Wendy's Story

‘Listen, then,’ said Wendy, settling down to her story, with Michael at her feet and seven boys in the bed. ‘There was once a gentleman——’

‘I had rather he had been a lady,’ Curly said.

‘I wish he had been a white rat,’ said Nibs.

‘Quiet,’ their mother admonished them. ‘There was a lady also, and—’

‘O Mummy,’ cried the first twin, ‘you mean that there is a lady also, don’t you? She is not dead, is she?’

‘Oh, no.’

‘I am awfully glad she isn’t dead,’ said Tootles. ‘Are you glad, John?’

‘Of course I am.’

‘Are you glad, Nibs?’

‘Rather.’

‘Are you glad, Twins?’

‘We are just glad.’

‘Oh dear,’ sighed Wendy.

‘Little less noise there,’ Peter called out, determined that she should have fair play, however beastly a story it might be in his opinion.

‘The gentleman’s name,’ Wendy continued, ‘was Mr Darling, and her name was Mrs Darling.’

‘I knew them,’ John said, to annoy the others.

‘I think I knew them,’ said Michael rather doubtfully.

‘They were married, you know,’ explained Wendy, ‘and what do you think they had?’

‘White rats,’ cried Nibs, inspired.

‘No.’

‘It’s awfully puzzling,’ said Tootles, who knew the story by heart.

‘Quiet, Tootles. They had three descendants.’

‘What is descendants?’

‘Well, you are one, Twin.’

‘Do you hear that, John? I am a descendant.’

‘Descendants are only children,’ said John.

‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ sighed Wendy. ‘Now, these three children had a faithful nurse called Nana; but Mr Darling was angry with her and chained her up in the yard; and so all the children flew away.’

‘It’s an awfully good story,’ said Nibs.