Anthea had been shaking her head gloomily - now she stopped shaking it so suddenly that it really looked as though she were pricking up her ears. 'What is it?' asked Jane. 'Oh, have you thought of something?' 'Our one chance,' cried Anthea dramatically; 'the last lone-lorn forlorn hope. Come on.' At a brisk trot she led the way to the sand-pit. Oh, joy! - there was the Psammead, basking in a golden sandy hollow and preening its whiskers happily in the glowing afternoon sun. The moment it saw them it whisked round and began to burrow - it evidently preferred its own company to theirs. But Anthea was too quick for it. She caught it by its furry shoulders gently but firmly, and held it. 'Here - none of that!' said the Psammead. 'Leave go of me, will you?' But Anthea held him fast. 'Dear kind darling Sammyadd,' she said breathlessly. 'Oh yes - it's all very well,' it said; 'you want another wish, I expect. But I can't keep on slaving from morning till night giving people their wishes. I must have SOME time to myself.' 'Do you hate giving wishes?' asked Anthea gently, and her voice trembled with excitement. 'Of course I do,' it said. 'Leave go of me or I'll bite! - I really will - I mean it. Oh, well, if you choose to risk it.' Anthea risked it and held on. 'Look here,' she said, 'don't bite me - listen to reason. If you'll only do what we want to-day, we'll never ask you for another wish as long as we live.' The Psammead was much moved. 'I'd do anything,' it said in a tearful voice. 'I'd almost burst myself to give you one wish after another, as long as I held out, if you'd only never, never ask me to do it after to-day. If you knew how I hate to blow myself out with other people's wishes, and how frightened I am always that I shall strain a muscle or something. And then to wake up every morning and know you've GOT to do it. You don't know what it is - you don't know what it is, you don't!' Its voice cracked with emotion, and the last 'don't' was a squeak. Anthea set it down gently on the sand. 'It's all over now,' she said soothingly. 'We promise faithfully never to ask for another wish after to-day.' 'Well, go ahead,' said the Psammead; 'let's get it over.' 'How many can you do?' 'I don't know - as long as I can hold out.' 'Well, first, I wish Lady Chittenden may find she's never lost her jewels.' The Psammead blew itself out, collapsed, and said, 'Done.' 'I wish, said Anthea more slowly, 'mother mayn't get to the police.' 'Done,' said the creature after the proper interval. 'I wish,' said Jane suddenly, 'mother could forget all about the diamonds.' 'Done,' said the Psammead; but its voice was weaker. 'Wouldn't you like to rest a little?' asked Anthea considerately. 'Yes, please,' said the Psammead; 'and, before we go further, will you wish something for me?' 'Can't you do wishes for yourself?'