them medicine, and undoubtedly gave them too much. Of course it was only
water, but it was out of a bottle, and she always shook the bottle and
counted the drops, which gave it a certain medicinal quality. On this
occasion, however, she did not give Peter his draught [portion], for
just as she had prepared it, she saw a look on his face that made her
heart sink.

"Get your things, Peter," she cried, shaking.

"No," he answered, pretending indifference, "I am not going with you,
Wendy."

"Yes, Peter."

"No."

To show that her departure would leave him unmoved, he skipped up and
down the room, playing gaily on his heartless pipes. She had to run
about after him, though it was rather undignified.

"To find your mother," she coaxed.

Now, if Peter had ever quite had a mother, he no longer missed her. He
could do very well without one. He had thought them out, and remembered
only their bad points.

"No, no," he told Wendy decisively; "perhaps she would say I was old,
and I just want always to be a little boy and to have fun."

"But, Peter--"

"No."

And so the others had to be told.

"Peter isn't coming."

Peter not coming! They gazed blankly at him, their sticks over their
backs, and on each stick a bundle. Their first thought was that if Peter
was not going he had probably changed his mind about letting them go.

But he was far too proud for that. "If you find your mothers," he said
darkly, "I hope you will like them."

The awful cynicism of this made an uncomfortable impression, and most
of them began to look rather doubtful. After all, their faces said, were
they not noodles to want to go?

"Now then," cried Peter, "no fuss, no blubbering; good-bye, Wendy;" and
he held out his hand cheerily, quite as if they must really go now, for
he had something important to do.

She had to take his hand, and there was no indication that he would
prefer a thimble.

"You will remember about changing your flannels, Peter?" she said,
lingering over him. She was always so particular about their flannels.

"Yes."

"And you will take your medicine?"

"Yes."

That seemed to be everything, and an awkward pause followed. Peter,
however, was not the kind that breaks down before other people. "Are you
ready, Tinker Bell?" he called out.

"Ay, ay."

"Then lead the way."

Tink darted up the nearest tree; but no one followed her, for it was
at this moment that the pirates made their dreadful attack upon the
red