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"I say, look—it's only grown three wings in¬stead of four. What's happened? It's never done that before."

They all stared at the chair. One of its front legs hadn't grown a wing. It looked rather queer with¬out it.

Chinky looked at the chair rather doubtfully. "Do you think it can fly with only three wings?" he said. "This is rather a peculiar thing to happen, really. I wonder if we ought to fly off in the chair if it's only got three wings instead of four."

"I don't see why not," said Mollie. "After all, an aeroplane can fly with three engines, if the fourth one stops."

The chair gave a little hop up in the air as if to say it could fly perfectly well. "Oh, come along!" said Chinky. "We'll try. I'm sure it will be all right. But I wish I knew what to do to get the fourth wing to grow. Something has gone wrong, it's plain."

They got into the chair, Chinky as usual sitting on the back, holding on to their shoulders. The chair flew to the door.

"Where shall we go?" said Chinky.

"Well—we never did get to the Land of Good¬ness Knows Where after all," said Mollie. "Shall we try to get there again? We know it's a good way away, so it should be a nice long flight, very cool and windy high up in the air."

"We may as well," said Chinky. "Fly to the Land of Goodness Knows Where, Chair. We saw it on the map—it's due east from here, straight towards where the sun rises—you go over the Tiptop Moun¬tains, past the Crazy Valley and then down by the Zigzag Coast."

"It sounds exciting," said Mollie. "Oh, isn't it lovely to be cool again? It's so very hot to-day."

They were now high up in the air, and a lovely breeze blew past them as they flew. Little clouds, like puffs of cotton wool, floated below them. Mollie leaned out to get hold of one as they passed.

"This is fun," she said. "Chinky, is there a land of ice-creams? If so, I'd like to go there some¬time!"

"I don't know. I've never heard of one," said Chinky. "There's a Land of Goodies though, I know that. It once came to the top of the Faraway Tree, and I went there. It was lovely—biscuits growing on trees, and chocolates sprouting on bushes."

"Oh—did you see Moon-Face and Silky and the old Saucepan Man?" asked Mollie, in excite¬ment. "I've read the books about the Faraway Tree, and I've always wished I could climb it."

"Yes, I saw them all," said Chinky. "Silky is sweet, you'd love her. But Moon-Face was cross because somebody had taken all his slippery-slip cushions—you know, the cushions he keep in his room at the top of the tree for people to sit on when they slide down from the top to the bottom."

"I wouldn't mind going to the Land of Goodies at all," said Peter. "It sounds really fine. I almost wish we'd told the chair to go there instead of the Land of Goodness Knows Where."

"Well, don't change its mind for it," said Chinky. "It doesn't like that. Look, there are the Tip-Top Mountains."

They all leaned out to look. They were very extraordinary mountains, running up into high, jagged peaks as if somebody had drawn them higgledy-piggledy with a pencil, up and down, up and down.

On they went, through a batch of tiny little clouds; but Mollie didn't try to catch any of these because, just in time, she saw that baby elves were fast asleep on them, one to each cloud.

"They make good cradles for a hot day like this," explained Chinky.

After a while, Mollie noticed that Chinky was leaning rather hard on her shoulder, and that Peter seemed to be leaning against her, too. She pushed them back.

"Don't lean so heavily on me," she said.

"We don't mean to," said Peter. "But I seem to be leaning that way all the time! I do try not to."

"Why are we, I wonder?" said Chinky. Then he gave a cry. "Why, the chair's all on one side. No wonder Peter and I keep going over on to you, Mollie. Look—it's tipped sideways!"

"What's the matter with it?" said Mollie. She tried to shake the chair upright by swinging her¬self about in it, but it always over-balanced to the left side as soon as she had stopped swinging it to and fro.

They all looked in alarm at one another as the chair began to tip more and more to one side. It was very difficult to sit in it when it tipped like that.

"It's because it's only got three wings!" said Chinky, suddenly. "Of course—that's it! The one wing on this side is tired out, and so the chair is flying with only two wings really, and it's tipping over. It will soon be on its side in the air!"

"Gracious! Then for goodness' sake let's go down to the ground at once," said Mollie, in alarm. "We shall fall out if we don't."

"Go down to the ground, Chair," commanded Peter, feeling the chair going over to one side even more. He looked over the side. The one wing there had already stopped flapping. The chair was using only two wings—they would soon be tired out, too!

The chair flew heavily down to the ground and landed with rather a bump. Its wings stopped flap¬ping and hung limp. It creaked dolefully. It was quite exhausted, that was plain!

"We shouldn't have flown off on it when it only had three wings," said Chinky. "It was wrong of us. After all, Peter and Mollie, you have grown bigger since last holidays, and must be heavier. The chair can't possibly take us all unless it has four wings to fly with."

They stood and looked at the poor, tired Wish-ing-Chair. "What are we going to do about it?" said Peter.

"Well —we must try to find out where we are first," said Chinky, looking round. "And then we must ask if there is a witch or wizard or magician anywhere about that can give us something to make the chair grow another wing. Then we'd better take it straight home for a rest."

"Look," said Mollie, pointing to a nearby sign¬post. "It says, 'To the Village of Slipperies.' Do you know that village, Chinky?"

"No. But I've heard of it," said Chinky. "The people there aren't very nice—slippery as eels — can't trust them or believe a word they say. I don't think we'll go that way."

He went to look at the other arm of the sign¬post and came back looking very pleased.

"It says 'Dame Quick-Fingers'," he said. "She's my great-aunt. She'll help us all right. She'll be sure to know a spell for growing wings. She keeps a pack of flying dogs, you know, because of the Slipperies—they simply fly after them when they come to steal her chickens and ducks."

"Goodness—I'd love to see some flying dogs," said Mollie. "Where does this aunt of yours live?"

"Just down the road, round a corner, and by a big rowan tree," said Chinky. "She's really nice. 1 dare say she'd ask us to tea if we are as polite as possible. She loves good manners."

"Well—you go and ask her if she knows how to grow an extra wing on our chair," said Mollie. "We'd better stay here with the chair, I think, in case anyone thinks of stealing it again. We can easily bring it along to your aunt's cottage, if she's in. We won't carry it all the way there in case she's not."

"Right. I'll go," said Chinky. "I won't be long. You just sit in the chair till I come back —and don't you let anyone steal it."

He ran off down the road and disappeared round a corner. Mollie and Peter sat down in the chair to wait. The chair creaked. It sounded very tired in¬deed. Mollie patted its arms. "You'll soon be all right once you have got a fourth wing," she said. "Cheer up."

Chinky hadn't been gone very long before the sound of footsteps made the children look round. Five little people were coming along the road from the Village of Slipperies. They looked most pecu¬liar.

"They must be Slipperies," said Peter, sitting up. "Now we must be careful they don't play a trick on us and get the chair away. Aren't they queer-looking?"

The five little creatures came up and bowed low. "Good-day," they said. "We come to greet you and to ask you to visit our village."

THE SLIPPERIES PLAY A TRICK!

Peter and Mollie looked hard at the five Slipperies. Each Slippery had one blue eye and one green, and not one of them looked straight at the children! Their hair was slick and smooth, their mouths smiled without stopping, and they rubbed their bony hands together all the time.

"I'm sorry," said Peter, "but we don't want to leave our chair. We're waiting here with it till our friend Chinky comes back from seeing his Great- Aunt Quick-Fingers."

"Oh, she's gone to market," said one of the Slipperies. "She always goes on Thursdays."

"Oh dear," said Peter. "How tiresome! Now we shan't be able to get a fourth wing for our Wish- ing-Chair."

"Dear me — is this a Wishing-Chair?" said the Slipperies, in great interest. "It's the first time we've seen one. Do let us sit in it."

"Certainly not," said Peter, feeling certain that if he let them sit in the chair they would try to fly off in it.

"I hear that Great-Aunt Quick-Fingers has some flying dogs," said Mollie, hoping that the Slipperies would look frightened at the mention of them. But they didn't.

They rubbed their slippery hands together again and went on smiling. "Ah, yes — wonderful dogs they are. If you stand up on your chair, and look over the field yonder, you may see some of them flying around," said one Slippery.

The children stood on the seat of the chair. The Slipperies clustered round them. "Now look right down over that field," began one of them. "Do you see a tall tree?"

"Yes," said Mollie.

"Well, look to the right of it and you'll see the roof of a house. And then to the right of that and you'll see another tree," said the Slippery.

"Can't you tell me exactly where to look?" said Mollie, getting impatient. "1 can't see a single fly¬ing dog. Only a rook or two."

"Well, now look to the left and . . ." began an¬other Slippery, when Peter jumped down from the chair.

"You're just making it all up," he said. "Go on, be off with you! I don't like any of you."

The Slipperies lost their smiles, and looked nasty. They laid hands on the Wishing-Chair.

"I shall whistle for the flying dogs," said Peter suddenly. "Now let me see — what is the whistle, ah, yes ..." And he suddenly whistled a very shrill whistle indeed.

The Slipperies shot off at once as if a hundred of the flying dogs were after them! Mollie laughed.

"Peter! That's not really a whistle for flying dogs, is it?"

"No, of course not. But I had to get rid of them somehow," said Peter. "I had a feeling they were going to trick us with their silly smiles and rub¬bing hands and odd eyes —so I had to think of some way of tricking them instead."

"I wish Chinky would come," said Mollie, sit¬ting down in the chair again. "He's been ages. And it's all a waste of time, his going to find his Great- Aunt, if she's at the market. We shall have to go there, I expect, and carry the chair all the way."

"Why, there is Chinky!" said Peter, waving. "Oh, good, he's dancing and smiling. He's got the spell to make another wing grow."

"Then his Great-Aunt couldn't have gone to market!" said Mollie. "Hey, Chinky! Have you got the spell? Was your Great-Aunt Quick-Fingers in?"

"Yes—and awfully pleased to see me," said Chinky, running up. "And she gave me just enough magic to make another wing grow, so we shan't be long now."

"Five Slipperies came up, and they said your Great-Aunt always goes to market on Thursdays," said Mollie.

"You can't believe a word they say," said Chinky. "I told you that. My word, I'm glad they didn't trick you in any way. They usually trick ev¬eryone, no matter how clever they may be."

"Well, they didn't trick us," said Peter. "We were much too smart for them—weren't we, Mollie?"

"Yes. They wanted to sit in the chair when they knew it was a Wishing-Chair," said Mollie.

"But we wouldn't let them."

"I should think not," said Chinky. He showed the children a little blue box. "Look —I've got a smear of ointment here that is just enough to grow a red wing to match the other wings. Then the chair will be quite all right."

"Well, let's rub it on," said Peter. Chinky knelt down by the chair — and then he gave a cry of horror.

"What's the matter?" said the children.

"Look — somebody has cut off the other three wings of the chair!" groaned Chinky. "Cut them right off short. There's only a stump left of each."

Mollie and Peter stared in horror. Sure enough the other three wings had been cut right off. But

how? And when? Who could have done it? The children had been with the chair the whole time.

"I do think you might have kept a better guard on the chair," said Chinky crossly. "1 really do. Didn't I warn you about the ways of the Slipperies? Didn't I say you couldn't trust them? Didn't I.. ."

"Oh, Chinky - but when could it have been done?" cried Mollie. "I tell you, we were here the whole of the time."

"Standing by the chair?" asked Chinky.

"Yes—or on it," said Peter.

it! Whatever did you stand on it, for?" said Chinky, puzzled. "To stop the Slipperies sitting down?"

"No—to see your Great-Aunt's flying-dogs," said Peter. "The Slipperies said they were over there, and if we would stand up on the chair seat we could just see them flying around. But we couldn't."

"Of course you couldn't,"said Chinky. "And for a very good reason, too—they're all at the cottage with my Great-Aunt. I saw them!"

"Oh—the dreadful story-tellers!" cried Mollie. "Peter—it was a trick! Whilst we were standing up there trying to see the dogs, one of the Slipperies must have quietly snipped off the three wings and put them in his pocket."

"Of course!" said Chinky. "Very simple—and you're a pair of simpletons to get taken in by such a silly trick."

Mollie and Peter went very red. "What shall we do?" asked Peter. "1 m very sorry about it. Poor old chair—one wing not grown and the other three snipped away. It's a shame."

"Thank goodness Chinky has the Growing Oint¬ment for wings," said Mollie.

"Yes—but I've only got just enough for one wing," said Chinky. "One wing isn't going to take us very far, is it?"

"No," said Mollie. "Whatever are we going to do?"

"I shall have to ask Great-Aunt Quick-Fingers for some more Growing Ointment, that's all," said Chinky, gloomily. "And this time you can come with me, and bring the chair too. If I leave you here alone with it, you'll get tricked again, and I shall come back and find the legs are gone next time, and I can't even grow wings on them!"