Пітер Пен у Кенсінгтонському Саді
Peter’s Goat
Butyoumustnotthinkthat,becausesomewhereamongthetreesthelittlehouseistwinkling,itisasafethingtoremainintheGardensafterLock-outtime.Ifthebadonesamongthefairieshappentobeoutthatnighttheywillcertainlymischiefyou,andeventhoughtheyarenot,youmayperishofcoldanddarkbeforePeterPancomesround.Hehasbeentoolateseveraltimes,andwhenheseesheistoolateherunsbacktotheThrush’sNestforhispaddle,ofwhichMaimiehadtoldhimthetrueuse,andhedigsagraveforthechildanderectsalittletombstone,andcarvesthepoorthing’sinitialsonit.Hedoesthisatoncebecausehethinksitiswhatrealboyswoulddo,andyoumusthavenoticedthelittlestones,andthattherearealwaystwotogether.Heputsthemintwosbecausetheyseemlesslonely.IthinkthatquitethemosttouchingsightintheGardensisthetwotombstonesofWalterStephenMatthewsandPhoebePhelps.TheystandtogetheratthespotwheretheparishofWestminsterSt.Mary’sissaidtomeettheParishofPaddington.HerePeterfoundthetwobabes,whohadfallenunnoticedfromtheirperambulators,PhoebeagedthirteenmonthsandWalterprobablystillyounger,forPeterseemstohavefeltadelicacyaboutputtinganyageonhisstone.Theyliesidebyside,andthesimpleinscriptionsread
Davidsometimesplaceswhiteflowersonthesetwoinnocentgraves.
Buthowstrangeforparents,whentheyhurryintotheGardensattheopeningofthegateslookingfortheirlostone,tofindthesweetestlittletombstoneinstead.IdohopethatPeterisnottooreadywithhisspade.Itisallrathersad.
