Reading Help Peter-pan BY J. M. BARRIE
We have now reached the evening that was to be known among them `
` as the Night of Nights, because of its adventures and their `
` upshot. The day, as if quietly gathering its forces, had been `
` almost uneventful, and now the redskins in their blankets were at `
` their posts above, while, below, the children were having their `
` evening meal; all except Peter, who had gone out to get the time. `
` The way you got the time on the island was to find the crocodile, `
` and then stay near him till the clock struck. `
` `
` The meal happened to be a make-believe tea, and they sat around `
` the board, guzzling in their greed; and really, what with their `
` chatter and recriminations, the noise, as Wendy said, was `
` positively deafening. To be sure, she did not mind noise, but `
` she simply would not have them grabbing things, and then excusing `
` themselves by saying that Tootles had pushed their elbow. There `
` was a fixed rule that they must never hit back at meals, but `
` should refer the matter of dispute to Wendy by raising the right `
` arm politely and saying, "I complain of so-and-so;" but what `
` usually happened was that they forgot to do this or did it too `
` much. `
` `
` "Silence," cried Wendy when for the twentieth time she had told `
` them that they were not all to speak at once. "Is your mug empty, `
` Slightly darling?" `
` `
` "Not quite empty, mummy," Slightly said, after looking into an `
` imaginary mug. `
` `
` "He hasn't even begun to drink his milk," Nibs interposed. `
` `
` This was telling, and Slightly seized his chance. `
` `
` "I complain of Nibs," he cried promptly. `
` `
` John, however, had held up his hand first. `
` `
` "Well, John?" `
` `
` "May I sit in Peter's chair, as he is not here?" `
` `
` "Sit in father's chair, John!" Wendy was scandalised. `
` "Certainly not." `
` `
` "He is not really our father," John answered. "He didn't even `
` know how a father does till I showed him." `
` `
` This was grumbling. "We complain of John," cried the twins. `
` `
` Tootles held up his hand. He was so much the humblest of them, `
` indeed he was the only humble one, that Wendy was specially `
` gentle with him. `
` `
` "I don't suppose," Tootles said diffidently [bashfully or `
` timidly], "that I could be father." `
` `
` "No, Tootles." `
` `
` Once Tootles began, which was not very often, he had a silly `
` way of going on. `
` `
` "As I can't be father," he said heavily, "I don't suppose, `
` Michael, you would let me be baby?" `
` `
` "No, I won't," Michael rapped out. He was already in his `
` basket. `
` `
` "As I can't be baby," Tootles said, getting heavier and heavier `
` and heavier, "do you think I could be a twin?" `
` `
` "No, indeed," replied the twins; "it's awfully difficult to be `
` a twin." `
` `
` "As I can't be anything important," said Tootles, "would any of `
` you like to see me do a trick?" `
` `
` "No," they all replied. `
` `
` Then at last he stopped. "I hadn't really any hope," he said. `
` `
` The hateful telling broke out again. `
` `
` "Slightly is coughing on the table." `
` `
` "The twins began with cheese-cakes." `
` `
` "Curly is taking both butter and honey." `
` `
` "Nibs is speaking with his mouth full." `
` `
` "I complain of the twins." `
` `
` "I complain of Curly." `
` `
` "I complain of Nibs." `
` `
` "Oh dear, oh dear," cried Wendy, "I'm sure I sometimes think `
` that spinsters are to be envied." `
` `
` She told them to clear away, and sat down to her work-basket, `
` a heavy load of stockings and every knee with a hole in it as `
` usual. `
` `
` "Wendy," remonstrated [scolded] Michael, "I'm too big for a `
` cradle." `
` `
` "I must have somebody in a cradle," she said almost tartly, `
` "and you are the littlest. A cradle is such a nice homely thing `
` to have about a house." `
` `
` While she sewed they played around her; such a group of happy `
` faces and dancing limbs lit up by that romantic fire. It had `
` become a very familiar scene, this, in the home under the `
` ground, but we are looking on it for the last time. `
` `
` There was a step above, and Wendy, you may be sure, was the `
` first to recognize it. `
` `
` "Children, I hear your father's step. He likes you to meet him `
` at the door." `
` `
` Above, the redskins crouched before Peter. `
` `
` "Watch well, braves. I have spoken." `
` `
` And then, as so often before, the gay children dragged him from `
` his tree. As so often before, but never again. `
` `
` He had brought nuts for the boys as well as the correct time `
` for Wendy. `
` `
` "Peter, you just spoil them, you know," Wendy simpered `
` [exaggerated a smile]. `
` `
` "Ah, old lady," said Peter, hanging up his gun. `
` `
` "It was me told him mothers are called old lady," Michael `
` whispered to Curly. `
` `
` "I complain of Michael," said Curly instantly. `
` `
` The first twin came to Peter. "Father, we want to dance." `
` `
` "Dance away, my little man," said Peter, who was in high good `
` humour. `
` `
` "But we want you to dance." `
` `
` Peter was really the best dancer among them, but he pretended `
` to be scandalised. `
` `
` "Me! My old bones would rattle!" `
` `
` "And mummy too." `
` `
` "What," cried Wendy, "the mother of such an armful, dance!" `
` `
` "But on a Saturday night," Slightly insinuated. `
` `
` It was not really Saturday night, at least it may have been, `
` for they had long lost count of the days; but always if they `
` wanted to do anything special they said this was Saturday night, `
` and then they did it. `
` `
` "Of course it is Saturday night, Peter," Wendy said, relenting. `
` `
` "People of our figure, Wendy!" `
` `
` "But it is only among our own progeny [children]." `
` `
` "True, true." `
` `
` So they were told they could dance, but they must put on their `
` nighties first. `
` `
` "Ah, old lady," Peter said aside to Wendy, warming himself by `
` the fire and looking down at her as she sat turning a heel, `
` "there is nothing more pleasant of an evening for you and me when `
` the day's toil is over than to rest by the fire with the little `
` ones near by." `
` `
` "It is sweet, Peter, isn't it?" Wendy said, frightfully `
` gratified. "Peter, I think Curly has your nose." `
` `
` "Michael takes after you." `
` `
` She went to him and put her hand on his shoulder. `
` `
` "Dear Peter," she said, "with such a large family, of course, I `
` have now passed my best, but you don't want to [ex]change me, do `
` you?" `
` `
` "No, Wendy." `
` `
` Certainly he did not want a change, but he looked at her `
` uncomfortably, blinking, you know, like one not sure whether he `
` was awake or asleep. `
` `
` "Peter, what is it?" `
` `
` "I was just thinking," he said, a little scared. "It is only `
` make-believe, isn't it, that I am their father?" `
`
` as the Night of Nights, because of its adventures and their `
` upshot. The day, as if quietly gathering its forces, had been `
` almost uneventful, and now the redskins in their blankets were at `
` their posts above, while, below, the children were having their `
` evening meal; all except Peter, who had gone out to get the time. `
` The way you got the time on the island was to find the crocodile, `
` and then stay near him till the clock struck. `
` `
` The meal happened to be a make-believe tea, and they sat around `
` the board, guzzling in their greed; and really, what with their `
` chatter and recriminations, the noise, as Wendy said, was `
` positively deafening. To be sure, she did not mind noise, but `
` she simply would not have them grabbing things, and then excusing `
` themselves by saying that Tootles had pushed their elbow. There `
` was a fixed rule that they must never hit back at meals, but `
` should refer the matter of dispute to Wendy by raising the right `
` arm politely and saying, "I complain of so-and-so;" but what `
` usually happened was that they forgot to do this or did it too `
` much. `
` `
` "Silence," cried Wendy when for the twentieth time she had told `
` them that they were not all to speak at once. "Is your mug empty, `
` Slightly darling?" `
` `
` "Not quite empty, mummy," Slightly said, after looking into an `
` imaginary mug. `
` `
` "He hasn't even begun to drink his milk," Nibs interposed. `
` `
` This was telling, and Slightly seized his chance. `
` `
` "I complain of Nibs," he cried promptly. `
` `
` John, however, had held up his hand first. `
` `
` "Well, John?" `
` `
` "May I sit in Peter's chair, as he is not here?" `
` `
` "Sit in father's chair, John!" Wendy was scandalised. `
` "Certainly not." `
` `
` "He is not really our father," John answered. "He didn't even `
` know how a father does till I showed him." `
` `
` This was grumbling. "We complain of John," cried the twins. `
` `
` Tootles held up his hand. He was so much the humblest of them, `
` indeed he was the only humble one, that Wendy was specially `
` gentle with him. `
` `
` "I don't suppose," Tootles said diffidently [bashfully or `
` timidly], "that I could be father." `
` `
` "No, Tootles." `
` `
` Once Tootles began, which was not very often, he had a silly `
` way of going on. `
` `
` "As I can't be father," he said heavily, "I don't suppose, `
` Michael, you would let me be baby?" `
` `
` "No, I won't," Michael rapped out. He was already in his `
` basket. `
` `
` "As I can't be baby," Tootles said, getting heavier and heavier `
` and heavier, "do you think I could be a twin?" `
` `
` "No, indeed," replied the twins; "it's awfully difficult to be `
` a twin." `
` `
` "As I can't be anything important," said Tootles, "would any of `
` you like to see me do a trick?" `
` `
` "No," they all replied. `
` `
` Then at last he stopped. "I hadn't really any hope," he said. `
` `
` The hateful telling broke out again. `
` `
` "Slightly is coughing on the table." `
` `
` "The twins began with cheese-cakes." `
` `
` "Curly is taking both butter and honey." `
` `
` "Nibs is speaking with his mouth full." `
` `
` "I complain of the twins." `
` `
` "I complain of Curly." `
` `
` "I complain of Nibs." `
` `
` "Oh dear, oh dear," cried Wendy, "I'm sure I sometimes think `
` that spinsters are to be envied." `
` `
` She told them to clear away, and sat down to her work-basket, `
` a heavy load of stockings and every knee with a hole in it as `
` usual. `
` `
` "Wendy," remonstrated [scolded] Michael, "I'm too big for a `
` cradle." `
` `
` "I must have somebody in a cradle," she said almost tartly, `
` "and you are the littlest. A cradle is such a nice homely thing `
` to have about a house." `
` `
` While she sewed they played around her; such a group of happy `
` faces and dancing limbs lit up by that romantic fire. It had `
` become a very familiar scene, this, in the home under the `
` ground, but we are looking on it for the last time. `
` `
` There was a step above, and Wendy, you may be sure, was the `
` first to recognize it. `
` `
` "Children, I hear your father's step. He likes you to meet him `
` at the door." `
` `
` Above, the redskins crouched before Peter. `
` `
` "Watch well, braves. I have spoken." `
` `
` And then, as so often before, the gay children dragged him from `
` his tree. As so often before, but never again. `
` `
` He had brought nuts for the boys as well as the correct time `
` for Wendy. `
` `
` "Peter, you just spoil them, you know," Wendy simpered `
` [exaggerated a smile]. `
` `
` "Ah, old lady," said Peter, hanging up his gun. `
` `
` "It was me told him mothers are called old lady," Michael `
` whispered to Curly. `
` `
` "I complain of Michael," said Curly instantly. `
` `
` The first twin came to Peter. "Father, we want to dance." `
` `
` "Dance away, my little man," said Peter, who was in high good `
` humour. `
` `
` "But we want you to dance." `
` `
` Peter was really the best dancer among them, but he pretended `
` to be scandalised. `
` `
` "Me! My old bones would rattle!" `
` `
` "And mummy too." `
` `
` "What," cried Wendy, "the mother of such an armful, dance!" `
` `
` "But on a Saturday night," Slightly insinuated. `
` `
` It was not really Saturday night, at least it may have been, `
` for they had long lost count of the days; but always if they `
` wanted to do anything special they said this was Saturday night, `
` and then they did it. `
` `
` "Of course it is Saturday night, Peter," Wendy said, relenting. `
` `
` "People of our figure, Wendy!" `
` `
` "But it is only among our own progeny [children]." `
` `
` "True, true." `
` `
` So they were told they could dance, but they must put on their `
` nighties first. `
` `
` "Ah, old lady," Peter said aside to Wendy, warming himself by `
` the fire and looking down at her as she sat turning a heel, `
` "there is nothing more pleasant of an evening for you and me when `
` the day's toil is over than to rest by the fire with the little `
` ones near by." `
` `
` "It is sweet, Peter, isn't it?" Wendy said, frightfully `
` gratified. "Peter, I think Curly has your nose." `
` `
` "Michael takes after you." `
` `
` She went to him and put her hand on his shoulder. `
` `
` "Dear Peter," she said, "with such a large family, of course, I `
` have now passed my best, but you don't want to [ex]change me, do `
` you?" `
` `
` "No, Wendy." `
` `
` Certainly he did not want a change, but he looked at her `
` uncomfortably, blinking, you know, like one not sure whether he `
` was awake or asleep. `
` `
` "Peter, what is it?" `
` `
` "I was just thinking," he said, a little scared. "It is only `
` make-believe, isn't it, that I am their father?" `
`