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    Peter and Wendy by J. M. Barrie - Delphi Classics (Illustrated)
    Peter and Wendy by J. M. Barrie - Delphi Classics (Illustrated)
    Peter and Wendy by J. M. Barrie - Delphi Classics (Illustrated)
    Ebook249 pages2 hours

    Peter and Wendy by J. M. Barrie - Delphi Classics (Illustrated)

    By J.M. Barrie

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    About this ebook

    This eBook features the unabridged text of ‘Peter and Wendy by J. M. Barrie - Delphi Classics (Illustrated)’ from the bestselling edition of ‘The Complete Works of J. M. Barrie’.

    Having established their name as the leading publisher of classic literature and art, Delphi Classics produce publications that are individually crafted with superior formatting, while introducing many rare texts for the first time in digital print. The Delphi Classics edition of Barrie includes original annotations and illustrations relating to the life and works of the author, as well as individual tables of contents, allowing you to navigate eBooks quickly and easily.

    eBook features:
    * The complete unabridged text of ‘Peter and Wendy by J. M. Barrie - Delphi Classics (Illustrated)’
    * Beautifully illustrated with images related to Barrie’s works
    * Individual contents table, allowing easy navigation around the eBook
    * Excellent formatting of the textPlease visit www.delphiclassics.com to learn more about our wide range of titles
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPublishdrive
    Release dateJul 17, 2017
    ISBN9781788777384
    Peter and Wendy by J. M. Barrie - Delphi Classics (Illustrated)
    Author

    J.M. Barrie

    J. M. Barrie was born in 1860. Fascinated by stories of his mother's life, he was determined to write and worked on the Nottingham Journal after graduating from Edinburgh University. In 1885 he successfully sold the Auld Licht Idylls, which were based on his mother's tales. By the time Peter Pan opened on the London stage in 1904, Barrie had written more than thirty novels and plays, such as Quality Street and The Admirable Crichton. He was created a baronet in 1913, awarded the Order of Merit in 1922 and died in 1937.

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      Book preview

      Peter and Wendy by J. M. Barrie - Delphi Classics (Illustrated) - J.M. Barrie

      her.

      CHAPTER II

      THE SHADOW

      Mrs. Darling screamed, and, as if in answer to a bell, the door opened, and Nana entered, returned from her evening out. She growled and sprang at the boy, who leapt lightly through the window. Again Mrs. Darling screamed, this time in distress for him, for she thought he was killed, and she ran down into the street to look for his little body, but it was not there; and she looked up, and in the black night she could see nothing but what she thought was a shooting star.

      She returned to the nursery, and found Nana with something in her mouth, which proved to be the boy’s shadow. As he leapt at the window Nana had closed it quickly, too late to catch him, but his shadow had not had time to get out; slam went the window and snapped it off.

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

      Nana had no doubt of what was the best thing to do with this shadow. She hung it out at the window, meaning ‘He is sure to come back for it; let us put it where he can get it easily without disturbing the children.’

      But unfortunately Mrs. Darling could not leave it hanging out at the window; it looked so like the washing and lowered the whole tone of the house. She thought of showing it to Mr. Darling, but he was totting up winter greatcoats for John and Michael, with a wet towel round his head to keep his brain clear, and it seemed a shame to trouble him; besides, she knew exactly what he would say: ‘It all comes of having a dog for a nurse.’

      She decided to roll the shadow up and put it away carefully in a drawer, until a fitting opportunity came for telling her husband. 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 used to say afterwards to her husband, while perhaps Nana was on the other side of her, holding her hand.

      ‘No, no,’ Mr. Darling always said, ‘I am responsible for it all. I, George Darling, did it. Mea culpa, mea culpa.’ He had had a classical education.

      They sat thus night after night recalling that fatal Friday, till every detail of it was stamped on their brains and came through 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,’ said Mr. Darling.

      ‘If only I had pretended to like the medicine,’ was what Nana’s wet 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 at the thought, ‘It’s true, it’s true, they ought not to have had a dog for a nurse.’ Many a time it was Mr. Darling who put the handkerchief to Nana’s eyes.

      ‘That fiend!’ Mr. Darling would cry, and Nana’s bark was the echo of it, but Mrs. Darling never upbraided Peter; there was something in the right-hand corner of her mouth that wanted her not to call Peter names.

      They would sit there in the empty nursery, recalling fondly every smallest detail of that dreadful evening. It had begun so uneventfully, so precisely like a hundred other evenings, with Nana putting on the water for Michael’s bath and carrying him to it on her back.

      ‘I won’t go to bed,’ he had shouted, like one who still believed that he had the last word on the subject, ‘I won’t, I won’t. Nana, it isn’t six o’clock yet. Oh dear, oh dear, I shan’t love you any more, Nana. I tell you I won’t be bathed, I won’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 her evening-gown, with the necklace George had given her. She was wearing Wendy’s bracelet on her arm; she had asked for the loan of it. Wendy so loved to lend her bracelet to her mother.

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

      ‘I am happy to inform you, Mrs. Darling, that you are now a mother,’ in just such a tone as Mr. Darling himself may have used on the real occasion.

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

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

      Michael had nearly cried. ‘Nobody wants me,’ he said, and of course the lady in 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 if that 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 like a tornado.

      Perhaps there was some excuse for him. He, too, had been dressing for the party, and all had gone well with him until he came to his tie. It is an astounding thing to have to tell, but this man, though he knew about stocks and shares, had no real mastery of his tie. Sometimes the thing yielded to him without a contest, but there were occasions when it would have been better for the house if he had swallowed his pride and used a made-up

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