Белая птичка
Peter’s Goat
“Ishallcomeandlookforyouto-night,”hesaid,squeezingclose,“butifyouhurryawayIthinkyouwillbeintime.”
Thenhepressedalastthimbleonhersweetlittlemouth,andcoveredhisfacewithhishandssothathemightnotseehergo.
“DearPeter!”shecried.
“DearMaimie!”criedthetragicboy.
Sheleaptintohisarms,sothatitwasasortoffairywedding,andthenshehurriedaway.Oh,howshehastenedtothegates!Peter,youmaybesure,wasbackintheGardensthatnightassoonasLock-outsounded,buthefoundnoMaimie,andsoheknewshehadbeenintime.Forlonghehopedthatsomenightshewouldcomebacktohim;oftenhethoughthesawherwaitingforhimbytheshoreoftheSerpentineashisbarkdrewtoland,butMaimieneverwentback.Shewantedto,butshewasafraidthatifshesawherdearBetwixt-and-Betweenagainshewouldlingerwithhimtoolong,andbesidestheayahnowkeptasharpeyeonher.ButsheoftentalkedlovinglyofPeterandsheknittedakettle-holderforhim,andonedaywhenshewaswonderingwhatEasterpresenthewouldlike,hermothermadeasuggestion.
“Nothing,”shesaidthoughtfully,“wouldbesousefultohimasagoat.”
“Hecouldrideonit,”criedMaimie,“andplayonhispipeatthesametime!”
“Then,”hermotherasked,“won’tyougivehimyourgoat,theoneyoufrightenTonywithatnight?”
“Butitisn’tarealgoat,”Maimiesaid.
“ItseemsveryrealtoTony,”repliedhermother.
