The Psammead had crept back to its bag. All the children were very white.
“Never again,” said the Psammead later on, “will I go into the Past with a grown-up person! I will say for you four, you do do as you’re told.”
“We didn’t even find the Amulet,” said Anthea later still.
“Of course you didn’t; it wasn’t there. Only the stone it was made of was there. It fell on to a ship miles away that managed to escape and got to Egypt. I could have told you that.”
“I wish you had,” said Anthea, and her voice was still rather shaky. “Why didn’t you?”
“You never asked me,” said the Psammead very sulkily. “I’m not the sort of chap to go shoving my oar in where it’s not wanted.”
“Mr Ji-jimmy’s friend will have something worth having to put in his article now,” said Cyril very much later indeed.
“Not he,” said Robert sleepily. “The learned Ji-jimmy will think it’s a dream, and it’s ten to one he never tells the other chap a word about it at all.”
Robert was quite right on both points. The learned gentleman did. And he never did.