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The Floating Press - M. Barrie J.

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128 pages

English

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Scottish writer J M Barrie wrote both a play and a novel about the boy Peter Pan, who wouldn't grow up. This is the novel. Peter Pan lives with all the other Lost Boys in Neverland, where they never have to grow up. He visits Wendy Darling by flying through her bedroom window, and brings she and her brothers into Neverland where they encounter the fairy Tinkerbell, the princess Tiger Lily and the pirate Captain Cook.

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 avril 2009
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781775415008
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

PETER PAN
PETER AND WENDY
* * *
J. M. BARRIE

*

Peter Pan Peter and Wendy First published in 1911.
ISBN 978-1-775415-00-8
© 2009 THE FLOATING PRESS.
While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike.
Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
*
Chapter 1 - Peter Breaks Through Chapter 2 - The Shadow Chapter 3 - Come Away, Come Away! Chapter 4 - The Flight Chapter 5 - The Island Come True Chapter 6 - The Little House Chapter 7 - The Home Under the Ground Chapter 8 - The Mermaids' Lagoon Chapter 9 - The Never Bird Chapter 10 - The Happy Home Chapter 11 - Wendy's Story Chapter 12 - The Children Are Carried Off Chapter 13 - Do You Believe in Fairies? Chapter 14 - The Pirate Ship Chapter 15 - "Hook or Me this Time" Chapter 16 - The Return Home Chapter 17 - When Wendy Grew Up
Chapter 1 - Peter Breaks Through
*
All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they willgrow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was twoyears old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flowerand ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked ratherdelightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried,"Oh, why can't you remain like this for ever!" This was all thatpassed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew thatshe must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is thebeginning of the end.
Of course they lived at 14 (their house number on their street) ,and until Wendy came her mother was the chief one. She was a lovely lady,with a romantic mind and such a sweet mocking mouth. Her romantic mindwas like the tiny boxes, one within the other, that come from thepuzzling East, however many you discover there is always one more; andher sweet mocking mouth had one kiss on it that Wendy could never get,though there it was, perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner.
The way Mr. Darling won her was this: the many gentlemen whohad been boys when she was a girl discovered simultaneously thatthey loved her, and they all ran to her house to propose to herexcept Mr. Darling, who took a cab and nipped in first, and so hegot her. He got all of her, except the innermost box and thekiss. He never knew about the box, and in time he gave up tryingfor the kiss. Wendy thought Napoleon could have got it, but Ican picture him trying, and then going off in a passion, slammingthe door.
Mr. Darling used to boast to Wendy that her mother not onlyloved him but respected him. He was one of those deep ones whoknow about stocks and shares. Of course no one really knows,but he quite seemed to know, and he often said stocks were up andshares were down in a way that would have made any woman respecthim.
Mrs. Darling was married in white, and at first she kept thebooks perfectly, almost gleefully, as if it were a game, not somuch as a Brussels sprout was missing; but by and by wholecauliflowers dropped out, and instead of them there were picturesof babies without faces. She drew them when she should have beentotting up. They were Mrs. Darling's guesses.
Wendy came first, then John, then Michael.
For a week or two after Wendy came it was doubtful whether theywould be able to keep her, as she was another mouth to feed. Mr.Darling was frightfully proud of her, but he was very honourable,and he sat on the edge of Mrs. Darling's bed, holding her handand calculating expenses, while she looked at him imploringly.She wanted to risk it, come what might, but that was not his way;his way was with a pencil and a piece of paper, and if sheconfused him with suggestions he had to begin at the beginningagain.
"Now don't interrupt," he would beg of her.
"I have one pound seventeen here, and two and six at the office;I can cut off my coffee at the office, say ten shillings, makingtwo nine and six, with your eighteen and three makes three nine seven,with five naught naught in my cheque-book makes eight nine seven —who is that moving? — eight nine seven, dot and carry seven —don't speak, my own — and the pound you lent to that man who came tothe door — quiet, child — dot and carry child — there, you'vedone it! — did I say nine nine seven? yes, I said nine nineseven; the question is, can we try it for a year on nine nine seven?"
"Of course we can, George," she cried. But she was prejudicedin Wendy's favour, and he was really the grander character of thetwo.
"Remember mumps," he warned her almost threateningly, and offhe went again. "Mumps one pound, that is what I have put down,but I daresay it will be more like thirty shillings — don'tspeak — measles one five, German measles half a guinea, makestwo fifteen six — don't waggle your finger — whooping-cough,say fifteen shillings" — and so on it went, and it added updifferently each time; but at last Wendy just got through,with mumps reduced to twelve six, and the two kinds of measlestreated as one.
There was the same excitement over John, and Michael had even anarrower squeak; but both were kept, and soon, you might have seenthe three of them going in a row to Miss Fulsom's Kindergartenschool, accompanied by their nurse.
Mrs. Darling loved to have everything just so, and Mr. Darlinghad a passion for being exactly like his neighbours; so, ofcourse, they had a nurse. As they were poor, owing to the amountof milk the children drank, this nurse was a prim Newfoundlanddog, called Nana, who had belonged to no one in particular untilthe Darlings engaged her. She had always thought childrenimportant, however, and the Darlings had become acquainted withher in Kensington Gardens, where she spent most of her spare timepeeping into perambulators, and was much hated by carelessnursemaids, whom she followed to their homes and complained of totheir mistresses. She proved to be quite a treasure of a nurse.How thorough she was at bath-time, and up at any moment of thenight if one of her charges made the slightest cry. Of courseher kennel was in the nursery. She had a genius for knowing whena cough is a thing to have no patience with and when it needsstocking around your throat. She believed to her last day inold-fashioned remedies like rhubarb leaf, and made sounds ofcontempt over all this new-fangled talk about germs, and so on.It was a lesson in propriety to see her escorting the children toschool, walking sedately by their side when they were wellbehaved, and butting them back into line if they strayed. OnJohn's footer (in England soccer was called football, "footer"for short) days she never once forgot his sweater, and sheusually carried an umbrella in her mouth in case of rain. Thereis a room in the basement of Miss Fulsom's school where thenurses wait. They sat on forms, while Nana lay on the floor,but that was the only difference. They affected to ignore her asof an inferior social status to themselves, and she despisedtheir light talk. She resented visits to the nursery from Mrs.Darling's friends, but if they did come she first whipped offMichael's pinafore and put him into the one with blue braiding,and smoothed out Wendy and made a dash at John's hair.
No nursery could possibly have been conducted more correctly,and Mr. Darling knew it, yet he sometimes wondered uneasilywhether the neighbours talked.
He had his position in the city to consider.
Nana also troubled him in another way. He had sometimes afeeling that she did not admire him. "I know she admires youtremendously, George," Mrs. Darling would assure him, and thenshe would sign to the children to be specially nice to father.Lovely dances followed, in which the only other servant, Liza,was sometimes allowed to join. Such a midget she looked in herlong skirt and maid's cap, though she had sworn, when engaged,that she would never see ten again. The gaiety of those romps!And gayest of all was Mrs. Darling, who would pirouette so wildlythat all you could see of her was the kiss, and then if you haddashed at her you might have got it. There never was a simplerhappier family until the coming of Peter Pan.
Mrs. Darling first heard of Peter when she was tidying up herchildren's minds. It is the nightly custom of every good motherafter her children are asleep to rummage in their minds and putthings straight for next morning, repacking into their properplaces the many articles that have wandered during the day. Ifyou could keep awake (but of course you can't) you would see yourown mother doing this, and you would find it very interesting towatch her. It is quite like tidying up drawers. You would seeher on her knees, I expect, lingering humorously over some ofyour contents, wondering where on earth you had picked this thingup, making discoveries sweet and not so sweet, pressing this toher cheek as if it were as nice as a kitten, and hurriedlystowing that out of sight. When you wake in the morning, thenaughtiness and evil passions with which you went to bed havebeen folded up small and placed at the bottom of your mind andon the top, beautifully aired, are spread out your prettierthoughts, ready for you to put on.
I don't know whether you have ever seen a map of a person'smind. Doctors sometimes draw maps of other parts of you, andyour own map can become intensely interesting, but catch themtrying to draw a map of a child's mind, which is not onlyconfused, but keeps going round all the time. There are zigzaglines on it, just like your temperature on a card, and these areprobably roads in the island, for the Neverland is always more orless an island, with astonishing splashes of colour here andthere, and coral reefs and rakish-looking craft in the offi