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Updated: June 20, 2025
And over all the sun shone till you could hardly bear your clothes. 'That is where I live, said the girl pointing. 'I won't go, whispered Jane into the basket, 'unless you say it's all right. The Psammead ought to have been touched by this proof of confidence. Perhaps, however, it looked upon it as a proof of doubt, for it merely snarled 'If you don't go now I'll never help you again.
Only, take care you aren't flying high at sunset. There was a little Ninevite boy I heard of once. He was one of King Sennacherib's sons, and a traveller brought him a Psammead. He used to keep it in a box of sand on the palace terrace. It was a dreadful degradation for one of us, of course; still the boy was the Assyrian King's son. And one day he wished for wings and got them.
The Psammead must have taken advantage of the loose wording of the learned gentleman's wish, for it was not the same time of day as that on which the wish had been uttered among the dried ferns. It was sunset, and the great man sat on a chair outside his tent gazing over the sea towards Britain everyone knew without being told that it was towards Britain.
Perhaps she'll think they've been in the house for years and years, and never know they are the stolen ones at all." "Oh yes!" Cyril was very scornful; "then mother will be a receiver of stolen goods, and you know jolly well what that's worse than." Another and exhaustive search of the sand-pit failed to reveal the Psammead, so the children went back to the house slowly and sadly.
The others agreed, but not gaily; but when they found the Psammead, it wouldn't. 'Not I, it said crossly, rubbing its face with its feet. He's a rude violent boy, and it'll do him good to be the wrong size for a bit. What did he want to come digging me out with his nasty wet hands for? He nearly touched me! He's a perfect savage. A boy of the Stone Age would have had more sense.
And, of course, in just the little time the Psammead took to blow itself out for wish-giving, the five, or six counting the Psammead, found themselves in Caesar's camp, just outside Caesar's tent. And they saw Caesar.
'I'm beastly bored, said Robert. 'Let's talk about the Psammead, said Anthea, who generally tried to give the conversation a cheerful turn. 'What's the good of TALKING? said Cyril. 'What I want is for something to happen. It's awfully stuffy for a chap not to be allowed out in the evenings. There's simply nothing to do when you've got through your homers.
'That's better, said Cyril. 'And virtue. 'I suppose it's nice to have that, said Jane, but not with much interest. 'And it can give you your heart's desire. 'Now you're talking, said Robert. 'Of course I am, retorted the Psammead tartly, 'so there's no need for you to. 'Heart's desire is good enough for me, said Cyril. 'Yes, but, Anthea ventured, 'all that's what the WHOLE charm can do.
But Cyril and Anthea exchanged gloomy glances. They remembered how convincing the truth about the Psammead had been once before when told to the police. It was a day of misfortunes. Of course the Psammead could not be found. Nor the jewels, though every one of the children searched the mother's room again and again. "Of course," Robert said, "we couldn't find them. It'll be mother who'll do that.
'It's bit me to the marrow, it have. The man's eyes opened as Anthea held out her arms. 'Don't blame me if it tears your face off its bones, he said, and the Psammead made a leap from his dirty horny hands, and Anthea caught it in hers, which were not very clean, certainly, but at any rate were soft and pink, and held it kindly and closely.
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