Пітер Пен і Венді

           Sotheylaythereinthesun,andtheirbodiesglistenedinit,whileshesatbesidethemandlookedimportant.

           Itwasonesuchday,andtheywereallonMarooners’Rock.Therockwasnotmuchlargerthantheirgreatbed,butofcoursetheyallknewhownottotakeupmuchroom,andtheyweredozing,oratleastlyingwiththeireyesshut,andpinchingoccasionallywhentheythoughtWendywasnotlooking.Shewasverybusy,stitching.

           Whileshestitchedachangecametothelagoon.Littleshiversranoverit,andthesunwentawayandshadowsstoleacrossthewater,turningitcold.Wendycouldnolongerseetothreadherneedle,andwhenshelookedup,thelagoonthathadalwayshithertobeensuchalaughingplaceseemedformidableandunfriendly.

           Itwasnot,sheknew,thatnighthadcome,butsomethingasdarkasnighthadcome.No,worsethanthat.Ithadnotcome,butithadsentthatshiverthroughtheseatosaythatitwascoming.Whatwasit?

           TherecrowdeduponherallthestoriesshehadbeentoldofMarooners’Rock,socalledbecauseevilcaptainsputsailorsonitandleavethemtheretodrown.Theydrownwhenthetiderises,forthenitissubmerged.

           Ofcoursesheshouldhaverousedthechildrenatonce;notmerelybecauseoftheunknownthatwasstalkingtowardthem,butbecauseitwasnolongergoodforthemtosleeponarockgrownchilly.Butshewasayoungmotherandshedidnotknowthis;shethoughtyousimplymuststicktoyourruleabouthalfanhourafterthemiddaymeal.So,thoughfearwasuponher,andshelongedtohearmalevoices,shewouldnotwakenthem.