Its fur stood on end with horror - and indeed a good deal of the
ginger-beer had been spilt on the blue smock of the Lamb.

The Psammead dug with its hands and feet, and vanished in an
instant and a whirl of sand.

The children marked the spot with a ring of stones.

'We may as well get along home,' said Robert. 'I'll say I'm sorry;
but anyway if it's no good it's no harm, and we know where the
sandy thing is for to-morrow.'

The others were noble. No one reproached Robert at all. Cyril
picked up the Lamb, who was now quite himself again, and off they
went by the safe cart-road.

The cart-road from the gravel-pits joins the road almost directly.

At the gate into the road the party stopped to shift the Lamb from
Cyril's back to Robert's. And as they paused a very smart open
carriage came in sight, with a coachman and a groom on the box, and
inside the carriage a lady - very grand indeed, with a dress all
white lace and red ribbons and a parasol all red and white - and a
white fluffy dog on her lap with a red ribbon round its neck. She
looked at the children, and particularly at the Baby, and she
smiled at him. The children were used to this, for the Lamb was,
as all the servants said, a 'very taking child'. So they waved
their hands politely to the lady and expected her to drive on. But
she did not. Instead she made the coachman stop. And she beckoned
to Cyril, and when he went up to the carriage she said: