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Chinky. He opened it and read it—and his face broke into smiles. “Just listen to this!” he cried. “It’s from my mother. She says:
‘Dear Chinky, this is just to let you know that the wishing-chair arrived here by itself today. I don’t know why.—
Your loving Mother.’
    “Oh, the clever old chair!” said Peter. “It heard us say that you would live with your mother and keep it there—so it has gone there itself! Well, you must say goodbye to it for us, Chinky—and we’ll hope to see it when we come home for half-term.”
    A bell rang at the top of the garden. Mollie ran to Chinky and hugged him. “That’s the bell to tell us to go in,” she said. “We’d better say goodbye now, dear, dear Chinky, in case we can’t get down to the playroom tomorrow before we go. Goodbye and don’t forget us!”
    They all hugged one another. Chinky waved to them as they ran up the garden. He felt rather sad— but never mind, there would be more adventures when the holidays came! He would wait for those.
    Chinky caught the bus to Fairyland and went to Mrs. Twinkle, his mother. The children packed their last things. Everything was ready for school. They couldn’t help feeling rather excited.
    The playroom was empty. The wishing-chair was gone. Ah—but wait till the holidays! What fine adventures they would all have then!

Home For Half-Term
    A LITTLE pixie peeped anxiously into the window of a small playroom built at the bottom of a garden. A robin flew down beside him and sang a little song.
    “What's the matter, Chinky? What do you want? What are you looking for?”
    “I'm looking for Mollie and Peter,” said Chinky. “I've got the wishing-chair hidden under a bush just near here, and I'm waiting for the children to come home, so that I can get into this playroom of theirs and put the chair safely in its corner.”
    “But you know that the children are away at boarding-school,” said the robin, with a little trill. “How foolish you are!”
    “I'm not” said Chinky. “They're coming home at half-term, just for a few days. They told me so—and I promised to bring the chair from my mother's, where I've been looking after it—hoping that perhaps it would grow its wings just for their half-term. So I'm not foolish, you see!”
    “Sorry,” said the robin. “Shall I go and find out if they are up at the house? I haven't heard them yet and usually they make a lot of noise when they come home. Wait here, and I'll find out.”
    He flew off. He peeped into all the windows, his perky little head on one side. There was nobody to be seen at all except the cook in the kitchen. She was busy making cakes.
    “Ah—the children's favourite chocolate buns!” thought the robin. “I can hear them now, banging at the front door. What a pity their mother isn't here to welcome them!”
    Mrs. Williams, the cook, hurried to the front door. Two children burst in at once, each carrying a small case. It was Mollie and Peter, home for the half-term!
    “Hallo, Mrs. Willy! Where's Mother?” cried Peter.
    “Welcome home, Master Peter,” said Mrs. Williams, “and you, too, Miss Mollie. Your mother says she's very, very sorry, but she's had to go off to your Granny, who's been taken ill. But she'll be home before you have to go back to school on Tuesday—and I'm to look after you.”
    “Oh,” said the children, disappointed. Home didn't somehow seem like home without Mother there. They felt rather miserable.
    “What about Daddy?” asked Mollie.
    “He's away,” said Mrs. Williams. “Didn't your mother tell you that in her last letter?”
    “Oh, yes,” said Mollie, remembering. “I forgot. Oh dear—half-term without either Mother or Daddy—how horrid!”
    “I've made you your favourite chocolate buns,” said Mrs. Williams, following them indoors. “And I've got ice-cream for you, too, and honey in the comb. And your mother says she has ordered twenty-four bottles of ginger-beer and orangeade for you this weekend,