I believe in the Phoenix!'
'The Phoenix thanks you, O Robert,' said a golden voice at his
feet, and there was the Phoenix itself, on the Wishing Carpet.
'Quick!' it said. 'Stand on those portions of the carpet which are
truly antique and authentic--and--'
A sudden jet of flame stopped its words. Alas! the Phoenix had
unconsciously warmed to its subject, and in the unintentional heat
of the moment had set fire to the paraffin with which that morning
the children had anointed the carpet. It burned merrily. The
children tried in vain to stamp it out. They had to stand back and
let it burn itself out. When the paraffin had burned away it was
found that it had taken with it all the darns of Scotch
heather-mixture fingering. Only the fabric of the old carpet was
left--and that was full of holes.
'Come,' said the Phoenix, 'I'm cool now.'
The four children got on to what was left of the carpet. Very
careful they were not to leave a leg or a hand hanging over one of
the holes. It was very hot--the theatre was a pit of fire. Every
one else had got out.
Jane had to sit on Anthea's lap.
'Home!' said Cyril, and instantly the cool draught from under the
nursery door played upon their legs as they sat. They were all on
the carpet still, and the carpet was lying in its proper place on
the nursery floor, as calm and unmoved as though it had never been
to the theatre or taken part in a fire in its life.
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