Пітер Пен у Кенсінгтонському Саді
Peter’s Goat
Justthentheyheardagratingcreak,followedbycreak,creak,allroundtheGardens.ItwastheOpeningoftheGates,andPeterjumpednervouslyintohisboat.HeknewMaimiewouldnotcomewithhimnow,andhewastryingbravelynottocry.ButMaimiewassobbingpainfully.
’IfIshouldbetoolate,’shesaidinagony,’OPeter,ifshehasgotanotheronealready!’
Againhesprangashoreasifshehadcalledhimback.’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.ButsheoftentalkedlovinglyofPeter,andsheknittedakettle-holderforhim,andonedaywhenshewaswonderingwhatEasterpresenthewouldlike,hermothermadeasuggestion.
