Life and Adventures of Santa Claus & Other Christmas Novels. Люси Мод Монтгомери

they found it, but at any rate they found corners, and they all fitted in.

      As for Peter, he saw Wendy once again before he flew away. He did not exactly come to the window, but he brushed against it in passing, so that she could open it if she liked and call to him. That was what she did.

      'Hullo, Wendy, good-bye,' he said.

      'Oh dear, are you going away?'

      'Yes.'

      'You don't feel, Peter,' she said falteringly, 'that you would like to say anything to my parents about a very sweet subject?'

      'No.'

      'About me, Peter?'

      'No.'

      Mrs. Darling came to the window, for at present she was keeping a sharp eye on Wendy. She told Peter that she had adopted all the other boys, and would like to adopt him also.

      'Would you send me to school?' he inquired craftily.

      'Yes.'

      'And then to an office?'

      'I suppose so.'

      'Soon I should be a man?'

      'Very soon.'

      'I don't want to go to school and learn solemn things,' he told her passionately. 'I don't want to be a man. O Wendy's mother, if I was to wake up and feel there was a beard!'

      'Peter,' said Wendy the comforter, 'I should love you in a beard'; and Mrs. Darling stretched out her arms to him, but he repulsed her.

      'Keep back, lady, no one is going to catch me and make me a man.'

      'But where are you going to live?'

      'With Tink in the house we built for Wendy. The fairies are to put it high up among the tree tops where they sleep at nights.'

      'How lovely,' cried Wendy so longingly that Mrs. Darling tightened her grip.

      'I thought all the fairies were dead,' Mrs. Darling said.

      'There are always a lot of young ones,' explained Wendy, who was now quite an authority, 'because you see when a new baby laughs for the first time a new fairy is born, and as there are always new babies there are always new fairies. They live in nests on the tops of trees; and the mauve ones are boys and the white ones are girls, and the blue ones are just little sillies who are not sure what they are.'

      'I shall have such fun,' said Peter, with one eye on Wendy.

      'It will be rather lonely in the evening,' she said, 'sitting by the fire.'

      'I shall have Tink.'

      'Tink can't go a twentieth part of the way round,' she reminded him a little tartly.

      'Sneaky tell-tale!' Tink called out from somewhere round the corner.

      'It doesn't matter,' Peter said.

      'O Peter, you know it matters.'

      'Well, then, come with me to the little house.'

      'May I, mummy?'

      'Certainly not. I have got you home again, and I mean to keep you.'

      'But he does so need a mother.'

      'So do you, my love.'

      'Oh, all right,' Peter said, as if he had asked her from politeness merely; but Mrs. Darling saw his mouth twitch, and she made this handsome offer: to let Wendy go to him for a week every year to do his spring cleaning. Wendy would have preferred a more permanent arrangement; and it seemed to her that spring would be long in coming; but this promise sent Peter away quite gay again. He had no sense of time, and was so full of adventures that all I have told you about him is only a halfpenny-worth of them. I suppose it was because Wendy knew this that her last words to him were these rather plaintive ones:

      'You won't forget me, Peter, will you, before spring-cleaning time comes?'

      Of course Peter promised; and then he flew away. He took Mrs. Darling's kiss with him. The kiss that had been for no one else Peter took quite easily. Funny. But she seemed satisfied.

      Of course all the boys went to school; and most of them got into Class III., but Slightly was put first into Class IV. and then into Class V. Class I. is the top class. Before they had attended school a week they saw what goats they had been not to remain on the island; but it was too late now, and soon they settled down to being as ordinary as you or me or Jenkins minor. It is sad to have to say that the power to fly gradually left them. At first Nana tied their feet to the bed-posts so that they should not fly away in the night; and one of their diversions by day was to pretend to fall off 'buses; but by and by they ceased to tug at their bonds in bed, and found that they hurt themselves when they let go of the 'bus. In time they could not even fly after their hats. Want of practice, they called it; but what it really meant was that they no longer believed.

      Michael believed longer than the other boys, though they jeered at him; so he was with Wendy when Peter came for her at the end of the first year. She flew away with Peter in the frock she had woven from leaves and berries in the Neverland, and her one fear was that he might notice how short it had become; but he never noticed, he had so much to say about himself.

      She had looked forward to thrilling talks with him about old times, but new adventures had crowded the old ones from his mind.

      'Who is Captain Hook?' he asked with interest when she spoke of the arch enemy.

      'Don't you remember,' she asked, amazed, 'how you killed him and saved all our lives?'

      'I forget them after I kill them,' he replied carelessly.

      When she expressed a doubtful hope that Tinker Bell would be glad to see her he said, 'Who is Tinker Bell?'

      'O Peter,' she said, shocked; but even when she explained he could not remember.

      'There are such a lot of them,' he said. 'I expect she is no more.'

      I expect he was right, for fairies don't live long, but they are so little that a short time seems a good while to them.

      Wendy was pained too to find that the past year was but as yesterday to Peter; it had seemed such a long year of waiting to her. But he was exactly as fascinating as ever, and they had a lovely spring cleaning in the little house on the tree tops.

      Next year he did not come for her. She waited in a new frock because the old one simply would not meet; but he never came.

      'Perhaps he is ill,' Michael said.

      'You know he is never ill.'

      Michael came close to her and whispered, with a shiver, 'Perhaps there is no such person, Wendy!' and then Wendy would have cried if Michael had not been crying.

      Peter came next spring cleaning; and the strange thing was that he never knew he had missed a year.

      That was the last time the girl Wendy ever saw him. For a little longer she tried for his sake not to have growing pains; and she felt she was untrue to him when she got a prize for general knowledge. But the years came and went without bringing the careless boy; and when they met again Wendy was a married woman, and Peter was no more to her than a little dust in the box in which she had kept her toys. Wendy was grown up. You need not be sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes to grow up. In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than other girls.

      All the boys were grown up and done for by this time; so it is scarcely worth while saying anything more about them. You may see the twins and Nibs and Curly any day going to an office, each carrying a little bag and an umbrella. Michael is an engine-driver. Slightly married a lady of title, and so he became a lord. You see that judge in a wig coming out at the iron door? That used to be Tootles. The bearded man who doesn't know any story to tell his children was once John.

      Wendy was married in white with a pink sash. It is strange