Белая птичка
Lock-Out Time
Sowhenatlasthesaidtothembravely,“Iwishnowtogobacktomotherforeverandalways,”theyhadtoticklehisshouldersandlethimgo.
Hewentinahurryintheendbecausehehaddreamtthathismotherwascrying,andheknewwhatwasthegreatthingshecriedfor,andthatahugfromhersplendidPeterwouldquicklymakehertosmile.Oh,hefeltsureofit,andsoeagerwashetobenestlinginherarmsthatthistimeheflewstraighttothewindow,whichwasalwaystobeopenforhim.
Butthewindowwasclosed,andtherewereironbarsonit,andpeeringinsidehesawhismothersleepingpeacefullywithherarmroundanotherlittleboy.
Petercalled,“Mother!mother!”butsheheardhimnot;invainhebeathislittlelimbsagainsttheironbars.Hehadtoflyback,sobbing,totheGardens,andheneversawhisdearagain.Whatagloriousboyhehadmeanttobetoher.Ah,Peter,wewhohavemadethegreatmistake,howdifferentlyweshouldallactatthesecondchance.ButSolomonwasright;thereisnosecondchance,notformostofus.WhenwereachthewindowitisLock-outTime.Theironbarsareupforlife.
