old Lamb.
The grown-up Lamb (nameless henceforth) was gone for ever.

[Illustration: The grown-up Lamb struggled]

"For ever," said Cyril, "because, as soon as ever the Lamb's old enough
to be bullied, we must jolly well begin to bully him, for his own
sake--so that he mayn't grow up like _that_."

"You shan't bully him," said Anthea stoutly,--"not if I can stop it."

"We must tame him by kindness," said Jane.

"You see," said Robert, "if he grows up in the usual way, there'll be
plenty of time to correct him as he goes along. The awful thing to-day
was his growing up so suddenly. There was no time to improve him at
all."

"He doesn't want any improving," said Anthea as the voice of the Lamb
came cooing through the open door, just as she had heard it in her heart
that afternoon--

"Me loves Panty--wants to come to own Panty!"

CHAPTER X

SCALPS

Probably the day would have been a greater success if Cyril had not been
reading _The Last of the Mohicans_. The story was running in his head at
breakfast, and as he took his third cup of tea he said dreamily, "I wish
there were Red Indians in England--not big ones, you know, but little
ones, just about the right size for us to fight."

Everyone disagreed with him at the time and no one attached any
importance to the incident. But when they went down to the sand-pit to
ask for a hundred pounds in two-shilling pieces with Queen Victoria's
head on, to prevent mistakes--which they had always felt to be a really
reasonable wish that must turn out well--they found out that they had
done it again! For the Psammead, which was very cross and sleepy,
said--

"Oh, don't bother me. You've had your wish."

"I didn't know it," said Cyril.

"Don't you remember yesterday?" said the Sand-fairy, still more
disagreeably. "You asked me to let you have your wishes wherever you
happened to be, and you wished this morning, and you've got it."

"Oh, have we?" said Robert. "What is it?"

"So you've forgotten?" said the Psammead, beginning to burrow. "Never
mind; you'll know soon enough. And I wish you joy of it! A nice thing
you've let yourselves in for!"

"We always do somehow," said Jane sadly.

And now the odd thing was that no one could remember anyone's having
wished for anything that morning. The wish about the Red Indians had not
stuck in anyone's head. It was a most anxious morning. Everyone was
trying to remember what had been wished for, and no one could, and