of your own. How
proud of him they are! and very right and proper, too.

But why does Peter sit so long on the rail; why does he not tell his
mother that he has come back?

I quite shrink from the truth, which is that he sat there in two minds.
Sometimes he looked longingly at his mother, and sometimes he looked
longingly at the window. Certainly it would be pleasant to be her boy
again, but on the other hand, what times those had been in the Gardens!
Was he so sure that he should enjoy wearing clothes again? He popped
off the bed and opened some drawers to have a look at his old garments.
They were still there, but he could not remember how you put them on.
The socks, for instance, were they worn on the hands or on the feet?
He was about to try one of them on his hand, when he had a great
adventure. Perhaps the drawer had creaked; at any rate, his mother
woke up, for he heard her say 'Peter,' as if it was the most lovely
word in the language. He remained sitting on the floor and held his
breath, wondering how she knew that he had come back. If she said
'Peter' again, he meant to cry 'Mother' and run to her. But she spoke
no more, she made little moans only, and when he next peeped at her she
was once more asleep, with tears on her face.

It made Peter very miserable, and what do you think was the first thing
he did? Sitting on the rail at the foot of the bed, he played a
beautiful lullaby to his mother on his pipe. He had made it up himself
out of the way she said 'Peter,' and he never stopped playing until she
looked happy.

He thought this so clever of him that he could scarcely resist wakening
her to hear her say, 'O Peter, how exquisitely you play!' However, as
she now seemed comfortable, he again cast looks at the window. You
must not think that he meditated flying away and never coming back. He
had quite decided to be his mother's boy, but hesitated about beginning
to-night. It was the second wish which troubled him. He no longer
meant to make it a wish to be a bird, but not to ask for a second wish
seemed wasteful, and, of course, he could not ask for it without
returning to the fairies. Also, if he put off asking for his wish too
long it might go bad. He asked himself if he had not been hard-hearted
to fly away without saying good-bye to Solomon. 'I should like awfully
to sail in my boat just once more,' he said wistfully to his sleeping
mother. He quite argued with her as if she could he