anthea.

And they did. It certainly smelt very strong. And they burned lumps of
camphor out of the big chest. It was very bright, and made a horrid
black smoke, which looked very magical. But still nothing happened.
Then they got some clean tea-cloths from the dresser drawer in the
kitchen, and waved them over the magic chalk-tracings, and sang 'The
Hymn of the Moravian Nuns at Bethlehem', which is very impressive.
And still nothing happened. So they waved more and more wildly, and
Robert's tea-cloth caught the golden egg and whisked it off the
mantelpiece, and it fell into the fender and rolled under the grate.
'Oh, crikey!' said more than one voice.
And every one instantly fell down flat on its front to look under the
grate, and there lay the egg, glowing in a nest of hot ashes.
'It's not smashed, anyhow,' said Robert, and he put his hand under the
grate and picked up the egg. But the egg was much hotter than any one
would have believed it could possibly get in such a short time, and
Robert had to drop it with a cry of 'Bother!' It fell on the top bar of the
grate, and bounced right into the glowing red-hot heart of the fire.
'The tongs!' cried Anthea. But, alas, no one could remember where they
were. Every one had forgotten that the tongs had last been used to fish
up the doll's teapot from the bottom of the water- butt, where the Lamb
had dropped it. So the nursery tongs were resting between the
water-butt and the dustbin, and cook refused to lend the kitchen ones.
'Never mind,' said Robert, 'we'll get it out with the poker and the
shovel.'
'Oh, stop,' cried Anthea. 'Look at it! Look! look! look! I do believe
something IS going to happen!'
For the egg was now red-hot, and inside it something was moving.
Next moment there was a soft cracking sound; the egg burst in two, and
out of it came a flame-coloured bird. It rested a moment among the
flames, and as it rested there the four children could see it growing
bigger and bigger under their eyes.

Every mouth was a-gape, every eye a-goggle.
The bird rose in its nest of fire, stretched its wings, and flew out into
the room. It flew round and round, and round again, and where it
passed the air was warm. Then it perched on the fender. The children
looked at each other. Then Cyril put out a hand towards the bird. It put
its head on one side and looked up at him, as you may have seen a
parrot do when it is just going to speak, so that the children were hardly
astonished at all when it said, 'Be careful; I am not nearly cool yet.'
They were not astonished, but they were very, very much interested.
They looked at the bird, and it was certainly worth looking at. Its
feathers were like gold. It was about as large as a bantam, only its beak
was not at all bantam-shaped. 'I believe I know what it is,' said Robert.
'I've seen a picture.'
He hurried away.