e floor, but that
was the only difference. They affected to ignore her as of an inferior
social status to themselves, and she despised their light talk. She
resented visits to the nursery from Mrs. Darling's friends, but if they
did come she first whipped off Michael'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 uneasily whether the
neighbours talked.

He had his position in the city to consider.

Nana also troubled him in another way. He had sometimes a feeling that
she did not admire him. "I know she admires you tremendously, George,"
Mrs. Darling would assure him, and then she 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 her long 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 wildly that
all you could see of her was the kiss, and then if you had dashed at her
you might have got it. There never was a simpler happier family until
the coming of Peter Pan.

Mrs. Darling first heard of Peter when she was tidying up her children's
minds. It is the nightly custom of every good mother after her children
are asleep to rummage in their minds and put things straight for next
morning, repacking into their proper places the many articles that have
wandered during the day. If you could keep awake (but of course you
can't) you would see your own mother doing this, and you would find it
very interesting to watch her. It is quite like tidying up drawers. You
would see her on her knees, I expect, lingering humorously over some of
your contents, wondering where on earth you had picked this thing up,
making discoveries sweet and not so sweet, pressing this to her cheek as
if it were as nice as a kitten, and hurriedly stowing that out of sight.
When you wake in the morning, the naughtiness and evil passions with
which you went to bed have been folded up small and placed at the bottom
of your mind and on the top, beautifully aired, are spread out your
prettier thoughts, ready for you to put on.

I don't know whether you have ever seen a map of a person's mind.
Doctors sometimes draw maps of ot