The night-lights by the beds of the three children continued to burn clearly. But there was another light in the room now, a thousand times brighter than the night-lights. It was not really a light; it was a fairy, no longer than your hand. It was a girl called Tinker Bell[21]. The window was blown open[22], and Peter dropped in. “Tinker Bell,” he called softly, “Tink, where are you?” She was in a jug.
“Oh, come out of that jug, and tell me, do you know where they put my shadow?”
Tink said that the shadow was in the big box. In a moment Peter recovered his shadow, and in his delight he forgot that he shut Tinker Bell up in the drawer.
Peter found his shadow certainly, but the next trouble was to put it on again.
A happy thought came to him; it is necessary to use the soap from the bathroom! He soaped his shadow, but the shadow and his body did not stick together. He was trying and trying to stick the shadow, but no luck. Poor little boy sat on the floor, and began to cry.
His sobs woke Wendy, and she sat up in bed. She saw a stranger crying on the nursery floor; she was interested.
“Boy,” she said courteously, “why are you crying?”
Peter could be polite also, and he rose and bowed to her beautifully. She was much pleased, and bowed beautifully to him from the bed.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Wendy Moira Angela Darling[23],” she replied. “What is your name?”
“Peter Pan.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes,” he said rather sharply. He felt for the first time that it was a very short name.
“I’m so sorry,” said Wendy Moira Angela.
“It doesn’t matter,” Peter gulped.
“Where do you live?”
“Second turning to the right, and straight on till morning[24].”
This seemed to Wendy a very funny address, but she was all sympathy when she heard that Peter had no mother. No wonder he was crying!
“Why were you crying?”
“I was crying because I can’t get my shadow to stick on[25]. Besides, I wasn’t crying.”
Then Wendy saw the shadow on the floor. She smiled, and she emphatically declared that soap was no good.
“I shall sew it on for you” she said, and she got out her sewing bag, and sewed the shadow on to Peter’s foot.
It was the right thing to do, for the shadow held on beautifully, and Peter was so delighted that he began to dance.
“How clever I am!” cried Peter.
The conceit of Peter was one of his most fascinating qualities. Wendy was shocked. “You conceit![26],” she exclaimed, with frightful sarcasm; “of course I did nothing!” “You did a little,” Peter said carelessly, and continued to dance.
“A little!” she replied; “if I am no use I can at least withdraw,” and she sprang into bed and covered her face with the blankets.
“Oh! Wendy, please don’t withdraw,” Peter exclaimed in great distress “I am very sorry.
Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys.” This was rather clever of Peter, and at these sensible words Wendy got up again. Wendy peeped out of the bed-clothes.
“Do you really think so, Peter?” “Yes, I do.” Wendy smiled. She even offered to give Peter a kiss if he liked. But the poor boy did not even know what a kiss was. Wendy decided to give him a thimble.
Peter admired the thimble very much. “Shall I give you a kiss?” he asked and, jerking a button off his coat, solemnly presented it to her.
Wendy at once fastened it on a chain which she wore round her neck. Afterwards it saved her life.
“Peter, how old are you?” asked Wendy.
“I don’t know, but quite young. I ran away the day I was born.”
Wendy was quite surprised, but interested.
“Ran away – why?”
“Because I heard my father and mother talking about what I was to be when I became a man. I don’t want to be a man. I want always to be a little boy and have fun. So I ran away and lived among the fairies.”
After a minute Wendy said, “Peter, do you really know fairies?”
“Yes, but they’re nearly all dead now. You see, Wendy, when the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and that was the beginning of fairies. And now, whenever a new baby is born, its first laugh becomes a fairy. Children soon won’t believe in fairies, and whenever a child says, ‘I don’t believe in fairies,’ there’s a fairy somewhere that falls down dead[27].”
Really, he thought they now talked enough about fairies. He looked about the room and it struck him that Tinker Bell disappeared! He called Tink by name.
“Peter,” cried Wendy, “is there a fairy in this room?”
“She was here just now,” he said a little impatiently. “You don’t hear her, do you?” and they both listened.
“The only sound I hear,” said Wendy, “is like a tinkle of bells.”
Peter, who knew the fairy language, of course understood it.
“Well, that’s Tink, that’s the fairy language. I think I hear her too.”
The sound came from the chest of drawers[28], and Peter made a merry face.
“Wendy,” he whispered, “I shut her up in the drawer!”
He pulled open the drawer, and out sprang Tinker Bell, very angry with him.
“Of course I’m very sorry, but how could I know you were in the drawer?”
Wendy saw the romantic figure on the cuckoo clock. “O the lovely!” she cried, though Tink’s face was still distorted with passion.
“Tink,” said Peter amiably, “this lady says she wishes you were her fairy.”
Tinker Bell answered insolently.
“What does she say, Peter?”
“She is not very polite. She says you are a great ugly girl, and that she is my fairy.”
He tried to argue with Tink. “You know you can’t be my fairy, Tink, because I am an gentleman and you are a lady.”
Tink disappeared into the bathroom. “She is quite a common fairy,” Peter explained.
They were together in the armchair by this time, and Wendy plied him with more questions.
“Peter, if you don’t live with the fairies, where do you live?”
“I live with the Lost Boys.”
“Who are they?”
“They are the children who fall out of their perambulators when the nurse is looking the other way[29]. If they are not claimed[30] in seven days they are sent far away to the Neverland to defray expenses. I’m their Captain.”
“Oh! What fun!”
“Yes,” said Peter, “but we are rather lonely. You see we have no girls there.”
“Are none of the others girls?”
“Oh, no; girls, you know, are much too clever to fall out of their prams.”
“You are very kind,” said Wendy, “so you may give me a kiss. It’s like this.” She kissed him.
“Funny!” said Peter gravely. “Now shall I give you a kiss?”
“If you wish to,” said Wendy.
But suddenly Wendy cried, “Somebody was pulling my hair.”
“That must be Tink. I never knew her so naughty before.”
“Oh! But, Peter, why did you come to our nursery window?”
“You see, I don’t know any stories. None of the Lost Boys knows any stories.”
“How perfectly awful,” Wendy said.
Peter came to listen to the lovely stories Wendy’s mother related to her children, for the Lost Boys had no mothers, and no one to tell them any stories. He also told her how he led them against their enemies, the pirates and the wolves, and how they liked to bath in the Lagoon, where beautiful mermaids sang and swam all day long.
“O Wendy, your mother was telling you such a lovely story!”
“Which story was it?”
“About the prince who couldn’t find the lady who wore the glass slipper.”
“Peter,” said Wendy excitedly, “that was Cinderella[31], and he found her, and they lived happily ever after.”
Peter was so glad that he rose from the floor, where they were sitting, and hurried to the window.
“Where are you going?” she cried.
“I must go back now, the boys will be anxious to hear the end of the story about the Prince and the Glass Slipper. I told them as much as I knew, and they want to hear the rest[32].”
“Don’t go Peter,” she entreated, “I know such lots of stories. I’ll tell you lots more, ever so many stories.”
Wendy begged him to stay. He came back, and there was a greedy look in his eyes. Peter gripped her and began to draw her toward the window.
“Let me go![33]” she ordered him.
“Come, Wendy! Come with me and tell the other boys. You can tell us all the stories there, and darn our clothes, and tuck us in at night.”
“Oh dear, I can’t. Think of Mummy! Besides, I can’t fly.”
“I’ll teach you. I’ll teach you how to jump on the wind’s back, and then away we go.”
This was too much for her. “Oo!” she exclaimed.
“Wendy, Wendy, when you are sleeping in your silly bed you could fly with me and talk to the stars.”
“Oo!”
“And, Wendy, there are mermaids.”
“Mermaids! With tails?”
“Such long tails.”
“Oh,” cried Wendy, “to see a mermaid!”
“Wendy,” said Peter, “we shall all respect you.”
“Peter, will you teach John and Michael to fly as well?”
“Yes, if you like,” he said indifferently, and she ran to John and Michael and shook them. “Wake up,” she cried, “Peter Pan is here, and he will teach us to fly.”
John rubbed his eyes. “Then I shall get up,” he said. Of course he was on the floor already. “Hallo,” he said. Michael woke up, too.
“Peter,” asked John. “Can you really fly?”
Peter flew around the room.
“How sweet![34]” cried Wendy.
“Yes, I’m sweet, oh, I am sweet!” said Peter.
Children tried to fly from the floor and then from the beds, but they always went down instead of up.
“How do you do it?” asked John. He was quite a practical boy.
“I must blow the fairy dust on you,” and Peter blew some on each of them.
“Now just wiggle your shoulders,” he said, “and let go.”
So they tried, and found that they could fly; just a little at first, from the bed to the floor and back again; then over the bed and across the room. “Oh, lovely! We can fly! Look at me!”
“Look at me!”
“Look at me!”
“Let’s fly out!” cried John.
Michael was ready, but Wendy hesitated.
“Mermaids!” said Peter again.
“Oo!”
“And there are pirates.”
“Pirates,” cried John “let us go at once[35].”
“Tink, lead the way!” called Peter. None of the children had time to put on their day clothes, but John snatched his top hat as he flew out of the window, followed by Michael. Peter Pan held Wendy’s hand, and away they floated into the dark blue depths of the starry night.
A minute afterwards Mrs. Darling, who returned from the party, rushed into the nursery with Nana. But it was too late. The children were already on their way to the Neverland.