“Nothing, precious,” she said; “they are the eyes a mother leaves behind her to guard her children.”

Michael flung his arms round her. “Mother,” he cried, “I’m glad of you[17].”

They were the last words she heard from him.

She comforted the children, kissed them very tenderly as mothers always do, sang them to sleep and crept softly out of the room to go to the dinner-party with Mr. Darling. When they were going to the party, all the stars were watching them. When the door of the house closed, the smallest of all the stars in the Milky Way[18] screamed out:

“Now, Peter![19]”

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.