Chapter XVII. WHEN WENDY GREW UP · page 21 2 3101“I expect she is no more.”102I 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.103Wendy 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.checked by a teacher104But he was exactly as fascinating as ever, and they had a lovely spring cleaning in the little house on the tree tops.105Next year he did not come for her.106She waited in a new frock because the old one simply would not meet; but he never came.107“Perhaps he is ill,” Michael said.108“You know he is never ill.”109Michael 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.110Peter came next spring cleaning; and the strange thing was that he never knew he had missed a year.111That was the last time the girl Wendy ever saw him.112For 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.113But 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.114Wendy was grown up.115You need not be sorry for her.116She was one of the kind that likes to grow up.117In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than other girls.118All the boys were grown up and done for by this time; so it is scarcely worth while saying anything more about them.119You may see the twins and Nibs and Curly any day going to an office, each carrying a little bag and an umbrella.120Michael is an engine-driver.121Slightly married a lady of title, and so he became a lord.122You see that judge in a wig coming out at the iron door?123That used to be Tootles.124The bearded man who doesn’t know any story to tell his children was once John.125Wendy was married in white with a pink sash.126It is strange to think that Peter did not alight in the church and forbid the banns.127Years rolled on again, and Wendy had a daughter.128This ought not to be written in ink but in a golden splash.129She was called Jane, and always had an odd inquiring look, as if from the moment she arrived on the mainland she wanted to ask questions.130When she was old enough to ask them they were mostly about Peter Pan.131She loved to hear of Peter, and Wendy told her all she could remember in the very nursery from which the famous flight had taken place.132It was Jane’s nursery now, for her father had bought it at the three per cents from Wendy’s father, who was no longer fond of stairs.133Mrs. Darling was now dead and forgotten.134There were only two beds in the nursery now, Jane’s and her nurse’s; and there was no kennel, for Nana also had passed away.135She died of old age, and at the end she had been rather difficult to get on with; being very firmly convinced that no one knew how to look after children except herself.136Once a week Jane’s nurse had her evening off; and then it was Wendy’s part to put Jane to bed.137That was the time for stories.138It was Jane’s invention to raise the sheet over her mother’s head and her own, thus making a tent, and in the awful darkness to whisper:139“What do we see now?”140“I don’t think I see anything to-night,” says Wendy, with a feeling that if Nana were here she would object to further conversation.141“Yes, you do,” says Jane, “you see when you were a little girl.”142“That is a long time ago, sweetheart,” says Wendy.143“Ah me, how time flies!”144“Does it fly,” asks the artful child, “the way you flew when you were a little girl?”145“The way I flew?146Do you know, Jane, I sometimes wonder whether I ever did really fly.”147“Yes, you did.”148“The dear old days when I could fly!”149“Why can’t you fly now, mother?”150“Because I am grown up, dearest.151When people grow up they forget the way.”152“Why do they forget the way?”153“Because they are no longer gay and innocent and heartless.154It is only the gay and innocent and heartless who can fly.”155“What is gay and innocent and heartless?156I do wish I were gay and innocent and heartless.”157Or perhaps Wendy admits she does see something.158“I do believe,” she says, “that it is this nursery.”159“I do believe it is,” says Jane.160“Go on.”161They are now embarked on the great adventure of the night when Peter flew in looking for his shadow.162“The foolish fellow,” says Wendy, “tried to stick it on with soap, and when he could not he cried, and that woke me, and I sewed it on for him.”163“You have missed a bit,” interrupts Jane, who now knows the story better than her mother.164“When you saw him sitting on the floor crying, what did you say?”165“I sat up in bed and I said, ‘Boy, why are you crying?’”166“Yes, that was it,” says Jane, with a big breath.167“And then he flew us all away to the Neverland and the fairies and the pirates and the redskins and the mermaids’ lagoon, and the home under the ground, and the little house.”168“Yes! which did you like best of all?”169“I think I liked the home under the ground best of all.”170“Yes, so do I. What was the last thing Peter ever said to you?”171“The last thing he ever said to me was, ‘Just always be waiting for me, and then some night you will hear me crowing.’”172“Yes.”173“But, alas, he forgot all about me,” Wendy said it with a smile.174She was as grown up as that.175“What did his crow sound like?”176Jane asked one evening.177“It was like this,” Wendy said, trying to imitate Peter’s crow.checked by a teacher178“No, it wasn’t,” Jane said gravely, “it was like this;” and she did it ever so much better than her mother.179Wendy was a little startled.180“My darling, how can you know?”181“I often hear it when I am sleeping,” Jane said.182“Ah yes, many girls hear it when they are sleeping, but I was the only one who heard it awake.”183“Lucky you,” said Jane.184And then one night came the tragedy.185It was the spring of the year, and the story had been told for the night, and Jane was now asleep in her bed.186Wendy was sitting on the floor, very close to the fire, so as to see to darn, for there was no other light in the nursery; and while she sat darning she heard a crow.187Then the window blew open as of old, and Peter dropped in on the floor.188He was exactly the same as ever, and Wendy saw at once that he still had all his first teeth.189He was a little boy, and she was grown up.190She huddled by the fire not daring to move, helpless and guilty, a big woman.191“Hullo, Wendy,” he said, not noticing any difference, for he was thinking chiefly of himself; and in the dim light her white dress might have been the nightgown in which he had seen her first.192“Hullo, Peter,” she replied faintly, squeezing herself as small as possible.193Something inside her was crying “Woman, Woman, let go of me.”194“Hullo, where is John?” he asked, suddenly missing the third bed.195“John is not here now,” she gasped.196“Is Michael asleep?” he asked, with a careless glance at Jane.197“Yes,” she answered; and now she felt that she was untrue to Jane as well as to Peter.198“That is not Michael,” she said quickly, lest a judgment should fall on her.199Peter looked.200“Hullo, is it a new one?”1 2 3← previousChapter XVI. 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