She knew it was useless to say that he had let many spring-cleaning
times pass.

'I can't come,' she said apologetically, 'I have forgotten how to fly.'

'I'll soon teach you again.'

'O Peter, don't waste the fairy dust on me.'

She had risen; and now at last a fear assailed him. 'What is it?' he
cried, shrinking.

'I will turn up the light,' she said, 'and then you can see for
yourself.'

For almost the only time in his life that I know of, Peter was afraid.
'Don't turn up the light,' he cried.

She let her hands play in the hair of the tragic boy. She was not a
little girl heart-broken about him; she was a grown woman smiling at it
all, but they were wet smiles.

Then she turned up the light, and Peter saw. He gave a cry of pain; and
when the tall beautiful creature stooped to lift him in her arms he drew
back sharply.

'What is it?' he cried again.

She had to tell him.

'I am old, Peter. I am ever so much more than twenty. I grew up long
ago.'

'You promised not to!'

'I couldn't help it. I am a married woman, Peter.'

'No, you're not.'

'Yes, and the little girl in the bed is my baby.'

'No, she's not.'

But he supposed she was; and he took a step towards the sleeping child
with his dagger upraised. Of course he did not strike. He sat down on
the floor instead and sobbed; and Wendy did not know how to comfort him,
though she could have done it so easily once. She was only a woman now,
and she ran out of the room to try to think.

Peter continued to cry, and soon his sobs woke Jane. She sat up in bed,
and was interested at once.

[Illustration: PETER AND JANE]

'Boy,' she said, 'why are you crying?'

Peter rose and bowed to her, and she bowed to him from the bed.

'Hullo,' he said.

'Hullo,' said Jane.

'My name is Peter Pan,' he told her.

'Yes, I know.'

'I came back for my mother,' he explained; 'to take her to the
Neverland.'

'Yes, I know,' Jane said, 'I been waiting for you.'

When Wendy returned diffidently she found Peter sitting on the bed-post
crowing gloriously, while Jane in her nighty was flying round the room
in solemn ecstasy.

'She is my mother,' Peter explained; and Jane descended and stood by his
side, with the look on her face that he liked to see on ladies when they
gazed at him.

'He does so need a mother,' Jane said.

'Yes, I know,' Wendy admitted rather forlornly; 'no one knows it so well
as I.'

'Good-bye,' said Peter to Wendy; and he rose in