me while you've
got me. I shall give your ma notice directly minute she comes back."

"Oh, Martha, we haven't been so _very_ horrid to you, have we?" asked
Anthea, aghast.

"Oh, it isn't that, miss." Martha giggled more than ever. "I'm a-goin'
to be married. It's Beale the gamekeeper. He's been a-proposin' to me
off and on ever since you come home from the clergyman's where you got
locked up on the church-tower. And to-day I said the word an' made him a
happy man."

* * * * *

Anthea put the seven-and-fourpence back in the missionary-box, and
pasted paper over the place where the poker had broken it. She was very
glad to be able to do this, and she does not know to this day whether
breaking open a missionary-box is or is not a hanging matter!

CHAPTER XI (AND LAST)

THE LAST WISH

Of course you, who see above that this is the eleventh (and last)
chapter, know very well that the day of which this chapter tells must be
the last on which Cyril, Anthea, Robert, and Jane will have a chance of
getting anything out of the Psammead, or Sand-fairy.

But the children themselves did not know this. They were full of rosy
visions, and, whereas on the other days they had often found it
extremely difficult to think of anything really nice to wish for, their
brains were now full of the most beautiful and sensible ideas. "This,"
as Jane remarked afterwards, "is always the way." Everyone was up extra
early that morning, and these plans were hopefully discussed in the
garden before breakfast. The old idea of one hundred pounds in modern
florins was still first favourite, but there were others that ran it
close--the chief of these being the "pony-each" idea. This had a great
advantage. You could wish for a pony each during the morning, ride it
all day, have it vanish at sunset, and wish it back again next day.
Which would be an economy of litter and stabling. But at breakfast two
things happened. First, there was a letter from mother. Granny was
better, and mother and father hoped to be home that very afternoon. A
cheer arose. And of course this news at once scattered all the
before-breakfast wish-ideas. For everyone saw quite plainly that the
wish of the day must be something to please mother and not to please
themselves.

"I wonder what she _would_ like," pondered Cyril.

"She'd like us all to be good," said Jane primly.

"Yes--but that's so dull for us," Cyril rejoined; "and besides,