Белая птичка
The Little House
WhentheycameuptowhipMaimietheyusuallyfoundhersleepingtranquilly,notshamming,youknow,butreallysleeping,andlookinglikethesweetestlittleangel,whichseemstometomakeitalmostworse.
ButofcourseitwasdaytimewhentheywereintheGardens,andthenTonydidmostofthetalking.Youcouldgatherfromhistalkthathewasaverybraveboy,andnoonewassoproudofitasMaimie.Shewouldhavelovedtohaveaticketonhersayingthatshewashissister.Andatnotimedidsheadmirehimmorethanwhenhetoldher,asheoftendidwithsplendidfirmness,thatonedayhemeanttoremainbehindintheGardensafterthegateswereclosed.
“Oh,Tony,”shewouldsay,withawfulrespect,“butthefairieswillbesoangry!”
“Idaresay,”repliedTony,carelessly.
“Perhaps,”shesaid,thrilling,“PeterPanwillgiveyouasailinhisboat!”
“Ishallmakehim,”repliedTony;nowondershewasproudofhim.
Buttheyshouldnothavetalkedsoloudly,foronedaytheywereoverheardbyafairywhohadbeengatheringskeletonleaves,fromwhichthelittlepeopleweavetheirsummercurtains,andafterthatTonywasamarkedboy.Theyloosenedtherailsbeforehesatonthem,sothatdownhecameonthebackofhishead;theytrippedhimupbycatchinghisboot-laceandbribedtheduckstosinkhisboat.NearlyallthenastyaccidentsyoumeetwithintheGardensoccurbecausethefairieshavetakenanill-willtoyou,andsoitbehovesyoutobecarefulwhatyousayaboutthem.
