o back to mother," he said timidly.

"Good-bye," replied Solomon Caw with a queer look.

But Peter hesitated. "Why don't you go?" the old one asked politely.

"I suppose," said Peter huskily, "I suppose I can still fly?"

You see, he had lost faith.

"Poor little half-and-half," said Solomon, who was not really
hard-hearted, "you will never be able to fly again, not even on windy
days. You must live here on the island always."

"And never even go to the Kensington Gardens?" Peter asked tragically.

"How could you get across?" said Solomon. He promised very kindly,
however, to teach Peter as many of the bird ways as could be learned by
one of such an awkward shape.

"Then I sha'n't be exactly a human?" Peter asked.

"No."

"Nor exactly a bird?"

"No."

"What shall I be?"

"You will be a Betwixt-and-Between," Solomon said, and certainly he was
a wise old fellow, for that is exactly how it turned out.

The birds on the island never got used to him. His oddities tickled them
every day, as if they were quite new, though it was really the birds
that were new. They came out of the eggs daily, and laughed at him at
once, then off they soon flew to be humans, and other birds came out
of other eggs, and so it went on forever. The crafty mother-birds, when
they tired of sitting on their eggs, used to get the young one to break
their shells a day before the right time by whispering to them that now
was their chance to see Peter washing or drinking or eating. Thousands
gathered round him daily to watch him do these things, just as you watch
the peacocks, and they screamed with delight when he lifted the crusts
they flung him with his hands instead of in the usual way with the
mouth. All his food was brought to him from the Gardens at Solomon's
orders by the birds. He would not eat worms or insects (which they
thought very silly of him), so they brought him bread in their beaks.
Thus, when you cry out, "Greedy! Greedy!" to the bird that flies away
with the big crust, you know now that you ought not to do this, for he
is very likely taking it to Peter Pan.

Peter wore no night-gown now. You see, the birds were always begging him
for bits of it to line their nests with, and, being very good-natured,
he could not refuse, so by Solomon's advice he had hidden what was left
of it. But, though he was now quite naked, you must not think that he
was cold or unhappy. He was usually very happy and gay, and the reason
was that