Free More Wishing-Chair Stories by Enid Blyton

if we're all right.”
    Just as they went out of the door they saw somebody disappearing round the corner. “Who was that peeping?” said Mollie at once. “Quick, run and see, Peter.”
    Peter raced round the corner of the playroom and saw a little brownie dive into a bush. He yelled at him.
    “Hey, what do you think you are doing, peeping about here? You wait till I catch you!”
    A cheeky face looked out of the bush. “I just want to see your chair grow wings, that's all. It's a wishing-chair, isn't it? Can't I watch it grow wings?”
    “No, you can't,” said Peter. “No peeping and prying in our garden, please! Keep out!”
    The brownie made a rude face and pulled his head back into the leaves. Chinky ran out of the playroom to see what the shouting was about.
    “It's that brownie you told us about, the one who sat in the wishing-chair,” said Peter. “Keep an eye open for him, Chinky. We don't want him telling everyone our secret.”
    “I'll watch,” said Chinky. He yelled at the bush where the brownie had gone.
    “Hey, you little snooper! If I see you again I'll tie you to a witch's broomstick and send you off to the moon!”
    There was no answer. The children went off to the house to have their bath and Chinky went back to the playroom.
    Mrs. Willy gave Peter and Mollie a jam sponge sandwich she had made, and another bottle of milk. “Could you give us some eggs, too?” asked Peter. “Then we could boil them ourselves for breakfast on our own little stove. We wouldn't need to come in for breakfast then.”
    Mrs. Willy laughed. “You're not going to bother me much, are you?” she said. “Well, here you are, four new-laid eggs—and you'd better take a new loaf down with you, and some more butter. You're sure you'll be all right?”
    “Oh, yes” said Mollie. “We love being on our own like this with Ch—”
    Peter gave her such a nudge that she almost fell over. She stopped and went red. Goodness gracious, she had almost said Chinky's name! Mrs. Williams didn't seem to have noticed anything, though. She added a pot of marmalade to the tray, and Peter took it.
    “Well, I suppose I'll see you when you want more food!” she said. “And not before. Have a nice time—and don't get into mischief!”
    Peter and Mollie went down the garden path with the tray. Good! Now they wouldn't need to go up to the house for breakfast, so if the chair grew its wings that night they would have time for a nice long adventure!
    Just as they got near the playroom they heard a noise of shouting and slapping.
    “I told you I'd smack you if I found you peeping again!” they heard Chinky say. “Coming right into the playroom like that!” Slap, slap, slap! “Howl all you like, you'll get a worse smacking if you come back again. What's up with you that you won't do as you're told?”
    “You horrid thing!” wept the little brownie. “Your hand's very hard. You hurt me. I'll pay you out, yes, I will!”
    Slap! Yell! Howl! Then came the sound of running feet and the little brownie almost bumped into the two children. He knocked the tray and an egg leaped right off it and landed on his head. It broke, and in an instant he had a cap of yellow yolk!
    Mollie and Peter laughed. The little brownie couldn't think what had happened to him. “I'll pay you out,” he cried. “I will, I will!”
    He disappeared into the tall hollyhocks, grumbling and wailing. Dear, dear—what a silly little fellow he was, to be sure!
    “Well, he's gone,” said Peter. “And so is one of our eggs. Never mind, we've still got three left, one for each of us. Hey, Chinky, you've been having more trouble with that brownie, I see.”
    “Yes. But I don't think he'll be back again in a hurry,” said Chinky. “I smacked him hard. I know who he is now. He's little Nose-About, a spoilt little brownie who sticks his nose into everything. His mother didn't spank him enough when he was little, so people have to keep on spanking him now. I say—what a