People say that in Kent when they mean "and no work done." So all the others were kept in, but Robert, as I have said, was allowed to go out for half an hour to get something they all wanted. And that, of course, was the day's wish. He had no difficulty in finding the Sand-fairy, for the day was already so hot that it had actually, for the first time, come out of its own accord, and was sitting in a sort of pool of soft sand, stretching itself, and trimming its whiskers, and turning its snail's eyes round and round. "Ha!" it said when its left eye saw Robert; "I've been looking for you. Where are the rest of you? Not smashed themselves up with those wings, I hope?" "No," said Robert; "but the wings got us into a row, just like all the wishes always do. So the others are kept indoors, and I was only let out for half an hour--to get the wish. So please let me wish as quickly as I can." "Wish away," said the Psammead, twisting itself round in the sand. But Robert couldn't wish away. He forgot all the things he had been thinking about, and nothing would come into his head but little things for himself, like candy, a foreign stamp album, or a knife with three blades and a corkscrew. He sat down to think better of things the others would not have cared for--such as a football, or a pair of leg-guards, or to be able to lick Simpkins Minor thoroughly when he went back to school. "Well," said the Psammead at last, "you'd better hurry up with that wish of yours. Time flies." "I know it does," said Robert. "_I_ can't think what to wish for. I wish you could give one of the others their wish without their having to come here to ask for it. Oh, _don't_!" But it was too late. The Psammead had blown itself out to about three times its proper size, and now it collapsed like a pricked bubble, and with a deep sigh leaned back against the edge of the sand-pool, quite faint with the effort. "There!" it said in a weak voice; "it was tremendously hard--but I did it. Run along home, or they're sure to wish for something silly before you get there." They were--quite sure; Robert felt this, and as he ran home his mind was deeply occupied with the sort of wishes he might find they had wished in his absence. They might wish for rabbits, or white mice, or chocolate, or a fine day to-morrow, or even--and that was most likely--someone might have said, "I do wish to goodness Robert would hurry up." Well, he _was_ hurrying up, and so they would have had their wish, and the day would be wasted. Then he tried to think what they could wish for--something that would be amusing indoors. That had been his own difficulty from the beginning. So few things are amusing indoors when the sun is shining outside and you mayn't go out, however much you want to do so.