oked. "Hullo, is it a new one?"

"Yes."

"Boy or girl?"

"Girl."

Now surely he would understand; but not a bit of it.

"Peter," she said, faltering, "are you expecting me to fly away with
you?"

"Of course; that is why I have come." He added a little sternly, "Have
you forgotten that this is spring cleaning time?"

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 eyed 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.

"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 have 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 expla