“So are you a cowardly custard.”

“I’m not frightened.”

“Neither am I frightened.”

“Well, then, take it.”

“Well, then, you take it.”

Wendy had a splendid idea. “Why not both take it at the same time?”

“Certainly,” said Mr. Darling. “Are you ready, Michael?”

“One, two, three,” cried Wendy; Michael took his medicine like a man, but Mr. Darling only pretended to, and quietly hid the glass behind his back.

John cried, “Father didn’t take his!”

“O father!” Wendy exclaimed.

“What do you mean by ‘O father’?” Mr. Darling demanded. “I wanted to take my medicine, but I – I did not have enough time.”

“Look here, all of you,” he said, as soon as[16] Nana went into the bathroom. “I have a splendid joke. I shall pour my medicine into Nana’s bowl, and she will drink it, thinking it is milk!”

It was the colour of milk; but the children did not have their father’s sense of humour, and they looked at him reproachfully as he poured the medicine into Nana’s bowl. Mrs. Darling and Nana returned.

“Nana, good dog,” he said, “I put some milk into your bowl, Nana.”

Nana wagged her tail, ran to the medicine, and began to lap it. Then she gave Mrs. Darling such a look, not an angry look: she showed him the great red tear, and crept into her kennel.

The children, who loved their old nurse very dearly, were terribly distressed. Mr. Darling smelt the bowl. “O George,” she said, “it’s your medicine!”

“It was only a joke,” he answered, and Wendy hugged Nana.

“Oh, that dog…” cried Mr. Darling. “I refuse to allow that dog to rule in my nursery! The proper place for this dog is the yard…”

Mr. Darling, angry that they did not enjoy his joke, coaxed Nana out of her kennel, seized her by the collar and dragged her off in disgrace. The children wept, but he felt he was a strong man again.

“George, George,” Mrs. Darling whispered, “remember what I told you about that boy.”

But he wanted to show who was the master in that house. He was ashamed of himself, but he took Nana and brought the dog outdoor.

Mrs. Darling put the children to bed in silence and lit their night-lights. Nana was barking, and John whimpered, “It is because he is chaining her up in the yard,” but Wendy was wiser.

“No,” she said, “that is her bark when she smells danger.”

Danger!

“Are you sure, Wendy?”

“Oh, yes.”

Mrs. Darling went to the window. It was securely fastened. She looked out, the stars were crowding round the house.

Michael asked, “Can anything harm us, mother, after the night-lights are lit?”

“Nothing, precious,” she said; “they are the eyes a mother leaves behind her to guard her children.”

Michael flung his arms round her. “Mother,” he cried, “I’m glad of you[17].”

They were the last words she heard from him.

She comforted the children, kissed them very tenderly as mothers always do, sang them to sleep and crept softly out of the room to go to the dinner-party with Mr. Darling. When they were going to the party, all the stars were watching them. When the door of the house closed, the smallest of all the stars in the Milky Way[18] screamed out:

“Now, Peter![19]”

Come Away, Come Away![20]

The night-lights by the beds of the three children continued to burn clearly. But there was another light in the room now, a thousand times brighter than the night-lights. It was not really a light; it was a fairy, no longer than your hand. It was a girl called Tinker Bell[21]. The window was blown open[22], and Peter dropped in. “Tinker Bell,” he called softly, “Tink, where are you?” She was in a jug.

“Oh, come out of that jug, and tell me, do you know where they put my shadow?”

Tink said that the shadow was in the big box. In a moment Peter recovered his shadow, and in his delight he forgot that he shut Tinker Bell up in the drawer.

Peter found his shadow certainly, but the next trouble was to put it on again.

A happy thought came to him; it is necessary to use the soap from the bathroom! He soaped his shadow, but the shadow and his body did not stick together. He was trying and trying to stick the shadow, but no luck. Poor little boy sat on the floor, and began to cry.

His sobs woke Wendy, and she sat up in bed. She saw a stranger crying on the nursery floor; she was interested.

“Boy,” she said courteously, “why are you crying?”

Peter could be polite also, and he rose and bowed to her beautifully. She was much pleased, and bowed beautifully to him from the bed.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Wendy Moira Angela Darling[23],” she replied. “What is your name?”

“Peter Pan.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes,” he said rather sharply. He felt for the first time that it was a very short name.

“I’m so sorry,” said Wendy Moira Angela.

“It doesn’t matter,” Peter gulped.

“Where do you live?”

“Second turning to the right, and straight on till morning[24].”

This seemed to Wendy a very funny address, but she was all sympathy when she heard that Peter had no mother. No wonder he was crying!

“Why were you crying?”

“I was crying because I can’t get my shadow to stick on[25]. Besides, I wasn’t crying.”

Then Wendy saw the shadow on the floor. She smiled, and she emphatically declared that soap was no good.

“I shall sew it on for you” she said, and she got out her sewing bag, and sewed the shadow on to Peter’s foot.

It was the right thing to do, for the shadow held on beautifully, and Peter was so delighted that he began to dance.

“How clever I am!” cried Peter.

The conceit of Peter was one of his most fascinating qualities. Wendy was shocked. “You conceit![26],” she exclaimed, with frightful sarcasm; “of course I did nothing!” “You did a little,” Peter said carelessly, and continued to dance.

“A little!” she replied; “if I am no use I can at least withdraw,” and she sprang into bed and covered her face with the blankets.

“Oh! Wendy, please don’t withdraw,” Peter exclaimed in great distress “I am very sorry.

Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys.” This was rather clever of Peter, and at these sensible words Wendy got up again. Wendy peeped out of the bed-clothes.

“Do you really think so, Peter?” “Yes, I do.” Wendy smiled. She even offered to give Peter a kiss if he liked. But the poor boy did not even know what a kiss was. Wendy decided to give him a thimble.

Peter admired the thimble very much. “Shall I give you a kiss?” he asked and, jerking a button off his coat, solemnly presented it to her.

Wendy at once fastened it on a chain which she wore round her neck. Afterwards it saved her life.

“Peter, how old are you?” asked Wendy.

“I don’t know, but quite young. I ran away the day I was born.”

Wendy was quite surprised, but interested.

“Ran away – why?”

“Because I heard my father and mother talking about what I was to be when I became a man. I don’t want to be a man. I want always to be a little boy and have fun. So I ran away and lived among the fairies.”