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There were two large white eggs, and Peter lifted them up and reflected. The bird covered her face with her wings, so as not to see the last of them; but she could not help peeping between the feathers. |
I forget whether I have told you that there was a stave on the rock, driven into it by some buccaneers of long ago to mark the site of buried treasure. The children had discovered the glittering hoard, and when in a mischievous mood used to fling showers of moidores, diamonds, pearls and pieces of eight to the gulls, w... |
The Never bird saw at once what he was up to, and screamed her admiration of him; and, alas, Peter crowed his agreement with her. Then he got into the nest, reared the stave in it as a mast, and hung up his shirt for a sail. At the same moment the bird fluttered down upon the hat and once more sat snugly on her eggs. S... |
Of course when Peter landed he beached his barque in a place where the bird would easily find it; but the hat was such a great success that she abandoned the nest. It drifted about till it went to pieces, and often Starkey came to the shore of the lagoon, and with many bitter feelings watched the bird sitting on his ha... |
Great were the rejoicings when Peter reached the home under the ground almost as soon as Wendy, who had been carried hither and thither by the kite. Every boy had adventures to tell; but perhaps the biggest adventure of all was that they were several hours late for bed. This so inflated them that they did various dodgy... |
Chapter X. |
THE HAPPY HOME |
One important result of the brush on the lagoon was that it made the redskins their friends. Peter had saved Tiger Lily from a dreadful fate, and now there was nothing she and her braves would not do for him. All night they sat above, keeping watch over the home under the ground and awaiting the big attack by the pirat... |
They called Peter the Great White Father, prostrating themselves before him; and he liked this tremendously, so that it was not really good for him. |
“The great white father,” he would say to them in a very lordly manner, as they grovelled at his feet, “is glad to see the Piccaninny warriors protecting his wigwam from the pirates.” |
“Me Tiger Lily,” that lovely creature would reply. “Peter Pan save me, me his velly nice friend. Me no let pirates hurt him.” |
She was far too pretty to cringe in this way, but Peter thought it his due, and he would answer condescendingly, “It is good. Peter Pan has spoken.” |
Always when he said, “Peter Pan has spoken,” it meant that they must now shut up, and they accepted it humbly in that spirit; but they were by no means so respectful to the other boys, whom they looked upon as just ordinary braves. They said “How-do?” to them, and things like that; and what annoyed the boys was that Pe... |
Secretly Wendy sympathised with them a little, but she was far too loyal a housewife to listen to any complaints against father. “Father knows best,” she always said, whatever her private opinion must be. Her private opinion was that the redskins should not call her a squaw. |
We have now reached the evening that was to be known among them as the Night of Nights, because of its adventures and their upshot. The day, as if quietly gathering its forces, had been almost uneventful, and now the redskins in their blankets were at their posts above, while, below, the children were having their even... |
The meal happened to be a make-believe tea, and they sat around the board, guzzling in their greed; and really, what with their chatter and recriminations, the noise, as Wendy said, was positively deafening. To be sure, she did not mind noise, but she simply would not have them grabbing things, and then excusing themse... |
“Silence,” cried Wendy when for the twentieth time she had told them that they were not all to speak at once. “Is your mug empty, Slightly darling?” |
“Not quite empty, mummy,” Slightly said, after looking into an imaginary mug. |
“He hasn’t even begun to drink his milk,” Nibs interposed. |
This was telling, and Slightly seized his chance. |
“I complain of Nibs,” he cried promptly. |
John, however, had held up his hand first. |
“Well, John?” |
“May I sit in Peter’s chair, as he is not here?” |
“Sit in father’s chair, John!” Wendy was scandalised. “Certainly not.” |
“He is not really our father,” John answered. “He didn’t even know how a father does till I showed him.” |
This was grumbling. “We complain of John,” cried the twins. |
Tootles held up his hand. He was so much the humblest of them, indeed he was the only humble one, that Wendy was specially gentle with him. |
“I don’t suppose,” Tootles said diffidently, “that I could be father.” |
“No, Tootles.” |
Once Tootles began, which was not very often, he had a silly way of going on. |
“As I can’t be father,” he said heavily, “I don’t suppose, Michael, you would let me be baby?” |
“No, I won’t,” Michael rapped out. He was already in his basket. |
“As I can’t be baby,” Tootles said, getting heavier and heavier and heavier, “do you think I could be a twin?” |
“No, indeed,” replied the twins; “it’s awfully difficult to be a twin.” |
“As I can’t be anything important,” said Tootles, “would any of you like to see me do a trick?” |
“No,” they all replied. |
Then at last he stopped. “I hadn’t really any hope,” he said. |
The hateful telling broke out again. |
“Slightly is coughing on the table.” |
“The twins began with cheese-cakes.” |
“Curly is taking both butter and honey.” |
“Nibs is speaking with his mouth full.” |
“I complain of the twins.” |
“I complain of Curly.” |
“I complain of Nibs.” |
“Oh dear, oh dear,” cried Wendy, “I’m sure I sometimes think that spinsters are to be envied.” |
She told them to clear away, and sat down to her work-basket, a heavy load of stockings and every knee with a hole in it as usual. |
“Wendy,” remonstrated Michael, “I’m too big for a cradle.” |
“I must have somebody in a cradle,” she said almost tartly, “and you are the littlest. A cradle is such a nice homely thing to have about a house.” |
While she sewed they played around her; such a group of happy faces and dancing limbs lit up by that romantic fire. It had become a very familiar scene, this, in the home under the ground, but we are looking on it for the last time. |
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