The yellow light illuminated four pale faces.
“We do love you so,” Anthea went on, “and we’ve made you a picture to show you how we love you. Get it out, Squirrel.”
The glazed testimonial was dragged out from under the sofa and displayed.
“The glue’s not dry yet,” said Cyril, “look out!”
“What a beauty!” cried old Nurse. “Well, I never! And your pictures and the beautiful writing and all. Well, I always did say your hearts was in the right place, if a bit careless at times. Well! I never did! I don’t know as I was ever pleased better in my life.”
She hugged them all, one after the other. And the boys did not mind it, somehow, that day.
“How is it we can remember all about the future, now?” Anthea woke the Psammead with laborious gentleness to put the question. “How is it we can remember what we saw in the future, and yet, when we were in the future, we could not remember the bit of the future that was past then, the time of finding the Amulet?”
“Why, what a silly question!” said the Psammead, “of course you cannot remember what hasn’t happened yet.”
“But the future hasn’t happened yet,” Anthea persisted, “and we remember that all right.”
“Oh, that isn’t what’s happened, my good child,” said the Psammead, rather crossly, “that’s prophetic vision. And you remember dreams, don’t you? So why not visions? You never do seem to understand the simplest thing.”