's
grown up he's a demon--simply. I can see it. Look at his mouth."

"Well then," said Robert, "let's wake him up and see what _he'll_ do.
Perhaps _he'll_ take _us_ to Maidstone and stand treat. He ought to have
a lot of money in the pockets of those extra-special pants. We _must_
have dinner, anyway."

They drew lots with little bits of brake fern. It fell to Jane's lot to
waken the grown-up Lamb.

She did it gently by tickling his nose with a twig of honeysuckle. He
said "Bother the flies!" twice, and then opened his eyes.

[Illustration: She did it gently by tickling his nose with a twig of
honeysuckle]

"Hullo, kiddies!" he said in a languid tone, "still here? What's the
giddy hour? You'll be late for your grub!"

"I know we shall," said Robert bitterly.

"Then cut along home," said the grown-up Lamb.

"What about your grub, though?" asked Jane.

"Oh, how far is it to the station, do you think? I've a sort of a notion
that I'll run up to town and have some lunch at the club."

Blank misery fell like a pall on the four others. The
Lamb--alone--unattended--would go to town and have lunch at a club!
Perhaps he would also have tea there. Perhaps sunset would come upon him
amid the dazzling luxury of club-land, and a helpless cross sleepy
baby would find itself alone amid unsympathetic waiters, and would wail
miserably for "Panty" from the depths of a club arm-chair! The picture
moved Anthea almost to tears.

"Oh no, Lamb ducky, you mustn't do that!" she cried incautiously.

The grown-up Lamb frowned. "My dear Anthea," he said, "how often am I to
tell you that my name is Hilary or St. Maur or Devereux?--any of my
baptismal names are free to my little brothers and sisters, but _not_
'Lamb'--a relic of foolishness and far-off childhood."

This was awful. He was their elder brother now, was he? Well of course
he was, if he was grown-up--since they weren't. Thus, in whispers,
Anthea and Robert.

But the almost daily adventures resulting from the Psammead's wishes
were making the children wise beyond their years.

"Dear Hilary," said Anthea, and the others choked at the name, "you know
father didn't wish you to go to London. He wouldn't like us to be left
alone without you to take care of us. Oh, deceitful thing that I am!"
she added to herself.

"Look here," said Cyril, "if you're our elder brother, why not behave as
sich and take us over to Maidstone and give us a jolly good blow-out,
and we'll go on th