XVIII. Peter's Goat
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"--and shelooked at his nakedness awkwardly--"don't you feel the least bit cold?"
Now cold was another word Peter had forgotten, so he answered, "I thinknot, but I may be wrong: you see I am rather ignorant. I am not exactlya 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 the peopleoutside the gates knew about him. He begged Maimie to tell him what theyknew and what they said, and she did so. They were sitting by this timeon a fallen tree; Peter had cleared off the snow for Maimie, but he saton a snowy bit himself.
"Squeeze closer," Maimie said.
"What is that?" he asked, and she showed him, and then he did it. Theytalked together and he found that people knew a great deal about him,but not everything, not that he had gone back to his mother and beenbarred out, for instance, and he said nothing of this to Maimie, for itstill humiliated him.
"Do they know that I play games exactly like real boys?" he asked veryproudly. "Oh, Maimie, please tell them!" But when he revealed how heplayed, by sailing his hoop on the Round Pond, and so on, she was simplyhorrified.
"All your ways of playing," she said with her big eyes on him, "arequite, quite wrong, and not in the least like how boys play!"
Poor Peter uttered a little moan at this, and he cried for the firsttime for I know not how long. Maimie was extremely sorry for him, andlent him her handkerchief, but he didn't know in the least what to dowith it, so she showed him, that is to say, she wiped her eyes, and thengave it back to him, saying "Now you do it," but instead of wiping hisown eyes he wiped hers, and she thought it best to pretend that this waswhat she had meant.
She said, out of pity for him, "I shall give you a kiss if you like,"but though he once knew he had long forgotten what kisses are, and hereplied, "Thank you," and held out his hand, thinking she had offered toput something into it. This was a great shock to her, but she felt shecould not explain without shaming him, so with charming delicacy shegave Peter a thimble which happened to be in her pocket, and pretendedthat it was a kiss. Poor little boy! he quite believed her, and to thisday he wears it on his finger, though there can be scarcely anyone whoneeds a thimble so little. You see, though still a tiny child, it wasreally years and years since he had seen his mother, and I daresay thebaby who had supplanted him was now a man with whiskers.
But you must not think that Peter Pan was a boy to pity rather than toadmire; if Maimie began by thinking this, she soon found she was verymuch mistaken. Her eyes glistened with admiration when he told her ofhis adventures, especially of how he went to and fro between the islandand the Gardens in the Thrush's Nest.
"How romantic," Maimie exclaimed, but it was another unknown word, andhe 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 be somesplendid thing. "I do wish you would teach me how to be afraid, Maimie,"he said.
"I believe no one could teach that to you," she answered adoringly, butPeter thought she meant that he was stupid. She had told him about Tonyand of the wicked thing she did in the dark to frighten him (she knewquite well that it was wicked), but Peter misunderstood her meaning andsaid, "Oh, how I wish I was as brave as Tony."
It quite irritated her. "You are twenty thousand times braver thanTony," she said, "you are ever so much the bravest boy I ever knew!"
He could scarcely believe she meant it, but when he did believe hescreamed with joy.
"And if you want very much to give me a kiss," Maimie said, "you can doit."
Very reluctantly Peter began to take the thimble off his finger. Hethought 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 he gaveher one. He gave her quite a number of thimbles, and then a delightfulidea came into his head! "Maimie," he said, "will you marry me?"
Now, strange to tell, the same idea had come at exactly the same timeinto Maimie's head. "I should like to," she answered, "but will there beroom 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 am not socertain of it myself. Also that there were very few birds in winter."Of course they might want your clothes," he had to admit ratherfalteringly.
She was somewhat indignant at this.
"They are always thinking of their nests," he said apologetically, "andthere are some bits of you"--he stroked the fur on her pelisse--"thatwould excite them very much."
"They sha'n't have my fur," she said sharply.
"No," he said, still fondling it, however, "no! Oh, Maimie," he saidrapturously, "do you know why I love you? It is because you are like abeautiful nest."
Somehow this made her uneasy. "I think you are speaking more like a birdthan a boy now," she said, holding back, and indeed he was evenlooking rather like a bird. "After all," she said, "you are only aBetwixt-and-Between." But it hurt him so much that she immediatelyadded, "It must be a delicious thing to be."
"Come and be one then, dear Maimie," he implored her, and they set offfor the boat, for it was now very near Open-Gate time. "And you are nota bit like a nest," he whispered to please her.
"But I think it is rather nice to be like one," she said in a woman'scontradictory way. "And, Peter, dear, though I can't give them my fur, Iwouldn't mind their building in it. Fancy a nest in my neck with littlespotty eggs in it! Oh, Peter, how perfectly lovely!"
But as they drew near the Serpentine, she shivered a little, and said,"Of course I shall go and see mother often, quite often. It is not asif I was saying good-bye for ever to mother, it is not in the least likethat."
"Oh, no," answered Peter, but in his heart he knew it was very likethat, and he would have told her so had he not been in a quaking fearof losing her. He was so fond of her, he felt he could not live withouther. "She will forget her mother in time, and be happy with me," he keptsaying to himself, and he hurried her on, giving her thimbles by theway.
But even when she had seen the boat and exclaimed ecstatically over itsloveliness, she still talked tremblingly about her mother. "You knowquite well, Peter, don't you," she said, "that I wouldn't come unlessI knew for certain I could go back to mother 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 added rathersourly.
"The idea of mother's not always wanting me!" Maimie cried, and her faceglistened.
"If she doesn't bar you out," said Peter huskily.
"The door," replied Maimie, "will always, always be open, and motherwill always be waiting at it for me."
"Then," said Peter, not without grimness, "step in, if you feel so sureof 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 gave a greatgulp and jumped ashore and sat down miserably in the snow.
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 you thinkyou can go back. Your mother"--he gulped again--"you don't know them
aswell as I do."
And then he told her the woful story of how he had been barred out, andshe gasped all the time. "But my mother," she said, "my mother"--
"Yes, she would," said Peter, "they are all the same. I daresay she islooking for another one already."
Maimie said aghast, "I can't believe it. You see, when you went awayyour mother had none, but my mother has Tony, and surely they aresatisfied when they have one."
Peter replied bitterly, "You should see the letters Solomon gets fromladies who have six."
Just then they heard a grating creak, followed by creak, creak, allround the Gardens. It was the Opening of the Gates, and Peter jumpednervously into his boat. He knew Maimie would not come with him now, andhe was trying bravely not to cry. But Maimie was sobbing painfully.
"If I should be too late," she called in agony, "oh, Peter, if she hasgot another one already!"
Again he sprang ashore as if she had called him back. "I shall come andlook for you to-night," he said, squeezing close, "but if you hurry awayI think you will be in time."
Then he pressed a last thimble on her sweet little mouth, and coveredhis 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, andthen she hurried away. Oh, how she hastened to the gates! Peter, you maybe sure, was back in the Gardens that night as soon as Lock-out sounded,but he found no Maimie, and so he knew she had been in time. For longhe hoped that some night she would come back to him; often he thought hesaw her waiting for him by the shore of the Serpentine as his bark drewto land, but Maimie never went back. She wanted to, but she was afraidthat if she saw her dear Betwixt-and-Between again she would linger withhim too long, and besides the ayah now kept a sharp eye on her. But sheoften talked lovingly of Peter and she knitted a kettle-holder for him,and one day when she was wondering what Easter present he would like,her mother made a suggestion.
"Nothing," she said thoughtfully, "would be so useful to him as a goat."
"He could ride on it," cried Maimie, "and play on his pipe at the sametime!"
"Then," her mother asked, "won't you give him your goat, the one youfrighten 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 how could Igive it to Peter?"
Her mother knew a way, and next day, accompanied by Tony (who was reallyquite a nice boy, though of course he could not compare), they went tothe Gardens, and Maimie stood alone within a fairy ring, and then hermother, 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, and turnedround 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, explaining what shehad done, and begging him to ask the fairies to turn the goat into oneconvenient for riding on. Well, it all happened just as she hoped, forPeter found the letter, and of course nothing could be easier for thefairies than to turn the goat into a real one, and so that is how Petergot the goat on which he now rides round the Gardens every night playingsublimely on his pipe. And Maimie kept her promise and never frightenedTony with a goat again, though I have heard that she created anotheranimal. Until she was quite a big girl she continued to leave presentsfor Peter in the Gardens (with letters explaining how humans play withthem), and she is not the only one who has done this. David does it, forinstance, and he and I know the likeliest place for leaving them in, andwe shall tell you if you like, but for mercy's sake don't ask us beforePorthos, for were he to find out the place he would take every one ofthem.
Though Peter still remembers Maimie he is become as gay as ever, andoften in sheer happiness he jumps off his goat and lies kicking merrilyon the grass. Oh, he has a joyful time! But he has still a vague memorythat he was a human once, and it makes him especially kind to thehouse-swallows when they revisit the island, for house-swallows are thespirits of little children who have died. They always build in the eavesof the houses where they lived when they were humans, and sometimes theytry to fly in at a nursery window, and perhaps that is why Peter lovesthem best of all the birds.
And the little house? Every lawful night (that is to say, every nightexcept ball nights) the fairies now build the little house lest thereshould be a human child lost in the Gardens, and Peter rides the marsheslooking for lost ones, and if he finds them he carries them on his goatto the little house, and when they wake up they are in it and when theystep out they see it. The fairies build the house merely because itis so pretty, but Peter rides round in memory of Maimie and because hestill loves to do just as he believes real boys would do.
But you must not think that, because somewhere among the trees thelittle house is twinkling, it is a safe thing to remain in the Gardensafter Lock-out Time. If the bad ones among the fairies happen to be outthat night they will certainly mischief you, and even though they arenot, you may perish of cold and dark before Peter Pan comes round. Hehas been too late several times, and when he sees he is too late he runsback to the Thrush's Nest for his paddle, of which Maimie had told himthe true use, and he digs a grave for the child and erects a littletombstone and carves the poor thing's initials on it. He does this atonce because he thinks it is what real boys would do, and you must havenoticed the little stones and that there are always two together. Heputs them in twos because it seems less lonely. I think that quite themost touching sight in the Gardens is the two tombstones of WalterStephen Matthews and Phoebe Phelps. They stand together at the spotwhere the parishes of Westminster St. Mary's is said to meet the parishof Paddington. Here Peter found the two babes, who had fallen unnoticedfrom their perambulators, Phoebe aged thirteen months and Walterprobably still younger, for Peter seems to have felt a delicacy aboutputting any age on his stone. They lie side by side, and the simpleinscriptions read
+-----------+ +-----------+ | | | | | W | | 13a. | | | | P.P. | | St. M | | 1841 | | | | | +-----------+ +-----------+
David sometimes places white flowers on these two innocent graves.
But how strange for parents, when they hurry into the Gardens at theopening of the gates looking for their lost one, to find the sweetestlittle tombstone instead. I do hope that Peter is not too ready with hisspade. It is all rather sad.