They went so fast that the Psammead was quite shaken about in its fish-bag, but it did not say anything--perhaps for fear of attracting public notice.
They got home at last, very hot indeed, and set the Psammead on the green tablecloth.
'Now then!' said Cyril.
But the Psammead had to have a plate of sand fetched for it, for it was quite faint.

When it had refreshed itself a little it said-- 'Now then! Let me see the charm,' and Anthea laid it on the green table-cover.

The Psammead shot out his long eyes to look at it, then it turned them reproachfully on Anthea and said-- 'But there's only half of it here!' This was indeed a blow.
'It was all there was,' said Anthea, with timid firmness.

She knew it was not her fault.

'There should be another piece,' said the Psammead, 'and a sort of pin to fasten the two together.' 'Isn't half any good ?'--'Won't it work without the other bit ?'--'It cost seven-and-six.'-- 'Oh, bother, bother, bother!'-- 'Don't be silly little idiots!' said everyone and the Psammead altogether.
Then there was a wretched silence.