“Do you still think that Lion could be killed by a gun？” asked Digory. “He didn‘t mind the iron bar much.”
“With all her faults，” said Uncle Andrew， “that’s a plucky gel， my boy. It was a spirited thing to do.” He rubbed his hands and cracked his knuckles， as if he were once more forgetting how the Witch frightened him whenever she was really there.
“It was a wicked thing to do，” said Polly. “What harm had he done her？”
“Hullo！ What‘s that？” said Digory. He had darted forward to examine something only a few yards away. “I say， Polly，” he called back. “Do come and look.”
Uncle Andrew came with her； not because he wanted to see but because he wanted to keep close to the children. there might be a chance of stealing their rings. But when he saw what Digory was looking at， even he began to take an interest. It was a perfect little model of a lamp.post， about three feet high but lengthening， and thickening in proportion， as they watched it； in fact growing just as the trees had grown.
“It’s alive too.I mean， it‘s lit，” said Digory. And so it was； though of course the brightness of the sun made the little flame in the lantern hard to see unless your shadow fell on it.