“I came back for my mother,” he explained, “to take her to the Neverland.”
“Yes, I know,” Jane said, “I been waiting for you.”
When Wendy returned diffidently she found Peter sitting on the bed-post crowing gloriously, while Jane in her nighty was flying round the room in solemn ecstasy.
“She is my mother,” Peter explained; and Jane descended and stood by his side, with the look on her face that he liked to see on ladies when they gazed at him.
“He does so need a mother,” Jane said.
“Yes, I know,” Wendy admitted, rather forlornly; “no one knows it so well as I.”
“Good-bye,” said Peter to Wendy; and he rose in the air, and the shameless Jane rose with him; it was already her easiest way of moving about.
Wendy rushed to the window.
“No, no!” she cried.
“It is just for spring-cleaning time,” Jane said; “he wants me always to do his spring cleaning.”
“If only I could go with you!” Wendy sighed.
