do is to read the name that's written on
the part of the charm that you've got. And as soon as you say the name
out loud the thing will have power to do--well, several things.'

There was a silence. The red charm was passed from hand to hand.

'There's no name on it,' said Cyril at last.

'Nonsense,' said the Psammead; 'what's that?'

'Oh, THAT!' said Cyril, 'it's not reading. It looks like pictures of
chickens and snakes and things.'

This was what was on the charm: [Hieroglyphics omitted.]

'I've no patience with you,' said the Psammead; 'if you can't read you
must find some one who can. A priest now?'

'We don't know any priests,' said Anthea; 'we know a clergyman--he's
called a priest in the prayer-book, you know--but he only knows Greek
and Latin and Hebrew, and this isn't any of those--I know.'

The Psammead stamped a furry foot angrily.

'I wish I'd never seen you,' it said; 'you aren't any more good than so
many stone images. Not so much, if I'm to tell the truth. Is there no
wise man in your Babylon who can pronounce the names of the Great Ones?'

'There's a poor learned gentleman upstairs,' said Anthea, 'we might try
him. He has a lot of stone images in his room, and iron-looking ones
too--we peeped in once when he was out. Old Nurse says he doesn't eat
enough to keep a canary alive. He spends it all on stones and things.'

'Try him,' said the Psammead, 'only be careful. If he knows a greater
name than this and uses it against you, your charm will be of no use.
Bind him first with the chains of honour and upright dealing. And then
ask his aid--oh, yes, you'd better all go; you can put me to sand as you
go upstairs. I must have a few minutes' peace and quietness.'

So the four children hastily washed their hands and brushed their
hair--this was Anthea's idea--and went up to knock at the door of the
'poor learned gentleman', and to 'bind him with the chains of honour and
upright dealing'.

CHAPTER 3. THE PAST

The learned gentleman had let his dinner get quite cold. It was mutton
chop, and as it lay on the plate it looked like a brown island in the
middle of a frozen pond, because the grease of the gravy had become
cold, and consequently white. It looked very nasty, and it was the first
thing the children saw when, after knocking three times and receiving
no reply, one of them ventured to turn the handle and softly to open the
door. The chop was on the end of a long table that ran down one si