once forgot his rage, and in another moment
was dancing round the room with Michael on his back.

"How wildly we romped!" says Mrs. Darling now, recalling it.

"Our last romp!" Mr. Darling groaned.

"O George, do you remember Michael suddenly said to me, 'How did you get
to know me, mother?'"

"I remember!"

"They were rather sweet, don't you think, George?"

"And they were ours, ours! and now they are gone."

The romp had ended with the appearance of Nana, and most unluckily Mr.
Darling collided against her, covering his trousers with hairs. They
were not only new trousers, but they were the first he had ever had
with braid on them, and he had had to bite his lip to prevent the tears
coming. Of course Mrs. Darling brushed him, but he began to talk again
about its being a mistake to have a dog for a nurse.

"George, Nana is a treasure."

"No doubt, but I have an uneasy feeling at times that she looks upon the
children as puppies."

"Oh no, dear one, I feel sure she knows they have souls."

"I wonder," Mr. Darling said thoughtfully, "I wonder." It was an
opportunity, his wife felt, for telling him about the boy. At first he
pooh-poohed the story, but he became thoughtful when she showed him the
shadow.

"It is nobody I know," he said, examining it carefully, "but it does
look a scoundrel."

"We were still discussing it, you remember," says Mr. Darling, "when
Nana came in with Michael's medicine. You will never carry the bottle in
your mouth again, Nana, and it is all my fault."

Strong man though he was, there is no doubt that he had behaved rather
foolishly over the medicine. If he had a weakness, it was for thinking
that all his life he had taken medicine boldly, and so now, when Michael
dodged the spoon in Nana's mouth, he had said reprovingly, "Be a man,
Michael."

"Won't; won't!" Michael cried naughtily. Mrs. Darling left the room to
get a chocolate for him, and Mr. Darling thought this showed want of
firmness.

"Mother, don't pamper him," he called after her. "Michael, when I was
your age I took medicine without a murmur. I said, 'Thank you, kind
parents, for giving me bottles to make we well.'"

He really thought this was true, and Wendy, who was now in her
night-gown, believed it also, and she said, to encourage Michael, "That
medicine you sometimes take, father, is much nastier, isn't it?"

"Ever so much nastier," Mr. Darling said bravely, "and I would take it
now as an example to you, Mi