Free The Wishing-Chair Again by Enid Blyton

about,
I mustn't stamp or slam any door
Or jump or slide on the schoolroom floor.
“I mustn't be greedy, untidy or lazy
Because Mister Grim would be driven quite crazy,
I mustn't be slow, and I MUST be quick,
Because Mister Grim has a very BIG STICK!”
    “Ooooh!” said Mollie. “I don't like the sound of that. That must be the poor Bad Brownies learning verses for Mister Grim.”
    “Yes,” said Chinky. “I do wish we hadn't come here. I've half a mind to get in the Wishing-Chair and go off again. I've always been told that Mister Grim is a very hard master. We don't want to be caught by him.”
    “ Caught!” said Peter. “But we're two children and a pixie—we're not brownies—and this is a school for brownies.”
    “I know,” said Chinky. “I just don't like the feel of this place, that's all. If you think it's all right, we'll stay and see if we can possibly find where our toys are.”
    “I think we'd better,” said Peter. “Well—what's the first thing to do?”
    “Listen—is that the brownies coming out to play?” said Mollie as a perfect babel of noise reached them. Then came the sound of feet running and in a trice about fifty small brownies surrounded them. They all looked merry, mischievous little fellows, too young to have grown their brownie beards yet.
    “Who are you? Are you new pupils for this awful school?” asked a small brownie, pushing himself forward. “My name's Winks. What's yours?”
    All the little brownies crowded round, listening eagerly. Chinky pushed them back.
    “Don't crowd so. No, we haven't come to your school. We came because we're looking for things we've lost, and we think they may be somewhere here. My name's Chinky. These are real children, Peter and Mollie.”
    “Well, be careful Mister Grim doesn't see you,” said Winks. “He's in a very bad temper these days— worse than he's ever been.”
    “Why?” asked Peter.
    “Because we found the cupboard where he kept his canes and we broke the whole lot!” chuckled the Brownie. “Every one of them.”
    “Can't he slap you or smack you, though?” said Peter.
    “Oh, yes—but we dodge,” said Winks. “Can't dodge a cane very well, though. I say—do be careful he doesn't catch you.”
    “What are you looking for?” asked another brownie. “I'm Hoho, you can trust me.”
    “Well,” said Chinky, “we came here to look for a lot of flying toys—and my new wand. It had wings, too.”
    “Flying toys!” said Winks. “And a flying wand. Well! Have we seen anything like that, boys?”
    “Yes!” shouted Hoho at once. “Don't you remember? Yesterday evening we saw  something very peculiar—we thought they were curious birds flying about in the air. They must have been your toys.”
    “What happened to them?” asked Peter.
    “Well, old Grim was out in the garden smoking his evening pipe,” said Hoho. “And he suddenly looked up and saw them, too. He was very excited, and called out some words we couldn't hear. . . .”
    “And what we thought were the peculiar birds came right down to him,” said Winks. “But they must have been your toys on the way to Toyland! He caught sight of them and made them come to him!”
    “Well, whatever can he do with them?” said Hoho. “We are never allowed any toys at all. I suppose he will sell them to his friend the Magician Sly-Boots.”
    “Oh dear,” said Mollie. “Well, we must try and get them before he does. Will you show us where you think Mister Grim might have hidden our toys?”
    “Yes, we'll show you!” shouted the brownies. “But do be careful you aren't caught!”
    They took Chinky and the children to the big building, all walking on tiptoe and shushing each other.
    Hoho led them inside. He pointed to a winding stair. “Go up there,” he whispered. “You'll come to a little landing. On the left side is a door. That's the storeroom, where I expect Mister Grim has put the toys.”

    “Creep in—and see if you can find them,” whispered