Peter Pan
WENDY’S STORY
“Listen, then,” said Wendy, settling to her story, with Michael at her and seven boys in the bed. “There was once a gentleman—”
“I had he had been a lady,” Curly said.
“I wish he had been a white rat,” said Nibs.
“Quiet,” their mother them. “There was a lady also, and—”
“Oh, mummy,” the twin, “you that there is a lady also, don’t you? She is not dead, is she?”
“Oh, no.”
“I am she isn’t dead,” said Tootles. “Are you glad, John?”
“Of I am.”
“Are you glad, Nibs?”
“Rather.”
“Are you glad, Twins?”
“We are glad.”
“Oh dear,” Wendy.
“Little less noise there,” Peter called out, that she should have play, a it might be in his opinion.
“The gentleman’s name,” Wendy continued, “was Mr. Darling, and her name was Mrs. Darling.”
“I them,” John said, to the others.
“I think I them,” said Michael doubtfully.
“They were married, you know,” Wendy, “and what do you think they had?”
“White rats,” Nibs, inspired.
“No.”
“It’s puzzling,” said Tootles, who the by heart.
“Quiet, Tootles. They had three descendants.”
“What is descendants?”
“Well, you are one, Twin.”
“Did you that, John? I am a descendant.”
“Descendants are only children,” said John.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” Wendy. “Now these three children had a nurse called Nana; but Mr. Darling was angry with her and her up in the yard, and so all the children away.”
“It’s an good story,” said Nibs.
“They away,” Wendy continued, “to the Neverland, where the children are.”
“I just they did,” Curly in excitedly. “I don’t know how it is, but I just they did!”
“O Wendy,” Tootles, “was one of the children called Tootles?”
“Yes, he was.”
“I am in a story. Hurrah, I am in a story, Nibs.”
“Hush. Now I want you to the of the with all their children away.”
“Oo!” they all moaned, though they were not the of the one jot.
“Think of the empty beds!”
“Oo!”
“It’s sad,” the said cheerfully.
“I don’t see how it can have a happy ending,” said the second twin. “Do you, Nibs?”
“I’m anxious.”
“If you how great is a mother’s love,” Wendy told them triumphantly, “you would have no fear.” She had now come to the part that Peter hated.
“I do like a mother’s love,” said Tootles, Nibs with a pillow. “Do you like a mother’s love, Nibs?”
“I do just,” said Nibs, back.
“You see,” Wendy said complacently, “our that the mother would always the window open for her children to by; so they away for years and had a time.”
“Did they go back?”
“Let us now,” said Wendy, herself up for her effort, “take a into the future;” and they all gave themselves the that makes into the easier. “Years have rolled by, and who is this lady of age at London Station?”
“O Wendy, who is she?” Nibs, every as as if he didn’t know.
“Can it be—yes—no—it is—the Wendy!”
“Oh!”
“And who are the two her, now to man’s estate? Can they be John and Michael? They are!”
“Oh!”
“‘See, dear brothers,’ says Wendy pointing upwards, ‘there is the window still open. Ah, now we are for our in a mother’s love.’ So up they to their and daddy, and pen cannot the happy scene, over which we a veil.”
That was the story, and they were as pleased with it as the herself. Everything just as it should be, you see. Off we like the most in the world, which is what children are, but so attractive; and we have an selfish time, and then when we have need of special attention we return for it, that we shall be of smacked.
So great was their in a mother’s love that they they to be for a longer.
But there was one there who better, and when Wendy he a groan.
“What is it, Peter?” she cried, to him, he was ill. She him solicitously, than his chest. “Where is it, Peter?”
“It isn’t that of pain,” Peter darkly.
“Then what is it?”
“Wendy, you are about mothers.”
They all him in affright, so was his agitation; and with a he told them what he had concealed.
“Long ago,” he said, “I like you that my mother would always keep the window open for me, so I away for and and moons, and then back; but the window was barred, for mother had all about me, and there was another little boy sleeping in my bed.”
I am not sure that this was true, but Peter it was true; and it them.
“Are you sure mothers are like that?”
“Yes.”
So this was the truth about mothers. The toads!
Still it is best to be careful; and no one so as a child when he should give in. “Wendy, let us go home,” John and Michael together.
“Yes,” she said, them.
“Not to-night?” asked the boys bewildered. They in what they called their that one can on well without a mother, and that it is only the mothers who think you can’t.
“At once,” Wendy resolutely, for the had come to her: “Perhaps mother is in by this time.”
This her of what must be Peter’s feelings, and she said to him sharply, “Peter, will you make the necessary arrangements?”
“If you wish it,” he replied, as as if she had asked him to pass the nuts.
Not so much as a sorry-to-lose-you them! If she did not mind the parting, he was going to her, was Peter, that neither did he.
But of he very much; and he was so full of against grown-ups, who, as usual, were everything, that as soon as he got his tree he quick at the of about five to a second. He did this there is a saying in the Neverland that, every time you breathe, a grown-up dies; and Peter was killing them off as fast as possible.
Then having the necessary to the he returned to the home, where an had been in his absence. Panic-stricken at the of Wendy the boys had upon her threateningly.
“It will be than she came,” they cried.
“We shan’t let her go.”
“Let’s keep her prisoner.”
“Ay, her up.”
In her an told her to which of them to turn.
“Tootles,” she cried, “I to you.”
Was it not strange? She to Tootles, the one.
Grandly, however, did Tootles respond. For that one moment he his and spoke with dignity.
“I am just Tootles,” he said, “and nobody minds me. But the who not to Wendy like an English I will blood him severely.”
He his hanger; and for that his sun was at noon. The others uneasily. Then Peter returned, and they saw at once that they would no support from him. He would keep no girl in the Neverland against her will.
“Wendy,” he said, up and down, “I have asked the to you through the wood, as you so.”
“Thank you, Peter.”
“Then,” he continued, in the voice of one to be obeyed, “Tinker Bell will take you across the sea. Wake her, Nibs.”
Nibs had to twice he got an answer, though Tink had been up in for some time.
“Who are you? How you? Go away,” she cried.
“You are to up, Tink,” Nibs called, “and take Wendy on a journey.”
Of Tink had been to that Wendy was going; but she was well not to be her courier, and she said so in still more language. Then she to be asleep again.
“She says she won’t!” Nibs exclaimed, at such insubordination, Peter toward the lady’s chamber.
“Tink,” he out, “if you don’t up and dress at once I will open the curtains, and then we shall all see you in your negligée.”
This her to the floor. “Who said I wasn’t up?” she cried.
In the meantime the boys were very at Wendy, now with John and Michael for the journey. By this time they were dejected, not they were about to her, but also they that she was going off to something to which they had not been invited. Novelty was to them as usual.
Crediting them with a Wendy melted.
“Dear ones,” she said, “if you will all come with me I almost sure I can my father and mother to you.”
The was meant for Peter, but each of the boys was of himself, and at once they jumped with joy.
“But won’t they think us a handful?” Nibs asked in the middle of his jump.
“Oh no,” said Wendy, it out, “it will only having a in the drawing-room; they can be the screens on Thursdays.”
“Peter, can we go?” they all imploringly. They took it for that if they he would go also, but they cared. Thus children are ready, when knocks, to their ones.
“All right,” Peter with a smile, and they to their things.
“And now, Peter,” Wendy said, she had put right, “I am going to give you your medicine you go.” She loved to give them medicine, and gave them too much. Of it was only water, but it was out of a bottle, and she always the bottle and the drops, which gave it a quality. On this occasion, however, she did not give Peter his draught, for just as she had prepared it, she saw a look on his that her sink.
“Get your things, Peter,” she cried, shaking.
“No,” he answered, indifference, “I am not going with you, Wendy.”
“Yes, Peter.”
“No.”
To that her would him unmoved, he up and the room, playing on his pipes. She had to about after him, though it was undignified.
“To your mother,” she coaxed.
Now, if Peter had had a mother, he no longer missed her. He do very well without one. He had them out, and only their points.
“No, no,” he told Wendy decisively; “perhaps she would say I was old, and I just want always to be a little boy and to have fun.”
“But, Peter—”
“No.”
And so the others had to be told.
“Peter isn’t coming.”
Peter not coming! They at him, their over their backs, and on each a bundle. Their was that if Peter was not going he had his mind about them go.
But he was too proud for that. “If you your mothers,” he said darkly, “I you will like them.”
The of this an impression, and most of them to look doubtful. After all, their said, were they not to want to go?
“Now then,” Peter, “no fuss, no blubbering; good-bye, Wendy;” and he out his hand cheerily, as if they must go now, for he had something to do.
She had to take his hand, and there was no that he would a thimble.
“You will about your flannels, Peter?” she said, over him. She was always so particular about their flannels.
“Yes.”
“And you will take your medicine?”
“Yes.”
That to be everything, and an pause followed. Peter, however, was not the that other people. “Are you ready, Tinker Bell?” he called out.
“Ay, ay.”
“Then lead the way.”
Tink up the nearest tree; but no one her, for it was at this moment that the their attack upon the redskins. Above, where all had been so still, the air was rent with and the of steel. Below, there was silence. Mouths opened and open. Wendy on her knees, but her arms were toward Peter. All arms were to him, as if in his direction; they were him not to them. As for Peter, he his sword, the same he he had Barbecue with, and the of was in his eye.
