it is not there when you lie
down, but it is there when you wake up and step outside.

In a kind of way every one may see it, but what you see is not really
it, but only the light in the windows. You see the light after
Lock-out Time. David, for instance, saw it quite distinctly far away
among the trees as we were going home from the pantomime, and Oliver
Bailey saw it the night he stayed so late at the Temple, which is the
name of his father's office. Angela Clare, who loves to have a tooth
extracted because then she is treated to tea in a shop, saw more than
one light, she saw hundreds of them all together; and this must have
been the fairies building the house, for they build it every night, and
always in a different part of the Gardens. She thought one of the
lights was bigger than the others, though she was not quite sure, for
they jumped about so, and it might have been another one that was
bigger. But if it was the same one, it was Peter Pan's light. Heaps
of children have seen the light, so that is nothing. But Maimie
Mannering was the famous one for whom the house was first built.

Maimie was always rather a strange girl, and it was at night that she
was strange. She was four years of age, and in the daytime she was the
ordinary kind. She was pleased when her brother Tony, who was a
magnificent fellow of six, took notice of her, and she looked up to him
in the right way, and tried in vain to imitate him, and was flattered
rather than annoyed when he shoved her about. Also, when she was
batting, she would pause though the ball was in the air to point out to
you that she was wearing new shoes. She was quite the ordinary kind in
the daytime.

[Illustration: Peter Pan is the fairies' orchestra]

But as the shades of night fell, Tony, the swaggerer, lost his contempt
for Maimie and eyed her fearfully; and no wonder, for with dark there
came into her face a look that I can describe only as a leary look. It
was also a serene look that contrasted grandly with Tony's uneasy
glances. Then he would make her presents of his favourite toys (which
he always took away from her next morning), and she accepted them with
a disturbing smile. The reason he was now become so wheedling and she
so mysterious was (in brief) that they knew they were about to be sent
to bed. It was then that Maimie was terrible. Tony entreated her not
to do it to-night, and the mother and their coloured nurse threatened
her, but Mai