She went to him and put her hand on his shoulder.
Dear Peter, she said, with such a large family, of course, I have
now passed my best, but you don t want to change me, do you?
No, Wendy.
Certainly he did not want a change, but he looked at her uncomfortably,
blinking, you know, like one not sure whether he was awake or asleep.
Peter, what is it?
I was just thinking, he said, a little scared. It is only
make-believe, isn t it, that I am their father?
Oh yes, Wendy said primly.
You see, he continued apologetically, it would make me seem so old
to be their real father.
But they are ours, Peter, yours and mine.
But not really, Wendy? he asked anxiously.
Not if you don t wish it, she replied; and she distinctly heard his
sigh of relief. Peter, she asked, trying to speak firmly, what are
your exact feelings to me?
Those of a devoted son, Wendy.
I thought so, she said, and went and sat by herself at the extreme
end of the room.
You are so queer, he said, frankly puzzled, and Tiger Lily is just
the same. There is something she wants to be to me, but she says it is
not my mother.
No, indeed, it is not, Wendy replied with frightful emphasis. Now we
know why she was prejudiced against the redskins.
94