Maimie felt quite shy, but Peter knew not what shy was.

"I hope you have had a good night," he said earnestly.

"Thank you," she replied, "I was so cosy and warm. But you"--andshe looked at his nakedness awkwardly--"don't you feel the leastbit cold?"

Now cold was another word Peter had forgotten, so he answered, "Ithink not, but I may be wrong: you see I am rather ignorant. Iam not exactly a boy, Solomon says I am a Betwixt-and-Between."

"So that is what it is called," said Maimie thoughtfully.

"That's not my name," he explained, "my name is Peter Pan."

"Yes, of course," she said, "I know, everybody knows."

You can't think how pleased Peter was to learn that all thepeople outside the gates knew about him. He begged Maimie totell him what they knew and what they said, and she did so. Theywere sitting by this time on a fallen tree; Peter had cleared offthe snow for Maimie, but he sat on a snowy bit himself.

"Squeeze closer," Maimie said.

"What is that?" he asked, and she showed him, and then he did it.They talked together and he found that people knew a great dealabout him, but not everything, not that he had gone back to hismother and been barred out, for instance, and he said nothing ofthis to Maimie, for it still humiliated him.

"Do they know that I play games exactly like real boys?" he askedvery proudly. "Oh, Maimie, please tell them!" But when herevealed how he played, by sailing his hoop on the Round Pond,and so on, she was simply horrified.

"All your ways of playing," she said with her big eyes on him,"are quite, quite wrong, and not in the least like how boysplay!"

Poor Peter uttered a little moan at this, and he cried for thefirst time for I know not how long. Maimie was extremely sorryfor him, and lent him her handkerchief, but he didn't know in theleast what to do with it, so she showed him, that is to say, shewiped her eyes, and then gave it back to him, saying "Now you doit," but instead of wiping his own eyes he wiped hers, and shethought it best to pretend that this was what she had meant.

She said, out of pity for him, "I shall give you a kiss if youlike," but though he once knew he had long forgotten what kissesare, and he replied, "Thank you," and held out his hand, thinkingshe had offered to put something into it. This was a great shockto her, but she felt she could not explain without shaming him,so with charming delicacy she gave Peter a thimble which happenedto be in her pocket, and pretended that it was a kiss. Poorlittle boy! he quite believed her, and to this day he wears it onhis finger, though there can be scarcely anyone who needs athimble so little. You see, though still a tiny child, it wasreally years and years since he had seen his mother, and Idaresay the baby who had supplanted him was now a man withwhiskers.

But you must not think that Peter Pan was a boy to pity ratherthan to admire; if Maimie began by thinking this, she soon foundshe was very much mistaken. Her eyes glistened with admirationwhen he told her of his adventures, especially of how he went toand fro between the island and the Gardens in the Thrush's Nest.

"How romantic," Maimie exclaimed, but it was another unknownword, and he hung his head thinking she was despising him.

"I suppose Tony would not have done that?" he said very humbly.

"Never, never!" she answered with conviction, "he would have beenafraid."

"What is afraid?" asked Peter longingly. He thought it must besome splendid thing. "I do wish you would teach me how to beafraid, Maimie," he said.

"I believe no one could teach that to you," she answeredadoringly, but Peter thought she meant that he was stupid. Shehad told him about Tony and of the wicked thing she did in thedark to frighten him (she knew quite well that it was wicked),but Peter misunderstood her meaning and said, "Oh, how I wish Iwas as brave as Tony."

It quite irritated her. "You are twenty thousand times braverthan Tony," she said, "you are ever so much the bravest boy Iever knew!"

He could scarcely believe she meant it, but when be did believehe screamed with joy.

"And if you want very much to give me a kiss," Maimie said, "youcan do it."

Very reluctantly Peter began to take the thimble off his finger.He thought she wanted it back.

"I don't mean a kiss," she said hurriedly, "I mean a thimble."

"What's that?" Peter asked.

"It's like this," she said, and kissed him.

"I should love to give you a thimble," Peter said gravely, so hegave her one. He gave her quite a number of thimbles, and then adelightful idea came into his head! "Maimie," he said, "will youmarry me?"

Now, strange to tell, the same idea had come at exactly the sametime into Maimie's head. "I should like to," she answered, "butwill there be room in your boat for two?"

"If you squeeze close," he said eagerly.

"Perhaps the birds would be angry?"

He assured her that the birds would love to have her, though I amnot so certain of it myself. Also that there were very few birdsin winter. "Of course they might want your clothes," he had toadmit rather falteringly.

She was somewhat indignant at this.

"They are always thinking of their nests," he saidapologetically, "and there are some bits of you"--he stroked thefur on her pelisse--"that would excite them very much."

"They sha'n't have my fur," she said sharply.

"No," he said, still fondling it, however, "no! Oh, Maimie," hesaid rapturously, "do you know why I love you? It is because youare like a beautiful nest."

Somehow this made her uneasy. "I think you are speaking morelike a bird than a boy now," she said, holding back, and indeedhe was even looking rather like a bird. "After all," she said,"you are only a Betwixt-and-Between." But it hurt him so muchthat she immediately added, "It must be a delicious thing to be."

"Come and be one then, dear Maimie," he implored her, and theyset off for the boat, for it was now very near Open-Gate time. "And you are not a bit like a nest," he whispered to please her.

"But I think it is rather nice to be like one," she said in awoman's contradictory way. "And, Peter, dear, though I can'tgive them my fur, I wouldn't mind their building in it. Fancy anest in my neck with little spotty eggs in it! Oh, Peter, howperfectly lovely!"

But as they drew near the Serpentine, she shivered a little, andsaid, "Of course I shall go and see mother often, quite often. It is not as if I was saying good-bye for ever to mother, it isnot in the least like that."

"Oh, no," answered Peter, but in his heart he knew it was verylike that, and he would have told her so had he not been in aquaking fear of losing her. He was so fond of her, he felt hecould not live without her. "She will forget her mother in time,and be happy with me," he kept saying to himself, and he hurriedher on, giving her thimbles by the way.

But even when she had seen the boat and exclaimed ecstaticallyover its loveliness, she still talked tremblingly about hermother. "You know quite well, Peter, don't you," she said, "thatI wouldn't come unless I knew for certain I could go back tomother whenever I want to? Peter, say it!"

He said it, but he could no longer look her in the face.

"If you are sure your mother will always want you," he addedrather sourly.

"The idea of mother's not always wanting me!" Maimie cried, andher face glistened.

"If she doesn't bar you out," said Peter huskily.

"The door," replied Maimie, "will always, always be open, andmother will always be waiting at it for me."

"Then," said Peter, not without grimness, "step in, if you feelso sure of her," and he helped Maimie into the Thrush's Nest.

"But why don't you look at me?" she asked, taking him by the arm.

Peter tried hard not to look, he tried to push off, then he gavea great gulp and jumped ashore and sat down miserably in thesnow.

She went to him. "What is it, dear, dear Peter?" she said,wondering.

"Oh, Maimie," he cried, "it isn't fair to take you with me if youthink you can go back. Your mother"--he gulped again--"you don'tknow them as well as I do."

And then he told her the woful story of how he had been barredout, and she gasped all the time. "But my mother," she said, "mymother"--

"Yes, she would," said Peter, "they are all the same. I daresayshe is looking for another one already."

Maimie said aghast, "I can't believe it. You see, when you wentaway your mother had none, but my mother has Tony, and surelythey are satisfied when they have one."

Peter replied bitterly, "You should see the letters Solomon getsfrom ladies who have six."

Just then they heard a grating creak, followed by creak, creak,all round the Gardens. It was the Opening of the Gates, andPeter jumped nervously into his boat. He knew Maimie would notcome with him now, and he was trying bravely not to cry. ButMaimie was sobbing painfully.

"If I should be too late," she called in agony, "oh, Peter, ifshe has got another one already!"

Again he sprang ashore as if she had called him back. "I shallcome and look for you to-night," he said, squeezing close, "butif you hurry away I think you will be in time."

Then he pressed a last thimble on her sweet little mouth, andcovered his face with his hands so that he might not see her go.

"Dear Peter!" she cried.

"Dear Maimie!" cried the tragic boy.

She leapt into his arms, so that it was a sort of fairy wedding,and then she hurried away. Oh, how she hastened to the gates!Peter, you may be sure, was back in the Gardens that night assoon as Lock-out sounded, but he found no Maimie, and so he knewshe had been in time. For long he hoped that some night shewould come back to him; often he thought he saw her waiting forhim by the shore of the Serpentine as his bark drew to land, butMaimie never went back. She wanted to, but she was afraid thatif she saw her dear Betwixt-and-Between again she would lingerwith him too long, and besides the ayah now kept a sharp eye onher. But she often talked lovingly of Peter and she knitted akettle- holder for him, and one day when she was wondering whatEaster present he would like, her mother made a suggestion.

"Nothing," she said thoughtfully, "would be so useful to him as agoat."

"He could ride on it," cried Maimie, "and play on his pipe at thesame time!"

"Then," her mother asked, "won't you give him your goat, the oneyou frighten Tony with at night?"

"But it isn't a real goat," Maimie said.

"It seems very real to Tony," replied her mother.

"It seems frightfully real to me too," Maimie admitted, "but howcould I give it to Peter?"

Her mother knew a way, and next day, accompanied by Tony (who wasreally quite a nice boy, though of course he could not compare),they went to the Gardens, and Maimie stood alone within a fairyring, and then her mother, who was a rather gifted lady, said,

"My daughter, tell me, if you can, What have you got for Peter Pan?"

To which Maimie replied,

"I have a goat for him to ride, Observe me cast it far and wide."

She then flung her arms about as if she were sowing seed, andturned round three times.

Next Tony said,

"If P. doth find it waiting here, Wilt ne'er again make me to fear?"

And Maimie answered,

"By dark or light I fondly swear Never to see goats anywhere."

She also left a letter to Peter in a likely place, explainingwhat she had done, and begging him to ask the fairies to turn thegoat into one convenient for riding on. Well, it all happenedjust as she hoped, for Peter found the letter, and of coursenothing could be easier for the fairies than to turn the goatinto a real one, and so that is how Peter got the goat on whichhe now rides round the Gardens every night playing sublimely onhis pipe. And Maimie kept her promise and never frightened Tonywith a goat again, though I have heard that she created anotheranimal. Until she was quite a big girl she continued to leavepresents for Peter in the Gardens (with letters explaining howhumans play with them), and she is not the only one who has donethis. David does it, for instance, and he and I know thelikeliest place for leaving them in, and we shall tell you if youlike, but for mercy's sake don't ask us before Porthos, for werehe to find out the place he would take every one of them.

Though Peter still remembers Maimie he is become as gay as ever,and often in sheer happiness he jumps off his goat and lieskicking merrily on the grass. Oh, he has a joyful time! But hehas still a vague memory that he was a human once, and it makeshim especially kind to the house-swallows when they revisit theisland, for house-swallows are the spirits of little children whohave died. They always build in the eaves of the houses wherethey lived when they were humans, and sometimes they try to flyin at a nursery window, and perhaps that is why Peter loves thembest of all the birds.

And the little house? Every lawful night (that is to say, everynight except ball nights) the fairies now build the little houselest there should be a human child lost in the Gardens, and Peterrides the marshes looking for lost ones, and if he finds them hecarries them on his goat to the little house, and when they wakeup they are in it and when they step out they see it. Thefairies build the house merely because it is so pretty, but Peterrides round in memory of Maimie and because he still loves to dojust as he believes real boys would do.

But you must not think that, because somewhere among the treesthe little house is twinkling, it is a safe thing to remain inthe Gardens after Lock-out Time. If the bad ones among thefairies happen to be out that night they will certainly mischiefyou, and even though they are not, you may perish of cold anddark before Peter Pan comes round. He has been too late severaltimes, and when he sees he is too late he runs back to theThrush's Nest for his paddle, of which Maimie had told him thetrue use, and he digs a grave for the child and erects a littletombstone and carves the poor thing's initials on it. He doesthis at once because he thinks it is what real boys would do, andyou must have noticed the little stones and that there are alwaystwo together. He puts them in twos because it seems less lonely.I think that quite the most touching sight in the Gardens is thetwo tombstones of Walter Stephen Matthews and Phoebe Phelps. Theystand together at the spot where the parishes of Westminster St.Mary's is said to meet the parish of Paddington. Here Peterfound the two babes, who had fallen unnoticed from theirperambulators, Phoebe aged thirteen months and Walter probablystill younger, for Peter seems to have felt a delicacy aboutputting any age on his stone. They lie side by side, and thesimple inscriptions read

+-----------+ +-----------+ W 13a. P.P. St. M 1841 +-----------+ +-----------+ David sometimes places white flowers on these two innocentgraves.

But how strange for parents, when they hurry into the Gardens atthe opening of the gates looking for their lost one, to find thesweetest little tombstone instead. I do hope that Peter is nottoo ready with his spade. It is all rather sad.