e known that they have
been dreaming in business hours. Especially mad dreams including such
dreadful things as hungry people getting dinners, and the destruction of
the Stock Exchange.

The children were in the dining-room at 300, Fitzroy Street, pale and
trembling. The Psammead crawled out of the embroidered bag, and lay flat
on the table, its leg stretched out, looking more like a dead hare than
anything else.

'Thank Goodness that's over,' said Anthea, drawing a deep breath.

'She won't come back, will she?' asked Jane tremulously.

'No,' said Cyril. 'She's thousands of years ago. But we spent a whole
precious pound on her. It'll take all our pocket-money for ages to pay
that back.'

'Not if it was ALL a dream,' said Robert.

'The wish said ALL a dream, you know, Panther; you cut up and ask if he
lent you anything.'

'I beg your pardon,' said Anthea politely, following the sound of her
knock into the presence of the learned gentleman, 'I'm so sorry to
trouble you, but DID you lend me a pound today?'

'No,' said he, looking kindly at her through his spectacles. 'But it's
extraordinary that you should ask me, for I dozed for a few moments this
afternoon, a thing I very rarely do, and I dreamed quite distinctly that
you brought me a ring that you said belonged to the Queen of Babylon,
and that I lent you a sovereign and that you left one of the Queen's
rings here. The ring was a magnificent specimen.' He sighed. 'I wish it
hadn't been a dream,' he said smiling. He was really learning to smile
quite nicely.

Anthea could not be too thankful that the Psammead was not there to
grant his wish.

CHAPTER 9. ATLANTIS

You will understand that the adventure of the Babylonian queen in London
was the only one that had occupied any time at all. But the children's
time was very fully taken up by talking over all the wonderful things
seen and done in the Past, where, by the power of the Amulet, they
seemed to spend hours and hours, only to find when they got back to
London that the whole thing had been briefer than a lightning flash.

They talked of the Past at their meals, in their walks, in the
dining-room, in the first-floor drawing-room, but most of all on the
stairs. It was an old house; it had once been a fashionable one, and was
a fine one still. The banister rails of the stairs were excellent for
sliding down, and in the corners of the landings were big alcoves that
had once held graceful statues, and