place indeed', and the Psammead consented to help them out of it
in return for their promise never never to ask it to grant them
any more wishes, and never to tell anyone about it, because it
did not want to be bothered to give wishes to anyone ever any
more. At the moment of parting Jane said politely--

'I wish we were going to see you again some day.'

And the Psammead, touched by this friendly thought, granted the
wish. The book about all this is called Five Children and It,
and it ends up in a most tiresome way by saying--

'The children DID see the Psammead again, but it was not in the
sandpit; it was--but I must say no more--'

The reason that nothing more could be said was that I had not
then been able to find out exactly when and where the children
met the Psammead again. Of course I knew they would meet it,
because it was a beast of its word, and when it said a thing
would happen, that thing happened without fail. How different
from the people who tell us about what weather it is going to be
on Thursday next, in London, the South Coast, and Channel!

The summer holidays during which the Psammead had been found and
the wishes given had been wonderful holidays in the country, and
the children had the highest hopes of just such another holiday
for the next summer. The winter holidays were beguiled by the
wonderful happenings of The Phoenix and the Carpet, and the loss
of these two treasures would have left the children in despair,
but for the splendid hope of their next holiday in the country.