Пітер Пен у Кенсінгтонському Саді
Lock-Out Time
Verygentlyhepattedthelittlemoundthatherfeetmade,andhecouldseebyherfacethatshelikedit.Heknewhehadbuttosay’Mother’eversosoftly,andshewouldwakeup.Theyalwayswakeupatonceifitisyouthatsaystheirname.Thenshewouldgivesuchajoyouscryandsqueezehimtight.Hownicethatwouldbetohim,butoh!howexquisitelydeliciousitwouldbetoher.That,Iamafraid,ishowPeterregardedit.Inreturningtohismotherheneverdoubtedthathewasgivingherthegreatesttreatawomancanhave.Nothingcanbemoresplendid,hethought,thantohavealittleboyofyourown.Howproudofhimtheyare!andveryrightandproper,too.
ButwhydoesPetersitsolongontherail;whydoeshenottellhismotherthathehascomeback?
Iquiteshrinkfromthetruth,whichisthathesatthereintwominds.Sometimeshelookedlonginglyathismother,andsometimeshelookedlonginglyatthewindow.Certainlyitwouldbepleasanttobeherboyagain,butontheotherhand,whattimesthosehadbeenintheGardens!Washesosurethatheshouldenjoywearingclothesagain?Hepoppedoffthebedandopenedsomedrawerstohavealookathisoldgarments.Theywerestillthere,buthecouldnotrememberhowyouputthemon.Thesocks,forinstance,weretheywornonthehandsoronthefeet?Hewasabouttotryoneofthemonhishand,whenhehadagreatadventure.Perhapsthedrawerhadcreaked;atanyrate,hismotherwokeup,forheheardhersay’Peter,’asifitwasthemostlovelywordinthelanguage.Heremainedsittingonthefloorandheldhisbreath,wonderinghowsheknewthathehadcomeback.Ifshesaid’Peter’again,hemeanttocry’Mother’andruntoher.Butshespokenomore,shemadelittlemoansonly,andwhenhenextpeepedathershewasoncemoreasleep,withtearsonherface.
