"You're sure to be sorry," I said. "These things always turn out
badly. Think of 'Uncle Peter's Fairy Story.'"
"What's that?" asked Bruce.
"It's a book," I replied, "a book that delighted my early childhood.
As far as I can recollect, everyone in it was allowed to have one
wish, and the results were--well, not quite what they expected. I
remember one kind-hearted lady wishing that the blacksmith's baby,
who was dying of consumption, should be as well and strong as its
father. In about three minutes the baby was decimating the village
with a sledge-hammer."
"I shall be very careful," remarked Bruce, a little uncomfortably.
"I----"
"By the way," I interrupted, "what happened to your uncle? You took
away his manuscript before I'd finished it."
"He never had any more wishes," said Bruce. "That first shot seems
to have frightened him off it."