“Ah yes,” said the creature, “but you didn’t _ask_ him to wish, and you didn’t know what would happen if he did. That can’t be done again. It’s played out.” “Then you can’t help us at all,” said Jane; “oh—I did think you could do something; I’ve been thinking about it ever since we saved your life yesterday. I thought you’d be certain to be able to fetch back Father, even if you couldn’t manage Mother.” And Jane began to cry. “Now _don’t_,” said the Psammead hastily; “you know how it always upsets me if you cry. I can’t feel safe a moment. Look here; you must have some new kind of charm.” “That’s easier said than done.” “Not a bit of it,” said the creature; “there’s one of the strongest charms in the world not a stone’s throw from where you bought me yesterday. The man that I bit so—the first one, I mean—went into a shop to ask how much something cost—I think he said it was a concertina—and while he was telling the man in the shop how much too much he wanted for it, I saw the charm in a sort of tray, with a lot of other things. If you can only buy _that_, you will be able to have your heart’s desire.” The children looked at each other and then at the Psammead. Then Cyril coughed awkwardly and took sudden courage to say what everyone was thinking. “I do hope you won’t be waxy,” he said; “but it’s like this: when you used to give us our wishes they almost always got us into some row or other, and we used to think you wouldn’t have been pleased if they hadn’t. Now, about this charm—we haven’t got over and above too much tin, and if we blue it all on this charm and it turns out to be not up to much—well—you see what I’m driving at, don’t you?” “I see that _you_ don’t see more than the length of your nose, and _that’s_ not far,” said the Psammead crossly. “Look here, I _had_ to give you the wishes, and of course they turned out badly, in a sort of way, because you hadn’t the sense to wish for what was good for you. But this charm’s quite different. I haven’t _got_ to do this for you, it’s just my own generous kindness that makes me tell you about it. So it’s bound to be all right. See?” “Don’t be cross,” said Anthea, “Please, _please_ don’t. You see, it’s all we’ve got; we shan’t have any more pocket-money till Daddy comes home—unless he sends us some in a letter. But we _do_ trust you. And I say all of you,” she went on, “don’t you think it’s worth spending _all_ the money, if there’s even the chanciest chance of getting Father and Mother back safe _now?_ Just think of it! Oh, do let’s!” “_I_ don’t care what you do,” said the Psammead; “I’ll go back to sand again till you’ve made up your minds.” “No, don’t!” said everybody; and Jane added, “We are quite mind made-up—don’t you see we are? Let’s get our hats. Will you come with us?” “Of course,” said the Psammead; “how else would you find the shop?”