had time--if
she had had money--to buy everything in the shop before the moment came
when she stood before them, her face wreathed in grins, as Cyril said
later, and in her hand the charm.

It was something like this: [Drawing omitted.] and it was made of a red,
smooth, softly shiny stone.

'I've got it,' Anthea whispered, just opening her hand to give the
others a glimpse of it. 'Do let's get home. We can't stand here like
stuck-pigs looking at it in the street.'

So home they went. The parlour in Fitzroy Street was a very flat
background to magic happenings. Down in the country among the flowers
and green fields anything had seemed--and indeed had been--possible. But
it was hard to believe that anything really wonderful could happen so
near the Tottenham Court Road. But the Psammead was there--and it in
itself was wonderful. And it could talk--and it had shown them where a
charm could be bought that would make the owner of it perfectly happy.
So the four children hurried home, taking very long steps, with their
chins stuck out, and their mouths shut very tight indeed. They went so
fast that the Psammead was quite shaken about in its fish-bag, but it
did not say anything--perhaps for fear of attracting public notice.

They got home at last, very hot indeed, and set the Psammead on the
green tablecloth.

'Now then!' said Cyril.

But the Psammead had to have a plate of sand fetched for it, for it was
quite faint. When it had refreshed itself a little it said--

'Now then! Let me see the charm,' and Anthea laid it on the green
table-cover. The Psammead shot out his long eyes to look at it, then it
turned them reproachfully on Anthea and said--

'But there's only half of it here!'

This was indeed a blow.

'It was all there was,' said Anthea, with timid firmness. She knew it
was not her fault. 'There should be another piece,' said the Psammead,
'and a sort of pin to fasten the two together.'

'Isn't half any good?'--'Won't it work without the other bit?'--'It cost
seven-and-six.'--'Oh, bother, bother, bother!'--'Don't be silly little
idiots!' said everyone and the Psammead altogether.

Then there was a wretched silence. Cyril broke it--

'What shall we do?'

'Go back to the shop and see if they haven't got the other half,' said
the Psammead. 'I'll go to sand till you come back. Cheer up! Even the
bit you've got is SOME good, but it'll be no end of a bother if you
can't find the other.'

So Cyril went to