t in a tree overhanging the lagoon, and how
the nest fell into the water, and still the bird sat on her eggs, and
Peter gave orders that she was not to be disturbed. That is a pretty
story, and the end shows how grateful a bird can be; but if we tell it
we must also tell the whole adventure of the lagoon, which would of
course be telling two adventures rather than just one. A shorter
adventure, and quite as exciting, was Tinker Bell's attempt, with the
help of some street fairies, to have the sleeping Wendy conveyed on a
great floating leaf to the mainland. Fortunately the leaf gave way and
Wendy woke, thinking it was bath-time, and swam back. Or again, we might
choose Peter's defiance of the lions, when he drew a circle round him on
the ground with an arrow and defied them to cross it; and though he
waited for hours, with the other boys and Wendy looking on breathlessly
from trees, not one of them dared to accept his challenge.

Which of these adventures shall we choose? The best way will be to toss
for it.

I have tossed, and the lagoon has won. This almost makes one wish that
the gulch or the cake or Tink's leaf had won. Of course I could do it
again, and make it best out of three; however, perhaps fairest to stick
to the lagoon.

CHAPTER VIII

THE MERMAIDS' LAGOON

If you shut your eyes and are a lucky one, you may see at times a
shapeless pool of lovely pale colours suspended in the darkness; then if
you squeeze your eyes tighter, the pool begins to take shape, and the
colours become so vivid that with another squeeze they must go on fire.
But just before they go on fire you see the lagoon. This is the nearest
you ever get to it on the mainland, just one heavenly moment; if there
could be two moments you might see the surf and hear the mermaids
singing.

The children often spent long summer days on this lagoon, swimming or
floating most of the time, playing the mermaid games in the water, and
so forth. You must not think from this that the mermaids were on
friendly terms with them; on the contrary, it was among Wendy's lasting
regrets that all the time she was on the island she never had a civil
word from one of them. When she stole softly to the edge of the lagoon
she might see them by the score, especially on Marooners' Rock, where
they loved to bask, combing out their hair in a lazy way that quite
irritated her; or she might even swim, on tiptoe as it were, to within a
yard of them, but then they