Chapter 11: Peter Pan and Wendy (J.M. Barrie) - Santa's Christmas Library: Over 400 Christmas Novels, Stories, Poems, Carols and Legends (Illustrated Edition): The Gift of the Wizards, A Christmas Carol, Silent Night, The Three Wise Men , Little Lord Faun (2023)

Pedro Pfanne j Wendy

(J METRO. Barrie)

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All but one of the children grow up. They soon realize that they are growing up, and Wendy knew it. One day when she was two years old, she was playing in a garden, picked up another flower and ran to her mother with it. I suppose it must have looked very charming, because Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and exclaimed, 'Oh, why can't you stay like this forever!' That was all there was to say between them on the subject, but from then on Wendy knew she had to grow up. After two years, you always know. Two is the beginning of the end.

Of course, they turned 14, and until Wendy came along, her mother was the main character. She was a lovely woman with a romantic spirit and a sweet, teasing mouth. Her romantic spirit was like little boxes, one inside the other, coming from the enigmatic East, no matter how much you discover, there is always more; and her sweet teasing mouth held a kiss Wendy would never get, though she was there, clearly visible in the right corner.

That's how Mr. and took it like this. He got everything from her except the most intimate box and the kiss. He never found out about the box and eventually stopped kissing. Wendy thought that Napoleon could have done it, but I can imagine him trying and then storming off and slamming the door.

Mr. Darling used to brag to Wendy that her mother not only loved him but respected him. He was one of those deep people who know about stocks and shares. Of course, no one really knows, but he seemed to, and he used to say that stocks go up and down in a way that would make any woman respect him.

Mrs. Darling married in white, and at first kept her books perfectly, almost cheerfully, as if it were a game, and never lost a cabbage; but gradually whole cauliflowers fell out, and in their place were drawings of faceless babies. He drew it when he should have added. That was Mrs. Darling.

Wendy was there first, then John, then Michael.

For a week or two after Wendy's arrival it was doubtful they would be able to keep her as she was another mouth to feed. Mr. Darling was terribly proud of her, but he was very honorable, and he sat on the edge of Mrs. Darling, taking her hand and calculating the cost as she looked at him pleadingly. He definitely wanted to risk it, but that wasn't her style; His way was pencil and paper, and if she confused him with suggestions, he had to start all over again.

"Don't interrupt me now," she pleaded. I have seventeen pounds here and two and six in the office; Can I cut my coffee in the office, say ten shillings, two makes nine six, your eighteen and three makes three nine seven, five zero zero in my checkbook makes eight nine seven, who's moving? - eight nine seven, show and take seven - don't talk, man - and the pound you lent to the man who came knocking on the door - calm down, child - show and take, child - there it is! – I have nine nine seven? yes, I said nine nine seven; The question is can we try for a year in nine nine seven?

"Of course we can, George," he exclaimed. But she was biased in favor of Wendy, and he really was the bigger character of the two.

"Think of the mumps," he warned her almost menacingly, and walked away again. Mumps a pound, I wrote that down, but I dare say it must be close to thirty shillings, don't talk, measles a five, rubella half a guinea, give two fifteen six, don't move your finger. "whooping cough, say fifteen shillings" and so on, adding something different each time; but finally Wendy just passed away, reduced to twelve and six with the mumps and treated the two types of measles as one.

There was equal excitement for John and Michael had even more constant crying; but both resisted, and soon the three, accompanied by their nanny, were reportedly seen entering Miss Fulsom's nursery.

Mrs. Darling loved to have everything as it was, and Mr. Darling loved to be like her neighbors; so of course they had a nurse. Being poor due to the amount of milk the children drank, this nanny was a sober dog named Nana, who belonged to no one in particular until the Darlings hired her. However, she always thought that children were important and the Darlings met her in Kensington Gardens, where she spent most of her free time spying on baby carriages and was much hated by carefree nannies who followed her around and complained about it. to her lovers. She turned out to be a true love of a nurse. How thorough she was in the bath; and she got up at any hour of the night if one of her charges uttered the slightest cry. Of course her kennel was in the nursery. He had a genius for knowing when to be patient with a cough and when to have a sock around your neck. She believed in old-fashioned remedies like rhubarb leaves until her last day, and made sneering noises at all this modern talk about germs and the like. It was a lesson in propriety to watch her escort the children to school, walking calmly beside them when they were well and forcing them back into line when they got lost. In John's baseboard days, he never forgot his sweater and usually carried an umbrella in his mouth in case it rained. In the basement of Miss Fulsom's school there is a room where the nurses are waiting. They sat on forms while Nana lay on the floor, but that was the only difference. They pretended to ignore her as if they were of lower social status than her, and she despised her light words. She resented visits to Mrs. Darling, but when they came she first took off Michael's apron and put on the one with the blue braids, smoothed Wendy and combed John's hair.

No nursery could have functioned more correctly, and Mr. Darling knew this, but sometimes he wondered uneasily if the neighbors were talking.

He had to reconsider his position in the city.

Nana bothered him in other ways too. Sometimes he got the feeling that she didn't admire him. "I know he admires you very much, George," Mrs. Darling, then motioned for the children to be extremely kind to their father. Enchanting dances followed, in which the only other servant, Liza, was sometimes allowed to participate. She looked like a dwarf in her long skirt and girl's bonnet, even though she'd sworn when she got engaged that she'd never see ten years old again. The joy of these games! And the brightest of all was Mrs. Darling, who pirouetted so wildly you could only see her kissing, and if you'd run to her you might have made it. Until the arrival of Peter Pan, there was never a simpler or happier family.

Mrs. Darling first heard about Peter when she was sorting through her children's heads. It is every good mother's nightly habit, after her children are asleep, to search their minds and put things in order for the next morning, putting back in their proper place the many objects lost during the day. If you could stay awake (but of course you can't) you'd be watching your own mother doing this, and it would be very interesting to watch her do it. It's like sorting drawers. You'd see her on her knees, I suppose, lingering humorously over some of its contents, wondering where the hell you got that thing from, making sweet and not-so-sweet discoveries, and pressing it against her cheek as if it were as good as it gets. a kitten and hastily tucked out of sight. When you wake up in the morning, the mischief and evil passions you went to bed with have been folded up and placed in the back of your mind; and on top, nice and airy, your most beautiful thoughts unfold, ready to use.

I don't know if you've ever seen a map of a person's mind. Doctors sometimes draw maps of other parts of you, and your own map can become extremely interesting, but it catches you trying to draw a map of a child's mind, which is not only confusing, but constantly spinning. It has zigzag lines, just like your temperature on a map, and it's probably the island's roads; for Neverland is always more or less an island, with incredible patches of color here and there, and reefs of coral, and boats bold-looking to behold, and wild lonely places, and gnomes who are chiefly tailors, and caves through which a river flows, and princes with six older brothers, and a dilapidated hut, and a short old woman with a hooked nose. It would be a simple card if that were all; but there's also the first day of school, religion, parents, the round lake, sewing, murders, executions, dative verbs, chocolate pudding day, getting braces, say ninety-nine, threepence to pull a tooth yourself and so on ; and are they part of the island or are they represented on a different map and it's all quite confusing because nothing stops there.

Of course, Neverlands varies a lot. For example, John's had a pond over which flamingos flew that John threw, while Michael, who was very small, had a flamingo over which ponds flew. John lived in an overturned boat on the sand, Michael in a tent, Wendy in a house of expertly stitched leaves. John had no friends, Michael had friends at night, Wendy had a pet wolf abandoned by her parents; but in general the Neverlands have a family feel and if they were to stand in a row you could tell they had their noses in each other and so on. On these magical beaches, children play beaching their boats forever. We were there too; We can still hear the sound of the waves, although we don't land again.

Of all the enchanting islands, Neverland is the most comfortable and compact; not tall and slender, you know, with grueling distances between one adventure and another, but very well packed. Playing with the chairs and towel during the day is not alarming at all, but in the two minutes before bed it becomes almost real. That's why there are night lights.

From time to time, on her trips through her children's minds, Mrs. Darling found things she couldn't understand, the most confusing of which was the word Peter. I didn't know Peter, but he was on John and Michael's minds here and there as Wendy began doodling with him. The name stood out in bolder letters than any of the other words, and when Mrs. Darling looked at him, thought he had an oddly arrogant air about him.

"Yes, he is very arrogant," Wendy admitted sadly. Her mother questioned her.

'But who is he, my pet?'

'He's Peter Pan, you know, Mom.'

At first, Mrs. Darling didn't know, but after thinking back to her childhood, all she remembered was a Peter Pan who was said to live with fairies. There were strange stories about him; When the children died, he walked them part of the way so they wouldn't be afraid. She'd believed him then, but now that she was married and full of sense, she seriously doubted that such a person existed.

"Besides," he said to Wendy, "he must have grown up by now."

"Oh no, he's not an adult," Wendy assured him confidently, "and he's exactly my size." That meant he was her size mentally and physically; She didn't know how she knew, she just knew.

Mrs. Darling consulted Mr. Darling, but he smiled. 'Note my words,' said he, 'this is nonsense Nana has put into their heads; exactly the kind of idea a dog would have. Leave it alone and it will disappear.

But it wasn't going to happen; and soon the troubled boy gave Mrs. Darling.

Children experience the strangest adventures undisturbed. For example, they might remember to mention a week after the event that they met and played with their dead father while in the woods. It was in this casual manner that Wendy made a disturbing revelation one morning. Some leaves from a tree were found on the floor of the children's room, which were certainly not there when the children went to bed, and Mrs. Darling was thinking about them when Wendy said with an indulgent smile:

I think it's that Peter again!

what does wendy mean

"It's so bad of you not to get clean," Wendy said with a sigh. She was a nice girl.

She explained matter-of-factly that she thought Peter would sometimes come into the room at night, sit at the foot of the bed and play his flute. Unfortunately he never woke up so he didn't know how he knew, he just knew.

"What nonsense you are saying, dear. No one can enter the house without knocking.

"I think it's coming in through the window," he said.

"My dear, it's three floors up."

"Weren't the leaves on the window, Mom?"

It was okay; the leaves were found very close to the window.

Mrs. Darling didn't know what to think because it all seemed so natural to Wendy that it couldn't be dismissed as a dream.

"My son," cried the mother, "why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"I forgot," Wendy said lightly. He was in a hurry to get his breakfast.

Oh, of course she must have dreamed.

But then again, there were the leaves. Mrs. Darling examined her carefully; they were skeletal leaves, but she was sure they weren't from any tree that grew in England. He crawled along the ground, watching with a candle for someone's footprints. He pulled the poker down the chimney and slammed it into the walls. He dropped a piece of duct tape from the window onto the sidewalk, and it was a ten-meter drop without even a ravine to climb.

Surely Wendy had dreamed.

But Wendy had not dreamed, as the following night proved, the night when these children's extraordinary adventures may be said to have begun.

On the night we're talking about, all the kids were back in bed. It was Nana's afternoon off, and Mrs. Darling had bathed her and sung her until one by one they let go of her hand and slipped into the land of sleep.

They all seemed so safe and welcoming that now she would smile at her fears and sit quietly by the fire to sew.

It was something for Michael to wear t-shirts on his birthday. The fire was hot, however, and the nursery was dimly lit by three lamps, and soon the sewing was in Mrs. Darling. Then her head nodded oh so gracefully. She was sleeping. Look at those four, Wendy and Michael over there, John here and Mrs. Darling near the fire. There must be a fourth light at night.

While sleeping, he had a dream. He dreamed that Neverland had come too close and that a strange boy had invaded. It didn't worry her because she thought she'd seen it on the faces of many childless women before. Perhaps you can find it on the faces of some mothers. But in his dream he had rented the movie that darkens Neverland and saw Wendy, John and Michael peering through the hole.

The dream itself would have been a trifle, but while she was dreaming the nursery window opened and a child fell to the floor. He was accompanied by a strange light, no bigger than a fist, moving through space like a living thing; and I think it must have been that light that woke Mrs. Darling.

She got up with a scream and saw the boy, and somehow she knew right away that it was Peter Pan. If you or I or Wendy had been there, we would have seen that it looked a lot like Mrs. Darling. He was a pretty boy, dressed in skeletal leaves and the saps that flow from trees; But the most fascinating thing about him was that he had all of his first teeth. When she saw that she was all grown up, she squeaked her beads.


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Mrs. Darling screamed, the door opened and Nana walked in, returning from her night. She snarled and lunged at the boy, who lightly jumped out the window. Again Mrs. Darling screamed, this time in fear for him, as she thought he had been killed, and ran into the street to look for his little body, but he was not there; and he looked up, and in the dark night he could see nothing but what he thought was a shooting star.

He went back to the nursery and found Nana with what was the boy's shadow in her mouth. Jumping to the window, Nana quickly closed it, too late to get it, but her shadow didn't have time to get out; He hit the window and broke it.

You can be sure that Ms. Darling examined the shadow carefully, but it was the normal kind.

Nana didn't know what to make of that shadow better. He hung it in the window, meaning, 'He will surely come back for you; Let's put it where you can easily get it without disturbing the kids.

But unfortunately, Mrs. Darling couldn't leave it hanging from the window; it felt a lot like dirty laundry and muffled the whole house. She thought of showing Mr. Darling, but he charged John and Michael winter coats, with a wet towel round his head to keep his brain clear, and it seemed a pity to disturb him; Besides, she knew exactly what he was going to say: "Everything comes from having a dog as a nurse."

She decided to roll up the shadow and carefully put it away in a drawer until the right opportunity arose to tell her husband. Oh me!

The opportunity arose a week later, on that unforgettable Friday. Of course it was a Friday.

"I should have been more careful on a Friday," she later told her husband, while maybe Nana was sitting on the other side, holding her hand.

'No, no,' used to say Mr. Darling, 'I am responsible for everything. I, George Darling, did it.Things Debt, eraHe had a classical education.

So they sat, night after night, reminiscing about that fateful Friday until every detail was seared into their brains and crossed over like the sides of a bad coin.

"If only I hadn't accepted the invitation to dinner on the 27th," said Mrs. Darling.

"If only I hadn't spilled my medicine in Nana's bowl," said Mr. Darling.

"If only I had pretended to like medicine," Nana's moist eyes said.

"I like parties, George.

My deadly gift of humor, my dear.

"My susceptibility to nonsense, gentlemen."

Then one or more of them would break completely; Nana thinks: 'It's true, it's true, they shouldn't have a dog like she loves.' It was often Mr. Darling who put the handkerchief over Nana's eyes.

'That demon!' Mr. Darling cried and Nana's barks echoed, but Mrs. Darling never scolded Peter; something in the right corner of her mouth wished he wouldn't offend Peter.

They would sit in the empty room lovingly remembering every detail of that horrible night. It had begun as quietly, as precisely as a hundred other nights, when Nana had poured Michael bath water and carried him on her back.

"I'm not going to bed," he'd screamed as if he still thought he had the last word, "I'm not going, I'm not going. Nana, it's not six yet. Oh, oh, oh, I'm not going to love you anymore, Nana. saying I won't shower, I won't, I won't!

Then Mrs. Darling stepped into her white evening gown. She had dressed early because Wendy liked to see her in her evening gown, with the necklace George had given her. She had Wendy's bracelet on her arm; she had borrowed. Wendy loved to lend her mother her bracelet.

He watched his two oldest children at Wendy's birth, playing at being themselves and being a father, and John said:

"I am pleased to inform you, Mrs. Darling, that you are now a mother," in a tone Mr. Darling may have used it on the actual occasion.

Wendy had danced with joy, just like the real Mrs. Darling should have done.

Then John was born, with the added pageantry of having a boy, and Michael came out of the bathroom to ask to be born too, but John brutally said he didn't want any more.

Michael almost cried. "Nobody likes me," she said, and of course the lady in the evening gown couldn't stand it.

"Yes," she said, "I want a third child so bad."

'Boy or girl?' Michael asked not very hopefully.


Then he jumped into her arms. Something so small that Mr. and Mrs. Darling and Nana must remember now, but not so little if this is Michael's last night of kindergarten.

They continue with their memories.

"I came in there like a tornado, didn't I?" said Herr Darling, mocking himself; and indeed it was like a tornado.

Maybe there was an excuse for him. He had dressed for the party too, and everything had gone well except for the tie. It's amazing to say this, but this man, while knowledgeable about stocks and securities, really didn't know what to do. Sometimes the matter went uncontested, but sometimes it would have been better for the house if he had swallowed his pride and worn a painted tie.

This was one of those occasions. She ran into the nursery, clutching her crumpled tie.

"What is it, dear father?"

'Import!' the Scream; he actually screamed. 'This tie doesn't tie.' He became dangerously sarcastic. Not on my neck! Around the head of the bed! Oh yes, twenty times I came around the headboard, but around my neck, no! Oh no! Ask me to excuse you!

Realizing that Mrs. Darling wasn't impressed enough, he continued grimly, "I'm warning you, Mom, if I don't have this tie around my neck, we won't be going out to dinner tonight, and if I do... ." I go out to dinner tonight, I'll never go to the office again, and if I don't go to the office, you and I will starve to death and our children will be thrown out into the street.

Even so, Mrs. Darling remained unfazed. "Let me try, my love," she said, and indeed he came to ask her; and with her beautiful cool hands she tied his tie as the children stood to see their fate decided. Some men would resent her being able to do this so easily, but Mr. Darling was too good a creature for that; he casually thanked her, immediately forgot his anger, and the next moment he was dancing across the room with Michael on his back.

How madly we play! says Mrs. Darling now and remember.

'Our last prank!' Mr. Darling groaned.

"Oh, George, do you remember how Michael suddenly said to me, 'How did you know me, Mom?'

'I remember!'

They were very cute, don't you think, George?

And they were ours, ours, and now they're gone.

The prank ended with the appearance of Nana and, unfortunately, Mr. Darling bumped into her and covered her pants with hair. They weren't just new pants, they were the first ones she'd ever worn with braids, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying. Of course Mrs. Darling ignored him, but he started talking again about the mistake of having a dog as a nurse.

"George, Nana is a sweetheart."

Absolutely, but sometimes I get the unsettling feeling that she sees children as puppies.

Oh no, my love, I'm sure you know they have souls.

“I wonder,” said Mr. Darling thoughtful, “I wonder. His wife took the opportunity to tell him about the child. He scoffed at the story at first, but grew thoughtful when she showed him the shadow.

"He's nobody I know," she said, eyeing him closely, "but he looks like a villain."

“We were talking about it, you remember,” says Mr. Darling, “when Nana came in with Michael's medicine. You'll never have that bottle in your mouth again, Nana, and it's all my fault.

Though he was a strong man, he had undoubtedly acted rather foolishly with medicine. If he had a weakness, it was because he believed he had bravely taken medicine all his life; and now, when Michael took the spoon from Nana's mouth, he said reproachfully, "Be a man, Michael."

'Not; I won't,” Michael yelled maliciously. Mrs. Darling left the room to buy himself a chocolate, and Mr. Darling thought that showed a lack of firmness.

"Mom, don't baby him," he yelled at her. “Michael, when I was your age, I took medicine without complaint. I said, "Thank you, dear parents, for giving me bottles to make me feel better."

He really believed it, and Wendy, now in her nightgown, believed it too, saying to cheer Michael up, "That medicine you take sometimes, Dad, it's a lot worse, isn't it?"

"Better and stranger," said Mr. Darling boldly, "and I would take that as an example to you, Michael, if I hadn't lost the bottle."

He hadn't exactly lost; he had climbed into the closet in the middle of the night and hidden it there. What he didn't know was that the faithful Liza had found it and put it back in the sink.

"I know where it is, Dad," Wendy called, always happy to help. "I'll get it," and she was gone before he could stop her. Immediately her mood sank in the strangest way.

'John', she said with a shudder, 'it's the most disgusting thing. It's a disgusting, gooey, fluffy thing.

"It'll be over soon, Father," said John cheerfully, and then Wendy came in with the medicine in a pitcher.

"I went as fast as I could," he gasped.

"You were wonderfully quick," her father replied with a vindictive courtesy she missed. "Michael first," she said stubbornly.

"Father first," said Michael, who was naturally suspicious.

"I'm getting sick, you know," said Mr. Darling menacingly.

"Come on, dad," said John.

"Cut out the tongue, John," the father typed.

Wendy was quite confused. "I thought you were taking it easy, dad.

"It's not about that," he replied. Problem is, there's more in my cup than Michael's spoon. His proud heart threatened to burst. And it's not fair; I would even say with my last breath; that's not fair.

"Dad, I'm waiting," Michael said coldly.

It's nice to say you're waiting; I'm waiting too.

'Daddy is a cowardly cake.'

"So you're a pudding coward."

I'm not afraid.

I'm not afraid either.

"Well, take it then."

"Well then get it yourself."

Wendy had a great idea. "Why don't you two take it at the same time?"

"Of course," said Mr. Darling. are you ready michael

Wendy said the words one, two, three and Michael reached for his medicine, but Mr. Darling tucked it into her back.

There was an angry scream from Michael and 'Oh dad!' yelled Wendy.

'What do you mean by 'Oh dad'? asked Mr. Darling. “Stop fighting, Michael. I was going to get mine, but... I lost it.

The way the three looked at him was horrible, as if they didn't admire him. "Look everyone," he said pleadingly as Nana entered the bathroom, "I just thought of a wonderful joke. I'm going to put my medicine in Nana's bowl and she's going to drink it thinking it's milk!

It was the color of milk; but the children didn't have their father's sense of humor and looked at him reproachfully as he poured the medicine into Nana's bowl. "How fun," he said doubtfully, and they didn't dare reveal it when Mrs. Darling and Nana are back.

"Grandma, good bitch," he said, petting her, "I put some milk in your bowl, Granny."

Nana wagged her tail, ran to the medicine and started licking it. So she gave Mr. Darling that look, not a look: she showed him that big red teardrop we are so sorry for noble hounds about, and she went into his kennel.

Mr. Darling was terribly embarrassed, but he didn't budge. In awful silence, Mrs. Darling sniffed the bowl. "Oh, George," said he, "this is your medicine!"

"I was just kidding," he yelled as she comforted her children and hugged Wendy Nana. "Very good," he said bitterly, "that you brought me down trying to be funny in this house.

And still Wendy hugged Nana. "That's right," she exclaimed. 'My mistake! Nobody spoils me. Oh no! I'm just a breadwinner, why should I be spoiled, why, why, why?

'George,' implored Mrs. Darling, „it is not so high; The servants will listen to you. Somehow they were prevented from calling Liza a servant.

"Leave her," he replied hastily. "Bring them all with you. But I refuse to let that dog rule my nursery another hour.

The children were crying and Nana ran to him begging, but he waved at her. I felt like a strong man again. "In vain, in vain," he cried; "the right place for you is the terrace, and you will be tied up immediately."

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

Unfortunately he didn't want to listen. He was determined to show who owned this house and when he couldn't get Nana out of the kennel he lured her with sweet words, grabbed her roughly and dragged her out of the nursery. He was embarrassed, and yet he did it. It was all because of her overly loving nature which demanded admiration. After tying her up in the yard, the unfortunate father went outside and sat in the hall, ankles over his eyes.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Darling put the children to bed in unusual silence and turned on the night lights. They could hear Nana barking, and John whimpered, "That's because he chains her in the backyard," but Wendy knew better.

"That's not Nana's unhappy bark," he said, not knowing what was about to happen; This is how he barks when he senses danger.


are you sure wendy

'Oh me.'

Mrs. Darling shuddered and went to the window. He was well connected. He looked out and the night was speckled with stars. They crowded around the house as if they were curious to know what was going to happen there, but she didn't notice, not one or two of the smaller ones blinked at her. But a nameless fear seized her heart and made her cry out, "Oh, how I wish I hadn't gone to a party tonight!"

Even Michael, who was already half asleep, knew she was distraught and asked, "Can anything hurt us mom after the night lights come on?"

"Nothing, dear," she said; "These are the eyes a mother leaves to protect her children."

She went from bed to bed singing incantations to them and little Michael held her. “Mother,” she exclaimed, “I am happy for you.” Those were the last words I heard from him for a long time.

Chapter 11: Peter Pan and Wendy (J.M. Barrie) - Santa's Christmas Library: Over 400 Christmas Novels, Stories, Poems, Carols and Legends (Illustrated Edition): The Gift of the Wizards, A Christmas Carol, Silent Night, The Three Wise Men , Little Lord Fauntleroy, The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, The Heavenly Christmas Tree, Little Women, The Tale of Peter Rabbit... (1)

Number 27 was only a few meters away, but a light snow had fallen and dear Mum and Dad worked deftly to avoid getting their shoes dirty. They were already the only people on the street and all the stars were looking at them. Stars are beautiful, but they can't actively participate in anything, they just have to watch forever. It's a punishment inflicted on them for something they did so long ago that no star knows what it was. Thus, the older ones became glazed and rarely speak (blinking is the language of the stars), but the little ones still wonder. They are not very friendly with Peter, who has a mischievous way of sneaking up behind them and trying to silence them; but they like the fun so much that tonight they sided with him and went out to get the adults out of the way. So when the door to 27 closed on Mr. and Mrs. Darling, there was a commotion in the firmament, and the smallest of all the stars in the Milky Way cried out:

"Well Peter!"


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After mr. and Mrs. but Wendy's light flickered and she yawned so hard that the other two yawned too, and before they could close their mouths, all three were out.

There was a different light in the room now, a thousand times brighter than the bulbs, and in the time it took us to tell you, it was in every drawer in the room, looking for Peter's shadow, rummaging in the closet and He went through every pocket. It wasn't really a light; he made this light flashing so fast but when he stopped for a second you could see it was a fairy no bigger than his hand but still growing. It was a girl named Tinker Bell, elegantly dressed in a low-cut square skeleton shawl through which her figure was best seen. she tended to

A moment after the fairy entered, the window was flung open by the puff of sparklers, and Peter fell. She had carried Tink part of the way and her hand was still covered in fairy dust.

“Tinkerbell,” she called softly after making sure the children were asleep, “Tinkerbell, where are you?” It was in a jar at the time and he liked it immensely; She had never been in a jar before.

"Oh, come out of the jar and tell me, do you know where they put my shadow?"

The most beautiful ringing, like golden bells, answered him. It is the language of fairies. You ordinary children will never be able to hear it, but if you could, you'd know you've heard it before.

Tink said the shadow was in the big box. He meant the chest of drawers, and Peter jumped into the drawers and spilled their contents onto the floor with both hands, like kings tossing coins into a crowd. In a moment he had his shadow back and in his joy he forgot that he had locked Tink in the drawer.

If he thought of anything, but I don't think he ever thought of it, it was that if he and his shadow came together, they would come together like drops of water; and when they did not, he was horrified. He tried sticking with bathroom soap, but that didn't work either. Peter shuddered, sat on the floor and cried.

Her sobs woke Wendy up and she sat up in bed. She wasn't alarmed to see a stranger crying on the nursery floor; she was just pleasantly interested.

"Boy," she said politely, "why are you crying?"

Peter could also be extremely polite, for he had learned the ways of fairy ceremonies, and he rose and bowed to her with great beauty. She was overjoyed and bowed beautifully to him from the bed.

'What is your name?' I ask.

"Wendy Moira Angela Darling," she replied with some satisfaction. 'What's her name?'

'Peter Pan'.

She was already sure it was Peter, but it seemed like a comparatively short name.

'That is all?'

"Yes," he said abruptly. He felt for the first time that it was a short name.

"I'm sorry," Wendy said to Moira Angela.

"It doesn't matter," Peter swallowed.

She asked where he lived.

"Second on the right," said Peter, "and then straight until morning."

What a fun drive!

Peter had a robbery. For the first time he felt that maybe it was a strange direction.

"No, it's not," he said.

"I mean," Wendy said gently, remembering that she was the hostess, "did you put that on the cards?"

He wished she hadn't mentioned the letters.

"I don't get any letters," he said dismissively.

"But does your mother get letters?"

"I don't have a mother," he said. Not only was she motherless, she didn't want to have one either. He saw them as grossly overrated people. However, Wendy immediately felt that she was dealing with tragedy.

"Oh, Peter, no wonder you cried," she said, getting out of bed and running to him.

"I didn't cry for the mothers," he said, rather indignantly. "I cried because I can't stop my shadow. Besides, I didn't cry.

It went out?


Then Wendy saw the shadow on the floor, looking so unkempt, and felt very sorry for Peter. 'Terrible!' she said, but couldn't help but smile when she saw that he had tried to soap him up. How exactly like a child!

Fortunately, he immediately knew what to do. "Needs stitches," he said, a little condescendingly.

"What is sewn?" I ask.

You are terribly ignorant.

'No, I'm not.'

But she reveled in her ignorance. "I'll sew for you, little man," she said, though he was as tall as she was; and she brought her housewife and sewed the shadow to Peter's foot.

"I dare say it's going to hurt a little," he warned her.

"Oh, I'm not going to cry," said Peter, who already thought he'd never cried in his life. And he clenched his teeth and did not cry; and soon his shadow behaved well, though still a little wrinkled.

"Maybe I should have ironed it," said Wendy thoughtfully; but Peter, as a child, was indifferent to appearances, and now played with the wildest joy. Unfortunately, he had already forgotten that he owed his happiness to Wendy. He thought he put the shadow on himself. "How clever I am!" he exulted in ecstasy, "Oh, how clever I am!"

It's humbling to admit that this conceit about Peter was one of his most intriguing qualities. To be blunt, there has never been a more arrogant guy.

But for now, Wendy was surprised. -Pretentious! she exclaimed with vile sarcasm. 'Of course I didn't do anything!'

"You did quite a bit," Peter said carelessly and continued to dance.

'A little!' she answered haughtily; 'if not useful, at least I can retire'; and he jumped into bed in the most dignified manner and pulled the covers over his face.

He pretended to walk over to look at her, and when that didn't work, he sat on the edge of the bed and tapped his foot. "Wendy," he said, "don't go away. I can't help boasting, Wendy, when I'm happy with myself. Still, he didn't look up, though he listened impatiently. "Wendy," she continued in a low voice. that no woman could resist, "Wendy, one girl is more useful than twenty boys."

Now Wendy was a woman through and through, if not by inches, and she was peeking out from between the sheets.

"Do you really think so, Peter?"


"I think that's very kind of you," he declared, "and I'll get up again"; and sat down with him on the edge of the bed. He also said he would kiss her if he wanted to, but Peter didn't know what he meant and held out his hand expectantly.

I'm sure you know what a kiss is. she asked in horror.

"I'll know when you give it to me," she replied coldly; and in order not to hurt his feelings, she gave him a thimble.

“Well,” he said, “do you want me to kiss you?” and she replied with a touch of politeness, "Please." She made a rather cheap gesture of tilting her face toward him, but he just dropped a glans pin. in her hand; then she slowly turned her face back to where she was before and gently said she would wear his kiss on the chain around her neck. He was lucky that I put him on this chain, because later on it was supposed to save her life.

When people are introduced to our group, it's common for them to ask each other's ages, so Wendy, always happy to do the right thing, asked Peter how old he was. It really wasn't a happy question to ask him; It was like an exam asking about grammar when you want to be asked about the kings of England.

“I don't know,” she replied uneasily, “but I'm too young.” I didn't really know anything about it; she was just suspicious, but casually said, 'Wendy, I ran away the day I was born.'

Wendy was quite surprised but interested; and in her charming salon style, touching her nightgown, she signaled that he might sit closer to her.

“Because I heard my father and mother talk about it,” he explained softly, “what I would be like when I grew up.” He was extremely excited now. "I never want to be a man," he said passionately. “I always want to be a little boy and have fun. So I ran to Kensington Gardens and lived among the fairies for a long time.

She gave him an extremely admiring look and he thought it was because she had run away, but it was actually because she knew fairies. Wendy had lived such a comfortable life that meeting fairies seemed like a pleasure to her. She asked a lot of questions about it, much to her surprise, because they bothered him a lot, got in her way and whatnot, and he really had to hide them sometimes. Despite this, he liked her in general and told her about the beginnings of fairies.

"You know, Wendy, when the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces and everyone jumped, and that was the beginning of fairies."

It was a boring conversation, but since he was at home, he liked it.

"And so," he continued good-naturedly, "there should be a fairy for every boy and girl."

'Should be? It's not like this?

'Not. You see, children know so much now that they soon stop believing in fairies, and every time a child says, "I don't believe in fairies," there's a fairy somewhere that drops dead.

Seriously, she thought they had talked enough about fairies and she noticed that Tinker Bell was very quiet. "I don't know where he went," he said, standing up and calling Tink's name. Wendy's heart raced with sudden excitement.

"Peter," she cried and hugged him, "you don't want to tell me there's a fairy in this room!"

"She was just here," he said a little impatiently. You don't hear them, do you? and they both heard.

"The only sound I hear," said Wendy, "is like the tolling of a bell."

"Well, that's Tink, that's fairy talk. I think I hear it too.

The noise came from the dresser and Peter made a happy face. Nobody looked as happy as Peter, and the coolest laugh was his laugh. He was still having his first laugh.

"Wendy," she whispered happily, "I think I locked her in the drawer!"

He released poor Tink from the drawer and she flew across the nursery screaming in rage. "You shouldn't say those things," replied Peter. Of course I'm sorry, but how was I supposed to know you were in the drawer?

Wendy wasn't listening. "Oh, Peter!" she exclaimed, "if you would just stand still and let me see you!"

"They hardly ever stand still," he said, but for a moment Wendy saw the romantic figure light up in the cuckoo clock. 'Oh, the charmer!' she screamed, though Tink's face was still twisted with passion.

“Tinker Bell,” said Peter gently, “this lady says she would like you to be her fairy.

Tinker Bell reacted impertinently.

What is she saying, Peter?

had to translate. She is not very polite. She says that you are a very ugly girl and that she is my fairy.

He tried to argue with Tink. "You know you can't be my fairy, Tink, because I'm a gentleman and you're a lady."

Tink responded with these words: "You idiot" and disappeared into the bathroom. "She's just an ordinary fairy," Peter explained apologetically; "She's called Tinkerbell because she fixes pots and pans."

They were sitting together on the couch at the time and Wendy peppered him with more questions.

Now, if you don't live in Kensington Gardens...

Sometimes I still do.

'But where do you live most of the time now?'

With the lost children

'Who are you?'

“It's the kids who fall out of the pram when the nurse looks away. If they are not picked up within seven days, they will be shipped to Neverland to cover costs. i am the captain

How much fun must be!

"Yes," said smart Peter, "but we are alone." Look, we don't have any female company.

'Are none of the others girls?'

'Oh no; Girls, you know, they're too smart to fall out of their cars.

This flattered Wendy immensely. 'I think,' he said, 'it's perfectly charming the way you talk about girls; John just despises us.

In response, Peter got up and kicked John off the bed, blankets and all; a kick That struck Wendy as rather risque for a first date, and she told him he wasn't the captain of her house. However, John continued to sleep so soundly on the floor that she allowed him to stay there. "And I know you wanted to be nice," she said more softly, "so you could kiss me."

For a moment, he had forgotten his ignorance about kissing. "I thought you'd want it back," he said a little bitterly, offering to return the thimble.

"Oh dear," said kind Wendy, "I don't mean a kiss, I mean a thimble."

'What is that?'

"And so." she kissed him.

'Fun!' Peter said seriously. "Shall I give you a thimble now?"

"If you want," Wendy said, lifting her head this time.

Peter grabbed her thimble and almost immediately she screamed. "What's the matter, Wendy?"

It was exactly like someone pulling my hair.

“It must have been Tink. I've never seen her so bold.

And sure enough, Tink was walking around again using nasty language.

"He says he'll do that to you, Wendy, every time he gives you a thimble."

'But why?'

why think?

Again, Tink replied, "You're an idiot." Peter couldn't understand why, but Wendy did; and she was a little disappointed when he admitted that he hadn't gone to her bedroom window to see her, but to hear stories.

Look, I don't know any stories. None of the Lost Boys have stories.

"How terrible," Wendy said.

“Do you know,” asked Peter, “why do swallows build on the eaves of houses? It's listening to the stories. Oh Wendy, your mother told you such a beautiful story.

"What was that story?"

“About the prince who couldn't find the lady with the glass slipper.

"Peter," Wendy said excitedly, "that was Cinderella, he found her and they lived happily ever after."

Pedro was so happy that he got up from the floor where they were sitting and ran to the window. 'Where are you going?' she called out suspiciously.

“To tell the other boys.

"Don't go, Peter," she pleaded, "I know a lot of stories.

Those were her exact words, so there's no denying that she was the one who tried him first.

He turned away, and now there was a longing in his eyes that should have worried her, but it didn't.

'Oh, the stories I could tell the boys!' she screamed, and then Peter grabbed her and started leading her to the window.

'Let me go!' she ordered him.

"Wendy, come and tell the other boys."

Of course she was very happy that we asked, but she said, 'Oh my God, I can't. Think of Mom! Also, I can't fly.

'I will teach.'

'Oh, how good it is to fly.'

'I'll teach you to jump on the back of the wind and we'll go away.'

'Oh!' he exclaimed excitedly.

"Wendy, Wendy, if you sleep in your stupid bed, you could fly with me and say funny things to the stars."


And, Wendy, there are mermaids.

"Mermaids! With a tail?

'So long tails.'

"Oh," exclaimed Wendy, "to see a mermaid!"

He had become terribly intelligent. "Wendy," he said, "as we all must respect her."

She twisted her body in fear. It was like trying to keep your feet on the ground in nursery school.

But he had no mercy on her.

"Wendy," Smart said, "could you accommodate us for the night."


None of us were covered at night.

"Oo," and her arms reached for him.

And you could mend our clothes and make bags for us. None of us have bags.

How could he resist? Of course it is terribly fascinating! She cried. "Peter, would you teach John and Michael to fly too?"

"If you want," he said indifferently; and ran to John and Michael and shook them. "Wake up," he shouted, "Peter Pan has come and will teach us how to fly."

John rubbed his eyes. "Then I'll get up," he said. Of course he was already on the ground. "Hello," he said, "I'm awake!"

Michael was on his feet by then, too, looking as sharp as a six-edged knife and saw, but Peter suddenly wanted to say hush. His faces took on the terrible crookedness of children listening to the sounds of the adult world. Everything was quiet as salt. So it was ok. Do not stop! Everything was wrong. Nana, who had been barking in agony all night, was calm now. It was her silence they heard.

Light off! Hide! Fast!' exclaimed John, taking command for the only time in the entire adventure. When Liza walked in with Nana, the children's room looked the same as before, very dark; and you could have sworn you heard your three evil interns breathing angelically in your sleep. They did it very cleverly behind the window blinds.

Liza was in a bad mood because she was in the kitchen preparing the Christmas desserts and dodged Nana's absurd distrust with a raisin on her cheek. She figured the best way to settle down a bit would be to put Nana in the nursery for a while, but in custody, of course.

“There you are, you suspicious brute,” she said, not regretting Nana's disgrace, “they're perfectly safe, aren't they?” Each of the little angels appears to be sleeping on the bed. Listen to your smooth breathing.

Here Michael, spurred on by his success, was breathing so heavily that they were almost seen. Nana knew that way of breathing and tried to pull away from Liza.

But Liza was tight. "Not anymore, Nana," he said grimly, leading her out of the room. I'm warning you, if you bark again, I'll go straight to Master and Mistress and take them home after the party, and then, oh, Master won't just hit you.

He tied the unfortunate dog back up, but do you think Nana stopped barking? Bring the master and lady home from the party! Wow, this was exactly what she wanted. Do you think she minded being flogged while her charges were safe? Unfortunately, Liza went back to her puddings and Nana, seeing that no help was coming from her, pulled and pulled on the chain until it finally broke. On another occasion, he invaded the dining room of 27 and raised his paws to the sky, his most expressive form of communication. Mr. and Mrs. Darling knew immediately that something terrible was happening in her nursery, and without saying goodbye to the hostess, they ran out into the street.

But three scoundrels had not breathed behind curtains for ten minutes; and Peter Pan can do a lot in ten minutes.

Now let's go back to the children's room.

"Okay," John announced, coming out of hiding. "I mean, Peter, can you really fly?"

Instead of bothering to respond, Peter flew across the room, taking the fireplace with him.

'How well!' said John and Michael.

'How sweet!' Wendy screamed.

'Yes, I'm cute, oh I'm cute!' said Peter, forgetting his manners again.

It looked deliciously easy, and they tried first on the floor and then on the beds, but they always went down instead of up.

"I say how do you do it?" asked John, rubbing his knee. He was a very practical boy.

"You just have wonderful, beautiful thoughts," Peter explained, "and they carry you through the air."

He showed them again.

"You're so fast there," said John; Couldn't you just do it real slow?

Peter did it slowly and quickly. 'Copy this, Wendy!' exclaimed John, but soon discovered that he had not. None of them could fly an inch, though even Michael spoke two syllables and Peter couldn't tell A from Z.

Of course Peter joked about this, because no one can fly unless they've been sprinkled with elf dust. Fortunately, as already mentioned, one of his hands got dirty from it and he blew a little on each one, with the most excellent results.

"Now just move your shoulders like this," he said, "and let go."

They were all lying in their beds, and brave Michael let them go first. He didn't mean to let it go, but he did and was immediately ushered across the room.

'I flew!' he shouted while still in the air.

John broke free and joined Wendy near the bathroom.

'Oh legal!'

'Oh, tears!'

'Look at me!'

'Look at me!'

'Look at me!'

They weren't as elegant as Peter, they couldn't help but kick a little, but their heads bogged against the ceiling, and there's almost nothing quite as yummy as that. Peter helped Wendy at first, but had to pull away, being so indignant Tinkerbell.

They went up and down and around and around. Heavenly was Wendy's word.

"I say," exclaimed John, "why shouldn't we all leave?"

Of course, Peter had lured her into this.

Michael was ready: he wanted to see how long it would take to cover a billion miles. But Wendy hesitated.

"Mermaids!" Peter repeated.


And there are pirates.

"Pirates," shouted John, grabbing his Sunday hat, "let's go this instant."

At that moment, Mr. and Mrs. Darling ran out with Nana from 27. They ran into the middle of the street to look out the nursery window; and yes, it was still closed, but the room was well lit, and the most touching thing was that in the shadow of the curtain they saw three small figures in evening gowns, twirling not on the floor, but on the floor. Air.

Not three digits, four!

Trembling, they opened the door to the street. Mr. Darling would have run upstairs, but Mrs. Darling motioned for him to climb carefully. He even tried to make his heart beat quieter.

Can they make it to kindergarten on time? If so, what a treat for them, and we'll all breathe a sigh of relief, but there will be no story. On the other hand, if they don't arrive on time, I solemnly promise that everything will work out in the end.

They would have made it to the nursery in time if they hadn't been watched by the sparklers. Again the stars opened the window and the smallest star shouted:

"Cave, Peter!"

Peter knew then that he didn't have a moment to waste. "Come on," he called authoritatively and burst into the night, followed by John, Michael and Wendy.

Mr. and Mrs. Darling and Nana entered the nursery late. The birds flew.

Chapter 11: Peter Pan and Wendy (J.M. Barrie) - Santa's Christmas Library: Over 400 Christmas Novels, Stories, Poems, Carols and Legends (Illustrated Edition): The Gift of the Wizards, A Christmas Carol, Silent Night, The Three Wise Men , Little Lord Fauntleroy, The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, The Heavenly Christmas Tree, Little Women, The Tale of Peter Rabbit... (2)


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Second right and straight ahead until morning.

This, Peter told Wendy, was the way to Neverland; but even the birds that carry maps and consult them in windy corners could not have seen him with those instructions. Peter, you see, he just said whatever came to mind.

At first his companions trusted him implicitly, and such was the joy of flying that they wasted their time circling church steeples or any other tall object they could think of.

John and Michael ran, Michael started.

They remembered with scorn that not so long ago they were considered good guys because they could fly across the room.

Not long ago. But how long? They flew over the sea before the thought began to seriously bother Wendy. John thought it was his second sea and his third night.

Sometimes it was dark and sometimes light, and now it was too cold for them and too hot again. Were they really hungry sometimes, or were they just faking it because Peter had a fun new way of feeding them? His way was to hunt down birds that had human food in their mouths and snatch them away; then the birds followed him and took him away; and all happily pursued one another for miles, and finally parted with mutual expressions of goodwill. But Wendy noted with slight concern that Peter didn't seem to know that this was a rather strange way to get bread and butter, or that there were other ways.

They certainly weren't pretending to be sleepy, they were sleepy; and that was dangerous, because the moment they jumped, they fell. The terrible thing is that Peter thought it was funny.

'There he goes again!' I cried with joy when Michael suddenly dropped like a stone.

Save it, save it! exclaimed Wendy, looking in horror at the cruel sea below. Eventually, Peter would throw himself into the air and catch Michael before he could reach the sea, and it was beautiful how he did it; but he always waited until the last moment, and you could feel that it was his ruse that interested him, not the saving of lives. He also liked variety, and the sport that once fascinated him had suddenly lost its grip on him, so there was always a chance that the next time you fell, he'd let you go.

He could sleep in the air without falling over, just lying on his back and hovering, but that was at least in part because he was so light that if you stood behind him and blew on him, he would fly faster.

"Be more polite to him," Wendy whispered to John as they played "Follow My Leader".

"Then tell him to stop showing off," said John.

As "Follow My Leader" played, Peter would fly close to the water and touch each shark's tail as he passed, as if running his finger over an iron railing in the street. They weren't able to follow him very successfully, so maybe it was like showing off, especially as he kept looking back to see how many sticks they'd lost.

"You have to be nice to him," Wendy taught her siblings. What could we do if he left us?

"We could go back," Michael said.

How could we find our way back without him?

"Well then, we can continue," said John.

That's the terrible thing, John. We would have to keep going because we don't know how to stop.

That was true; Peter forgot to show them how to stop.

John said that worst case scenario they would have to move on because the world is round and in time they would have to go back to their own window.

"And who will bring us food, John?"

"Actually, I got a little out of that eagle's mouth, Wendy.

"After the twentieth try," Wendy reminded him. "And while we get good at gathering food, watch us hit clouds and stuff when he's not around to help us."

In fact, they kept colliding. They could fly hard now, though they still kicked too much; but when they saw a cloud ahead, the more they tried to avoid it, the more certainly they ran into it. If Nana had been there, she would have bandaged Michael's forehead by now.

Peter wasn't with them at the moment and they felt very alone up there. He could walk much faster than they suddenly disappeared from sight on an adventure they weren't part of. He came down and laughed at something terribly funny he said to a star but he'd forgotten what it was, or he came out with mermaid scales still clinging to him but he wasn't sure. say what happened to him. It was quite irritating for kids who had never seen a mermaid before.

"And if he forgets her so quickly," objected Wendy, "how can we expect him to continue to remember us?"

In fact, sometimes when he came back, he didn't remember her, at least not very well. Wendy was sure. She saw approval in his eyes when she was about to pass the time and move on; once she even had to tell him her name.

"I'm Wendy," she said nervously.

He was very sorry. 'I mean, Wendy,' she whispered, 'when you see me, forget about yourself, always say, 'I'm Wendy,' and then I'll remember."

Of course, this was very unsatisfactory. To compensate, however, he showed them how to lie down with a strong wind blowing against them, and it was such a pleasant change that they tried it several times and found they could sleep safely that way. They should have slept more, but Peter quickly tired of sleep and would soon be shouting in his captain's voice, "We're getting out of here." So, with occasional but generally jovial spitting, they approached Neverland; for after many moons they got there, and besides, they were walking straight all the time, not so much from the guidance of Peter or Tink, but because the island was looking for them. This is the only way to see these magical shores.

"There you go," Peter said quietly.

'Wo wo?'

'Where all the arrows are pointing'.

Indeed, a million golden arrows pointed the children towards the island, all guided by their friend Sol, who wanted them to be sure of the way before letting them spend the night.

Chapter 11: Peter Pan and Wendy (J.M. Barrie) - Santa's Christmas Library: Over 400 Christmas Novels, Stories, Poems, Carols and Legends (Illustrated Edition): The Gift of the Wizards, A Christmas Carol, Silent Night, The Three Wise Men , Little Lord Fauntleroy, The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, The Heavenly Christmas Tree, Little Women, The Tale of Peter Rabbit... (3)

Wendy, John, and Michael rose on tiptoe to get their first look at the island. Interestingly, everyone immediately recognized him, and until fear overtook them, they greeted him not as something they had long dreamed of and finally saw, but as a trusted friend to come home to on vacation.

"John, there's the pond."

"Wendy, look at the turtles burying their eggs in the sand."

"Hey John, I see your flamingo with a broken leg.

Look, Michael, there's your cave.

"John, what is that in the bush?"

It's a wolf with her cubs. Wendy, I think this is your puppy.

"There's my ship, John, with the sides burned.

'No, it's not. Oops, we burned your boat.

At least she is. I mean, John, I see the smoke from the red camp.

'Where? Show me and I'll casually say when the smoke rises when they're on the warpath.

There, on the other side of the mysterious river.

"I can see that. Yes, they are very upset.

Peter was a little irritated that they knew so much; but if he wished to rule them, his triumph was at hand, for did I not tell you that after fear came upon them?

It came as the arrows flew, leaving the island in darkness.

Neverland used to start looking a little dark and menacing at home at bedtime. Then unexplored spots appeared and spread; black shadows moved within him; the roar of the predators was very different now and above all you lost the certainty that you were going to win. They were very happy that the night lights were on. They even liked that Nana said that this is just a fireplace and that Neverland is just a fantasy.

Of course, Neverland was a fantasy back then; but now it was real and there were no night lights and it was getting dark all the time and where was Nana?

They had moved away, but now they were huddled close to Peter. His carefree demeanor was gone forever, his eyes sparkling and every time they touched his body, a tingle ran through them. Now they were over the fearsome island, flying so low that sometimes a tree brushed against their feet. There was nothing hideous in the air, but their progress became slow and heavy, as if they were fighting enemy forces. Sometimes they hovered in the air until Peter hit them with his fists.

"They don't want us to land," he explained.

'Who are you?' whispered Wendy, shivering.

But he couldn't or wouldn't say it. Tinker Bell had been sleeping on her shoulder, but now she woke her up and sent her forward.

Sometimes he would sway in the air, listening with a hand forced to his ear, and again he would look down with eyes so bright they seemed to be digging two holes in the ground. After doing these things, he proceeded again.

His courage was almost frightening. "Do you want an adventure now," he said casually to John, "or would you like to have your tea first?"

Wendy said quickly, "Tea first," and Michael shook her hand gratefully, but brave John hesitated.

"What an adventure?" he asked cautiously.

"There's a pirate sleeping on the pampa just below us," said Peter. If you want, let's go down and kill him.

"I don't see that," said John after a long pause.


"Suppose," John said a little hoarsely, "he wakes up.

Peter spoke indignantly. You won't believe I would kill him in my sleep! I would wake him up first and then kill him. That's how I always do it.

'I say! Do you kill many?


John said "that's nice" but decided to have tea first. He asked if there were many pirates on the island at the time and Peter said he had never seen so many.

Who's the captain now?

"Hook," replied Peter. and his face became very serious when he said that hated word.

Yes. Hooks?


Then Michael started crying and even John could only drink because he knew Hook's reputation.

"He was Blackbeard's quartermaster," John whispered hoarsely. He's the worst. He is the only man Barbacoa was afraid of.

"It's him," said Peter.

'How is he? He's big?

It's not as big as it used to be.

'What do you mean?'

I cut it a little bit.


"Yes, I," Peter snapped.

I didn't mean to be disrespectful.

'Oh okay'

"But, I say, how little?"

Your right hand.

"So he can't fight now?"

'Oh, he just can't!'


He has an iron hook instead of his right hand and scratches with it.


"I say John," said Peter.


'Nein, 'Yes, yes sir'.

– Oh, oh, sir.

“There is one thing,” continued Peter, “that all boys who serve under me must promise me, and so must you.

John paled.

"That's it, if we find Hook in open combat, you'll have to leave it to me."

"I promise," John said loyally.

They looked less scary now because Tink was flying with them and they could be seen in their light. Unfortunately, he couldn't fly as slowly as they could, so he had to spin in a circle in which they moved like a halo. Wendy quite liked it until Peter pointed out the downside.

"She told me," he said, "that the pirates saw us before dark and killed Long Tom."

"A great weapon?"

'Yes. And of course they must see the light of it, and if they suspect that we are near it, they will certainly let it fly.




"Tell him to leave immediately, Peter," they all shouted at once, but he refused.

"She thinks we're lost," she replied coldly, "and she's very scared. You won't believe I would send her out alone when she's scared!

For a moment, the circle of light was broken and something gave Peter a small, loving pinch.

"Then tell him," pleaded Wendy, "to turn off the light."

You cannot turn it off. That's the one thing fairies can't do. It just disappears when she falls asleep, just like the stars.

"Then tell him to go to sleep immediately," John almost ordered.

He can't sleep unless he's tired. That's the one thing fairies can't do.

"Seems to me," John growled, "those are the only two things worth doing."

Here he nipped, but not affectionately.

"If any of us had a bag," said Peter, "we could carry it in it." However, they left in such a hurry that there was no bag between the four of them.

He had a happy idea. John's hat!

Tink agreed to travel with a hat if carried in hand. John took him, although she expected Peter to take her. Wendy then took the hat because John said he hit his knee while flying; and this, as we shall see, led to problems, as Tinker Bell hated having obligations to Wendy.

The light was completely hidden in the black topper and they flew silently. It was the quietest silence they had ever known, broken first by a distant noise, which Peter said was wild animals drinking at the ford, and then again by a rasping sound that might have been the scraping of branches, but he said. They were the redskins sharpening their knives.

Even those sounds stopped. For Michael, loneliness was terrible. "If only something could make a sound!" Shout out.

As if in answer to her request, the air was cut with the loudest noise she had ever heard. The pirates shot Long Tom.

Its roar echoed through the mountains, and the echoes seemed to scream wildly, "Where are they, where are they, where are they?"

Thus, the terrified three acutely learned the difference between a fantasy island and the same island come true.

When the sky finally calmed down, John and Michael found themselves alone in the dark. John mechanically kicked the air, and Michael, not knowing how to levitate, levitated.

Have you been shot? whispered John shakily.

"Haven't tried it yet," whispered Michael.

Today we know that no one was injured. However, Peter was blown overboard by the wind from the shot, while Wendy was blown up with no company other than Tinker Bell.

It would have done Wendy good if her hat had fallen off at that moment.

I don't know if Tink came up with the idea out of the blue or if he planned it over time, but he immediately got out of the hat and started luring Wendy into her downfall.

Tink wasn't all bad: or rather, she was all bad now, but then again, sometimes she was okay. Fairies have to be one or the other because unfortunately, being so small, they only have room for one emotion at a time. However, they can change, it just has to be a complete change. She was currently full of jealousy towards Wendy. Wendy, of course, couldn't understand what she was saying with her beautiful jingle, and I think part of it was profanity, but it sounded good, and she flew up and down clearly meaning, 'Follow me, and' go get well.'

What else could poor Wendy do? He yelled at Peter, John and Michael and received only mocking echoes in return. She didn't know yet that Tinker Bell hated her with the intense hatred of a real woman. And so, confused and now reeling in her escape, she followed Tinker Bell to her doom.


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By the time he felt Peter coming back, Neverland had come back to life. We should use the pluperfect and say wake up, but wake up is better and has always been used by Peter.

In his absence, the island is usually quiet. Fairies get an extra hour in the morning, wild beasts nurse their young, redskins eat well for six days and six nights, and when pirates and lost children meet, they just bite their thumbs. But with Peter, who hates torpor, everything is back on track: if you put your ear to the ground right now, you'll hear the entire island teeming with life.

That night, the main forces on the island were assembled as follows. The Lost Boys were looking for Peter, the Pirates were looking for the Lost Boys, the Reds were looking for the Pirates, and the Beasts were looking for the Reds. They walked around the island, but they couldn't find each other because everyone was walking at the same pace.

Everyone wanted blood except the boys, who usually did, but tonight they came out to greet their captain. Cubs on the island vary in number, of course, when killed, etc.; and when they seem to be getting bigger, which is against the rules, Peter cuts them down; but at the moment there were six if you counted the twins as two. Let's pretend we're lying among the reeds and watch them pass in single file, each with his hand on his dagger.

Peter forbids them to look like him, and they wear bearskins that they themselves have killed, in which they are so round and fluffy that they roll if dropped. Therefore, they have become very secure.

The first to pass is Tootles, not the least brave, but the unhappiest of all that brave bunch. He experienced fewer adventures than anyone else because great things happened every time he turned a corner; Everything was silent, he took the opportunity to get some sticks for the firewood, and when he returned the others swept up the blood. This misfortune put a mild melancholy on his face, but instead of souring his nature, it sweetened it so that he was the humblest of boys. Poor Tootles, there's danger in the air for you tonight. Beware, for now an adventure is being offered which, if accepted, will plunge you into the deepest sadness. Tootles, the sinister fairy who's been up to mischief tonight, is looking for a tool, and she thinks you're the dumbest boy. 'War Tinkerbell.

I wish he could hear us, but we're not really on the island and he walks past chewing on his knuckles.

Then comes Nibs, the cheerful and good-natured one, followed by Slightly, who cuts whistles from the trees and dances ecstatically to his own music. He is a little more arrogant than the boys. He thinks he remembers the days before he disappeared, with their manners and customs, and it has given his nose an offensive slant. Curly is the fourth; he's a cucumber, and so many times has he had to give up his persona when Peter sternly says, "Go ahead, whoever did this", that he now automatically stands up on command, whether he did it or not. Last are the twins, who cannot be described because we must be sure we are describing the wrong twins. Peter never found out what the twins were and his gang weren't allowed to know anything he didn't, so these two were always vague about themselves and did their best to provide satisfaction by apologeticly holding together.

The boys disappear into the darkness and, after a pause, but not a very long one, as things happen quickly on the island, the pirates come after them. We've heard them before we've seen them and it's always the same terrible song:

'Avast belay, yo ho, tira para,

H-hacking, come on

And if a shot separates us

I'm sure we'll meet down there!

A mean-looking bunch never lined up at the execution dock. Here, a little further ahead, always listening with his head on the ground, his big arms bare, eight pieces in his ears for costume jewelry, is the handsome Italian Cecco, whose name is engraved in letters of blood on the back of the governor of Gao - prison. The huge black man behind him has had many names since he brought up the one dark-haired mothers still use to terrorize their children on the banks of the Guadjo-mo. Here's Bill Jukes, tattooed on every inch of him, the same Bill Jukes that has six dozen on himViewby Flint before dropping Moidores' bag; and Cookson, supposedly Black Murphy's brother (but this has never been proven); and Gentleman Starkey, who was once a public school receptionist and is still picky about his murder; and Skylights (Morgan's Skylights); and the Irish boatswain Smee, a strangely affable man who stabbed, as it were, without giving offense, and was the only lone man in Hook's crew; and Noodler, whose hands were placed behind him; and Rob. Mullins and Alf Mason and many other ruffians long known and feared in Spanish territory.

In their midst, the biggest and blackest jewel on that dark stage, was James Hook, or as he wrote it, Jas. Hook, said to be the only man the sea cook feared, encouraged her to pick up the pace from time to time. This terrible man treated them like dogs and spoke to them, and like dogs they obeyed him. He himself was hideous and blackened, and his hair was styled in long curls that looked like black candles at close range, lending his handsome face a uniquely menacing expression. His eyes were forget-me-not blue and deeply melancholy, except when he hooked you, then two red dots would appear in them, illuminating them terribly. There was still something of the great lord in his manner that he would even tear you to pieces with an expression, and they tell me he was aCashierof reputation He was never more sinister than when he was most educated, which is probably the truest proof of discipline; and the elegance of his diction, even when he cursed, no less than the distinction of his demeanor, showed that he was of a different caste from his crew. A man of indomitable courage, he is said to have been startled just by the sight of his own blood, thick and unusually colored. In his dress he somewhat imitated the robe associated with the name of Charles II, having been told early in his career that he bore an uncanny resemblance to the unfortunate Stuarts; and in his mouth was a mouthpiece of his own invention which enabled him to smoke two cigars at the same time. But without a doubt, the darkest part of him was his iron claw.

Now let's kill a pirate to show Hook's method. Skylights are sufficient. As they pass, Skylights staggers awkwardly against him, ruffling his lace collar; the hook snaps and rips and screeches, then the body is pushed aside and the pirates charge forward. He didn't even take the cigars out of his mouth.

This is the terrible man Peter Pan faces. Who will win?

On the trail of the pirates, slinking down the warpath unseen by the untrained eye, come the redskins, each one wide-eyed. They carry hatchets and knives, and their naked bodies gleam with paint and oil. Around them are scalps, both of children and of pirates, for these are the Piccaninny and are not to be confused with the softer-hearted Delawares or Hurons. Inside the van, on all fours, is the Great Great Panther, a Bravo with so much hair that in his current position they prevent him from advancing. Deep down, at the point of greatest danger, comes Tiger Lily, proud, a princess in her own right. She is the fairest of the dark Dianas and the beauty of the Piccaninnies, alternately flirtatious, cold and affectionate; There is no brave man who would not wish to marry the unruly one, but she avoids the altar with an axe. Watch them glide silently over fallen branches. The only sound that can be heard is his rather heavy breathing. The fact is that after the great gluttony they are all a little fat now, but with time they will get over it. For the moment, however, it represents your main danger.

The redskins disappear as they came like shadows, and soon their place is taken by the animals, a great and colorful procession: lions, tigers, bears and the countless smaller wild creatures that flee from them, to all kinds of animals and, more precisely, ; all cannibals, they live side by side on the favorite island. Their tongues are sticking out, they're hungry tonight.

When they finish, the last character of all arrives, a giant crocodile. Let's see who he's looking for now.

The crocodile passes by, but soon the boys reappear, as the procession must go on and on until one of the groups stops or changes pace. Then they quickly lay down on top of each other.

Everyone is looking ahead, but no one suspects that danger may be coming from behind. This shows how real the island was.

The first to leave the circle on the move were the boys. They threw themselves into the grass near their underground home.

"I wish Peter would come back," they all said nervously, even though they were all taller than the captain, and broader still.

"I'm the only one who isn't afraid of pirates," Slightly said, in the tone that kept him from being an all-time favorite; but perhaps a distant noise disturbed him, for he hastily added, "But I would like you to come back and tell us if you heard anything else about Cinderella."

They were talking about Cinderella, and Tootles was sure her mother must have looked a lot like her.

Only in Peter's absence could they talk about mothers, a subject he, being a fool, forbade.

"All I remember about my mother," said Nibs, "is that many times she would say to my father, 'Oh, how I wish I had my own checkbook.' But I would like to buy one for my mom.

As they were talking, they heard a distant noise. You or I, we are not wild creatures of the forest, we would not have heard, but they did, and it was the dark music:

'Yo ho, yo ho, das Piratenleben,

the skull and bones flag,

A merry hour, a hemp rope,

And hello to Davy Jones.

Immediately lost children, but where are they? They are gone. The rabbits couldn't have gone any faster.

I'll tell you where they are. With the exception of Nibs, who is exploring, they already have their home underground, a very nice residence that we'll see shortly. But how did they get it? for no entrance is seen, not even a pile of bushes, which, if removed, would reveal the mouth of a cave. However, if you look closely, you can notice that there are seven large trees here, each with a hole in the hollow trunk the size of a child. These are the seven entrances to the subterranean house that Hook has been searching for all these moons without success. You will find him tonight

As the pirates advanced, Starkey's quick eye saw Nibs disappear through the wood and his pistol fired immediately. But an iron claw gripped his shoulder.

"Captain, release me," he yelled, squirming.

Now we hear Hook's voice for the first time. It was a black voice. "Put the gun down first," he said menacingly.

He was one of those guys you hate. I could have shot him.

"Yes, and the sound would have attracted Tiger Lily's redskins." Do you want to lose your scalp?

"Shall I follow you, Captain," said the pathetic Smee, "and tickle you with Johnny Corkscrew?" Smee had nice names for everything, and his cleaver was Johnny Corkscrew because he twisted it at the wound. One can mention many endearing qualities in Smee. For example, after killing, he wiped his glasses instead of his weapon.

"Johnny is a quiet guy," he reminded Hook.

"Not now, Smee," Hook said grimly. "He's only one, and I want to mess with all seven. Spread out and look for them.

The pirates disappeared into the trees, and in a moment their captain and Smee were alone. Hook exhaled heavily; and I don't know why, perhaps because of the sweet beauty of the afternoon, but he had the desire to entrust the story of his life to his faithful boatswain. He was very, very serious, but he had no idea what was up with Smee, who was pretty dumb.

Immediately he understood the word Peter.

"Most of all," said Hook passionately, "I love your captain, Peter Pan. It was he who cut off my arm. He swung his hook menacingly. I've been waiting a long time to shake his hand. Oh, I'll rip it off

'And yet,' said Smee, 'I often heard you say that for combing and other domestic purposes that hook was worth twenty spans.

"Oh," replied the captain, "if I were a mother I would pray that my children were born with this instead of that," and he cast a proud glance at his iron hand and a sneer at the other. Then he frowned again.

"Peter threw my arm," he said, grimacing, "at a random alligator."

'Many times,' said Smee, 'I have noticed your strange fear of crocodiles.

“Not crocodiles,” Hook corrected him, “but this crocodile.” He lowered his voice. "She liked my arm so much, Smee, that she followed me from sea to sea and land to land ever since, licking her lips over the rest of me."

"In a way," Smee said, "it's kind of a compliment."

"I don't want compliments like that," Hook barked irritably. "I want Peter Pan, the one who first tasted the beast for me."

He was sitting on a big mushroom and now there was a tremor in his voice. "Smee," he said hoarsely, "that crocodile would have had me before, but by a happy accident it has swallowed a clock inside itself, and before it can reach me I hear the ticking and I run." He chuckled, but in a hollow way.

"One day," said Smee, "the clock will run out and it will get you."

Hook licked his dry lips. 'Oh,' he said, 'this is the fear that haunts me.'

He had felt strangely warm ever since he sat down. 'Smee,' he said, 'this seat is hot.' Jump. 'Odds bobs, hammer and tongs I burn.'

They examined the fungus, which was of unknown size and firmness on the continent; they tried to pull it out and immediately grabbed it because it had no root. Even stranger, smoke immediately started to rise. The pirates looked at each other. 'A chimney!' they both screamed.

In fact, they discovered the house's chimney underground. It was the boys' habit to stop him with a mushroom when enemies were close.

It wasn't just smoke. The children's voices could also be heard, as the boys felt so safe in their hiding place that they chatted happily. The pirates listened sadly and then replaced the mushroom. They looked around and noticed the holes in the seven trees.

Did you hear them say that Peter Pan is from home? whispered Smee, playing with Johnny Corkscrew.

Hook nodded. He remained lost in thought for a long time, and finally, a curdled smile lit up his dark face. Smee had been waiting for this. "Undo your plan, captain," he called anxiously.

“Go back to the ship,” Hook replied slowly through gritted teeth, “and bake a big rich cake of delicious thickness with green sugar on top.” There can only be one room downstairs because there's only one chimney. Stupid moles didn't have the sense to realize they didn't need a door. This shows that they have no mother. We left the cake on the shore of Lagoa das Sereias. These kids are always swimming and playing with the mermaids. They will find and devour the cake because they don't have a mother and they don't know how dangerous it is to eat wet cake. He started to laugh, not an empty laugh now, but an honest laugh. 'Aha, they will die.'

Smee listened with growing admiration.

"This is the most evil and beautiful policy I ever heard," he exclaimed, and in their jubilation they danced and sang:

'Avast, make sure when it appears

Out of fear they will be reached;

There's nothing left in your bones though

I tightened my grip on Cook.

They started the verse but never finished it because a different tone interrupted and silenced them. At first it was a sound, so faint a leaf could have fallen on it and muffled it, but as it got closer it became clearer.

Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick.

Hook stood there, shivering, one foot in the air.

"The crocodile," he gasped and leapt away, followed by his bosun.

In fact, it was the crocodile. He had passed the Reds, who were now tracking the other pirates. He snuck in behind Hook.

Once again the boys left; but the dangers of the night were not yet over, for Nibs fell breathless among them, pursued by a pack of wolves. The persecutors' tongues came out; its howl was terrible.

Save me, save me! Nibs screamed and fell to the ground.

"But what can we do, what can we do?"

It was a great compliment to Peter that her thoughts turned to him in that terrible moment.

what would Peter do? they shouted at the same time.

Around the same time, they added, "Peter would look at her through her legs."

And then: 'Let's do what Peter would do.'

It's the most successful way to challenge wolves, and as children they would bend over and peek out between their legs. The next moment is the length; but victory soon came, for when the boys approached them in that terrible attitude, the wolves lowered their tails and fled.

Now Nibs rose from the ground, and the others thought that his fixed eyes still saw the wolves. But it wasn't wolves he saw.

"I have seen something most wonderful," he exclaimed as they gathered around him in excitement. A big white bird. It flies this way.

what kind of bird do you mean?

'I don't know,' said Nibs, astonished, 'but he looks so tired, and as he flies he moans, 'Poor Wendy.'

Do you want Wendy?

"I remember," said Spleen immediately, "that there are birds called wendies.

"Look, it's coming," Curly called out, pointing to the sky at Wendy.

Wendy was almost overhead now and they could hear her pitiful cry. But Tinker Bell's high-pitched voice came through more clearly. The jealous fairy had now thrown off all guise of friendship and pounced on her victim from every direction, wildly nipping at every touch.

"Hello, Tinker Bell," called the delighted children.

Tink's response came out, "Peter wants you to shoot Wendy."

It wasn't in her nature to ask questions when Peter commanded. "Let's do what Peter wants," shouted the naked boys. Fast, bow and arrow.

All but Tootles climbed down from their trees. He had a bow and arrow with him, and Tink noticed and rubbed his hands together.

"Hurry, Tootles, hurry," he yelled. Peter will be very happy.

Tootles nocked the arrow to his bow with enthusiasm. "Get out of the way, Tink," he yelled; and then he fired and Wendy fell to the ground with an arrow through her chest.


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Foolish Tootles stood over Wendy's body like a conqueror while the other children leapt from their trees, armed.

"You're late," he shouted proudly, "I shot Wendy. Peter will be very happy with me.

Also, Tinker Bell yelled 'Silly!' and went into hiding. The others didn't hear her. They crowded around Wendy, and as they watched, an awful silence fell over the forest. If Wendy's heart had been beating, everyone would have heard it.

Lightly was the first to speak. "It's not a bird," he said in a startled voice. I think it must be a lady.

'A lady?' said Tootles and fell to the ground shaking.

"And we killed her," Nibs said hoarsely.

Everyone took off their hats.

"Now I understand," said Curly; Peter brought it to us. He fell sadly to the ground.

"Finally a lady to look after us," said one of the twins, "and you killed her."

They felt sorry for him, but more for themselves, and when he took a step closer to them, they turned their backs on him.

Tootles's face was very white, but there was a dignity in it now that it never had before.

"I did," he said thoughtfully. “When ladies came to me in dreams, I would say, 'Beautiful mother, beautiful mother.' But when she finally appeared, I shot her.

He pulled away slowly.

"Don't go," they shouted in pity.

"I must," she replied, trembling; I'm so scared of Peter.

In that tragic moment, they heard a sound that made each of their hearts skip a beat. They heard Peter sing.

-Peter! they wept, because that was how he always signaled his return.

"Hide her," they whispered, hastily gathering around Wendy. But Tootles stayed out.

The raven sounded again and Peter settled in front of them. "Cheers, boys," he called out, and they waved mechanically, then all was quiet again.

He frowned.

"I'm back," he said heatedly, "why don't you cheer me up?"

They opened their mouths, but the applause did not come. He missed the rush to deliver the glorious news.

"Good news, boys," he exclaimed. I finally brought you all a mother.

Still no sound, except for a small punch from Tootles as he dropped to his knees.

Haven't you seen her? asked Peter and became uneasy. "She flew here."

"Woe is me," said one voice, and another said, "Oh, day of mourning."

Tootles got up. "Peter," she said softly, "I'll show you"; and when the others had still hidden them, he said: 'Go back, twins, let Peter see.'

So everyone stayed back and let him see, and after looking for a while he didn't know what to do next.

"She's dead," he said uneasily. Maybe she's afraid she's dead.

He thought about jumping out of sight in a strange way and then never going near the place again. Everyone would have gladly followed him if he had.

But there was the arrow. He took it to heart and stood up to his gang.

whose arrow? he demanded sternly.

"Wow, Peter," said Tootles on his knees.

"Oh, cowardly hand," said Peter, raising the arrow to use as a dagger.

Tootles didn't flinch. He bared his chest.

"Attack, Peter," he said firmly, "hit the truth."

Twice Peter raised the arrow, and twice his hand dropped. "I can't knock," he said in surprise, "something is holding my hand."

Everyone looked at him in surprise, except for Nibs who was happily looking at Wendy.

“It is she,” he cried, “Lady Wendy; look at his arm

Wonderful to say that Wendy had her arm up. Nibs leaned over her and listened intently. "I think she said 'Poor Crazies,'" she whispered.

"She's alive," Peter said dryly.

Immediately she called out, "Lady Wendy lives."

Then Peter knelt beside her and found her button. You remember that he had it attached to a chain that he wore around his neck.

'Look,' he said, 'the arrow hit this. It's the kiss I gave him. It saved his life.

“I remember kisses,” something chimed in quickly, “show me.” Oh, that's a kiss.

Peter was not listening. He begged Wendy to recover quickly so he could show her the mermaids. Of course she still couldn't answer, as she was still terribly unconscious; but from above came a plaintive sound.

"Stop it Tink," said Curly, "she's crying because Wendy is alive."

So they had to tell Peter about Tink's crime, and they've never seen him so strict.

"Listen, Tink," he called; I'm not your friend anymore Get away from me forever

She flew over his shoulder and pleaded with him, but he ignored her. It was only when Wendy raised her arm again that he relented enough to say, "Well, not forever, but for a week."

Do you think Tinker Bell was grateful to Wendy for raising her arm? Oh no, I've never wanted to pinch her so much. Fairies are strange indeed, and Peter, who understood them best, used to beat them up.

But what to do with Wendy in her current fragile state of health?

"Let's take her home," Curly suggested.

"Yes," said Spleenig, "that's what you do with women."

"No, no," said Peter, "you mustn't touch her. That wouldn't be respectful enough.

'That', said Slightly, 'that's what I thought too.

"But if she stays there," Tootles said, "she'll die."

'Yes, he will die,' he admitted lightly, 'but there is no way out.'

"Yes, there is," exclaimed Peter. Let's build a little house around it.

They were all excited. “Quickly,” he ordered, “bring me each of you the best we have. Destroy our home. Be smart.'

They were once as busy as Schneider was the night before a wedding. They would run back and forth, down to the bed, up to the firewood, and as they did, who would come out but John and Michael. As they crawled across the floor, they fell asleep standing up, stopped, woke up, took another step and fell asleep again.

"John, John," shouted Michael, "wake up. Where are Nana, John, and Mama?

And then John rubbed his eyes and muttered, 'That's right, we fly.'

You can be sure they were very relieved to find Peter.

"Hello, Peter," they said.

"Hello," Peter replied amiably, though he had completely forgotten about her. He was too busy at the moment measuring Wendy with his feet to see what size house he would need. Of course he wanted to leave room for chairs and a table. John and Michael watched him.

"Is Wendy asleep?" They asked.


"John," suggested Michael, "let's wake her up and let her cook dinner"; but when he said this, some of the other boys ran to carry branches for the building of the house.

'Look at these......!' Shout out.

"Curly," said Peter in his captain's voice, "get these boys to help build the house.

– Oh, oh, sir.

'To build a house?' exclaimed John.

"For Wendy," Curly said.

For Wendy? said John in horror. "Wow, she's just a girl."

"Therefore," explained Curly, "we are His servants."

'You guys? Wendy's Servant!

"Yes," said Peter, "and so are you." Out with them.

The amazed brothers were dragged to cut, cut and transport. "Saddles and a bumper first," ordered Peter. 'So we built the house around them.'

'Yes,' said Slightly, 'that's the way to build a house; everything comes back to me

Peter thought of everything. "A little," he ordered, "get a doctor."

"Ow, ow," Slightly said immediately and left, scratching her head. But he knew that Peter had to be obeyed and he was back in a moment, wearing John's hat and looking serious.

"Please sir," said Peter, walking towards him, "are you a doctor?"

The difference between him and the other kids at that moment was that they knew it was fantasy, while for him fantasy and truth were exactly the same thing. It bothered them sometimes, like when they had to pretend they'd had dinner.

If they collapsed in their imaginations, he'd slap his fingers.

"Yes, my little man," Leicht replied eagerly, his knuckles creaking.

"Please sir," explained Peter, "a lady is very ill.

She was at his feet, but Slightly had the good sense not to see her.

"Tut, tut, tut," he said, "where is she?"

in this clearing

"I'll put a glass thing in his mouth," said Slightly; and pretended to do so while Peter waited. There was a moment of anxiety as they removed the glass thing.

'How is she?' asked Peter.

"Do it, do it, do it," Slightly said, "it cured her.

"I'm happy," exclaimed Peter.

"I'll call again tonight," Slightly said; 'give him beef tea in a sippy cup'; but after returning the hat to John, he snorted deeply, as was his wont when escaping trouble.

By this time the forest had come alive with the sound of axes; almost everything necessary for a comfortable life was already at Wendy's feet.

"If only we knew," said one, "what kind of house he likes best."

"Peter," exclaimed another, "she moves in her sleep."

"Your mouth is open," cried a third, looking at her respectfully. 'Oh, cool!'

"Perhaps she sings in her sleep," said Peter. "Wendy, sing the kind of home you'd like to have."

Immediately, without opening her eyes, Wendy began to sing:

"I would like to have a nice house,

The smallest ever seen

With fun red walls

And moss green roof.

They laughed with glee at this, for fortunately the branches they brought were sticky with red sap and the whole ground was covered with moss. As they made noise in the little house, they themselves began to sing:

“We built the little walls and the roof

And made a beautiful door

So tell us mother Wendy

What else do you want

To which she eagerly replied:

"Oh really the closest thing I think I'll ever get

happy windows everywhere,

With roses coming out you know

And babies looking out.

With a single blow they made windows and large yellow leaves were the blinds. But roses——?

"Roses," Peter called sternly.

They quickly believed that the most beautiful roses grew on the walls.

You drink?

To prevent Peter from ordering babies, they hurried to sing once more:

"We let the roses peek

The girls are at the door

We can't do each other, you know

Because we've already done it.

Seeing that it was a good idea, Peter immediately pretended it was his. The house was very pretty and Wendy was no doubt very comfortable in it, although of course they could no longer see her. Peter paced back and forth, ordering the finishing touches. Nothing escaped his eagle eye. Just when it seemed absolutely over

"There is no doorframe," he said.

They were very embarrassed, but Tootles gave the sole of the shoe and was an excellent puncher.

Absolutely over, they thought.

Not a bit of it. "There is no chimney," said Peter; "We must have a chimney."

"Definitely needs a chimney," said John matter-of-factly. This gave Peter an idea. He knocked John's hat off his head, fell to the ground and threw the hat onto the roof. The little house was so lucky to have such a big chimney that, as if to say thank you, smoke immediately came out of the hat.

Now it was really and truly over. There was nothing left to do but play.

"Everyone looks fine," Peter admonished her; The first impression is incredibly important.

He was glad no one had asked about his first impressions; everyone was too busy doing their best.

He called politely; and now the forest was as silent as the children, not a sound to be heard but Tink, peering from a branch and openly mocking.

The boys wondered if anyone would answer the call. If you were a woman, what would you look like?

The door opened and a lady came out. It was Wendy, everyone took off their hats.

She looked suitably surprised and so they expected her appearance.

'Where am I?' She said.

Of course, Slightly was the first to give his word. "Miss Wendy," he said quickly, "we built this house for you."

"Oh, say you're happy," exclaimed Nibs.

"Beautiful sweet home," said Wendy, and those were exactly the words they expected her to say.

"And we are your children," cried the twins.

Then everyone fell to their knees, stretched out their arms and shouted, 'Oh, Mrs. Wendy, be our mother'.

'We must?' said Wendy, very excited. Of course it's frighteningly fascinating, but you'll see I'm just a little girl. I don't have any real experience.

"It doesn't matter," said Peter, as if he was the only one present who knew everything, when in fact he knew the least. "What we need is just a good motherly person."

'Oh, darling!' Wendy said, "See, I feel like I'm just like that."

"Yeah, yeah," they all shouted; We saw it right away.

"Very well," said he, "I will do my best. Come in at once, naughty children; I'm sure your feet are wet. And before you go to bed, I have time enough to finish the Cinderella story.

you entered; I don't know why there was room for them, but you can squeeze in pretty well into Neverland. And that was the first of many happy nights they had with Wendy. Little by little she got them into the big bed in the house under the trees, but she slept in the little house herself that night, and Peter stood guard outside with his sword drawn, for you could hear the pirates wallowing far and wide. . Wolves. they lurked. The little house looked so cozy and safe in the dark with the bright light streaming in through the shutters and the chimney smoking beautifully and Peter standing guard. After a while, he fell asleep, and, returning home from an orgy, some unstable fairies had to step over him. Any of the other boys blocking the faeries' path at night would have done it wrong, but they just pinched Peter's nose and moved on.

Chapter 11: Peter Pan and Wendy (J.M. Barrie) - Santa's Christmas Library: Over 400 Christmas Novels, Stories, Poems, Carols and Legends (Illustrated Edition): The Gift of the Wizards, A Christmas Carol, Silent Night, The Three Wise Men , Little Lord Fauntleroy, The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, The Heavenly Christmas Tree, Little Women, The Tale of Peter Rabbit... (4)


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One of the first things Peter did the next day was measure Wendy, John, and Michael for hollow trees. Hook, remember, had teased the children into thinking they needed a tree each, but that was ignorance, because if your tree didn't suit you it was hard to get up and down, and no two kids were the same size. Once set, he breathed at the top and down at just the right rate, alternating in and out as he rose, and then squirmed. Of course, once you've mastered the action, you can do these things without even thinking about it, and then nothing could be more elegant.

But you just need to fit right, and Peter measures you for your tree as carefully as he would a suit: the only difference is that the clothes will be made to fit you, whereas you must be made to fit the tree. It's usually too easy, wearing too much or too little; But if you have holes in tricky spots or the only tree available is an odd shape, Peter will do a few things for you and you'll pass. Once installed, great care must be taken with the adjustment afterwards and this, Wendy would be delighted to discover, keeps an entire family in tip-top condition.

Wendy and Michael adjusted their trees on the first try, but John had to modify it a bit.

After a few days of practice, they could be pacing back and forth as happily as buckets down a well. And how much they came to love their subterranean home; especially Wendy. It consisted of a large room, as all houses must have, with a floor to dig in if you wanted to fish, and on this floor vigorous and beautifully colored mushrooms grew, which were used as stools. A Neverland tree struggled to grow in the center of the room, but every morning the trunk was sawn off at ground level. At tea time it was always about two feet high, and so they built a door over it and made a table out of it; once they were free, they sawed the log again and there was more room to play. There was a huge fireplace that could be lit from almost anywhere in the room, and Wendy stretched fiber ropes over it to hold the clothes. The bed was placed against the wall during the day and was lowered at 6:30 am, when it took up almost half the room; and all the boys except Michael were sleeping in it, stretched out like sardines in a can. There was a strict rule not to turn until someone gave the signal if everyone turned at the same time. Michael should have used it too; but Wendy had a baby and he was the youngest and you know what women are and the end result is they hung him in a basket.

It was crude and simple, and not unlike what the bears would have done in an underground house under the same circumstances. But there was a hole in the wall, the size of a birdcage, it was Tinker Bell's closet. It was isolated from the rest of the house by a small curtain, which Tink, who was very meticulous, kept open when dressing and undressing. No woman, however robust, could have combined a more exquisite boudoir and bedroom. The sofa, as she always called it, was a real Queen Mab with wooden legs; and varied the quilts according to the season of fruit blossoms. His mirror was Puss in Boots, of which only three remain, unchipped, known to fairy merchants; the sink was crooked and reversible, the dresser a true Charming the Sixth, and the rugs and rugs from Margery and Robin's best (early) days. From the looks of it, there was a Tiddly Winks chandelier, but of course it lit the apartment itself. Tink, unavoidably perhaps, had a great deal of disdain for the rest of the house; and its camera, while pretty, looked rather smug, with the appearance of a permanently turned-up nose.

I suppose all this was particularly puzzling to Wendy because her wild children kept her busy. There really were whole weeks when she never got off the ground, except maybe at night in a sock. The kitchen, may I say, kept its nose in the pot. His main meal consisted of roasted breadfruit, yams, coconut, roast pork, Mammee apples, tappa rolls, and bananas drizzled with Poe Poe squash. but you never knew if it was going to be a real meal or just fiction, it all depended on Peter's mood. He could eat, really eat if it were part of a game, but he couldn't gorge himself just to feel satisfied, which is what most children like more than anything else; the next best thing is talking about it. The fantasy was so real to him that you could see him getting fat while he ate. Of course he tried, but all you had to do was follow him, and if you could show him to drop his tree, he'd let you eat.

Wendy's favorite sewing and mending activity was after everyone went to bed. Then she had, as she put it, a break to herself; and she kept him busy making new things for her and putting double pieces on her knees, because they were terribly hard on her knees.

Sitting in front of a basket full of stockings, each heel with a hole in it, she would throw up her arms and exclaim, 'Oh my God, I'm sure I sometimes think spinsters are envied.'

His face smiled when he called it out.

You remember your pet wolf. Well, soon he found out that she had come to the island and he found her and they ran to hug each other. After that, he followed her everywhere.

Over time, did you think much about the loving parents you left behind? That's a tough question, because it's virtually impossible to tell how time flies in Neverland, where it's calculated by moons and suns, and there's a lot more of it than on the mainland. But I'm afraid Wendy didn't really care for her father and mother; She was pretty sure they would always leave the window open so she could fly back in, and that reassured her. What bothered her at times was that John vaguely remembered her parents, like people he had known, while Michael was quite willing to believe that she really was her mother. These things scared her a little and, in a noble effort to do her duty, she tried to capture the old life in their minds, giving them exams a little like the ones she used to do at school. The other boys found this very interesting and insisted on participating and they made their own blackboards and sat around the table writing and thinking hard about the questions that she had written on another blackboard and given to them. The most common questions were: “What color were Mom's eyes? Who was older, the father or the mother? Was the mother blonde or brunette? Answer all three questions if possible. “(A) Write an essay of no less than 40 words about how I spent my last vacation, or comparing the characters of father and mother. Only one of them is attempted. O' (1) Describes Mama's laughter; (2) Describe the father's laugh; (3) Describe the mother's party dress; (4) Describe the kennel and its inmates.”

It was everyday questions like that, and if you couldn't answer them, they told you to put a cross; and the number of crosses that even John made was truly frightening. Of course, the only guy who answered all the questions was Pretentious, and no one could have hoped to get out first, but his answers were absolutely ridiculous, and he got out last: a melancholy thing.

Peter did not appear. On the one hand, he despised all mothers except Wendy, and on the other hand, he was the only boy on the island who couldn't write or spell; Not the slightest word. He was mostly just that.

By the way, all questions are written in the past tense. What color were Mom's eyes, etc. Wendy, you know, she forgot too.

Adventures, of course, as we shall see, were common; but about this time Peter, with Wendy's help, invented a new game which intrigued him immensely until it suddenly ceased to interest him, which he was told always did with his games. It consisted of pretending they didn't have affairs, doing things that John and Michael had done all their lives: sitting on stools, throwing balls in the air, pushing each other, going for a walk and coming back after they hadn't killed so much. like a grizzly bear. Seeing Peter doing nothing on a stool was quite a sight; he couldn't help but look serious at these moments, standing still seemed like a very funny thing to him. He bragged about going out for a walk to take care of his health. For several suns this was the newest of adventures; and also John and Michael had to pretend to be satisfied; otherwise he would have treated her severely.

He used to go out alone and when he came back you were never sure if he was having an affair or not. He may have forgotten so completely that he didn't say anything about it; and when you went out you found the body; on the other hand, it could say a lot about it, and yet the body has not been found. Sometimes he would come home with a bandage on his head, and then Wendy would rock him to sleep and bathe him in warm water while he told an interesting story. But she was never quite sure, you know. However, there were many adventures that she knew to be true because she was in them herself, and there were others that were at least partially true because the other kids were in them and said they were completely true. To describe them all would require a book as extensive as an English-Latin-Latin-English dictionary and we can give at most one as an example of an average hour spent on the island. The difficulty is which one to choose. Shall we take the weeds with the redskins in Slightly Gulch? It was a bloody affair and particularly interesting because it showed one of Peter's quirks, which was that he would suddenly switch sides in the middle of a fight. In the ravine, with victory still in the balance, he sometimes shouted to and fro: “Today I am a red man; What are you, Tootles? And Tootles replied: “Redskin; What are you, Nibbs? and Nibs said, 'Redskin; what are you twin and so; and they were all red-skinned; and of course that would have ended the fight if the true reds, fascinated by Peter's methods, hadn't even agreed to be prodigal sons, and they all did again, more fiercely than ever.

The extraordinary outcome of this adventure was... but we still haven't decided that this is the adventure we are going to tell. Perhaps the Reds' night attack on the underground house was better, during which several of them became trapped in the hollow trees and had to be pulled out like corks. Or we could tell how Peter Tiger saved Lily's life at Mermaid Lagoon and made her his ally.

Or we could talk about the cake the pirates made for the children to eat and die; and how they placed him in one bright place after another; but Wendy continued to snatch it from her children's hands, so that in time it lost its juiciness and became rock hard and used as a projectile and Hook fell on it in the dark.

Or let's say we were talking about the birds that were Peter's friends, specifically the Neverland bird that was built in a tree hanging over the lake and how the nest fell into the water and the bird was still in its Eggs sitting and Peter gave orders not to be disturbed. It's a beautiful story, and the ending shows how grateful a bird can be; but if we count it, we must also count the whole adventure at the pond, which would naturally count two adventures instead of one. A shorter and equally exciting adventure was Tinker Bell's attempt to land a sleeping Wendy on a large floating leaf with the help of some stray fairies. Fortunately the blade gave way and Wendy woke up thinking it was bath time and swam back. Or we could choose Peter's challenge to the lions, when he drew a circle on the ground around him with an arrow and dared them to cross it; and though she waited for hours while the other children and Wendy watched breathlessly from the trees, none of them dared accept her challenge.

Which of these adventures will we choose? The best way will be to shoot after him.

I played and Lagoa won. You almost wish Tink's Canyon, Cake or Leaf had won. Of course I could do it again and do it best of three; However, it is fairer to stay in the pond.


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If you close your eyes and are lucky, you can sometimes see a shapeless pool of beautiful pale colors floating in the dark; Then, if you squint harder, the puddle takes shape and the colors become so vivid that another squeeze will set them on fire. But just before they go up in flames, you see the lagoon. You never got this close on land, just a moment in the sky; If there could be two moments, you could see the waves and hear the sirens sing.

Children used to spend long summer days in this pond, swimming or floating most of the time, playing mermaids in the water, etc. They must not think that mermaids were their friend; in fact, one of Wendy's biggest regrets was that, in all the time she'd been on the island, she'd never heard a polite word from either of them. As she crept to the edge of the pond, she could see them in flocks, especially at Marooners Rock, where they loved to sunbathe and comb their hair with a laziness that irritated them a great deal; or she even tiptoed to within a meter of them, but then they saw her and dove in, probably splashing her tail, not by accident but on purpose.

Chapter 11: Peter Pan and Wendy (J.M. Barrie) - Santa's Christmas Library: Over 400 Christmas Novels, Stories, Poems, Carols and Legends (Illustrated Edition): The Gift of the Wizards, A Christmas Carol, Silent Night, The Three Wise Men , Little Lord Fauntleroy, The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, The Heavenly Christmas Tree, Little Women, The Tale of Peter Rabbit... (5)

They treated all the boys the same, except, of course, Peter, who would talk to them for hours at Marooners' Rock and sit on top of them when they got naughty. He gave Wendy one of her combs.

The most disturbing time to see them is when the moon changes when they emit strange screams; but the lake is then dangerous to mortals, and until the night we are now concerned with, Wendy had never seen the lake by moonlight, less from fear, for of course Peter would have accompanied her, than because she had strict rules that everyone is in bed by seven. However, she was often at the pond on sunny days after the rain, when mermaids would show up in extraordinary numbers to play with her bubbles. She treats the bubbles of various colors that form in rainbow water like balls, happily tossing them from one to another with her tails and trying to hold them in the rainbow until they burst. The gates are at either end of the rainbow and the gatekeepers can only use their hands. Sometimes hundreds of mermaids play in the pond at the same time, and it's quite a beautiful sight.

But as soon as the kids tried to join in, they had to play alone as the mermaids immediately disappeared. However, we have evidence that they secretly watched the intruders and did not hesitate to get an idea of ​​them; because John introduced a new method of hitting the bubble, using the head instead of the hand, and the mermaid guardians adopted it. That's the only trace John left in Neverland.

It must have been really nice to see the kids relaxing on a rock for half an hour after lunch too. Wendy insisted they do this, and it had to be a real break, even if the food was fake. They lay in the sun and their bodies gleamed as she sat beside him looking important.

It was one of those days and everyone was at Marooners' Rock. The stone wasn't much bigger than the king-size bed, but of course everyone knew not to take up too much space and napped, or at least lay with their eyes closed, pinching themselves now and then, thinking Wendy wasn't looking. I was too busy sewing.

While she was sewing a change, she came to the pond. Showers of light washed over them and the sun went down and the shadows slipped across the water and froze them. Wendy didn't know how to thread a needle, and when she looked up, the pond, which had been a fun place until then, seemed vast and hostile.

He knew that night had not come, but something as dark as night. Not worse. She hadn't come, but she had sent that shudder across the sea to say she was coming. What was this?

All the stories she'd been told about the Forgotten Rock, so called because the evil captains put sailors on it and left them to drown there, pressed her. They drown when the tide comes in because that's when the tide goes out.

Of course, he should have woken the children up immediately; not just because of the unknown that stalked them, but because sleeping on an icy rock was no longer comfortable for them. But she was a young mother and she didn't know; She said you should keep your period about half an hour after lunch. Although she was terrified and longed to hear male voices, she didn't wake them up. Even hearing the muffled sound of the oars didn't wake her, though his heart was in his mouth. He stood over them to let them sleep. Wasn't that brave of Wendy?

So it was good for the boys that there was one among them who could smell danger even in his sleep. Peter jumped up, alert as a dog, and with a warning cry he woke the others.

He remained motionless, one hand to his ear.

pirates! Shout out. The others approached him. A strange smile played over his face and Wendy saw it and shivered. As long as that smile was on her face, no one dared speak to him; all they could do was be willing to obey. The order came sharp and sharp.


Legs gleamed and instantly the pond looked deserted. The Rock of the Forgotten stood alone in the mighty waters as if abandoned.

The ship approached. It was the pirate ship with three figures on it, Smee and Starkey, and the third prisoner, none other than Tiger Lily. Her hands and ankles were bound and she knew her fate. Should she be left on the rock to die, an end for one of her kind more terrible than death by fire or torture, for is it not written in the tribe's book that there is no passage through water for the successful hunt? ? Country? Her face, however, was expressionless; She was the daughter of a chief, she must die the daughter of a chief, that's enough.

She was caught boarding the pirate ship with a knife in her mouth. No clock was kept on the ship, Hook was the one who boasted that the wind of her name kept the ship within a mile. Now his fate would also protect him. Another groan would twist in that night wind.

In the darkness they brought, the two pirates didn't see the rock until they collided with it.

"Luff you idiot," shouted an Irish voice, it was Smee. "Here's the stone. What we have to do now is go to the redskins and let them drown there.

It was the work of a brutal moment to set the pretty girl down on the rock; she was too proud to resist in vain.

Very close to the rock, but out of sight, two heads bobbing up and down, Peters and Wendys. Wendy cried because it was the first tragedy she had seen. Pedro had witnessed many tragedies, but he had forgotten them all. He felt less sorry for Tiger Lily than he did Wendy: it was two against one, which infuriated him, and he intended to save her. An easy path would be to wait for the pirates to leave, but he was never one to take the easy path.

There was almost nothing he couldn't do, and now he was imitating Hook's voice.

"Hello today, bully," he called. It was a wonderful imitation.

"The captain," said the pirates, looking at each other in surprise.

"He must have swam towards us," Starkey said when they looked for him in vain.

"We're making red skin on the rocks," Smee called out.

"Let them go," was the startling reply.

'For free!'

'Yes, cut her ties and let her go.'

But captain...

"Now listen to me," shouted Peter, "or I'll put you on a hook."

"That's weird," Smee gasped.

"We'd better do what the captain says," Starkey said nervously.

"Oh, oh," said Smee, cutting Tiger Lily's ropes. He immediately slipped between Starkey's legs like an eel and landed in the water.

Wendy, of course, was very enthusiastic about Peter's intelligence; but she knew that he too would be delighted and would probably sing and thus give himself away, so she immediately reached out to cover his mouth. But he even stayed where he was because 'Ship in sight!' Hook's voice echoed across the pond, and this time it wasn't Peter who spoke.

Peter might have wanted to laugh, but his face twisted into a hiss of surprise.

ship ahoy! the scream came again.

Now Wendy understood. The real hook was also in the water.

He swam towards the boat, and when his men showed him a light to guide him, he soon overtook them. In the light of the lantern, Wendy saw the hook hanging over the side of the boat; he saw his dark, angry face seep out of the water and, shuddering, he wanted to swim away, but Peter didn't budge. He was full of life and also full of imagination. 'I'm not a miracle, oh I'm a miracle!' he whispered to her; and though she thought so too, for her reputation's sake, she was really glad no one but her was listening.

He motioned to listen to her.

The two pirates were very curious to know what their captain had brought, but he was sitting with his head on the hook in a position of deep melancholy.

"Captain, are you okay?" they asked sheepishly, but he answered with a hollow groan.

"Seufz," softly Smee.

"Sigh again," Starkey said.

"And yet he sighs a third time," said Smee.

What's the matter, captain?

Then, finally, he spoke passionately.

"Game over," he yelled, "these boys found a mother."

Despite her fear, Wendy was filled with pride.

"Oh, bad day," Starkey exclaimed.

"What is a mother?" asked the ignorant Smee.

Wendy was so surprised that she exclaimed, 'He doesn't know!' and after that he always felt that if you could have a pet pirate, Smee would be his.

Peter pushed her underwater because Hook got up and yelled, "What was that?"

"I didn't hear anything," said Starkey, raising the lantern over the water, and when the pirates looked up, they saw a strange sight. It was the nest I told you about, floating in the pond, and the Neverland Bird was sitting in it.

“Look,” Hook answered Smee's question, “this is a mother. What a lesson! The nest must have fallen into the water, but would the mother leave her eggs? Not.'

His voice cracked, as if remembering for a moment the innocent days when... but he pushed that weakness away with his hook.

A very impressed Smee looked at the bird as the nest passed, but a more suspicious Starkey said, "If it's a mother, maybe she'll come here to help Peter."

Hook made a face. 'Oh,' he said, 'this is the fear that haunts me.'

Smee's anxious voice roused him from this darkness.

"Captain," said Smee, "couldn't we kidnap these children's mother and make her our mother?"

"It's a princely plan," exclaimed Hook, and it immediately took shape in his big brain. We're going to get the kids and take them to the boat: we're going to make the kids walk the plank and Wendy is going to be our mom.

Again Wendy forgot.

'Never!' she squealed and swayed.

'What was that?'

But they couldn't see anything. They thought it was just a leaf in the wind. 'Are you all right my henchmen?' Hook asked.

"There is my hand," said the two.

And here is my catch. To swear.'

Everyone swore. At that moment, they were on the rock, and Hook was suddenly reminded of Tiger Lily.

where is the red man he asked brusquely.

Sometimes he had a playful mood and they thought this was one of those times.

"Very well, Captain," Smee replied cheerfully. we let her go

'Let her go!' shouted Hook.

"It was his own order," stammered the bosun.

"They called us from the water to release them," Starkey said.

“Brimstone and gall,” Hook thundered, “what mistake is this?” His face was black with rage, but he saw that they believed his words and was frightened. "Guys," he said, shivering a little, "I didn't give that order.

"It's getting weird," Smee said, and everyone shifted uncomfortably. Hook raised his voice, but there was a tremor in it.

"Ghost haunting this dark pool tonight," he yelled, "can you hear me?"

Of course Peter should have been silent, but of course he didn't. He immediately replied in Hook's voice:

'Odds, Bobs, Hammer and Pliers, I hear you.'

In that overwhelming moment Hook did not blanch, not even to the gills, but Smee and Starkey clung to each other in horror.

"Who are you, stranger, speak?" Hook demanded.

"I'm James Hook," replied the voice, "Captain of thealegre

'You are not; you're not,” Hook shouted hoarsely.

"Brimstone and bile," replied the voice, "say it again, and I will anchor it within you."

Hook tried a more persuasive approach. "If you are Hook," he said almost humbly, "come and tell me who I am?"

"A codfish," replied the voice, "just a codfish."

"A codfish!" repeated Hook flatly; and it was then, but not before, that his proud spirit was broken. He saw his men pulling away from him.

"We were being guided by a cod the whole time!" they murmured. It lessens our pride.

It was his dogs that bit him, but although he had become a tragic figure, he hardly noticed them. In the face of such dire evidence, it wasn't her belief in him he needed, but hers. He felt his ego slipping away. "Don't leave me, bandit," he whispered hoarsely.

As with all great pirates, his dark nature had a feminine touch and sometimes gave him insight. Suddenly, he tried the guessing game.

"Hook," he called, "do you have a different voice?"

Now, Peter couldn't resist a game and happily replied in his own voice, "I did."

And another name?

'Ai, ai'

'Vegetables?' Hook asked.







'Not!' That answer sounded dismissive.



'Normal boy?'


'A wonderful boy?'

To Wendy's pain, the answer that came this time was "yes".

'Are you in England?'


'You are here?'


Hook was lost. "Ask him some questions," he told the others, wiping his damp forehead.

Smee considered. "I can't think of anything," he said with regret.

"I can't guess, I can't guess," said Peter happily. 'Are you giving up?'

Of course, in his pride, he went too far, and the villains saw their chance.

"Yes, yes," they responded with enthusiasm.

"Well then," he exclaimed, "I'm Peter Pan."


In a moment, Hook was himself again, and Smee and Starkey were his loyal servants.

“We've got him,” Hook shouted. “To the water, Smee.” Starkey, take care of the boat. Take it dead or alive.

He flinched as he spoke, and at the same time, Peter's cheerful voice could be heard.

'Are you ready?'

"Ay, ay", from different parts of the lagoon.

"So I called the pirates."

The fight was short and hard. The first to draw blood was John, who bravely climbed into the boat and grabbed Starkey. A fierce struggle ensued, in which the cutlass was wrenched from the pirate's hands. He turned overboard and John jumped in after him. The boat pulled away.

Here and there a head would poke out of the water and steel flashed, followed by a cheer or scream. In the confusion, some attacked their own side. Smee's corkscrew caught Tootles in the fourth rib, but he was urinated on by Curly himself. Farther from the rock, Starkey held Slightly and the twins.

Where has Peter been all this time? I was looking for a bigger game.

The rest were all brave lads and cannot be blamed for supporting the pirate captain. His iron claw formed a circle of dead water around them, from which they fled like frightened fish.

But there was someone who was not afraid of him: there was someone who was ready to enter this circle.

Interestingly, they did not meet in the water. Hook climbed the rock for air, and at the same moment Peter climbed the other side. The rock was slippery like a ball and they had to crawl instead of climb. Neither of them knew the other was coming. Each gripping feeling reached the other's arm: startled, they raised their heads; their faces almost touched; that's how they met.

Some of the greatest heroes have confessed that they fell just before their fall. If it had been like that with Peter back then, I'd admit it. After all, this was the only man the Sea Cook feared. But Pedro wasn't depressed, he only had one feeling, joy; and her pretty teeth gnashed with glee. Quick as a thought, he snatched a knife from Hook's belt and was about to plunge it into Hook when he saw that he was higher on the rocks than his enemy. It wouldn't have been a fair fight. He gave the pirate a hand to help him up.

That's when Hook bit him.

It wasn't the pain but the injustice that surprised Peter. It left him pretty helpless. He could only look horrified. Every child is affected when they are treated unfairly for the first time. All he has a right to when he comes to you to be yours is justice. After you've been unfair to him, he'll love you again, but he'll never be the same. No one overcomes the first injustice; no one but Peter. He often found it, but always forgot about it. I think that was the real difference between him and everyone else.

Meeting him now was like the first time; and he could only watch helplessly. Twice the iron hand scratched him.

A few minutes later, the other boys saw Hook running wildly towards the ship in the water; Now there was no euphoria on his stinking face, only white fear as the alligator doggedly pursued him. On normal occasions, the boys would have swum cheering alongside him; but now they were restless, for they had lost Peter and Wendy and were looking for them in the lake, calling their names. They found the boat and returned home calling "Peter, Wendy", but there was no response except the mocking laughter of the sirens. "They must swim backwards or fly," the children concluded. They weren't too afraid, they had a lot of faith in Peter. They laughed like children because they were late for bed; And it was all Mama Wendy's fault!

As their voices faded, there was a cold stillness over the pond, and then a faint cry.

'Help help!'

Two small figures crashed against the rock; the girl had passed out and was lying in the boy's arms. With a final effort, Peter pulled her onto the rock and lay down beside her. When he also passed out, he saw the water rise. He knew they were about to drown, but he couldn't do more.

As they lay side by side, a mermaid grabbed Wendy's feet and began gently pushing her into the water. Peter, sensing her pulling away, woke up and had time to push her back. But she had to tell him the truth.

"We're on the rock, Wendy," he said, "but it's getting smaller. Soon the water will cover it.

She didn't understand either now.

"We have to go," she said, almost cheerfully.

"Yes," he replied weakly.

Are we swimming or flying, Peter?

I had to tell him.

"Do you think you could swim or fly to the island without my help, Wendy?"

She had to admit that she was very tired.


'What is it?' she asked, worried about him at the same time.

I can't help you, Wendy. Hook hurt me. I can't fly or swim.

Does that mean we're both going to drown?

See how the water rises.

They cover their eyes with their hands to block the view. They thought that they would soon cease to exist. As they sat, something as light as a kiss brushed against Peter, and he stopped as if to say, embarrassed, "Can I be of service to you?"

It was a kite tail that Michael had made a few days earlier. It had been ripped from her hand and swum away.

"Michael's kite," said Peter without interest, but in the next moment he had grabbed the tail and was pulling the kite towards him.

"He picked Michael off the ground," he yelled; 'Why shouldn't I take you with me?'

'Both of us!'

You cannot raise two; Michael and Curly tried.

"Let's cast lots," said Wendy boldly.

“And you are a lady; Never.' He already had his tail tied to him. She clung to him; she refused to go without him; but with a "goodbye, Wendy", he pushed her off the rock; and in a few minutes he carried her out of sight. Peter was alone at the pond.

The rock was very small now; would soon be submerged. Pale rays of light tiptoed across the water; and little by little came a sound at once the most musical and the most melancholy in the world: that of sirens calling to the moon.

Peter wasn't like other boys; but finally he was afraid. A tremor went through him like a tremor that goes over the sea; but in the sea tremors follow tremors until there are hundreds of them, and Peter felt only one. The next moment he was back on the rock with that smile on his face and a drum beating inside him. He said, 'Dying is going to be an awfully big adventure.'

Chapter 11: Peter Pan and Wendy (J.M. Barrie) - Santa's Christmas Library: Over 400 Christmas Novels, Stories, Poems, Carols and Legends (Illustrated Edition): The Gift of the Wizards, A Christmas Carol, Silent Night, The Three Wise Men , Little Lord Fauntleroy, The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, The Heavenly Christmas Tree, Little Women, The Tale of Peter Rabbit... (6)


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The last sounds Peter heard before he was completely alone were the sirens retreating one by one to their rooms under the sea. He was too far away to hear the doors closing; but every door in the coral caves they live in rings a little bell when opened or closed (as in all the finest houses on the continent), and he heard the bells.

The water constantly rose to nip at her feet; and to pass the time until the last drink, she watched the only thing that moved in the pond. He thought it was a floating piece of paper, perhaps part of the kite, and he wondered absently how long it would take to reach land.

At that moment he realized, with some strangeness, that he was undoubtedly in the lagoon for a purpose, for he was fighting the tide and sometimes winning; and when he won, Peter, always the underdog, couldn't help cheering; it was such a gallant piece of paper.

It wasn't really a piece of paper; it was the bird from Neverland, desperately struggling to reach Peter in his nest. By flapping her wings, as she had learned since the nest fell into the water, she was able to somewhat control her strange craft, but when Peter recognized her, she was very exhausted. She had come to save him, to give him her nest, even though there were eggs in it. I wonder more about the bird, because although it was good for her, it also tormented her at times. I can only assume that, as Mrs. Darling and the others, she was delighted that he had all his first teeth.

She yelled at him why she had come and he asked what she was doing there; but of course neither of them understood the other's language. In fantasy stories, humans are free to talk to birds, and now I wish I could pretend this story is like that and say that Peter reacted intelligently to the bird from Neverland; but the truth is better and I just want to tell you what really happened. Well, not only could they not understand each other, they also forgot their manners.

"I-want-you-to-go-to-the-nest," called the bird, speaking as slowly and clearly as possible, "and-then-you-can-go-to-earth, but-I -I'm -too-tired-to-push-him any closer-so-you-must-try-to-swim-up-to him.'

"Why are you screaming?" replied Peter. "Why don't you just run the nest as usual?"

"I... want... this..." said the bird, repeating everything.

So Peter tasted it slow and clear.

'What-you-croak-you-croak?' and so.

The Neverland Bird was confused; they are in a very bad mood.

"You stupid jay," he yelled, "why don't you do as I say?"

Peter realized that she was insulting him and dared to reply heatedly:

'You too!'

Then, interestingly, they both made the same comment:



The bird was determined, however, to save it if it could, and with one last mighty effort it overturned the nest against the rock. So she flew; leave your eggs to make your meaning clear.

Then she finally got it, clung to the nest and waved at the bird flying overhead. However, she wasn't on the air to receive their thanks; You couldn't even see him entering the nest; it was to see what he was doing with her balls.

There were two big white eggs and Peter held them up and thought. The bird covered its face with its wings so as not to see the last egg; but he couldn't help but peek through the feathers.

I don't remember telling you that there was a stick driven into the rock a long time ago by privateers to mark the location of buried treasure. The children had spotted the gleaming treasure and, when they were in a bad mood, showered the gulls with grinders, diamonds, pearls and thrush, which darted in search of food and then fled in a rage from the despicable trick he had played on them. . they were played. The pentagram was still there, and Starkey had hung his hat on it, a wide-brimmed tarpaulin. Peter put the eggs in this hat and placed it in the pond. It floated beautifully.

The Neverland Bird saw what he was doing immediately and squealed in admiration; and, unfortunately, Peter flaunted his agreement with her. So he climbed into the nest, put the stick on it like a pole and hung his shirt like a sail. At the same moment, the bird fluttered over the hat and returned to rest comfortably on the eggs. She glided in one direction and he was guided in another, both cheering.

When Peter landed, he naturally grounded his boat in a spot where the bird would easily find it; but the hat was so successful that it left the nest. It floated to pieces, and Starkey would often come to the shore of the lake and look with much bitter emotion at the bird perched on his hat. As we won't see him again, it's worth mentioning here that all the Never birds now build in this nest shape, with a wide rim for the chicks to breathe.

Great was the joy when Peter reached the underground house almost as quickly as Wendy, who had been carried back and forth by the dragon. All the children had adventures to tell; but perhaps the greatest adventure of all was going to bed several hours late. This led them to do a lot of shady things to stay awake longer, like sleeping. B. claiming associations; but Wendy, though pleased to have them safely home, was startled by the late hour, and cried out in a voice that had to be obeyed, "To bed, to bed." However, the next day she was terribly sensitive and distributed bandages to everyone; and they played until bedtime to limp and carry their arms in slings.


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One important result of the brush in the pond was that it made the redskins its friends. Peter had saved Tiger Lily from a terrible fate and now there was nothing she and her brave men wouldn't do for him. All night they sat upstairs, watching the house below ground and waiting for the big pirate attack, which obviously couldn't be delayed much longer. They were also there during the day, smoking a peace pipe and almost as if they wanted to eat candy.

They called Peter the Great White Father and prostrated themselves before him; and he liked that a lot, so it wasn't very good for him.

"The great white father," he would say to them with great dignity as they rose to their feet, "is glad to see Piccaninny's warriors protecting his tent from pirates."

"I, Tiger Lily", this beautiful creature would reply. "Peter Pan save me, I'm your great friend. I won't let the pirates hurt you.

She was too pretty to cower like that, but Peter thought she deserved it and responded condescendingly, "It's good. Peter Pan has spoken.

Whenever he said "Peter Pan has spoken", he intended to shut up now, and in that sense they humbly accepted it; but they were by no means so respectful of the other children, whom they considered ordinary brave men. They said, "How are you?" to them, and things like that; and what bothered the boys was that Peter seemed to think it was all right.

Secretly, Wendy sympathized with them a little, but she was too loyal a housewife to listen to complaints about her father. "Dad knows best," he would always say, regardless of your particular opinion. His private opinion was that Native Americans shouldn't call themselves Native Americans.

We have already reached the afternoon, which would be known among them as the night of nights, for its adventures and its outcomes. The day, as if silently gathering strength, passed almost without incident, and now the Reds remained at their posts on their blankets upstairs, while the children dined downstairs; everyone except Peter, who had left to find time. The way to tell the time on the island was to find the crocodile and stay close to it until the clock chimed.

That meal turned out to be imaginary tea, and they sat at the table and drank it in their greed; and indeed, with their chatter and reproaches, the noise was, as Wendy said, deafening. Of course, she didn't mind the noise, but she just wouldn't let them pick things up and then apologize by saying Tootles elbowed them. There was a firm rule that they were never to retaliate at mealtimes, but to bring the matter to Wendy by politely raising her right arm and saying, "I'm complaining about so-and-so"; but what usually happened was that they forgot or did too much.

"Silence," Wendy yelled as she told them for the twentieth time not to all speak at once. Is your pumpkin empty, dear?

"It's not quite empty, Mama," Slightly said after looking at an imaginary glass.

"She hasn't even started drinking milk yet," Nibs said.

That was illuminating, and Hammock jumped at the chance.

"I'm complaining about nibs," he said quickly.

However, John raised his hand first.

"Well John?"

'Can I sit in Peter's chair since he's not here?'

Sit in your father's chair, John! Wendy was shocked. 'Certainly not.'

"He's not really our father," John replied. He didn't even know how to make a dad until I showed him.

That was whining. "We complained about John," the twins yelled.

Tootles raised his hand. He was the humblest of them, indeed the only humble one, that Wendy was particularly kind to him.

"I don't think," said Tootles coyly, "that I could be a father.

- No, Stripes.

Once Tootles started, which wasn't very often, he had a silly way of walking.

"Since I can't be a father," he said heavily, "probably not, Michael, would you let me be a baby?"

"No, I won't," said Michael. It was already in his basket.

"Since I can't be a baby," said Tootles, heavier, "do you think I could be a twin?"

"Not really," replied the twins; It's terribly difficult being a Gemini.

"Since I can't be anything important," Tootles said, "would any of you like to see me do a trick?"

"No," they all replied.

Then it finally stopped. "I really had no hope," he said.

The hate story broke out again.

He coughs lightly on the table.

"The twins started with mammee apples."

"Curly eats tappa rolls and sweet potatoes."

'Nibs talks with his mouth full.'

I complain about the twins.

I'm complaining about Curly.

I complain about the nibs.

"Oh, my God, my God," exclaimed Wendy, "I'm sure I sometimes think that children are more trouble than they are worth."

She waved them away and sat down at her work basket: a heavy bundle of socks and holes in all her knees, as usual.

"Wendy," protested Michael, "I'm too big for a crib."

"I must have someone in a cradle," he said almost sternly, "and you are the smallest. A cradle is a very nice and cozy thing in a house.

They played around her while she sewed; such a group of happy faces and dancing limbs lit by that romantic fire. It has become a very familiar scene, that of the house below ground, but we see it for the last time.

There was a step, and Wendy, you may be sure, was the first to recognize it.

"Children, I hear your father's footsteps. He wants you to meet him at the gate.

Above, the Reds crouched down in front of Peter.

Take good care of yourselves, braves. I spoke.'

And then, as so many times before, the happy children dragged him under their tree. Like so many times before, but never again.

He brought nuts for the kids and timing for Wendy.

"Peter, you're just spoiling her, you know that?" Wendy smiled.

"Ah, old lady," said Peter, hanging up the gun.

"I was the one who told him mothers are called old," Michael whispered to Curly.

"I'm complaining about Michael," Curly said immediately.

The first twin came to Peter. 'Dad, we want to dance.'

"Dance, my little man," said Peter, who was in very good spirits.

But we want you to dance.

Peter really was the best dancer among them, but he acted like he was shocked.

'Me! My old bones would break.

And mom too.

"What!" cried Wendy, "the mother of a dance so full of weapons!"

"But on a Saturday night," suggested Slightly.

It wasn't Saturday night, at least it could have been, because they stopped counting the days long ago; but when they wanted to do something special, they said it was Saturday night and they did.

"Of course it's Saturday night, Peter," Wendy said, relenting.

People of our character, Wendy.

But it is only among our own progeny.

'True true.'

So they were told that they could dance, but first they had to put on their shirts.

"Ah, old lady," said Peter aside to Wendy as he warmed himself by the fire and watched her as she turned to sit down, "there's nothing like a night for you and me when the day is done. fire with the little ones around.

It's cute, Peter, isn't it? said Wendy, terribly pleased. Peter, I think Curly has your nose.

Michael looks like you.

She walked over to him and placed her hand on his shoulder.

'Dear Peter,' she said, 'of course I managed to survive with such a large family, but you don't want to move me, do you?'

- Not Wendy.

He certainly didn't want a change, but he looked at her uneasily; Blinking, you know, like he's not sure if he's awake or asleep.

Peter, what's the matter?

"I've been thinking," he said, a little scared. "He just pretends, doesn't he, that I'm his father?"

"Oh sim," Wendy disse melindrose.

"See," he continued apologetically, "that would make me look too old to be your real father."

“But they are ours, Peter, you and me.

"But not really, Wendy?" he asked anxiously.

"Not if you don't want to," she replied; and she clearly heard his relieved sigh. "Peter," she asked, trying to speak firmly, "how exactly do you feel about me?"

"A devoted son, Wendy."

"That's what I thought," she said, sitting alone at the back of the room.

"You're so weird," he said, frankly surprised, "and so is Tiger Lily. She wants to be something to me, but she says she's not my mother.

"No, it really isn't," Wendy replied with frightening emphasis. Now we know why he was prejudiced against the redskins.

'What is it then?'

It's not for a lady to say that.

"Oh, very well," said Peter, a little irritated. 'Maybe Tinker Bell will tell me.'

"Oh yes, Tinker Bell will tell you," Wendy said dismissively. He is an abandoned being.

Here Tink, standing by her dressing table and listening, shouted something sassy.

"She says she's proud of being dumped," Peter played.

He had a sudden idea. Maybe Tink wants to be my mother?

You're an idiot! exclaimed Tinker Bell passionately.

She said it so many times that Wendy didn't need a translation.

"I almost agree with her," Wendy snapped. Fancy Wendy popping. But she had been severely tested and didn't know what would happen until the night was over. If he had known, he wouldn't have broken.

Neither of them knew. Maybe it was better not to know. Their ignorance brought them a happier hour; and as it was to be his last hour on the island, let us rejoice that he spent sixty happy minutes. They sang and danced in their nightgowns. It was a deliciously scary song where they pretended to be afraid of their own shadows; Little did they know that the shadows would be upon them very soon, making them shudder in genuine fear. The dancing was outrageously joyous, and how they beat each other in and out of bed! It was more a pillow fight than a dance, and when it was over the pillows insisted on another fight, like partners who know they may never see each other again. The stories they told before Wendy's bedtime story time! Even Slightly tried to tell a story that night, but the beginning was so terribly boring that even he himself was horrified and said sadly:

"Yeah, it's a boring start. I say let's pretend it's the end

And finally they all went to bed to hear Wendy's story, the story they loved best, the story Peter hated. When she started to tell this story, he usually left the room or covered his ears; and if he had done any of those things this time, they might still be on the island. But tonight he stayed on his stool; and we'll see what happened.


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"Listen, then," Wendy said, and began to tell her story, with Michael at her feet and seven children in bed. "Once upon a time there was a gentleman..."

"I would have preferred it to be a lady," Curly said.

"I wish it was a white mouse," Nibs said.

"Easy," warned her mother. She was also a lady and...

"Oh mother," cried the first twin, "you mean there's a lady too, don't you?" She's not dead, is she?

'Oh no.'

"I'm really glad she's not dead," Tootles said. are you happy john

"Of course I am."

are you happy nibs


Are you happy twins?

Are we happy.

"My God!" Wendy sighed.

"A little less noise in there," yelled Peter, determined that she should get fair game, no matter how abhorrent the story he thought.

"The gentleman's name," Wendy continued, "was Mr. Darling, and his name was Mrs. Darling."

"I knew her," said John to annoy the others.

"I think I knew her," Michael said a little dubiously.

"They were married, you know," explained Wendy, "and what do you think they had?"

"White mice," exclaimed Nibs, inspired.


"It's terribly confusing," said Tootles, who knew the story by heart.

Easy Tootles. They had three children.

"What are descendants?"

"Well you are, Gemini.

Did you hear that I'm descending

"The descendants are just children," said John.

"Oh my God, my God," Wendy sighed. “Well, those three kids had a faithful nanny named Nana; but mr. Darling got angry with her and chained her in the backyard; and so all the children flew away.'

"It's a really good story," said Nibs.

"They flew," continued Wendy, "to Neverland, where the lost children are."

"I thought so," Curly interjected excitedly. "I don't know what it's like, but I thought they knew."

"Oh, Wendy," called Tootles, "is one of the lost boys named Tootles?"

"If it was him."

"I'm in a story. Hooray, I'm telling a story, Nibs.

'Conclude. Now I want you to think about the feelings of unhappy parents who have lost all of their children.”

'Oh!' everyone groaned, although they did not take into account the feelings of the unfortunate parents.

Think of the empty beds!


"It's terribly sad," said the first happy twin.

"I don't see how this can have a happy ending," said the second twin. you nibbs?

I'm really scared.

“If you only knew how great a mother's love is,” Wendy said triumphantly, “they wouldn't be afraid.” Now he was getting to the part that Peter hated.

"I like a mother's love," Tootles said, hitting Nibs with a pillow. Do you like a mother's love, Nibs?

"I just do it," Nibs replied.

“You see,” Wendy said smugly, “our heroine knew that the mother always left the window open so her children could fly back; so they stayed away for years and had a great time.

Are they back yet?

"Come on," said Wendy, bracing herself to her best, "let's look to the future"; and they all gave themselves the twist that makes it easier to see the future. Years passed; And who is this elegant lady of uncertain age who gets off at London train station?

"Oh Wendy, who is she?" shouted Nibs, as excited as if he didn't know.

Could it it...beautiful Wendy?


And who are the two strong and noble figures who now accompany you as adults? Could it be John and Michael? They are!'


“Look, dear brothers,” says Wendy, pointing upwards, “the window is still open. Ah, now we are rewarded for our sublime faith in a mother's love.” Then they flew to her mother and her father; and the pen cannot describe the happy scene over which we draw a veil.'

That was the story, and they were as pleased with it as the narrator herself. All as it should be, you see. We jump like the most merciless things in the world what children are but so attractive; and we are having a totally selfish time; and then, when we need special attention, we reciprocate nobly, confident that we will be embraced rather than slapped.

Such was their belief in a mother's love that they could afford to be insensitive a little longer.

But there was someone who knew better; and when Wendy finished, she let out a hollow groan.

What's up Peter? she screamed, running towards him, thinking he was sick. She felt him worrying, deeper than her chest. Where is Peter?

"It's not that kind of pain," Peter replied grimly.

"So what kind is it?"

"Wendy, you're wrong about mothers."

All crowded around him in terror, so alarming was his excitement; and with great frankness he told them what he had hitherto hidden.

“A long time ago,” he said, “like you, I thought my mother would always leave the window open for me; so i was gone for moons and moons and moons and then i flew back; but the window was locked because my mother had forgotten me and another boy was sleeping in my bed.

I'm not sure if this was true, but Peter believed it was true; and he scared them.

Are you sure mothers are like that?


So that was the truth about mothers. The frogs!

Still, it's best to be careful; and no one knows like a child when to give up. "Wendy, let's go home," John and Michael yelled together.

"Yes," she said, hugging her.

'Not tonight?' asked the confused Lost Boys. They knew in their hearts that you can do just fine without a mother and that only mothers think you can't.

"Immediately," said Wendy resolutely, having had the terrifying thought, "Perhaps Mama is in the throes of grief."

That fear made her forget how Peter should have been feeling, and she said sharply, 'Peter, will you make the necessary arrangements?'

"If you like," he said coolly, as if she'd asked him to pass the nuts.

Chapter 11: Peter Pan and Wendy (J.M. Barrie) - Santa's Christmas Library: Over 400 Christmas Novels, Stories, Poems, Carols and Legends (Illustrated Edition): The Gift of the Wizards, A Christmas Carol, Silent Night, The Three Wise Men , Little Lord Fauntleroy, The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, The Heavenly Christmas Tree, Little Women, The Tale of Peter Rabbit... (7)

Not even an apology for losing you among them! If she didn't mind breaking up, it would show her that it was Peter, that he didn't mind either.

But of course he cared a great deal about it; and he was so filled with rage at the elders who, as usual, spoiled everything, that as soon as he climbed his tree, he purposely choked at the rate of five per second. He did this because there's a saying in Neverland that every time you breathe in, an adult dies; and Peter vengefully killed her as soon as possible.

After giving the Reds the necessary instructions, he returned to the house where an undignified scene had taken place in his absence. Frightened by the thought of losing Wendy, the Lost Boys approached her threateningly.

"It's going to be worse than it was before they got there," they shouted.

We won't let her go.

Let's keep her captive.

Yes, chain her.

An instinct in his cock told him who to turn to.

"Tootles," he cried, "I appeal to you."

Wasn't it weird? appealed to the tools, the dumbest.

However, Tootles had a great response. At that moment, he put aside his foolishness and spoke with dignity.

'I'm just Tootles,' he said, 'and nobody cares for me. But the first one who doesn't behave like an English gentleman towards Wendy, I'll bleed him dry.

He pulled up his perch; and at that time its sun was noon. The others held on uncomfortably. Then Peter came back and they soon saw that they would have no support from him. He wouldn't keep a girl at Neverland against her will.

'Wendy,' he said, pacing up and down, 'I asked the Reds to take you through the woods, because flying tires you out.

Thanks Pedro

“So,” he continued in the short, high-pitched voice of someone used to being obeyed, “Tinker Bell will take you across the sea.” Wake them up, Nibs.

Nibs had to knock twice before getting an answer, although Tink had been sitting on the bed listening for some time.

'Who are you? How do you dare? Go away, ”she screamed.

"You've got to get up, Tink," Nibs yelled, "and take Wendy on a trip."

Of course, Tink was happy to hear that Wendy was leaving; but she was determined not to be his messenger, and said this in still more offensive language. So she pretended to sleep again.

"She says she won't," exclaimed Nibs, horrified at such disobedience, whereupon Peter sternly entered the young woman's room.

"Tinkerbell," he called, "if you don't get up and dressed right away, I'll open the curtains and then we'll see you in your clothes.

This caused her to fall to the ground. Who said I wouldn't get up? She cried.

Meanwhile, the children looked sadly at Wendy, who was now equipped with John and Michael for the trip. At that moment, they were devastated, not only because they were going to lose her, but also because they felt that she was going to something beautiful that they weren't invited to. The novelty called to her as always.

Wendy attributed them a nobler feeling and melted.

"Dear ones," she said, "if you all come, I'm pretty sure I can get my mom and dad to adopt you."

The invitation was addressed specifically to Peter; but each of the boys thought only of themselves and immediately jumped up and down with joy.

But won't they think we're a handful? asked Nibs mid-leap.

“Oh no,” said Wendy, thinking quickly, “it just means having two beds in the living room; they can be hidden behind screens on the first Thursday.

Peter, can we go? they all wept pleadingly. They assumed that if they did, so would he, but they didn't care. Thus, children are always ready to leave their loved ones when there is something new.

"Okay," Peter replied with a bitter smile; and they immediately ran to get their things.

"Now, Peter," Wendy said, thinking she had it all figured out, "I'll give you your medicine before I go." He loved giving them medicine, and no doubt he gave them a lot. It was just water, of course, but it was gourd, and she was always shaking the gourd and counting the drops, which gave it a certain medicinal quality. This time, though, she didn't give Peter the drink because, as she made it, she saw an expression on his face that made her heart clench.

"Get your things, Peter," she said, shivering.

"No," he replied with mock indifference, "I won't, Wendy."

- I Peter.


To show that his departure would leave him undisturbed, he would jump up and down the room, happily playing his heartless flutes. He had to run after him, although he was quite unworthy.

"To find your mother," he coaxed.

Well, if Peter ever had a mother, he didn't miss her anymore. I might as well do without one. I had thought about her and only remembered her bad sides.

"No, no," she said firmly to Wendy; "Maybe she'd say I'm old and I just want to always be a kid and have fun."

'But Peter...'


And so it was necessary to tell others about it.

Peter does not come.

Peter is not coming! They looked at him, sticks on his back and a bulge on each stick. Her first thought was that Peter had probably changed his mind about letting her go if he didn't go.

But he was too proud for that. "When you find your mothers," he said grimly, "I hope you like them."

The astounding cynicism made anyone uncomfortable, and most were beginning to look rather dubious. After all, said their faces, wasn't that pasta to go?

'Well,' exclaimed Peter, 'no fuss, no whining; Goodbye Wendy'; and he held out his hand happily, as if they really had to go because he had something important to do.

He had to take her hand as there was no indication that he preferred a thimble.

“Remember to take off the towel, Peter?” she said, stopping beside him. He was always very picky about his flannel robes.


"And are you going to take your medicine?"


That seemed to be all; and there was an awkward pause. However, Peter wasn't the type to break down in front of people. "Are you ready, Tinker Bell?" I call.

'Ai, ai'

"Then go ahead."

Tinker Bell climbed the nearest tree; but no one followed her, for at that moment the pirates launched their terrible attack on the redskins. Upstairs, where everything was so quiet, the air was full of screams and the clang of steel. It was quiet down there. Mouths opened and stayed open. Wendy dropped to her knees, but her arms were outstretched for Peter. All arms were extended towards him, as if suddenly drawn towards her; they begged him silently not to abandon them. As for Pedro, he took his sword, the same one he thought killed Barbacoa; and combativeness was in his eyes.


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The pirates' attack came as a complete surprise: infallible evidence that the devious Hook had done wrong, for the redskins' surprise is simply beyond the white man's intelligence.

By all the unwritten laws of savage warfare, it is always the red man who attacks, and with the cunning of his race he does so just before dawn, when he knows the white man's courage is lowest. Meanwhile, the whites built a crude palisade on top of this mountainous region, at the foot of which a stream flows; for it is a destruction to be very far from water. There they await the attack, the inexperienced brandishing guns and stepping on branches, but the old men sleep peacefully until just before dawn. During the long black night, wild rangers wriggle through the grass like snakes, not brandishing a sword. The undergrowth closes in behind them as silently as sand soaked into a mole. No sound is heard, except when they let out a wonderful imitation of the coyote's lonely call. The cry is answered by other valiant men; and some do it even better than coyotes, who aren't very good at it. Thus pass the cold hours, and the long strain is terribly taxing on the pale face, which she must experience for the first time; but to the trained hand those terrible screams and the even more terrible silence are just a clue as to how the night goes.

Hook was so aware that this was standard procedure that he could not ignore it out of ignorance.

For their part, the Piccaninnies trusted their honor implicitly, and the entire action of the night stands in stark contrast to his. They left nothing undone that was in keeping with their tribe's reputation. With that keenness of sense which inspires wonder and despair in civilized peoples, they knew from the moment one of them stepped on a dry stick that pirates were on the island; and in an incredibly short time the coyote's screams began. Every yard of ground between where Hook had landed his forces and the house under the trees was surreptitiously surveyed by brave men carrying their loafers forward. They found only a hill with a stream at the base, so Hook had no choice; here he must settle down and wait a little before dawn. All laid out with almost diabolical cunning, the bulk of the redheads wrapped themselves in their blankets and crouched by the children's fireplace with the phlegmatic air that for them is the pearl of manhood, waiting for the cold weather to face the pale ones. Death.

It was here that these innocent savages were found by the treacherous Hook, yet awake dreaming of the exquisite tortures to which they would be subjected at daybreak. According to reports later supplied by scouts who escaped the carnage, he does not seem to have stopped even on the high ground, though he certainly must have seen him in that gray light: he had not thought of the attack in anticipation. he seems to have visited his subtle mind from beginning to end; I wouldn't even wait until the night was almost over; He attacked with no policy other than to fall. What could the baffled scouts, masters of all wars but this one, but trot helplessly after him, exposing themselves mortally to the sight as they uttered the plaintive cry of the coyote?

Surrounding the brave Tiger Lily were a dozen of her bravest warriors, and suddenly they saw the treacherous pirates approaching them. Then they lost sight of the film through which they saw the victory. They would not torture her at the stake again. For them now the happy hunting ground. Did you know that; but as the children of their fathers they acquitted themselves. Even so, they had time to form a phalanx that would be difficult to break if they rose quickly, but their race's traditions forbade them to do so. It is written that the noble savage must never be surprised in the presence of the white. Terrible as the sudden appearance of the pirates was to them, they stood still for a moment without moving a muscle; as if the enemy had come by invitation. So indeed, gallantly respecting tradition, they took up their weapons, and the air rent with the war cries; But it was too late.

It is not our job to describe what was a massacre rather than a fight. Many of the Piccaninny tribe's flowers died. Not all died without revenge, as with Lean Wolf Alf Mason fell so as not to pursue the Spaniards further; and among others who bit the dust were Geo. Scourie, Chas. Turley and the Alsatian Foggerty. Turley fell to the Dread Panther's hatchet, which eventually broke through the pirates with Tiger Lily and a small remnant of the tribe.

To what extent Hook is to blame for his tactics this time is left to the historian. Had he waited on the high ground until the time was right, he and his men would likely have been slaughtered; and in judging, it is just to bear this in mind. Perhaps what he should have done was let his opponents know that he intended to pursue a new method. On the other hand, in addition to destroying the element of surprise, it would render your strategy useless, so the whole issue is fraught with difficulties. At the very least, one can grudgingly admire the ingenuity with which he conceived so bold a plan, and the diabolical genius with which it was carried out.

What were your own feelings about yourself in that triumphant moment? His hounds would have liked to know, for, breathing heavily and cleaning their sabers, they stepped discreetly away from their hook and looked up at this remarkable man with ferret eyes. Enthusiasm should have been in his heart, but his face did not reflect it: ever a dark and lonely enigma, he stood apart from his followers in both spirit and substance.

The night's work was not yet over, for he had not gone out to destroy the Reds; they were nothing more than bees that were smoked for honey. He wanted Pan, Pan and Wendy and their gang, but most of all Pan.

Peter was such a young boy that one wonders the man's hatred for him. True, he threw Hook's arm to the crocodile; but even this, and the increasing precariousness of the life he led on account of the crocodile's stubbornness, hardly explain so vicious and vicious a revenge. The truth is, there was something about Peter that drove the pirate captain crazy. It wasn't his courage, it wasn't his attractive looks, it wasn't-. We don't have to beat around the bush because we know very well what it was and we have to say it. It was Peter's arrogance.

This angered Hook; it made his iron claw tremble, and at night it disturbed him like an insect. While Peter was alive, the tortured man felt like a lion in a cage that a sparrow had entered.

The question now was how they got down from the trees or how they managed to knock down their dogs. He ran his greedy eyes over them, looking for the slender ones. They squirmed uncomfortably, knowing he would have no qualms about cutting them with sticks.

And the boys meanwhile? We saw them at the first sound of weapons, as if transformed into stone figures, gaping, all appealing to Peter with outstretched arms; and we come back to them as their mouths close and their arms drop to their sides. The chaos above us ceased almost as suddenly as it had come, passed like a violent gust of wind; but they know it determined their fate along the way.

Which side won?

The pirates, listening carefully into the mouths of the trees, heard each child's question and, unfortunately, Peter's answer as well.

“If the Reds win,” he said, “they'll beat the hell out of it; it's always your victory sign.

Now Smee had found the drum and was sitting on it. "You'll never hear the tom-tom again," he muttered, but inaudible, of course, because absolute silence was ordered. To his surprise, Hook gestured for him to touch the tom-tom; and slowly Smee understood the terrible evil of the Order. Probably this simple man never admired Hook so much.

Smee played the instrument twice, then stopped to listen happily.

"The tom-tom," the criminals heard Peter shout; an Indian victory!

The doomed children responded with a glee that was music to the black hearts above, and almost immediately repeated their farewell to Peter. This confused the pirates, but all other feelings were swallowed up in a basic joy that the enemy was about to climb the trees. They smiled at each other and rubbed their hands. Quickly and silently, Hook gave his orders: one man in each tree, the others lined up six feet away.


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The sooner this horror is removed, the better. The first to come out of his tree was Curly. He threw it into Cecco's arms, who threw it to Smee, who threw it to Starkey, who threw it to Bill Jukes, who threw it to Noodler, and then he was thrown back and forth until he hit the ground, which I usually do. Feet of the Black Pirate All the children were torn from their trees in this relentless manner; and several of them were in the air at once, like bundles of goods being thrown from hand to hand.

Chapter 11: Peter Pan and Wendy (J.M. Barrie) - Santa's Christmas Library: Over 400 Christmas Novels, Stories, Poems, Carols and Legends (Illustrated Edition): The Gift of the Wizards, A Christmas Carol, Silent Night, The Three Wise Men , Little Lord Fauntleroy, The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, The Heavenly Christmas Tree, Little Women, The Tale of Peter Rabbit... (8)

Wendy, who came last, was treated differently. With ironic courtesy, Hook tipped his hat to her and, offering his arm, led her to where the others were being muzzled. He did it with so much air, it was so terrifying, she was too mesmerized to scream. She was just a girl.

It might be instructive to divulge that she was briefly hooked by Hook and we only report her because her slip-up led to strange results. If she had blurted it out (and we would have liked to have written about her) she would have been thrown into the air like the others, and so Hook probably wouldn't have been with the pack of kids; and if he hadn't been there at the time of the call, he wouldn't have found out about Pretentious's secret, and without the secret he couldn't have made his dirty attempt on Peter's life.

They were tied together to keep them from flying away, hunched over, knees pulled up to their ears; and to tie them together, the black pirate cut a rope into nine equal parts. All was going well until Slightly's turn, when it became like those flat bundles that consume all the rope as they circle and leave no tags to tie a knot. The pirates kicked angrily, just like you kick the package (although, to be fair, you should kick the rope); and strangely, it was Hook who told them to stop the violence. His lip curled in spiteful triumph. While his dogs simply sweated because every time they tried to squeeze the unfortunate boy into one part, he excelled in another, Hook's brain had gone far beyond Slightly's surface, looking not for effects but for causes; and his jubilation showed that he had found her. Slightly pale, he knew that Hook had discovered his secret, which was that no boy so broken could use a tree an ordinary man had to nail himself to. Poor Pretentious, the most miserable of children now because he was afraid of Peter, bitterly regretted what he had done. Insanely addicted to drinking hot water, he consequently swelled up to his current size, and instead of shrinking to fit his tree, unbeknownst to the others, he carved his tree to fit him.

Hook knew enough of this to convince him that Peter was finally at his mercy; but not a word of the dark pattern now forming in the subterranean recesses of his mind passed his lips; he simply signed that the prisoners would be transported to the ship and that he would be alone.

How do I transfer them? Huddled on their ropes, they could indeed roll downhill like barrels, but most of the way was through a swamp. Once again, Hook's genius overcame the odds. He hinted that the house would be used as a means of transportation. The children were thrown, four burly pirates lifted him to their shoulders, the others fell back, and, singing the hated pirates' chorus, the strange procession made its way through the forest. I don't know if any of the children cried; if so, the singing drowned out the sound; but when the little house disappeared into the woods, an angry, if tiny, jet of smoke rose from its chimney as if to challenge Hook.

Hook saw it and did Peter a disservice. He wiped away any feathers that might have remained on the angry pirate's chest.

The first thing he did, finding himself alone in the rapidly falling night, was to tiptoe to Slightly's tree and make sure she let him pass. So he pondered for a long time; his hat ominous on the grass, that a light breeze that had risen might blow coolness into his hair. As dark as his thoughts were, his blue eyes were soft as periwinkle. He strained to hear the sounds of the world below, but it was as quiet below as it was above; the underground house seemed to be another empty abode in the void. Was this boy sleeping or waiting at the foot of the Slightly tree, dagger in hand?

There was no other way to say it than to go down. Hook gently slid his cloak to the ground, then bit his lip until lustful blood smeared him and entered the tree. He was a brave man; but for a moment he had to stop and wipe his forehead, which was dripping like a candle. Then silently he let himself be carried away by the unknown.

Unmolested, he reached rock bottom and stopped again, catching the breath that had nearly let him out. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, various objects from the house began to take shape under the trees; but the only thing that attracted his long-sought and finally found covetous eye was the big bed. Peter was fast asleep in bed.

Unaware of the tragedy described above, Peter happily played his flutes for some time after the children were gone: no doubt a rather sad attempt to prove to himself that he didn't care. So she decided not to take the medicine to make Wendy sad. So he lay down on the bed without a blanket to piss her off even more; because she always deceived her, because you never know when it gets dark she can't be cold. Then he was about to cry; but she saw how indignant she would be if he laughed for her; then he snorted and fell asleep in the middle.

Sometimes, though not often, he had dreams, and they were more painful than other children's dreams. For hours she couldn't shake off these dreams, though she wept miserably in them. They had, I believe, something to do with the mystery of their existence. At times like this, Wendy had the habit of getting him out of bed and sitting with him on her lap, soothing him in the tender way that she herself created, and when he calmed down she would lay him back down before he woke up. that he might not know the humiliation to which she had subjected him. But this time he fell into a dreamless sleep immediately. One arm slid off the bed, one leg buckled, and the unfinished part of his laugh caught in his open mouth, showing the little beads.

So Hook found him helpless. He stood silently at the base of the tree and looked through the camera at his enemy. Did no pity trouble your gloomy bosom? The man wasn't all bad; he loved flowers (so I was told) and sweet music (he couldn't play a bad harpsichord himself); and, let us admit, he was deeply moved by the idyll of the scene. Governed by his better self, he would have reluctantly returned to the tree if not for one thing.

What stopped him was Peter's impertinence in his sleep. The gaping mouth, the dangling arm, the bent knee: they were such an embodiment of arrogance that together they can never again be shown to an eye sensitive to their insult. They strengthened Hook's heart. If anger at him had torn him into a hundred pieces, everyone would have ignored the incident and jumped on the sleeper.

Though the light from one of the lamps glowed dimly over the bed, Hook found himself in darkness, and with his first stealthy step forward, he saw an obstacle, the door of Slightly's tree. It didn't quite fill the gap and he had forgotten about it. As he fumbled for the latch, he discovered, to his rage, that it was far below, out of reach. It seemed to his confused brain that the irritating tone in Peter's face and form was visibly amplified, and he knocked on the door and threw himself against it. It was his enemy, after all, to escape him.

But what was it? The flush in her eyes had seen Peter's medicine on an easily accessible shelf. He knew immediately what it was about and knew immediately that the sleeper was his.

To keep him from being taken alive, Hook always carried a vile drug that he mixed himself with whatever deadly rings he could get his hands on. These he boiled in a yellow liquid unknown to science, which was probably the most cruel poison that existed.

He added five drops to Peter's glass. His hand shook, but more from pleasure than embarrassment. He avoided looking at the sleeper as he did so, but not for fear that sympathy would disturb him; just so it doesn't spill. Then he gave his victim a long, amused look, turned and climbed the tree. Upon emerging at the top, he saw the same evil spirit coming out of its hole. He put his hat on at the gayest angle and wrapped his cloak around it, holding one end forward as if to hide his person from the night of which he was the darkest part, and muttering strange things to himself, he crept from the trees.

Peter continued to sleep. The light flickered and went out, leaving the house in darkness; but he still slept. It must not have been less than ten o'clock when the crocodile suddenly sat up in bed, awakened by he didn't know what. It was a soft, cautious knock on the tree door.

Gentle and careful, but in that stillness it was strange. Peter groped for his dagger until his hand caught it. Then he spoke.

'Who is it?'

No response for a long time: then the blow again.

'Who are you?'

No reply.

He was excited and he loved being excited. In two strides he was at her door. Unlike Slightly's door, it filled the gap so he couldn't see through it, nor did it knock.

"I won't open you unless you speak," shouted Peter.

Then at last the visitor spoke in a beautiful bell voice.

let me in

It was Tink, and she quickly unbuttoned it. She flew away excitedly, her face flushed and her dress stained with mud.

'What is it?'

"Oh, you could never guess that," he exclaimed, offering her three guesses. 'Away with it!' the Scream; and in an ungrammatical sentence he spoke of capturing Wendy and the children as the Ribbon Whispers were being ripped from their mouths.

Peter's heart rose and fell as he listened. Wendy tied up and on the pirate ship; she who loved that everything was like that!

"I'll save her," he yelled, jumping on his weapons. As he jumped, he thought of something he could do to please her. He could take medicine from her.

His hand closed around the deadly chain.

'Not!' shouted Tinker Bell, who heard Hook mutter about her accomplishment as she ran through the woods.

'Why not?'

It's poisoned.

, Poisoned? Who could have poisoned him?


Do not be stupid. How did Hook get here?

Unfortunately, Tinker Bell couldn't explain this, because even she didn't know the Slightly Tree's dark secret. Hook's words, however, left no room for doubt. The cup was poisoned.

"Besides," said Peter with faith, "I never slept."

He lifted the glass. Now is not the time for words; Workday; and with one of his lightning movements, Tink got between his lips and the drink and slurped it down.

"Why, Tink, how dare you drink my medicine?"

But she didn't answer. He was already dangling in the air.

'What's wrong with you?' Peter yelled, suddenly startled.

"It was poisoned, Peter," she told him calmly. 'and now I'll be dead.'

'Oh Tinkerbell, did you drink to save me?'


"But why, Tink?"

She would hardly use her wings now, but in response she sat on his shoulder and bit his chin affectionately. She whispered in his ear: "You are an idiot"; then she staggered into the bedroom and lay down on the bed.

Her head almost filled the fourth wall of her small room as he knelt beside her in pain. With each passing moment, his light dimmed; and she knew that when she left, she would be no more. He liked her tears so much that he took out his beautiful finger and ran over them.

His voice was so low that at first she couldn't make out what he was saying. So he did it. She said she thought she could bounce back if the children believed in fairies.

Peter opened his arms. There were no children and it was night; but it was aimed at anyone who might be dreaming of Neverland, and so it was closer than you might think: boys and girls in nightgowns and naked poppies in baskets hanging from trees.

'You believe?' Shout out.

Tink sat up in bed almost quickly to hear her fate.

She thought she heard affirmative responses, and again, she wasn't sure.

'What do you think?' he asked Peter.

“If you believe,” he called them, “clap your hands; Don't let Tink die.

Many applauded.

Some don't.

Some small animals hissed.

The applause suddenly stopped; as if countless mothers had run to their nurseries to see what the hell was going on; but Tinkerbell has already been saved. First his voice got louder; then he jumped out of bed; so she walked about the room more cheerfully and impudently than ever. He never thought to thank those who believed, but he wanted to reach out to those who whistled.

And now to save Wendy.

The moon rode across an overcast sky as Peter rose from his tree, gun belted and scantily clad to embark on his perilous quest. It wasn't a night like the one he would have chosen. Hoping to fly, he kept close to the ground so his eyes wouldn't miss anything out of the ordinary; but in that unsteady light, flying low would mean dragging his shadow through the trees, disturbing the birds, and warning a watchful enemy that he was moving.

He now regretted giving such strange names to the birds on the island that they are very wild and difficult to approach.

There was nothing to do but continue in the style of the redskins, in which he was fortunately an expert. But which way, since he wasn't sure if the children had been taken to the ship? A light blizzard erased all traces; and a deathly stillness fell over the island, as if nature had stopped for a moment of horror at the recent slaughter. He taught the children some of the forest tales he had learned from Tiger Lily and Tinker Bell, and he knew they were unlikely to forget in their dire hour. For example, he occasionally burned the trees, Curly threw seeds, and Wendy left her handkerchief in an important place. But the morning was needed to seek that direction, and she couldn't wait. The upper world called to him, but they gave him no help.

The crocodile passed him by, but no other creatures, no sound, no movement; and yet he knew very well that sudden death might be lurking in the nearest tree or behind him.

He took that terrible oath: 'Either the hook this time or me'.

Now it crawled forward like a snake; and again he flung himself to his feet into a room where the moonlight was playing: finger to lip, dagger at the ready. I was terribly happy.


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A flashing green light over Kidd's Creek, which is near the mouth of the Pirate River, marked the brig thatalegrelie down at the bottom of the water; a bold-looking ship with a filthy hull, each beam as hideous as the bottom covered in torn feathers. She was the cannibal of the seas and hardly needed that watchful eye, floating along immune to the horrors of her name.

She was wrapped in the shroud of night through which no sound of her could have reached the shore. There was little to be heard and nothing pleasant except the hum of the ship's sewing machine, at which sat Smee, always diligent and courteous, the essence of ordinary pathetic Smee. I don't know why he was so infinitely pathetic unless he was so pathetically ignorant; but even strong men had to turn from him hastily, and more than once in a summer afternoon he touched Hook's well of tears and made them flow. Smee, like most everyone else, didn't know that.

Some of the pirates leaned against the walls and drank the miasma of night; others stand beside barrels in dice and card games; and the four weary ones who had carried the little house lay face down on the deck, rolling deftly even in their sleep, out of Hook's reach, lest he mechanically scratch them as he passed.

Hook came up on deck thoughtfully. O inscrutable man. It was time for his triumph. Peter was gone for good and all the other boys were in the brig, ready to walk the plank. It was his darkest act since the days when he hunted Barbacoa; and knowing how vain man's tabernacle is, could we be surprised if he now staggers across the deck, puffed up by the winds of his success?

But there was no mirth in her walk, following the action of her dark mind. Hook was deeply depressed.

It was often like that when he talked to himself in the stillness of the night aboard the ship. It was because he was terribly alone. This inscrutable man has never felt more alone than when he's surrounded by his dogs. They were so socially inferior to him.

Hook wasn't his real name. Revealing who he really was, even to this day, would set the country on fire; but, as those who read between the lines guessed, he studied at a famous public school; and his wisdom still clung to him like garments, which they are indeed very concerned about. Therefore, even now, she hated boarding a ship in the same clothes she had boarded; and he continued steadfastly on his way to the school's excellent preschool. Above all, he maintained his passion for fitness.

In shape! As much as it degenerated, I still knew that's all that really matters.

Deep down he heard a creak like rusty doors, and through them came a loud bang, banging, like hammering in the night you can't sleep. Were you in good shape today? was his constant question.

"Glory, glory, this shining ball is mine," he exclaimed.

Is it good manners to excel at something? she responded to her school's tap-tap.

"I am the only man Barbecue feared," he insisted. and Flint himself feared barbecue.

Barbecue, Flint, which house? came the sharp reply.

The most disturbing thought of all, wasn't it rude to think about good manners?

His vital signs were plagued by this problem. There was a claw in him sharper than iron; and as he ripped it, sweat trickled down his greasy face and stained his doublet. Many times she wiped her face with her sleeve, but the dripping wouldn't stop.

Ah, do not envy Hook.

The presentiment of their impending dissolution came to him. It was as if Peter's terrible oath had taken hold. Hook found himself wanting desperately to make his last speech for fear of not having time.

"Better for Hook," he exclaimed, "if he had been less ambitious." In his darkest hours, he only referred to himself in the third person.

'No child loves me.'

It's strange that he remembers that it never bothered him before; maybe the sewing machine reminded me of that. He muttered to himself for a long time and looked at Smee, who was swaying calmly, convinced that all the children were afraid of him.

I feared him! Smee feared! There wasn't a child aboard the brig that night who didn't already love him. He had said horrible things to them and hit them with the palm of his hand because he couldn't hit with his fist; but they just clung to him more. Michael had tried on the glasses.

To tell poor Smee they thought he was adorable! Hook really wanted to do it, but it felt too brutal. Instead, he turned to this conundrum: why do they find Smee adorable? He went after the problem like the bloodhound he was. If Smee was adorable, what made him so adorable? Suddenly there was a horrible response: 'Good form?'

The boatswain was in good shape without knowing, what is the best shape of all?

He pointed out that you have to prove you don't know you have it before you're eligible for pop.

With a cry of rage, he raised his iron hand to Smee's head; but it didn't tear. What captivated him was this thought:

'Scratching a man because he's in good shape, what would that be?'

'Bad way!'

The wretched Hook was as helpless as he was wet, falling forward like a cut flower.

His dogs kept him out of the way for a while, discipline immediately slipping away; and they began a bacchanalian dance which immediately brought him to his feet; all traces of human weakness disappeared, as if a bucket of water had been run over him.

'Calm down, Scugs,' he cried, 'or I'll anchor on you'; and immediately the noise stopped. Are all the children chained so they can't fly?

'Ai, ai'

Then take it.

The miserable prisoners were dragged from the cellar, all but Wendy, and lined up in front of him. For a moment, he seemed unaware of her presence. He wallowed in a relaxed manner, humming snatches of rough music to a set tune and playing a deck of cards. From time to time the light from his cigar gave a touch of color to his face.

"Well then, idiots," he said energetically, "six of you are going to walk the plank tonight, but I've got room for two idiots. Which one of you will it be?

"Don't tease him unnecessarily," Wendy's instruction had been in the basement; Then Tootles politely stepped forward. Tootles hated the idea of ​​hiring such a man, but some instinct told him it would be wise to blame an absent person; and even though he was a bit of a silly boy, he knew that single mothers are always willing to be the buffer. All kids know that about mothers and look down on them for it, but they use it all the time.

Then Tootles carefully explained: "Look, sir, I don't think my mother would want me to be a pirate. Your mother wants you to be a pirate, pretentious?

He winked at Slightly, who said sadly, "I don't think so," as if she wished things had been different. "Does your mother want you to be a pirate, twin?"

"I don't think so," said the first twin, as smart as the others. "Nibs, I'd like-"

"Save this lecture," Hook shouted, and the speakers backed up. "Your boy," he said, turning to John, "you seem to have nerves. Did you ever want to be a pirate, my dear?

Well, John sometimes experienced this craving for mathematics. Tasks.; and it occurred to him that Hook had chosen him.

"I once thought of calling myself Jack the Redhanded," he said coyly.

And a good name too. That's what we call you here, Bully, if you'll join us.

What do you think asked John.

“What would you call me if I walked in?” Michael demanded.

Joe Schwartzbart.

Of course Michael was impressed. what are you thinking He wanted John to make a choice and John wanted him to make a choice.

Will we continue to be respectful subjects of the king? asked John.

From between Hook's teeth came the reply: "You would have to swear, 'Down with the King'."

Maybe John hadn't been very good up until now, but now he was beaming.

"Then I refuse," he shouted, slamming the barrel in front of Hook.

"And I refuse," exclaimed Michael.

"Rule Britannia!" Curly screamed.

The enraged pirates hit them in the mouth; and Hook roared: "That will seal your doom. Educate your mother. Prepare the table.

They were still children and they paled when they saw Jukes and Cecco preparing the deadly plank. But they tried to look bold when they mentioned Wendy.

No words from me can say how much Wendy was despised by those pirates. For boys there was at least some glamor in being a pirate; but all she saw was that the ship hadn't been cleaned in years. There wasn't a watchman on whose dirty glass you couldn't write "dirty pig" with your finger; and she had already written it in several. But of course, as the boys surrounded her, she thought of nothing but them.

“So honey,” Hook said, as if he were talking in syrup, “you'll see your kids walk the plank.

Despite being a good gentleman, the intensity of their communication had stained his neck and he suddenly knew she was looking at him. With a hurried gesture she tried to hide it, but it was too late.

they have to die Wendy asked with a look of contempt so hideous she nearly fainted.

"They are," he growled. "Silence to all," he exclaimed cheerfully, "for the last words of a mother to her children."

At this point, Wendy was great. "These are my last words, dear boys," he said firmly. I feel I have a message for you from your true mothers, and it is this: "We hope our sons, English gentlemen, die."

Even the pirates marveled; and Tootles screamed hysterically, "I'll do what my mother expects. What are you doing, Nibbs?

What does my mother expect? What are you going to do, Twin?

What does my mother expect? John, what are you...?

But Hook had found his voice again.

"Tie her up," he yelled.

It was Smee who tied him to the mast. "Look honey," she whispered, "I'll save you if you promise to be my mother."

But not even for Smee would he make such a promise. "I would almost rather not have children," he said dismissively.

It's sad to know that no child looked at her when Smee tied her to the pole; all her eyes were on the blackboard: the last little hike they were about to take. They could no longer hope to walk through it with courage, for the ability to think had deserted them; they could only watch and tremble.

Hook grinned at her through clenched teeth and took a step toward Wendy. He wanted to turn her face so she could see the boys stepping down the plank one by one. But he never reached her, never heard the agonized scream he hoped to elicit from her. Instead, he heard something else.

It was the terrible ticking of the crocodile.

You've all heard it: pirates, boys, Wendy; and immediately all the heads flew in one direction; not towards the water from which the sound came, but towards Hook. Everyone knew that what was about to happen was his problem and that actors had become spectators.

It was very frightening to see the change that was taking place in him. It was as if all the joints had been severed. It landed in a small pile.

The sound was getting closer; and before that came this horrible thought: 'The crocodile is about to board the ship.'

Even the iron claw hung limp; as if it knew it wasn't an integral part of what the strike force wanted. Left so terribly alone, any other man would have had his eyes closed where he had fallen: but Hook's gigantic brain was still working, and under his guidance he crawled across the deck on his knees, as far away from the sound as possible. . The pirates respectfully opened a passage for him, and only when he reached the walls did he speak.

"Hide me," he yelled hoarsely.

They gathered around him; All eyes turned away from the thing coming aboard. They didn't think to fight it. what was fate

Only when Hook was hidden from them did curiosity loosen the children's limbs, allowing them to run to the side of the ship to see the crocodile climb onto it. Then they experienced the strangest surprise of that night of nights; for it was not a crocodile that came to his rescue. it was Pedro

He motioned them not to express admiration that might arouse suspicion. So he kept dialing.


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Weird things happen to all of us on our way through life without us realizing for a while that they happened. So, to give you an example, we suddenly find that we've been deaf in one ear for we don't know how long, but let's say half an hour. Such an experience happened to Peter that night. The last time we saw him, he was slinking around the island with a finger to his lips and a dagger in his hand. He had watched the crocodile pass by without noticing anything special about it, but he was beginning to remember that it hadn't ticked. At first he found this disturbing, but he soon correctly concluded that time had run out.

Without considering what might be the feelings of a neighbor who is suddenly bereft of his closest companion, Peter immediately thought of how to turn the disaster to his own advantage; and he decided to mark it so that the animals would think it was the crocodile and let it pass unmolested. It worked splendidly, but with an unforeseen result. The crocodile was among those who heard the sound and followed it, whether with a view to regaining what it had lost, or simply as a friend in the belief that if it fails again, it will never be right. slave to a fixed idea, he was a dumb beast.

Pedro reached the bank without incident and continued on; His legs met the water as if he didn't know he'd entered a new element. So many animals go from land to water, but no other human that I know of. As he swam, he only thought of one: "This time, it's either me or the hook". He scored for so long that now he continued to score without knowing he was doing it. If he had known, he would have stopped, because boarding the brig with the tick, brilliant though it was, had not occurred to him.

Chapter 11: Peter Pan and Wendy (J.M. Barrie) - Santa's Christmas Library: Over 400 Christmas Novels, Stories, Poems, Carols and Legends (Illustrated Edition): The Gift of the Wizards, A Christmas Carol, Silent Night, The Three Wise Men , Little Lord Fauntleroy, The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, The Heavenly Christmas Tree, Little Women, The Tale of Peter Rabbit... (9)

On the contrary, he thought he had climbed up the side without making a mouse noise; and he was startled to see the pirates crouched before them, with Hook in their midst, as pathetic as if he had heard the crocodile.

The crocodile! As soon as Peter remembered, he heard the ticking. At first he thought the noise was coming from the alligator and quickly looked back. Then he realized that he was doing it himself and in an instant understood the situation. 'How clever of me,' he thought immediately, motioning the boys not to erupt in applause.

At that moment, Ed Teynte, the boatswain, came out of the forecastle and came up on deck. Well, reader, listen to what happened on your watch. Peter hit straight and deep. John covered the hapless pirate's mouth with his hands to stifle a dying groan. He fell forward. Four guys held him back to avoid the blow. Pedro gave the signal and the carrion was thrown into the sea. There was a noise and then silence. How long it took?

'1!' (Slightly began to count.)

Not long after, Peter, tiptoeing every inch of it, disappeared into the cabin; for more than one pirate plucked up the courage to look around. They could now hear each other's agonized breathing, telling them that the most horrible sound was over.

"He's gone, Captain," said Smee, polishing his glasses. Everything is calm again.

Hook slowly lifted his head from the collar and listened so intently he could have heard the echo of the tic. There was no sound and he straightened to his full height.

"Here's to Johnny Plank then," he shouted outrageously, hating the boys more than ever for seeing him pass out. He broke into the villain's song:

'Yo ho, yo ho, the playful board,

you walk together

Until I come down and you come down

Davy Jones down!

To frighten the prisoners further, she danced, albeit with some loss of dignity, on an imaginary plank and made faces at them as she sang; and when she was done, she yelled, "Would you like to touch the cat before you walk the plank?"

They fell to their knees. "No, no", they shouted so pathetically that all the pirates smiled.

"Bring the cat, Jukes," Hook said. He's in the cabin.

The cabin! Peter was in the booth! The children looked at each other.

"Ah, ah," said Jukes cheerfully, stepping into the cabin. They followed him with their eyes; As soon as they realized that Hook had resumed his song, their dogs joined him:

'Yo ho, yo ho, or startling cat,

Their tails are nine, you know

And if they're written on your back...

What the last line was will never be known, for suddenly the music was interrupted by a hideous scream from the booth. He howled through the ship and left. Then there was a chant, well understood by the boys, but almost more terrifying to the pirates than the scream.

'What was that?' shouted Hook.

"Two," said Leicht solemnly.

Italian Cecco hesitated for a moment, then entered the cabin. Distraught, he stumbled outside.

What's up with Bill Jukes, dog? Hook hissed, towering over him.

"What's wrong with him is that he's dead, stabbed," Cecco replied hollowly.

"Bill Jukes is dead!" shouted the frightened pirates.

"The hut is dark as a well," Cecco said, almost stammering, "but there's something terrible in there: the thing you heard cackling.

Hook saw the boys' cries, the pirates' downcast eyes.

"Cecco," he said in his steely voice, "go back and bring me the doodle.

Cecco, the bravest of the brave, crouched before his captain and cried, "No, no"; but Hook purred in its claw.

"Did you say you were leaving, Cecco?" he said thoughtfully.

Cecco left, at first throwing up his arms in despair. There were no more songs, now everyone was listening; and again there was a death cry, and again a crow.

No one spoke except Pretentious. "Three," he said.

Hook dismissed his dogs. "Death and Chance Fish," he thundered, "who brought me this doodle-doo?"

"Wait for Cecco to come out," growled Starkey, echoed by the others.

"I think I heard you volunteered, Starkey," Hook said, purring again.

'No, because of the thunder!' shouted Starkey.

"My Hook thinks it was you," Hook said, moving closer to him. "I wonder if it wouldn't be wise, Starkey, to play along with the hook."

"I'll swing before I go in there," Starkey replied stubbornly, once again having the support of the crew.

Is it a riot? Hook asked more gently than ever. Starkey's leader.

"Captain, Mercy," Starkey groaned, all shaky.

"Give her a handshake, Starkey," Hook said, offering her his claw.

Starkey looked around for help, but everyone was deserting him. As he backed off, Hook took a step forward, and now the red spark was in his eye. With a desperate cry, the pirate leaped at Long Tom and fell into the sea.

"Four," Slightly said.

“And now,” Hook asked politely, “did any other gentlemen say mutiny?” He picked up a flashlight and raised his claw menacingly. "I'll do the scribbling myself," he said, and hurried into the booth.

'Five.' How Slightly wanted to say that. He licked his lips to prepare himself, but Hook staggered off without his lantern.

"Something turned off the light," she said, a little hesitantly.

'Some!' repeat Mullins.

What about Cecum? Noodler asked.

"He's as dead as Jukes," Hook said tersely.

His reluctance to return to the hut impressed everyone unfavorably, and the sounds of rioting broke out again. All pirates are superstitious; and Cookson exclaimed: 'It is said that the surest sign of a ship's malice is when there is more on board than can be accounted for.'

"I hear," murmured Mullins, "that you're always the last to board a pirate ship. Did you have a tail, Captain?

"They say," said another, looking at Hook, "that when he arrives he looks like the meanest man on board."

"Do you have a catch, Captain?" asked Cookson impertinently; and one by one they repeated the cry, 'The ship is doomed.' The kids couldn't help but get a standing ovation. Hook had almost forgotten about his captives, but as he wheeled around them, his face lit up again.

"Guys," he called to his team, "here's an idea. Open the cabin door and take them inside. Make them fight for their lives against Doodle-doo. If they kill him, we'll be much better off; if him killing her, we won't be any worse.

For the last time, his dogs looked up to Hook and dutifully obeyed his commands. The boys who pretended to fight were shoved into the cabin and the door closed behind them.

"Now listen," Hook shouted, and they all did. But no one dared to look at the door. Yes, one, Wendy, tied to the mast the entire time. It wasn't a cry or a crow I was looking at; it was for the reappearance of Peter.

He didn't have to wait long. In the hut he found what he was looking for: the key that would free the children from their bonds; and now they all escaped, armed with whatever weapons they could find. First he motioned for them to hide, Peter cut Wendy's bonds, and then nothing could have been easier than flying together; but one thing blocked his way, an oath: "Hook or me this time". When he freed Wendy, he whispered to her to hide with the others, and he himself took her place at the post, his cloak around him to pass. Then he took a deep breath and sang.

To the pirates it was a voice screaming that all the boys lay dead in the hut; and they panicked. Hook tried to cheer her up; but, like the dogs he had bred them with, they bared their fangs, and he knew that if he took his eyes off them now they would attack him.

"Guys," he said, ready to cajole or hit as needed without flinching, "I've thought about it. There's a Jonas outside.

'Ouch,' they snarled, 'a man with a hook.'

"No boys, no, it's the girl. No luck on a pirate ship with a woman on board. We'll fix the ship when she's gone.

Some of them remembered that this was a Flint line. "It's worth a try," they said dubiously.

“Throw the girl overboard,” Hook shouted. and lunged at the hooded figure.

"No one can save you now, miss," Mullins hissed mockingly.

"There is one," replied the figure.

'Who is it?'

Peter Pan the Avenger! came the awful answer; and while he was speaking, Peter took off his cloak. Then everyone in the hut knew who had dismembered her, and twice Hook tried to speak and twice he failed. I think that terrible moment broke his wild heart.

At last he shouted, "Grab him by the chest," but without conviction.

"Get down, boys, and get on them," Peter's voice boomed; and at other times the clash of arms echoed through the ship. If the pirates had united, they would certainly have won; but the attack came when they were all without ropes and they were running back and forth, crashing wildly, each thinking he was the last survivor of the crew. Man to man, they were the strongest; but they fought only defensively, allowing the young to hunt in pairs and select their prey. Some of the villains jumped into the sea; others hid in dark corners, where they were found by Swift, who did not struggle but ran with a lantern that shone in their faces, leaving them half-blind and easy prey for the other children's stinking swords. . There was little to be heard except the clash of weapons, an occasional screech or splash, and a somewhat monotonous count: five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven.

I think they were all gone when a group of wildling boys surrounded Hook, who seemed to be living a charmed life, keeping them at bay in that ring of fire. They did it for their dogs, but this man seemed to be right up there with them all. Again and again they joined him, and again and again he made a breach. He had a boy on his hook and was using him as a shield when another, who had just pierced Mullins with his sword, jumped into the fray.

"Raise your swords, lads," shouted the newcomer, "this man is mine."

Chapter 11: Peter Pan and Wendy (J.M. Barrie) - Santa's Christmas Library: Over 400 Christmas Novels, Stories, Poems, Carols and Legends (Illustrated Edition): The Gift of the Wizards, A Christmas Carol, Silent Night, The Three Wise Men , Little Lord Fauntleroy, The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, The Heavenly Christmas Tree, Little Women, The Tale of Peter Rabbit... (10)

Then Hook suddenly found himself face to face with Peter. The others backed away and formed a circle around him.

The two enemies looked at each other for a long time; Hook shaking slightly and Peter with that weird smile on his face.

"So, Pan," Hook said at last, "it's all up to you.

"Oh, James Hook," was the grim reply, "that's all my business."

"Proud and insolent young man," Hook said, "prepare to face your fate."

'Dark and sinister man,' answered Peter, 'I have with you.'

Without another word, they fell to the ground, and for a moment, neither sword had the upper hand. Peter was an excellent swordsman and parried with blinding speed; every now and then he would attack after a feint that overwhelmed the enemy's defenses, but his shorter reach did not help and he could not place the steel. Hook, close in brilliance but not quite as supple in the wrist, forced him back under the weight of his charge in hopes of dealing suddenly with a favorite jab that Barbecue had taught him long ago in Rio. but, to his surprise, he found that this impulse kept going astray. So he tried to close with his iron hook, which was kicking the air all the time, and give the rest; but Peter writhed beneath him, piercing his ribs with vicious blows. Seeing his own blood, whose peculiar color, you will remember, he found offensive, Hook's sword fell from his hand and he was at Peter's mercy.

'Now!' all the boys screamed; but with a grandiose gesture, Pedro asked his opponent to take his sword. Hook did so immediately, but with a tragic sense that Peter was in good shape.

Until then he had thought it was a demon fighting him, but now a darker suspicion gripped him.

'Pan, who and what are you?' he shouted hoarsely.

"I am youth, I am joy", replied Pedro boldly. I'm a little bird hatched from the egg.

This was nonsense, of course; but it was proof to the hapless Hook that Peter had no idea who or what he was, that he was the pinnacle of fitness.

"Do it again," he yelled desperately.

Now he fought like a human flail, and every stroke of that terrible sword would have cut in two any man or boy who stood in his way; but Peter waved around him as if the same wind were carrying him away from harm. And again and again he fell and crashed.

Hook fought hopelessly now. That passionate breast no longer longed for life; but he longed for one blessing: to see Peter in bad shape before he turned cold for good.

Giving up the fight, he ran to the powder magazine and fired.

"In two minutes," he shouted, "the ship will be torn to pieces."

Now, he thought, the true form will show itself.

But Peter got out of the magazine, cartridge in hand, and calmly threw it overboard.

What kind of form did Hook show himself in? Though he was a false man, we can rejoice without sympathizing with him, for in the end he remained true to the traditions of his race. The other boys were flying around him now, jeering, sneering; and as he stumbled on deck and beat them helplessly, thoughts of him were no longer with them; he rested on the fields of yore, or was dispatched for ever, or watched the wall game of a famous wall. And his shoes were all right, and his waistcoat was all right, and his tie was all right, and his socks were all right.

James Hook, not entirely anti-heroic character, goodbye.

Because we have reached its last moment.

Seeing Peter coming towards him through the air, dagger raised, he leapt over the walls and fell into the sea. He didn't know that the crocodile was waiting for him; because we deliberately stop the clock so that knowledge is spared: a little respect from us at the end.

He had one last triumph that I don't think we should blame him for. As she stood on the rail and looked over her shoulder at Peter, who was gliding through the air, she motioned for him to use his foot. He made Peter kick instead of stab.

Finally, Hook received the blessing he so desired.

"Bad form," he shouted mockingly, and merrily went to the crocodile.

Then star James Hook.

"Seventeen," he sang lightly; but he wasn't sure with her numbers. Fifteen paid the penalty for his crimes that night; but two made it ashore: Starkey, only to be captured by the Reds, who made him suckle all his papoos, a melancholy passion for a pirate; and Smee, who went on to wander the world wearing glasses, earning a living by saying he was the only man, Jas. Hook feared that.

Wendy, of course, stood by and took no part in the fight, though she watched Peter with glittering eyes; but now that it's all over, he's back in the spotlight. She praised them equally and shuddered with joy when Michael showed her where he had killed one; and then he took her to Hook's hut and pointed to the clock hanging from a nail. He said "12:30"!

The late hour was almost the most important thing of all. He got them quickly into the pirates' bunks, that's for sure; all except Peter, who paced the deck and finally fell asleep beside the long tom. He had one of his dreams that night and he cried a lot in his sleep and Wendy hugged him tight.


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By two o'clock that morning they had removed all the stumps; for it was a great rough sea; and Tootles, the boatswain, was among them, with a piece of rope in his hand and chewing tobacco. Everyone wore pirate gear cut to the knee, shaved and sleeves rolled up – real nautical vibes and pants sleeves rolled up.

Needless to say who the captain was. Nibs and John were first and second officers. A woman was on board. The rest were ahead of the mast and lived in the forecastle. Peter had already strapped himself to the bike; but he called them all together and made a short speech; He said he expected them to do their duty as philanderers, but he knew they were the scum of Rio and the Gold Coast and if they shouted at him he would tear them to pieces. His high-pitched, mocking words reached the tone that sailors understand, and they applauded vigorously. Then a few quick commands were given, and the ship was turned towards the mainland.

Captain Pan, after consulting the ship's map, calculated that if they took that long, they would reach the Azores around June 21st, saving time for flying.

Some of them wanted her to be an honest ship, and others were in favor of keeping her pirated; but the captain treated them like dogs, and they dared not, even in a circle, express their wishes to him. Instant obedience was the only certainty. He got close to a dozen because he looked confused when he was told to take tubes. The general feeling was that Peter was being honest for the moment to allay Wendy's suspicions, but that there might be a change once the new costume was ready, which he made himself against his will in some of Hook's coolest clothes. . It was later whispered to each other that the first night he wore that suit, he sat in the cabin for a long time with Hook's mouthpiece in his mouth and one hand clenched, except for the index finger, which he bent and raised menacingly like a Hook.

Instead of looking to the ship, however, we must now return to that desolate homeland from which three of our characters ruthlessly fled so long ago. It seems a shame that number 14 has been neglected for all this time; and yet we may be sure that Mrs. Darling doesn't blame us. Had we gone back sooner to look at her with pity and sympathy, she would probably have cried, "Don't be silly; what do I care? Go back and look after the children. As long as mothers are like that, children will take advantage of them; and it may be tracked to him.

Even now, we only venture into this family nursery because its rightful occupants are on their way home; We just run ahead of them to make sure their beds are well ventilated and that Mr. and Mrs. Darling don't go out at night. We are just servants. Why on earth did they have to air their beds well when they left them in such an ungrateful hurry? Wouldn't it do them a world of good to come back and find that their parents were out in the country for the weekend? It would be the moral lesson they've needed since we've known them; but if we did things that way, Mrs. Darling would never forgive us.

One thing I really want to do is tell you, as the writers did, that the kids are coming back, that they're actually going to be here on Thursday of the week. That would completely spoil the surprise that awaits Wendy, John and Michael. They planned it on the boat: Mom's ecstasy, Dad's scream of joy, Nana jumping in the air to hug her first when what they should prepare is a good hide and seek. How nice to spoil everything by announcing the news in advance; so that, when they enter with great pomp, Mrs. Darling doesn't even offer her mouth to Wendy and Mr. Darling cruelly exclaims, "Damn it, here are those boys again." But we shouldn't be thanked for it either. We are just getting to know Mrs. Darling and we can be sure that she will scold us for depriving the children of their little pleasure.

But, my dear lady, Thursday of the week is ten days away; So by telling you what's what, we can save you ten days of grief.

Yes, but at what price! Deprive children of ten minutes of fun.

"Ah, if you look at it that way."

What other way is there to look at this?

See, the woman didn't have the right spirit. He intended to say extremely nice things about her; but I despise her, and I don't even want to say it now. You really don't need to be told to end things because they ended. All the beds are ventilated and she never leaves the house, and lo and behold, the window is open. As useful as we are to her, we could go back to the ship. But while we're here, we can stay and watch. That's all we are, spectators. Nobody really likes us. So let's look and say irregular things, hoping that some of them will hurt.

The only change observed in the nursery is that between nine and six the kennel disappears. As the children flew, Mr. Darling felt in his bones that it was all his fault for chaining Nana and that she had outsmarted him from beginning to end. Of course, as we've seen, he was a very simple man; indeed, he might have passed for a child again if he had managed to remove the bald spot; but he also had a noble sense of justice and a lion's courage to do what seemed right to him; and after thinking with anxious attention after the children had fled, he got to all fours and crawled into the kennel. To all the dear invitations from Mrs. Darling to leave, he replied sadly but firmly:

'No, man, this is the place for me.'

In the bitterness of her regret, she swore that she would never leave the kennel until her children returned. That was a shame, of course; but whatever mr. Darling did, he had to do in excess; otherwise, he soon stopped doing so. And there never was a man more humble than the once proud George Darling as he sat in the kennel one night, talking to his wife about their children and all his virtues.

His deference to Nana was very touching. He wouldn't let her into the kennel, but in all other respects he followed her wishes unconditionally.

Every morning the kennel was transported with Mr. Darling in a taxi that took him to the office and back home the same way at six. Something of the man's strength of character is evident when we remember how sensitive he was to the opinions of his neighbors: this man who now attracted surprise attention at every turn. He internally he must have suffered torture; but she maintained a calm demeanor even when the young men criticized her small house, and she always politely tipped her hat to any lady who peeked in.

It might have been weird, but it was great. The inner meaning of this soon transpired and the great hearts of the public were touched. Crowds followed the taxi and cheered vigorously; pretty girls climbed up to get his autograph; The interviews appeared in the best newspapers, and the company invited him to dinner, adding: "Come to the Zwinger."

During that busy week, Mrs. Darling was waiting in the nursery for George to come home: a woman with very sad eyes. Now that we take a good look at her and remember her joy in the old days, now that it's all gone because she lost her babies, I realize I can't say bad things about her after all. If she loved the garbage children too much, it wasn't her fault. Look at her in her chair where she fell asleep. The corner of her mouth, where you look first, is almost shriveled. Her hand moves restlessly on his chest as if in pain. Some like Peter better and some like Wendy better, but I like her better. Suppose, to make her happy, we whisper to her in her sleep that the brats are coming back. They really are two miles from the window now and they're flying fast, but all we have to whisper is that they're on their way. light up

It's too bad we did that because she's scared and she's cursing; and except for Nana, there is no one in the room.

'Oh Nana, I dreamed that my loved ones came back.'

Nana's eyes were glassy, ​​but all she could do was gently place her paw on her owner's lap; and then they sat down together when they brought the kennel. When Mr. Darling leans over to kiss his wife, we see that her face is more weathered than before, but her expression is softer.

He gave his hat to Liza, who took it with disdain; for he had no imagination, and was wholly incapable of understanding the motives of such a man. Outside, the crowd that escorted the taxi home was still cheering, and it's clear he wasn't indifferent.

"Listen to them," said he; It's very rewarding.

"Too many small children," Liza scoffed.

"There were several adults here today," she assured him, blushing slightly. but when she shook her head, he didn't have a word of reproach for her. Social success hasn't spoiled him; he got prettier. For a while he half stood in front of the kennel, talking to Mrs. Darling about her success and squeezing her hand to reassure her when she said she hoped she didn't turn her head.

"But if I were a weak man," he said. My God, if he were a weak man!

"And, George," she said shyly, "you're as full of regrets as ever, aren't you?"

Full of regrets as ever, my love! Look at my punishment: living in a kennel.

But it's a punishment, isn't it, George? Are you sure you're not having fun?

'My love!'

You can be sure she apologized to him; and then, feeling drowsy, huddled in the kennel.

"Don't you want to play me to sleep," he asked, "on the children's piano?" And when she entered the children's room, he added without thinking: "And close the window. I feel a draft.

"Oh George, never ask that of me. The window must always be open for her, always, always.

Now it was her turn to apologize; and she went to the nursery and played, and soon he fell asleep; and while he was sleeping, Wendy, John and Michael entered the room.

Oh no. We wrote it that way because that was the good arrangement they had planned before we left the ship; but something must have happened since then because they weren't the ones who flew, it was Peter and Tinker Bell.

Peter's first words say it all.

'Hurry, Tink,' he whispered, 'close the window; forbid it. That's the way things are. Now you and I must go out the door; and when Wendy comes, she'll think her mother shut her out; and you have to come back to me

Now I understand what has puzzled me so far, why after Peter eliminated the pirates, he didn't go back to the island and let Tink escort the kids to the mainland. That trick was in his head the whole time.

Instead of feeling like she was misbehaving, she danced with joy; so he peeked into the nursery to see who was playing. He whispered to Tink, 'She's Wendy's mother. She is a pretty lady, but not as pretty as my mother. His mouth is full of thimbles, but not as much as my mother's.

Of course, he knew absolutely nothing about his mother; but sometimes he bragged about her.

I didn't know the song that was "Home Sweet Home", but I knew it said, "Come back, Wendy, Wendy, Wendy"; and exulted, 'You shall not see Wendy any more, madam, for the window is barred.'

He leaned in again to see why the music had stopped; and now he saw that Mrs. Darling had put her head in the box and there were two tears in her eyes.

She wants me to unlock the window, thought Peter, but I don't want that, not me.

She looked again and the tears were still there, or two more had taken their place.

"He likes Wendy a lot," he said to himself. He was mad at her now because she couldn't see why he couldn't have Wendy.

The reason was so simple: “I love her too. We can't have both, ma'am.

But the lady didn't want to do the best and he didn't like it. He stopped looking at her, but still she didn't let go. He shuddered and grimaced, but when he stopped it was as if she were inside him, calling.

"Oh, okay," he finally said and swallowed hard. Then he opened the window. "Come on, Tink," he cried, with a vile mockery of the laws of nature; "We don't want stupid mothers"; and flew away.

After all, Wendy, John and Michael found the window open for them, which was obviously more than they deserved. They got down on the ground, all unashamed of themselves; and the youngest had already forgotten his home.

"John," he said, looking around doubtfully, "I think I've been here before."

"Hell yeah, idiot. There's your old bed.

"That's right," Michael said, but not with much conviction.

'I say,' exclaimed John, 'the kennel!' and hurried to look at him.

"Maybe Nana's in there," Wendy said.

But John whistled. "Hello," he said, "there's a man in there."

'He is the father!' yelled Wendy.

"Let me see my dad," Michael asked anxiously, eyeing him carefully. "He's not as big as the pirate I killed," he said, with such open disappointment that I'm glad Mr. Darling was asleep; It would have been sad if those were the first words she heard her little Michael say.

Wendy and John were a little surprised to find their dad at the shelter.

"Of course," said John, like one who has lost faith in his memory, "hasn't he slept in the kennel before?"

"John," Wendy said hesitantly, "perhaps we don't remember past lives as well as we thought we did.

A shudder ran through her; and serve them well.

"It's very careless of a mother," said young scoundrel John, "not to be here when we return."

Then Mrs. Darling started playing again.

And the mother! shouted Wendy, peering over.

'Is that so!' said John.

"So you're not really our mother, Wendy?" asked Michael, who must have been tired.

'Oh, darling!' Wendy, with her first twinge of real conscience, exclaimed, "Slowly coming back."

"Let's sneak in," suggested John, "and put our hands over his eyes."

But Wendy, seeing that the good news needed to be delivered more carefully, had a better plan.

Let's all go to our beds and be there when she arrives like we've never been outside.

When Mrs. Darling went back to the bedroom to see if her husband was asleep, all the beds were occupied. The children waited for his cry of joy, but it never came. She saw them, but didn't believe they were there. You know, she saw them in her dreams in her beds so many times that she thought it was just the dream that still haunted her.

She was sitting in the chair by the fire where he had nursed her earlier.

They couldn't understand this and a cold fear gripped the three of them.

'Mom!' Wendy was crying.

"This is Wendy," she said, but she was still sure it was the dream.


"This is John," he said.

'Mom!' Michael screamed. He knew her now.

"This is Michael," she said, holding out her arms to the three selfish little boys who would never carry her again. Yes, they surrounded Wendy, John and Michael, who had gotten out of bed and were running towards them.

"George, George," he called when he could speak; and Mr. Darling woke up to share her joy, and Nana came running in. There couldn't be a more beautiful sight; but there was no one to be seen except a strange boy looking out of the window. He had innumerable ecstasies that other children can never experience; but he looked out the window at the one joy he should forever be deprived of.


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I hope you want to know what happened to the other boys. They waited downstairs to give Wendy time to explain; and when they had counted five hundred, they went up. They went upstairs because they thought it would make a better impression that way. They stood in line for Mrs. Darling, hatless and wishing he wasn't wearing his pirate clothes. They didn't say anything, but their eyes begged him to have them. You should have looked at Mr. Darling too, but you forgot him.

It is clear that Mrs. Darling immediately said that she would see her; but mr. Darling was curiously depressed, and they saw that he thought six was quite a large number.

"I must say," he said to Wendy, "you don't do things by halves," a grudging remark the twins thought was meant for them.

The first twin was the proud one and asked, blushing, "Do you think we should be a bother, sir? Because then we can go.

'Father!' exclaimed Wendy in surprise; but still the cloud was over him. He knew he was being undignified, but he couldn't help it.

"We could be tangled up," Nibs said.

"I used to cut their hair myself," said Wendy.

'George!' exclaimed Mrs. Darling, distressed to see her love shown in such an unfavorable light.

Then she started crying and the truth came out. He was just as happy to have them as they were, she said, but he thought they should have asked for his approval as much as theirs, instead of treating him like a cipher in his own household.

"I don't think it's a cipher," Tootles immediately shouted. "Do you think it's a cipher, Curly?"

'No, I'm not doing that. You think it's a cipher, presumptuous?

I prefer not. Gemini, what do you mean?

Turns out none of them thought it was a number; and he was ridiculously pleased and said he would find room for them all in the hall if they would fit.

"We'll pass, sir," they assured him.

"Then follow the leader," he said cheerfully. Mind you, I'm not sure we have a salon, but we pretend we do and it doesn't matter. Oops!'

She danced around the house and everyone yelled 'Hoop la!' and she danced after him and sought the hall; And I forget if they found it, but they found corners anyway, and they all fit.

As for Peter, he saw Wendy one more time before flying off. He didn't make it to the window, but walked past it so she could open it if she wanted to, and called after him. He did.

"Hello, Wendy, bye," she said.

'Oh dear, are you going?'


"Don't you feel, Peter," she said hesitantly, "that you want to say something to my parents about a very sweet subject?"


"About me, Peter?"


Mrs. Darling went to the window because she was watching Wendy. She told Peter that she adopted all the other children and that she would like to adopt him too.

“Would you send me to school?” he asked slyly.


"And then to an office?"

'I think.'

'Will I be a man soon?'

'Very soon.'

"I don't want to go to school and learn serious stuff," he said passionately. "I don't want to be a man. Oh, Wendy's mother, if I woke up and felt that I had a beard!

"Peter," said Wendy the Comforter, "I would love you with a beard"; and Mrs. Darling held her arms out to him, but he pushed them away.

"Stay back ma'am, no one is going to take me and make a man out of me."

'But where are you going to live?'

“With Tink in the house we built for Wendy. The fairies will place it high in the treetops, where they will sleep at night.

-The beautiful one! exclaimed Wendy so longingly that Mrs. Darling hugged her tighter.

"I thought all fairies were dead," said Mrs. Darling.

"There are always lots of little ones," explained Wendy, who has become an authority, "because when a new baby laughs for the first time, you see a new fairy being born, and as there are always new babies, there are always new fairies. They live in nests. in the treetops; and the mauve ones are boys and the white ones are girls and the blue ones are fools who don't know what they are.

"I'm going to have a great time," said Peter, eyeing Wendy.

'She will be alone at night,' said she, 'sitting by the fire.

I will have tinc

"Tink can't go a twentieth of the way," he reminded her a little harshly.

'Sneaky informant!' Tink called from somewhere around the corner.

"It doesn't matter," said Peter.

"Oh, Peter, you know this matters."

'Well, then come with me to the little house.'

"May I, Mom?"

'Certainly not. I brought you home and I intend to be with you.

But he needs a mother so badly.

You too honey.

"Oh, that's fine," Peter said, as if he'd only asked out of courtesy; but Mrs. Darling saw her mouth twist and made her this kind offer: let Wendy stay clean for a week every year. Wendy would have preferred a more permanent arrangement; and it seemed to him that spring would be a long time coming; but that promise let Peter go away happy. He had no sense of time and was so full of adventure that everything I've told him about is only half a penny. I suppose, knowing that, Wendy's last words to him were rather melancholy:

"You won't forget me, Peter, will you, before spring cleaning time?"

Of course Peter promised; and then flew away. He took the kiss from Mrs. Darling with him. Peter took the kiss, which hadn't been meant for anyone else, lightly. Fun. But she looked happy.

Of course all the children went to school; and most of them entered the class, but Slightly was placed first in class IV. and then to class V. Class I. is the highest class. Before they went to school for a week, they saw what bastards they had been for not staying on the island; but it was too late and they soon got used to being as common as you or me or Jenkins Minor. Sad to say, the power to fly gradually left her. First, Nana tied her feet to the headboards to keep them from flying off at night; and one of her distractions during the day was pretending to fall off the bus; but little by little they stopped pulling on the bed restraints and injured themselves while letting go of the bus. Over time, they could not even fly behind their hats. lack of exercise, as they called it; but what it really meant was that they no longer believed.

Michael believed longer than the other boys, despite being ridiculed; he was with Wendy when Peter picked her up at the end of freshman year. She flew with Peter in the dress she had knitted from leaves and berries at Neverland, and her only fear was that he would notice how short she had become; but he had never realized that he had so much to say about himself.

She had expected exciting conversations with him about the old days, but the new adventures put the old out of her mind.

"Who is Captain Hook?" he asked with interest when she spoke of the archenemy.

"Don't you remember," she asked in astonishment, "how you killed him and saved all of our lives?"

"I forget about it after I kill it," he replied carelessly.

When she expressed the dubious hope that Tinker Bell would be happy to see her, he said, "Who's Tinker Bell?"

"Oh, Peter," she said in surprise; but even when she explained it to him, he couldn't remember.

"There are so many of them," he said. I don't think it will be like that anymore.

I think I was right because fairies don't live long, but they are so small that a short time seems like a lot to them.

Wendy is also saddened to realize that last year has been like yesterday for Peter; It felt like a long year of waiting. But he was as fascinating as ever, and they did a wonderful spring cleaning on the little house in the treetops.

The following year, he didn't come for her. She waited in a new dress because the old one just didn't fit; But I never arrive.

"Maybe he's sick," Michael said.

You know he's never sick.

Michael leaned toward her and whispered with a shudder, "Maybe that person doesn't exist, Wendy!" and then Wendy would have cried if Michael hadn't cried.

Peter came for the next spring cleaning; and the strange thing is, he never knew he had missed a year.

That was the last time the Wendy girl saw him. For a little while longer, she tried not to have growing pains; and he felt unfaithful when he won a general knowledge award. But the years passed without bringing the neglected child; and when they met again, Wendy was a married woman and Peter was just dust in the box where she kept her toys. Wendy was older. You don't have to feel sorry for her. She was one of those who likes to grow up. In the end, of her own free will, she grew up one day faster than the other girls.

By this time all the children were grown and ready; so it's not worth saying more about them. You can see the twins Nibs and Curly every day walking into an office, each with a small bag and an umbrella. Michael is a machinist. He lightly married a titular lady and thus became a lord. Do you see the judge in the wig coming through the iron gate? That used to be Tootles. The bearded man who has no story to tell his children was João.

Wendy got married in white with a pink sash. It's strange to think that Peter didn't leave the church and forbid the admonitions.

Years passed again and Wendy had a daughter. This should not be written in ink, but with a touch of gold.

Her name was Jane and she always had a strange questioning expression on her face, as if she wanted to ask questions from the moment she arrived on the mainland. When she was old enough to ask them, they mostly revolved around Peter Pan. She loved hearing Peter and Wendy recount everything she could remember in the very nursery where the famous flight had taken place. Now it was Jane's room because her father bought it for three percent. Wendy's father, who didn't like stairs anymore. Mrs. Darling was now dead and forgotten.

There were only two beds in the nursery now, Jane's and her nanny's; and there was no kennel because Nana had died too. She was dying of old age and, in the end, she had been quite difficult to live with; firmly convinced that no one knew how to take care of children but herself.

Jane's nurse had an afternoon off once a week; and then it was Wendy's turn to put Jane to bed. That was the moment of the stories. It was Jane's invention to lift the sheet over her mother's head and her own, making a tent like this, and whisper in the dreadful darkness:

'What do we see now?'

"I don't think I'm going to see anything tonight," says Wendy, feeling that if Nana were here, she would decline further conversation.

"Yes you do," says Jane, "you see when you were a little girl."

"It's been a long time, honey," says Wendy. 'Oh, how time flies!'

"Does it fly," asks the funny child, "like you did as a little girl?"

How I flew! you know jane Sometimes I wonder if I've ever really flown.

'Yes, you did that.'

'Dear old days, when I could fly!'

'Why can't you fly now, mother?'

"Because I'm older, honey. When people grow up, they forget the way.

'Why do you forget the way?'

“Because they are no longer happy, innocent and heartless. Only the happy, the innocent and the ruthless can fly.

"What is gay, innocent and heartless? I would like to be happy, innocent and heartless.

Or maybe Wendy admits she sees something. "I think," she says, "that's this nursery."

"I think so," says Jane. 'Continues.'

Now they embark on the great adventure of the night Peter flew in search of his shadow.

"The fool," says Wendy, "tried to stick it with soap and when he couldn't he cried and that woke me up and I sewed it up."

"You were a little lost," interrupts Jane, who now knows the story better than her mother. "When you saw him sitting on the floor crying, what did you say?"

"I sat on the bed and said, 'Boy, why are you crying?'"

"Yes, it was," says Jane with a big sigh.

"And then he took us to Neverland and the fairies and the pirates and the redskins and the mermaid pool and the underground house and the little house."

'Yes! Which one did you like best?

I think what I liked the most was the underground house.

-Yes, me too. What was the last thing Peter said to you?

"The last thing he said to me was, 'Always wait for me, and one night you'll hear me sing'."


But unfortunately he completely forgot about me. Wendy said this with a smile. She was so grown up.

"What did his raven sound like?" Jane asked one night.

"It was like that," Wendy said, trying to imitate Peter's singing.

"No, it wasn't," said Jane gravely, "it was like that"; and he was much better than her mother.

Wendy was a little scared. "Honey, how do you know that?"

"I often listen to it when I sleep," said Jane.

"Oh yeah, a lot of girls listen to it when they're sleeping, but I was the only one who listened to it awake."

"How lucky you are," said Jane.

And then, one night, tragedy struck. It was the spring of the year, the night's story had been told, and now Jane was sleeping in her bed. Wendy sat down on the floor, right by the fire, to watch the darning, as there was no other light in the nursery; and as she sat darning, she heard a crow. Then the window opened as before and Peter fell to the floor.

He was the same as ever, and Wendy saw immediately that he still had all his first teeth.

He was a little boy and she was grown. She crouched by the fire, not daring to move, helpless and guilty, a tall woman.

"Hello, Wendy," he said, not noticing the difference because he was thinking mainly of himself; and in the dim light her white dress might have been the nightgown in which he had first seen her.

"Hello, Peter," she replied weakly, making herself as small as possible. Something inside her screamed "Woman, woman, let go of me."

"Hi, where's John?" he asked, suddenly missing the third bed.

"John isn't here right now," she gasped.

Michael is sleeping? he asked with an unconcerned look at Jane.

'Yes,' she replied; and now she felt that she was unfaithful to Jane and Peter.

"That's not Michael," she said quickly so as not to be judgmental.

Peter saw. 'Hello, is this new?'


'Boy or girl?'


Now he would certainly understand; but not a bit of it.

"Peter," she said hesitantly, "do you expect me to fly with you?"

"Of course that's why I came." Slightly stern, she added, "Did you forget it's time for spring cleaning?"

She knew it was pointless to say she missed a lot of spring cleaning.

"I can't walk," he said apologetically. "I forgot how to fly."

'Soon I will teach you again.'

'Oh Peter, don't waste fairy dust on me.'

She had gotten up; and now at last fear has overcome him. 'What is it?' he screamed and shuddered.

"I'll turn on the light," he said, "and then you can see for yourself."

The only time in his life I've known Peter was in fear. "Don't turn on the light," he yelled.

He let his hands play in the tragic boy's hair. She wasn't a girl whose heart he had broken; she was a grown woman who smiled at everything, but they were wet smiles.

Then he turned on the light and Peter saw it. He let out a cry of pain; and when the tall, beautiful creature reached down to take him in her arms, he flinched.

'What is it?' he called again.

She had to tell him.

i'm old peter i'm always well into my twenties. I grew up a long time ago.

You promised not to!

I couldn't help it. I'm a married woman, Peter.

'No, you are not.'

'Yes, and the girl on the bed is my baby.'

'No, she is not.'

But he supposed it was; and he took a step towards the sleeping boy, dagger raised. Of course it didn't hit. Instead, she sat on the floor and cried; and Wendy did not know how to comfort him, though she once could easily have done so. She was just a woman now and she ran out of the room to think.

Peter continued to cry and soon his sobs woke Jane. He sat on the bed and was immediately interested.

Chapter 11: Peter Pan and Wendy (J.M. Barrie) - Santa's Christmas Library: Over 400 Christmas Novels, Stories, Poems, Carols and Legends (Illustrated Edition): The Gift of the Wizards, A Christmas Carol, Silent Night, The Three Wise Men , Little Lord Fauntleroy, The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, The Heavenly Christmas Tree, Little Women, The Tale of Peter Rabbit... (11)

'Boy,' he said, 'why are you crying?'

Peter rose and bowed to her, and she bowed to him from the bed.

"Hello," he said.

"Hello," said Jane.

"My name is Peter Pan," she told him.

'Yes I know.'

"I came back for my mother," he explained; 'to take her to Neverland.'

"Yes, I know," said Jane, "I've been waiting for you."

When Wendy timidly returned, she found Peter perched on the headboard cackling delightfully while Jane in her nightgown fluttered about the room in solemn ecstasy.

"She's my mother," explained Peter; and Jane dismounted and stood beside him, with that expression on her face which he liked to see in ladies when they looked at him.

"He needs a mother so badly," said Jane.

"Yes, I know," Wendy admitted sadly. no one knows this better than me.

"Goodbye," said Peter to Wendy; and he rose into the air, and shameless Jane rose with him; it was already his easiest way to move.

Wendy ran to the window.

"No, no," she screamed.

"It's just for spring cleaning," said Jane; She always wants me to do her spring cleaning.

"If I could come," Wendy sighed.

"You see you can't fly," said Jane.

In the end, of course, Wendy let them fly together. Our last look at them shows them at the window, watching them disappear into the sky until they are as small as stars.

If you look at Wendy, you can see that her hair is turning white and her petite figure is back because that all happened a long time ago. Jane is now a normal adult with a daughter named Margaret; and every time she does her spring cleaning, except when she forgets, Peter finds Margaret and takes her to Neverland, where she tells stories about herself, which he listens to carefully. When Margaret grows up she will have a daughter who in turn will be Peter's mother; and so it will continue as long as children are happy, innocent and heartless.



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