THE LAST WISH
its furry shoulders gently but firmly, and held it.
"Here—none of that!" said the Psammead. "Leave go of me, will you?"
But Anthea held him fast.
"Dear kind darling Sammyadd," she said breathlessly.
"Oh yes—it's all very well," it said; "you want another wish, I expect. But I can't keep on slaving from morning till night giving people their wishes. I must have some time to myself."
"Do you hate giving wishes?" asked Anthea gently, and her voice trembled with excitement.
"Of course I do," it said. "Leave go of me or I'll bite!—I really will—I mean it. Oh, well, if you choose to risk it."
Anthea risked it and held on.
"Look here," she said, "don't bite me—listen to reason. If you'll only do what we want to-day, we'll never ask you for another wish as long as we live."
The Psammead was much moved.
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