g," she replied with some satisfaction. "What
is your name?"

"Peter Pan."

She was already sure that he must be Peter, but it did seem a
comparatively short name.

"Is that all?"

"Yes," he said rather sharply. He felt for the first time that it was a
shortish name.

"I'm so sorry," said Wendy Moira Angela.

"It doesn't matter," Peter gulped.

She asked where he lived.

"Second to the right," said Peter, "and then straight on till morning."

"What a funny address!"

Peter had a sinking. For the first time he felt that perhaps it was a
funny address.

"No, it isn't," he said.

"I mean," Wendy said nicely, remembering that she was hostess, "is that
what they put on the letters?"

He wished she had not mentioned letters.

"Don't get any letters," he said contemptuously.

"But your mother gets letters?"

"Don't have a mother," he said. Not only had he no mother, but he had
not the slightest desire to have one. He thought them very over-rated
persons. Wendy, however, felt at once that she was in the presence of a
tragedy.

"O Peter, no wonder you were crying," she said, and got out of bed and
ran to him.

"I wasn't crying about mothers," he said rather indignantly. "I was
crying because I can't get my shadow to stick on. Besides, I wasn't
crying."

"It has come off?"

"Yes."

Then Wendy saw the shadow on the floor, looking so draggled, and she was
frightfully sorry for Peter. "How awful!" she said, but she could not
help smiling when she saw that he had been trying to stick it on with
soap. How exactly like a boy!

Fortunately she knew at once what to do. "It must be sewn on," she said,
just a little patronisingly.

"What's sewn?" he asked.

"You're dreadfully ignorant."

"No, I'm not."

But she was exulting in his ignorance. "I shall sew it on for you, my
little man," she said, though he was tall as herself, and she got out
her housewife [sewing bag], and sewed the shadow on to Peter's foot.

"I daresay it will hurt a little," she warned him.

"Oh, I shan't cry," said Peter, who was already of the opinion that he
had never cried in his life. And he clenched his teeth and did not
cry, and soon his shadow was behaving properly, though still a little
creased.

"Perhaps I should have ironed it," Wendy said thoughtfully, but Peter,
boylike, was indifferent to appearances, and he was now jumping about in
the wildest glee. Alas, he had already forgotten that he owed his bliss
to Wendy.