with his dagger upraised. Of course he did not strike. He sat down on
the floor instead and sobbed; and Wendy did not know how to comfort
him, though she could have done it so easily once. She was only a woman
now, and she ran out of the room to try to think.
Peter continued to cry, and soon his sobs woke Jane. She sat up in bed,
and was interested at once.
Boy, she said, why are you crying?
Peter rose and bowed to her, and she bowed to him from the bed.
Hullo, he said.
Hullo, said Jane.
My name is Peter Pan, he told her.
Yes, I know.
I came back for my mother, he explained, to take her to the
Neverland.
Yes, I know, Jane said, I have been waiting for you.
When Wendy returned diffidently she found Peter sitting on the bed-post
crowing gloriously, while Jane in her nighty was flying round the room
in solemn ecstasy.
She is my mother, Peter explained; and Jane descended and stood by
his side, with the look in her face that he liked to see on ladies when
they gazed at him.
He does so need a mother, Jane said.
Yes, I know, Wendy admitted rather forlornly; no one knows it so
well as I.
Good-bye, said Peter to Wendy; and he rose in the air, and the
shameless Jane rose with him; it was already her easiest way of moving
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