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"It's not nice of you to keep on and on about it, Chinky," said Mollie, liffing up the chair with Pe¬ter. "We're very sorry. We didn't know quite how clever the Slipperies were. Oooh—horrid crea¬tures, with their odd eyes and deceitful smiles."

They followed Chinky down the road and along a lane. Soon he came to his Great-Aunt's cottage. It was very snug and small. To Mollie's enormous delight, five or six little brown dogs, rather like spaniels, were flying about the garden on small white wings. They barked loudly and flew to the three of them.

"Now, now—these are friends of mine," said Chinky, and patted the nearest dog, which was fly¬ing round his head.

It was strange to have the little dogs sailing about the air like gulls! One flew up to Mollie and rested its front paws on her shoulder. She laughed, and the dog licked her face. Then off it flew again, and chased after a sparrow, barking madly.

Great-Aunt Quick-Fingers came to the door, looking surprised. "Why, Chinky—back again so soon!" she said. "What's happened?"

Chinky told her. "So you see, Great-Aunt, now that the poor chair has lost all its wings, I'm afraid that the Growing Ointment you gave me won't be enough," said Chinky. "I'm so sorry."

"Well, well—it takes a very clever person to see through the Slippery ways," said his Great- Aunt. "You'd better come in and have tea now you're all here!"

The children put down the Wishing-Chair and Great-Aunt of Quick-Fingers got the little treacle tarts out of the oven. "There you are," she said. "Get your fingers nice and sticky with those! I'll go and make some more Growing Ointment for you. It won't take long."

She disappeared, and the children sat and munched the lovely treacle tarts.

Just at that moment she came back, with a fairly large jar. She handed it to Chinky. "There you are. Use that and see what happens. But remember, you can only use it once on anything. The spell doesn't act twice. It's no good trying to use the ointment another time on the chair, to make it grow wings, because it won't be any use."

Chinky dipped his finger into the jar of oint¬ment. It was curious stuff, bright yellow with green streaks in it.

He rubbed some on to a chair leg and immedi¬ately a most wonderful wing sprouted out, big and strong!

"I say—it isn't red, as it always is!" cried Mollie. "It's green and yellow—and a much big¬ger wing than before. I say, Chair, you will look grand. Make another wing come, Chinky.'

Soon the Wishing-Chair had four grand green and yellow wings, much bigger than its old red ones. It waved them about proudly.

"You'd better get in the chair and go before it tries its new wings out by itself," said Great-Aunt Quick-Fingers. So in they all got, Chinky on the back, as usual—and off they went!

"Home, Chair, home!" cried everyone, and it rose high in the air, and flew off to the west. "Good¬bye and thank you very much," cried Chinky and the children, and Great-Aunt waved till they were out of sight.

"Well, that was quite a nice little adventure," said Peter. "And the chair's got some wonderful new wings. 1 do hope they'll always grow like this in future—big and strong, and all green and yel¬low!"

MOLLIE AND THE GROWINGOINTMENT

The children were very pleased with the chair's beautiful new green and yellow wings. "They're much better than the little red ones it used to grow," said Peter. "Your Great-Aunt's Growing Ointment is marvellous stuff, Chinky. 1 only hope the chair will grow its wings more often now."

The green and yellow wings disappeared, of course, as soon as they were all safely at home again. The chair stood still in its place, looking quite ordinary. The children patted it.

"Good old Wishing-Chair. Grow your wings again soon. You haven't taken us to the Land of Goodness Knows Where yet, you know!"

The chair didn't grow its wings again that week. Friday came, Saturday, Sunday, Monday. The chil¬dren grew tired of asking Chinky if the chair was growing its wings yet.

On Tuesday a spell of rainy weather began. It really was too wet to play any games out of doors at all. The children went down to their playroom day after day to play with Chinky, and that was fun. But on Friday Chinky said he really must go and see how his dear old mother was.

"I haven't seen her since 1 came back to you with the chair," he said. "1 must go to-day."

"Oh, bother! We shall have to do without you," said Mollie. "Just suppose the chair grows its wings, Chinky, and you're not here."

"Well, that's easy," said Chinky, with a grin. "Simply sit in it and wish it to go to my mother's. She will be very pleased to see you, and then we can all three of us go adventuring somewhere."

"Oh, yes—we'll do that, if only the chair grows wings," said Peter. "Well, good-bye, Chinky. Will you be back to-night?"

"Yes," said Chinky. "I'll be sleeping on the old sofa as usual, don't worry. I'm not taking my wand with me, by the way, so keep an eye on it, will you?"

Chinky had just bought a new wand, a very use¬ful one that had quite a bit of magic in it. He was very proud of it, and kept it in the cupboard with the toys and games.

"Yes—we'll look after it for you,' said Peter. "And we won't use it, we promise."

"I know you won't," said Chinky. "Well, see you to-night."

Off he went to catch the bus to his mother's cottage, dressed in his mackintosh and sou'wester. The children felt decidedly dull when he had gone.

"Game of ludo, Mollie? said Peter.

"No. I'm bored with ludo to-day," said Mollie.

"Well, you're not going to be very good com¬pany, then," said Peter, taking down a book. I'll read. You can tell me when you've finished being bored and we'll think up an exciting game."

Mollie lay down on the rug and shut her eyes.

What a pity it had rained and rained so long. Even if the Wishing-Chair grew its wings, it wouldn't be much fun going out in the rain. They would have to take an umbrella with them.

Mollie opened her eyes and looked out of the window. Why, the sun was shining—and yet it was still raining.

"I say, Peter, look at this rainbow," said Mollie. "It's glorious. Oh —wouldn't it be lovely to fly off to a rainbow in the Wishing-Chair! If it looks as beautiful as this far away, whatever would it look like very near to us? Oh, I do wish the Wish- ing-Chair would grow its wings this very after¬noon."

Peter took no notice. He was deep in his book. Mollie felt cross. She wandered round the room and opened a little cupboard where Chinky kept some of his things. There on the shelf was the jar of Growing Ointment that Great-Aunt Quick-Fin¬gers had given him to make the wings of the Wish-ing-Chair sprout again.

Mollie took down the jar and opened the lid. There was plenty of ointement left—yellow with streaks of green in it. She wondered if perhaps it would make the chair's wings grow again, although Chinky's Great-Aunt had said it only acted once on anything.

"I'll try it," thought Mollie. "And I won't tell Peter! If the wings grow, I'll fly off in the Wish- ing-Chair without him, and go to Chinky's alone. That will serve him right for not answering when I

speak to him!"

She went over to the Wishing-Chair and rubbed a little of the ointment on one of the front legs. Nothing happened at all. She couldn't feel even a tiny bud of a wing beginning to grow; the Grow¬ing Ointment certainly didn't act twice. Great-Aunt Quick-Fingers was right.

Then a wonderful thought came to Mollie. Why shouldn't she try a little of the magic ointment on something else? She looked round. Her dolls, for instance! Oh, if only she could make wings grow on Rosebud, her prettiest doll. That would be re¬ally wonderful.

Feeling very excited, Mollie took her doll Rose¬bud from her cot. She rubbed a little of the green and yellow ointment on to her back—and, hey presto, wing-buds began to form—and little green and yellow wings sprouted out on the doll's back.

And she suddenly left Mollie's knee and flew —yes, flew—round the playroom. She flew near Peter and he felt the wind of her little wings. He looked up—and his eyes almost dropped out of his head as he saw Rosebud flying gaily round the room!

Mollie laughed in delight and tried to catch the doll as she flew past. "I've put some of the Grow¬ing Ointment on her back," she said. "You know -what Chinky's Great-Aunt gave him for grow¬ing wings on the Wishing-Chair. And Rosebud grew wings!"

"Well, I never!' said Peter in amazement. "I say —do you think my engine would grow wings, too?" said Peter suddenly. He had a wonderful clockwork engine, a perfect model that he was very proud of.

"Oh, yes—let's try and see," said Mollie. So they got the engine and Peter smeared a little of the ointment on to it. It sprouted out small wings at once!

It flew from Peter's hand and joined the doll. The children laughed till their sides ached to see the two toys behaving like this. They really did look extraordinary.

And then Mollie and Peter went quite mad with the ointment. They smeared it on to a top and that flew round the room, spinning as it went! They smeared the skittles and they all shot round and round, some of them bumping into one another in the air.

They made some of the little toy soldiers fly, and they even gave the bricks in their brick box wings to fly with. All these things flapped their way round the room, and Mollie and Peter screamed with laughter as they tried to dodge the flying toys.

Mollie went to the toy cupboard to see if any toy was there that could be made to fly as well. She picked up Chinky's new wand and put it on one side—but, dear me, her fingers were smeared with the Growing Ointment and the wand at once grew tiny, graceful green and yellow wings, too! It flew out of the cupboard and joined the flying

toys.

"Oh dear—there goes the wand," said Mollie. "I do hope Chinky won't mind. I just touched it by accident with the ointment smeared on my fingers, and it grew wings."

"Look—I've made the teapot fly," said Peter, and roared with laughter to see it flapping its way round the room. "Look at the skittles colliding again."

The wind suddenly blew the door wide open. Then a dreadful thing happened. Rosebud the doll, the teapot, the wand; in fact everything that had grown wings shot straight out of the open door, flew down to the bottom of the garden and van¬ished!

"Ooooh!" said Mollie in fright.

"They've gone," said Peter, and rushed to the open door. But he could see nothing. No Rosebud was there, no engine, nothing. They had all van¬ished into the blue.

"Oh dear—shall we get them back?" said Mollie. "Why did I ever begin to smear the Grow¬ing Ointment on anything? It was a very silly idea. Now I've lost Rosebud."

"And what about my lovely model engine?" said Peter. "And I say—Chinky's magic wand has gone, too!"ssss

They stared at one another in dismay. Chinky's new wand, that he had saved up for and was so proud of! It had grown wings and now it had flown out of the door and vanished, too. This was dreadful.

"We shall have to tell Chinky when he gets back to-night, and ask him if we can possibly get the things back," said Mollie. "If we knew where they had gone we could go and fetch them. Do you sup¬pose they've gone to Great-Aunt Quick-Fingers?"

They said no more to one another, but sat sol¬emnly side by side, hoping and hoping and hoping that the things would fly back as unexpectedly as they had flown away. But they didn't.

Chinky came back at half-past six, looking very merry and bright, and bringing a big chocolate cake from his mother. He stopped when he saw their doleful faces.

"What's up?" he said. "Anything happened?"

They told him, and Chinky listened in aston¬ishment. He leapt to his feet when they spoke about his wand.

"WHAT! You don't mean to tell me you were silly enough to meddle with my wand—surely you didn't make my wand grow wings, too!"

"It was an accident," said poor Mollie. "I must have had some of the ointment on my fingers when I moved it—and so it grew wings, too. I'm so sorry, Chinky."

"Where have the things gone, Chinky?" asked Peter.

"I don't know," said Chinky. "I haven't the least idea. All I can say is—the next time the Wishing- Chair grows its wings, we'll have to tell it to go wherever the toys have gone—but goodness knows where it will take us to!"

OFF TO FIND THE TOYS

Chinky was gloomy and cross that evening. The children were sad, and felt ashamed that they had gone quite so mad with the Growing Ointment. They felt very guilty indeed about Chinky's wand.

"Will you come and tell us if the Wishing-Chair grows its wings again to-night, Chinky?" asked Mollie when it was time for them to go back to the house.

"1 might," said Chinky gruffly. "And I might not. I might go off by myself in it."

"Oh, no, don't do that," begged Mollie. "That would be horrid of you. Dear Chinky, please be nice and forgive us for losing your wand."

"All right," said Chinky, cheering up a little.

"I really do feel very upset about losing my doll Rosebud, you know," went on poor Mollie. "I feel just as upset about her as you feel about your wand."

"And I'm miserable about my engine," said Peter. "It was the finest I ever had."

"Well—we'll hope the Wishing-Chair grows its wings again to-night, then, and we can go and fetch everything," said Chinky.

"I'll come and tap on your windows if it grows its wings."

But Chinky didn't tap on their windows at all. The chair didn't grow any wings in the night.

Mollie sighed.

"Just when we so badly want it to fly, it won't grow wings! Now to-day we've got to behave nicely and be on our best behaviour, because Mother's got visitors. Perhaps we shan't be able to go down to the playroom at all."

At eleven o'clock, when the visitors had arrived and Mother was giving them coffee and the chil¬dren were handing round plates of biscuits and buns, Chinky appeared at the window.

He was horrified when he saw so many people there and disappeared at once. The children caught sight of him.

They looked at one another in despair. Now what were they to do? There was only one thing. They must do something to make Mother send them out of the room.