The Phoenix and the Carpet, E. Nesbit [good inspirational books .txt] 📗

The Phoenix and the Carpet

By E. Nesbit.

Table of Contents Titlepage Imprint Dedication The Phoenix and the Carpet I: The Egg II: The Topless Tower III: The Queen Cook IV: Two Bazaars V: The Temple VI: Doing Good VII: Mews from Persia VIII: The Cats, the Cow, and the Burglar IX: The Burglar’s Bride X: The Hole in the Carpet XI: The Beginning of the End XII: The End of the End Colophon Uncopyright Imprint

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To
My Dear Godson
Hubert Griffith
and his sister
Margaret

Dear Hubert, if I ever found
A wishing-carpet lying round,
I’d stand upon it, and I’d say:
“Take me to Hubert, right away!”
And then we’d travel very far
To where the magic countries are
That you and I will never see,
And choose the loveliest gifts for you, from me.

But oh! alack! and well-a-day!
No wishing-carpets come my way.
I never found a Phoenix yet,
And Psammeads are so hard to get!
So I give you nothing fine⁠—
Only this book, your book and mine,
And hers, whose name by yours is set;
Your book, my book, the book of Margaret!

E. Nesbit

Dymchurch

September, 1904

The Phoenix and the Carpet I The Egg

It began with the day when it was almost the Fifth of November, and a doubt arose in some breast⁠—Robert’s, I fancy⁠—as to the quality of the fireworks laid in for the Guy Fawkes celebration.

“They were jolly cheap,” said whoever it was, and I think it was Robert, “and suppose they didn’t go off on the night? Those Prosser kids would have something to snigger about then.”

“The ones I got are all right,” Jane said; “I know they are, because the man at the shop said they were worth thribble the money⁠—”

“I’m sure thribble isn’t grammar,” Anthea said.

“Of course it isn’t,” said Cyril; “one word can’t be grammar all by itself, so you needn’t be so jolly clever.”

Anthea was rummaging in the corner-drawers of her mind for a very disagreeable answer, when she remembered what a wet day it was, and how the boys had been disappointed of that ride to London and back on the top of the tram, which their mother had promised them as a reward for not having once forgotten, for six whole days, to wipe their boots on the mat when they came home from school.

So Anthea only said, “Don’t be so jolly clever yourself, Squirrel. And the fireworks look all right, and you’ll have the eightpence that your tram fares didn’t cost today, to buy something more with. You ought to get a perfectly lovely Catharine wheel for eightpence.”

“I daresay,” said Cyril, coldly; “but it’s not your eightpence anyhow⁠—”

“But look here,” said Robert, “really now, about the fireworks. We don’t want to be disgraced before those kids next door. They think because they wear red plush on Sundays no one else is any good.”

“I wouldn’t wear plush if it was ever so⁠—unless it was black to be beheaded in, if I was Mary Queen of Scots,” said Anthea, with scorn.

Robert stuck steadily to his point. One great point about Robert is the steadiness with which he can stick.

“I think we ought to test them,” he said.

“You young duffer,” said Cyril, “fireworks are like postage-stamps. You can only use them once.”

“What do you suppose it means by ‘Carter’s tested seeds’ in the advertisement?”

There was a blank silence. Then Cyril touched his forehead with his finger and shook his head.

“A little wrong here,” he said. “I was always afraid of that with poor Robert. All that cleverness, you know, and being top in algebra so often⁠—it’s bound to tell⁠—”

“Dry up,” said Robert, fiercely. “Don’t you see? You can’t test seeds if you do them all. You just take a few here and there, and if those grow you can feel pretty sure the others will be⁠—what do you call it?⁠—Father told me⁠—‘up to sample.’ Don’t you think we ought to sample the fireworks? Just shut our eyes and each draw one out, and then try them.”

“But it’s raining cats and dogs,” said Jane.

“And Queen Anne is dead,” rejoined Robert. No one was in a very good temper. “We needn’t go out to do them; we can just move back the table, and let them off on the old tea-tray we play toboggans with. I don’t know what you think, but I think it’s time we did something, and that would be really useful; because then we shouldn’t just hope the fireworks would make those Prossers sit up⁠—we should know.”

“It would be something to do,” Cyril owned with languid approval.

So the table was moved back. And then the hole in the carpet, that had been near the window till the carpet was turned round, showed most awfully. But Anthea stole out on tiptoe, and got the tray when cook wasn’t looking, and brought it in and put it over the hole.

Then all the fireworks were put on the table, and each of the four children shut its eyes very tight and put