Anthea wrapped it in her pinafore and carried it downstairs. It
was welcomed in a thrilling silence. At last Anthea said, 'Now
then!'

'What place is this?' asked the Psammead, shooting its eyes out
and turning them slowly round.

'It's a sitting-room, of course,' said Robert.

'Then I don't like it,' said the Psammead.

'Never mind,' said Anthea kindly; 'we'll take you anywhere you
like if you want us to. What was it you were going to say
upstairs when I said the others wouldn't like it if I stayed
talking to you without them?'

It looked keenly at her, and she blushed.

'Don't be silly,' it said sharply. 'Of course, it's quite
natural that you should like your brothers and sisters to know
exactly how good and unselfish you were.'

'I wish you wouldn't,' said Jane. 'Anthea was quite right. What
was it you were going to say when she stopped you?'

'I'll tell you,' said the Psammead, 'since you're so anxious to
know. I was going to say this. You've saved my life--and I'm
not ungrateful--but it doesn't change your nature or mine.
You're still very ignorant, and rather silly, and I am worth a
thousand of you any day of the week.'