Chapter 2 - The Shadow

Mrs. Darling screamed, and, as if in answer to a bell, the dooropened, and Nana entered, returned from her evening out. Shegrowled and sprang at the boy, who leapt lightly through thewindow. Again Mrs. Darling screamed, this time in distress forhim, for she thought he was killed, and she ran down into thestreet to look for his little body, but it was not there; and shelooked up, and in the black night she could see nothing but whatshe thought was a shooting star.

She returned to the nursery, and found Nana with something inher mouth, which proved to be the boy's shadow. As he leapt atthe window Nana had closed it quickly, too late to catch him, buthis shadow had not had time to get out; slam went the window andsnapped it off.

You may be sure Mrs. Darling examined the shadow carefully, butit was quite the ordinary kind.

Nana had no doubt of what was the best thing to do with thisshadow. She hung it out at the window, meaning "He is sure tocome back for it; let us put it where he can get it easilywithout disturbing the children."

But unfortunately Mrs. Darling could not leave it hanging outat the window, it looked so like the washing and lowered thewhole tone of the house. She thought of showing it to Mr.Darling, but he was totting up winter great-coats for John andMichael, with a wet towel around his head to keep his brainclear, and it seemed a shame to trouble him; besides, she knewexactly what he would say: "It all comes of having a dog for anurse."

She decided to roll the shadow up and put it away carefully ina drawer, until a fitting opportunity came for telling herhusband. Ah me!

The opportunity came a week later, on that never-to-be-forgotten Friday. Of course it was a Friday.

"I ought to have been specially careful on a Friday," she usedto say afterwards to her husband, while perhaps Nana was on theother side of her, holding her hand.

"No, no," Mr. Darling always said, "I am responsible for itall. I, George Darling, did it. MEA CULPA, MEA CULPA." He hadhad a classical education.

They sat thus night after night recalling that fatal Friday,till every detail of it was stamped on their brains and camethrough on the other side like the faces on a bad coinage.

"If only I had not accepted that invitation to dine at 27,"Mrs. Darling said.

"If only I had not poured my medicine into Nana's bowl," saidMr. Darling.

"If only I had pretended to like the medicine," was what Nana'swet eyes said.

"My liking for parties, George."

"My fatal gift of humour, dearest."

"My touchiness about trifles, dear master and mistress."

Then one or more of them would break down altogether; Nana atthe thought, "It's true, it's true, they ought not to have had adog for a nurse." Many a time it was Mr. Darling who put thehandkerchief to Nana's eyes.

"That fiend!" Mr. Darling would cry, and Nana's bark was theecho of it, but Mrs. Darling never upbraided Peter; there wassomething in the right-hand corner of her mouth that wanted hernot to call Peter names.

They would sit there in the empty nursery, recalling fondlyevery smallest detail of that dreadful evening. It had begun souneventfully, so precisely like a hundred other evenings, withNana putting on the water for Michael's bath and carrying him toit on her back.

"I won't go to bed," he had shouted, like one who stillbelieved that he had the last word on the subject, "I won't, Iwon't. Nana, it isn't six o'clock yet. Oh dear, oh dear, Ishan't love you any more, Nana. I tell you I won't be bathed, Iwon't, I won't!"

Then Mrs. Darling had come in, wearing her white evening-gown. She had dressed early because Wendy so loved to see her in herevening-gown, with the necklace George had given her. She waswearing Wendy's bracelet on her arm; she had asked for the loanof it. Wendy loved to lend her bracelet to her mother.

She had found her two older children playing at being herselfand father on the occasion of Wendy's birth, and John was saying:

"I am happy to inform you, Mrs. Darling, that you are now amother," in just such a tone as Mr. Darling himself may have usedon the real occasion.

Wendy had danced with joy, just as the real Mrs. Darling musthave done.

Then John was born, with the extra pomp that he conceived dueto the birth of a male, and Michael came from his bath to ask tobe born also, but John said brutally that they did not want anymore.

Michael had nearly cried. "Nobody wants me," he said, and ofcourse the lady in the evening-dress could not stand that.

"I do," she said, "I so want a third child."

"Boy or girl?" asked Michael, not too hopefully.

"Boy."

Then he had leapt into her arms. Such a little thing for Mr.and Mrs. Darling and Nana to recall now, but not so little ifthat was to be Michael's last night in the nursery.

They go on with their recollections.

"It was then that I rushed in like a tornado, wasn't it?" Mr.Darling would say, scorning himself; and indeed he had been likea tornado.

Perhaps there was some excuse for him. He, too, had beendressing for the party, and all had gone well with him until hecame to his tie. It is an astounding thing to have to tell, butthis man, though he knew about stocks and shares, had no realmastery of his tie. Sometimes the thing yielded to him without acontest, but there were occasions when it would have been betterfor the house if he had swallowed his pride and used a made-uptie.

This was such an occasion. He came rushing into the nurserywith the crumpled little brute of a tie in his hand.

"Why, what is the matter, father dear?"

"Matter!" he yelled; he really yelled. "This tie, it will nottie." He became dangerously sarcastic. "Not round my neck! Round the bed-post! Oh yes, twenty times have I made it up roundthe bed-post, but round my neck, no! Oh dear no! begs to beexcused!"

He thought Mrs. Darling was not sufficiently impressed, and hewent on sternly, "I warn you of this, mother, that unless thistie is round my neck we don't go out to dinner to-night, and if Idon't go out to dinner to-night, I never go to the office again,and if I don't go to the office again, you and I starve, and ourchildren will be flung into the streets."

Even then Mrs. Darling was placid. "Let me try, dear," shesaid, and indeed that was what he had come to ask her to do, andwith her nice cool hands she tied his tie for him, while thechildren stood around to see their fate decided. Some men wouldhave resented her being able to do it so easily, but Mr. Darlinghad far too fine a nature for that; he thanked her carelessly, atonce forgot his rage, and in another moment was dancing round theroom with Michael on his back.

"How wildly we romped!" says Mrs. Darling now, recalling it.

"Our last romp!" Mr. Darling groaned.

"O George, do you remember Michael suddenly said to me, `Howdid you get to know me, mother?'"

"I remember!"

"They were rather sweet, don't you think, George?"

"And they were ours, ours! and now they are gone."

The romp had ended with the appearance of Nana, and mostunluckily Mr. Darling collided against her, covering his trouserswith hairs. They were not only new trousers, but they were thefirst he had ever had with braid on them, and he had had to bitehis lip to prevent the tears coming. Of course Mrs. Darlingbrushed him, but he began to talk again about its being a mistaketo have a dog for a nurse.

"George, Nana is a treasure."

"No doubt, but I have an uneasy feeling at times that shelooks upon the children as puppies.

"Oh no, dear one, I feel sure she knows they have souls."

"I wonder," Mr. Darling said thoughtfully, "I wonder." It wasan opportunity, his wife felt, for telling him about the boy. Atfirst he pooh-poohed the story, but he became thoughtful when sheshowed him the shadow.

"It is nobody I know," he said, examining it carefully, "but itdoes look a scoundrel."

"We were still discussing it, you remember," says Mr. Darling,"when Nana came in with Michael's medicine. You will never carrythe bottle in your mouth again, Nana, and it is all my fault."

Strong man though he was, there is no doubt that he had behavedrather foolishly over the medicine. If he had a weakness, it wasfor thinking that all his life he had taken medicine boldly, andso now, when Michael dodged the spoon in Nana's mouth, he hadsaid reprovingly, "Be a man, Michael."

"Won't; won't!" Michael cried naughtily. Mrs. Darling left theroom to get a chocolate for him, and Mr. Darling thought thisshowed want of firmness.

"Mother, don't pamper him," he called after her. "Michael,when I was your age I took medicine without a murmur. I said,`Thank you, kind parents, for giving me bottles to make wewell.'"

He really thought this was true, and Wendy, who was now in hernight-gown, believed it also, and she said, to encourageMichael, "That medicine you sometimes take, father, is muchnastier, isn't it?"

"Ever so much nastier," Mr. Darling said bravely, "and I wouldtake it now as an example to you, Michael, if I hadn't lost thebottle."

He had not exactly lost it; he had climbed in the dead of nightto the top of the wardrobe and hidden it there. What he did notknow was that the faithful Liza had found it, and put it back onhis wash-stand.

"I know where it is, father," Wendy cried, always glad to be ofservice. "I'll bring it," and she was off before he could stopher. Immediately his spirits sank in the strangest way.

"John," he said, shuddering, "it's most beastly stuff. It'sthat nasty, sticky, sweet kind."

"It will soon be over, father," John said cheerily, and then inrushed Wendy with the medicine in a glass.

"I have been as quick as I could," she panted.

"You have been wonderfully quick," her father retorted, with avindictive politeness that was quite thrown away upon her. "Michael first," he said doggedly.

"Father first," said Michael, who was of a suspicious nature.

"I shall be sick, you know," Mr. Darling said threateningly.

"Come on, father," said John.

"Hold your tongue, John," his father rapped out.

Wendy was quite puzzled. "I thought you took it quite easily,father."

"That is not the point," he retorted. "The point is, thatthere is more in my glass that in Michael's spoon." His proudheart was nearly bursting. "And it isn't fair: I would say itthough it were with my last breath; it isn't fair."

"Father, I am waiting," said Michael coldly.

"It's all very well to say you are waiting; so am I waiting."

"Father's a cowardly custard."

"So are you a cowardly custard."

"I'm not frightened."

"Neither am I frightened."

"Well, then, take it."

"Well, then, you take it."

Wendy had a splendid idea. "Why not both take it at the sametime?"

"Certainly," said Mr. Darling. "Are you ready, Michael?"

Wendy gave the words, one, two, three, and Michael took hismedicine, but Mr. Darling slipped his behind his back.

There was a yell of rage from Michael, and "O father!" Wendyexclaimed.

"What do you mean by `O father'?" Mr. Darling demanded. "Stopthat row, Michael. I meant to take mine, but I -- I missed it."

It was dreadful the way all the three were looking at him, justas if they did not admire him. "Look here, all of you," he saidentreatingly, as soon as Nana had gone into the bathroom. "Ihave just thought of a splendid joke. I shall pour my medicineinto Nana's bowl, and she will drink it, thinking it is milk!"

It was the colour of milk; but the children did not have theirfather's sense of humour, and they looked at him reproachfully ashe poured the medicine into Nana's bowl. "What fun!" he saiddoubtfully, and they did not dare expose him when Mrs. Darlingand Nana returned.

"Nana, good dog," he said, patting her, "I have put a littlemilk into your bowl, Nana."

Nana wagged her tail, ran to the medicine, and began lappingit. Then she gave Mr. Darling such a look, not an angry look:she showed him the great red tear that makes us so sorry fornoble dogs, and crept into her kennel.

Mr. Darling was frightfully ashamed of himself, but he wouldnot give in. In a horrid silence Mrs. Darling smelt the bowl. "O George," she said, "it's your medicine!"

"It was only a joke," he roared, while she comforted her boys,and Wendy hugged Nana. "Much good," he said bitterly, "mywearing myself to the bone trying to be funny in this house."

And still Wendy hugged Nana. "That's right," he shouted. "Coddle her! Nobody coddles me. Oh dear no! I am only thebreadwinner, why should I be coddled--why, why, why!"

"George," Mrs. Darling entreated him, "not so loud; theservants will hear you." Somehow they had got into the way ofcalling Liza the servants.

"Let them!" he answered recklessly. "Bring in the whole world. But I refuse to allow that dog to lord it in my nursery for anhour longer."

The children wept, and Nana ran to him beseechingly, but hewaved her back. He felt he was a strong man again. "In vain, invain," he cried; "the proper place for you is the yard, and thereyou go to be tied up this instant."

"George, George," Mrs. Darling whispered, "remember what I toldyou about that boy."

Alas, he would not listen. He was determined to show who wasmaster in that house, and when commands would not draw Nana fromthe kennel, he lured her out of it with honeyed words, andseizing her roughly, dragged her from the nursery. He wasashamed of himself, and yet he did it. It was all owing to histoo affectionate nature, which craved for admiration. When hehad tied her up in the back-yard, the wretched father went andsat in the passage, with his knuckles to his eyes.

In the meantime Mrs. Darling had put the children to bed inunwonted silence and lit their night-lights. They could hearNana barking, and John whimpered, "It is because he is chainingher up in the yard," but Wendy was wiser.

"That is not Nana's unhappy bark," she said, little guessingwhat was about to happen; "that is her bark when she smellsdanger."

Danger!

"Are you sure, Wendy?"

"Oh, yes."

Mrs. Darling quivered and went to the window. It was securelyfastened. She looked out, and the night was peppered with stars. They were crowding round the house, as if curious to see what wasto take place there, but she did not notice this, nor that one ortwo of the smaller ones winked at her. Yet a nameless fearclutched at her heart and made her cry, "Oh, how I wish that Iwasn't going to a party to-night!"

Even Michael, already half asleep, knew that she was perturbed,and he asked, "Can anything harm us, mother, after the night-lights are lit?"

"Nothing, precious," she said; "they are the eyes a motherleaves behind her to guard her children."

She went from bed to bed singing enchantments over them, andlittle Michael flung his arms round her. "Mother," he cried,"I'm glad of you." They were the last words she was to hear fromhim for a long time.

No. 27 was only a few yards distant, but there had been aslight fall of snow, and Father and Mother Darling picked theirway over it deftly not to soil their shoes. They were alreadythe only persons in the street, and all the stars were watchingthem. Stars are beautiful, but they may not take an active partin anything, they must just look on for ever. It is a punishmentput on them for something they did so long ago that no star nowknows what it was. So the older ones have become glassy-eyed andseldom speak (winking is the star language), but the little onesstill wonder. They are not really friendly to Peter, who had amischievous way of stealing up behind them and trying to blowthem out; but they are so fond of fun that they were on his sideto-night, and anxious to get the grown-ups out of the way. Soas soon as the door of 27 closed on Mr. and Mrs. Darling therewas a commotion in the firmament, and the smallest of all thestars in the Milky Way screamed out:

"Now, Peter!"