at once. What do
you mean by talking at this time of night?'

No answer was expected to this question, but under the bedclothes Cyril
murmured one.

'Mean?' he said. 'Don't know what we mean. I don't know what anything
means.'

'But we've got a magic carpet AND a Phoenix,' said Robert.

'You'll get something else if father comes in and catches you,' said
Cyril. 'Shut up, I tell you.'

Robert shut up. But he knew as well as you do that the adventures of
that carpet and that Phoenix were only just beginning.

Father and mother had not the least idea of what had happened in their
absence. This is often the case, even when there are no magic carpets or
Phoenixes in the house.

The next morning--but I am sure you would rather wait till the next
chapter before you hear about THAT.

CHAPTER 2. THE TOPLESS TOWER

The children had seen the Phoenix-egg hatched in the flames in their own
nursery grate, and had heard from it how the carpet on their own nursery
floor was really the wishing carpet, which would take them anywhere they
chose. The carpet had transported them to bed just at the right
moment, and the Phoenix had gone to roost on the cornice supporting the
window-curtains of the boys' room.

'Excuse me,' said a gentle voice, and a courteous beak opened, very
kindly and delicately, the right eye of Cyril. 'I hear the slaves below
preparing food. Awaken! A word of explanation and arrangement... I do
wish you wouldn't--'

The Phoenix stopped speaking and fluttered away crossly to the
cornice-pole; for Cyril had hit out, as boys do when they are awakened
suddenly, and the Phoenix was not used to boys, and his feelings, if not
his wings, were hurt.

'Sorry,' said Cyril, coming awake all in a minute. 'Do come back! What
was it you were saying? Something about bacon and rations?'

The Phoenix fluttered back to the brass rail at the foot of the bed.

'I say--you ARE real,' said Cyril. 'How ripping! And the carpet?'

'The carpet is as real as it ever was,' said the Phoenix, rather
contemptuously; 'but, of course, a carpet's only a carpet, whereas a
Phoenix is superlatively a Phoenix.'

'Yes, indeed,' said Cyril, 'I see it is. Oh, what luck! Wake up, Bobs!
There's jolly well something to wake up for today. And it's Saturday,
too.'

'I've been reflecting,' said the Phoenix, 'during the silent watches
of the night, and I could not avoid the conclusion that you were quite
insufficiently astonished at my app