you vanish out of this world. When you are in the Other Place I expect – of course this hasn’t been tested yet, but I expect – that the moment you touch a green ring you vanish out of that world and – I expect – reappear in this. Now. I take these two greens and drop them into your right-hand pocket. Remember very carefully which pocket the greens are in. G for green and R for right. G.R. you see: which are the first two letters of green. One for you and one for the little girl. And now you pick up a yellow one for yourself. I should put it on – on your finger – if I were you. There’ll be less chance of dropping it.”
Digory had almost picked up the yellow ring when he suddenly checked himself.
“Look here,” he said. “What about Mother? Supposing she asks where I am?”
“The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back,” said Uncle Andrew cheerfully.
“But you don’t really know whether I can get back.”
Uncle Andrew shrugged his shoulders, walked across to the door, unlocked it, threw it open, and said:
“Oh, very well then. Just as you please. Go down and have your dinner. Leave the little girl to be eaten by wild animals or drowned or starved in Otherworld or lost there for good, if that’s what you prefer. It’s all one to me. Perhaps before tea time you’d better drop in on Mrs Plummer and explain that she’ll never see her daughter again; because you were afraid to put on a ring.”
“By gum,” said Digory, “don’t I just wish I was big enough to punch your head!”
Then he buttoned up his coat, took a deep breath, and picked up the ring. And he thought then, as he always thought afterwards too, that he could not decently have done anything else.
Chapter Three
The Wood between the Worlds
Uncle Andrew and his study vanished instantly. Then, for a moment, everything became muddled. The next thing Digory knew was that there was a soft green light coming down on him from above, and darkness below. He didn’t seem to be standing on anything, or sitting, or lying. Nothing appeared to be touching him. “I believe I’m in water,” said Digory. “Or under water.” This frightened him for a second, but almost at once he could feel that he was rushing upwards. Then his head suddenly came out into the air and he found himself scrambling ashore, out on to smooth grassy ground at the edge of a pool.
As he rose to his feet he noticed that he was neither dripping nor panting for breath as anyone would expect after being under water. His clothes were perfectly dry. He was standing by the edge of a small pool – not more than ten feet from side to side – in a wood. The trees grew close together and were so leafy that he could get no glimpse of the sky. All the light was green light that came through the leaves: but there must have been a very strong sun overhead, for this green daylight was bright and warm. It was the quietest wood you could possibly imagine. There were no birds, no insects, no animals, and no wind. You could almost feel the trees growing. The pool he had just got out of was not the only pool. There were dozens of others – a pool every few yards as far as his eyes could reach. You could almost feel the trees drinking the water up with their roots. This wood was very much alive. When he tried to describe it afterwards Digory always said, “It was a rich place: as rich as plum cake.”
The strangest thing was that, almost before he had looked about him, Digory had half forgotten how he had come there. At any rate, he was certainly not thinking about Polly, or Uncle Andrew, or even his Mother. He was not in the least frightened, or excited, or curious. If anyone had asked him “Where did you come from?” he would probably have said, “I’ve always been here.” That was what it felt like – as if one had always been in that place and never been bored although nothing had ever happened. As he said long afterwards, “It’s not the sort of place where things happen. The trees go on growing, that’s all.”
After Digory had looked at the wood for a long time he noticed that there was a girl lying on her back at the foot of a tree a few yards away. Her eyes were nearly shut but not quite, as if she were just between sleeping and waking. So he looked at her for a long time and said nothing. And at last she opened her eyes and looked at him for a long time and she also said nothing. Then she spoke, in a dreamy, contented sort of voice.
“I think I’ve seen you before,” she said.
“I rather think so too,” said Digory. “Have you been here long?”
“Oh, always,” said the girl. “At least – I don’t know – a very long time.”
“So have I,” said Digory.
“No, you haven’t,” said she. “I’ve just seen you come up out of that pool.”
“Yes, I suppose I did,” said Digory with a puzzled air. “I’d forgotten.”
Then for quite a long time neither said any more.
“Look here,” said the girl presently, “I wonder, did we ever really meet before? I had a sort of idea – a sort of picture in my head – of a boy and a girl, like us – living somewhere quite different – and doing all sorts of things. Perhaps it was only a dream.”
“I’ve had that same dream, I think,” said Digory. “About a boy and a girl, living next door – and something about crawling among rafters. I remember the girl had a dirty face.”
“Aren’t you getting it mixed? In my dream it was the boy who had the dirty face.”
“I can’t remember the boy’s face,” said Digory and then added, “Hullo! What’s that?”
“Why! It’s a guinea-pig,” said the girl. And it was – a fat guinea-pig, nosing about in the grass. But round the middle of the guinea-pig there ran a tape and, tied on to it by the tape, was a bright yellow ring.
“Look! Look,” cried Digory. “The ring! And look! You’ve got one on your finger. And so have I.”
The girl now sat up, really interested at last. They stared very hard at one another, trying to remember. And then, at exactly the same moment, she shouted out, “Mr Ketterley”, and he shouted out, “Uncle Andrew”, and they knew who they were and began to remember the whole story. After a few minutes’ hard talking they had got it straight. Digory explained how beastly Uncle Andrew had been.
“What do we do now?” said Polly. “Take the guinea-pig and go home?”
“There’s no hurry,” said Digory, with a huge yawn.
“I think there is,” said Polly. “This place is too quiet. It’s so – so dreamy. You’re almost asleep. If we once give in to it we shall just lie down and drowse for ever and ever.”
“It’s very nice here,” said Digory.
“Yes, it is,” said Polly. “But we’ve got to get back.” She stood up and began to go cautiously towards the guinea-pig. But then she changed her mind.
“We might as well leave the guinea-pig,” she said. “It’s perfectly happy here, and your uncle will only do something horrid to it if we take it home.”
“I bet he would,” answered Digory. “Look
