And old Nurse was very cross that Cyril was not ready too.
The three were watching at the windows when Cyril returned, and even before he was near enough for them to see his face there was something about the slouch of his shoulders and set of his knickerbockers and the way he dragged his boots along that showed but too plainly that his errand had been in vain.
'Well ?' they all said, hoping against hope on the front-door step.
'No go,' Cyril answered; 'the man said the thing was perfect.

He said it was a Roman lady's locket, and people shouldn't buy curios if they didn't know anything about arky--something or other, and that he never went back on a bargain, because it wasn't business, and he expected his customers to act the same.

He was simply nasty--that's what he was, and I want my dinner.' It was plain that Cyril was not pleased.
The unlikeliness of anything really interesting happening in that parlour lay like a weight of lead on everyone's spirits.

Cyril had his dinner, and just as he was swallowing the last mouthful of apple-pudding there was a scratch at the door.

Anthea opened it and in walked the Psammead.
'Well,' it said, when it had heard the news, 'things might be worse.
Only you won't be surprised if you have a few adventures before you get the other half.