Пітер Пен і Венді

           Darlingquiveredandwenttothewindow.Itwassecurelyfastened.Shelookedout,andthenightwaspepperedwithstars.Theywerecrowdingroundthehouse,asifcurioustoseewhatwastotakeplacethere,butshedidnotnoticethis,northatoneortwoofthesmalleroneswinkedather.Yetanamelessfearclutchedatherheartandmadehercry,’Oh,howIwishthatIwasn’tgoingtoapartyto-night!’

           EvenMichael,alreadyhalfasleep,knewthatshewasperturbed,andheasked,’Cananythingharmus,mother,afterthenight-lightsarelit?’

           ’Nothing,precious,’shesaid;’theyaretheeyesamotherleavesbehindhertoguardherchildren.’

           Shewentfrombedtobedsingingenchantmentsoverthem,andlittleMichaelflunghisarmsroundher.’Mother,’hecried,’I’mgladofyou.’Theywerethelastwordsshewastohearfromhimforalongtime.

           No.27wasonlyafewyardsdistant,buttherehadbeenaslightfallofsnow,andFatherandMotherDarlingpickedtheirwayoveritdeftlynottosoiltheirshoes.Theywerealreadytheonlypersonsinthestreet,andallthestarswerewatchingthem.Starsarebeautiful,buttheymaynottakeanactivepartinanything,theymustjustlookonforever.Itisapunishmentputonthemforsomethingtheydidsolongagothatnostarnowknowswhatitwas.Sotheolderoneshavebecomeglassy-eyedandseldomspeak(winkingisthestarlanguage),butthelittleonesstillwonder