Chapter 10 Chapter 10 Happy Family

Chapter 10 Happy Family One good outcome of the encounter on the lagoon was the friendship of the Indians.Peter saved Tiger Lily from a dire fate; now, she and her warriors are more than willing to do whatever it takes to help.They sat up there all night, guarding their subterranean home, and waited for the great attack of the pirates, for the attack of the pirates was clearly imminent.Even during the day, the Indians wandered around, smoking their pipes leisurely, as if waiting for some exquisite snacks to be delivered. The Indians called Peter the Great White Father and prostrated themselves before him; Peter liked it, but it didn't do him any good.

As they fell at his feet, he said to them majestically, "The great white father loves to see you little red warriors defend their cabins against pirates." "I'm Tiger Lily," said the dear fellow, "Peter Pan saved me, and I'm his best friend; I won't let the pirates hurt him." Tiger Lily was too beautiful to flatter Peter so humbly, but Peter thought he deserved it, "Peter Pan has something to say, that's good." Every time he said "Peter Pan has something to say," he meant to tell them to shut up, and they understood and obeyed meekly.However, they are not so respectful to other children, they only regard them as ordinary warriors, and only say "Hello!" to them.To the children's annoyance, Peter seemed to take it for granted.

In private, Wendy felt a little sympathetic to the children, but she was a very faithful and virtuous housewife, and would not listen to complaints about her father. "Father was right," she always said, regardless of her personal opinion.It was her own opinion that the Indians should not call her wife. That day came, and they called it "the night of the night," because what happened that night and its consequences were of special importance.During the day, nothing happened, as if he was recharging his energy.At this moment, the Indians stood guard wrapped in blankets above.The children dined underground; only Peter was absent, who had gone out to find out the time.On the island, the way to find out the time is to find the crocodile, wait aside, and listen to the clock in its belly.

The meal was an imaginary tea, and they sat round the table, devouring their food; and their chatter and chatter, Wendy said, were deafening.Of course, Wendy didn't care much about the noise, but she couldn't allow them to grab food, and she said Tutu had bumped their arms.At dinner, they had a rule: No firing back, but reporting the dispute to Wendy, politely raising my right hand and saying, "I'm suing so-and-so." But in reality, they either forgot to do so, or did too much up. "Don't be noisy," cried Wendy, who had told them for the twentieth time not to talk at the same time. "Is your gourd cup empty, baby Slightly?"

"Not quite empty, Mom," Slightly said, glancing at the imaginary mug. "He hasn't had the milk yet," put in Nibs. He was complaining, and Slightly jumped at the opportunity. "I sue Nibs," he cried at once. John raised his hand first, though. "What is it, John?" "Peter is not here, can I sit in his chair?" "Sit in father's chair, John!" Wendy thought it simply unseemly. "Of course not." "He's not really our father," John replied. "He doesn't even know how to be a father. I taught him that."

He is complaining. "We sue John," cried the twins. Tutu raised his hand.He was the most humble of them all, indeed the only one, and Wendy was especially kind to him. "I reckon," Tutu said modestly, "I won't be able to be a father." "No, Tutu." Tutu seldom opened his mouth, but once he did, he would go on and on in a foolish manner. "Since I can't be a father," he said with a heavy heart, "I reckon, Michael, you won't let me be a baby?" "No, I won't let it." Michael replied sharply.He's already in the cradle.

"Since I can't be a baby," said Tutu, with growing seriousness, "do you think I can be a twin?" "No, of course not," replied the twin, "it's hard being a twin." "Since I can't play any important role," Tutu said, "any of you would like to see me perform a trick?" "No." Everyone answered. He had to shut up. "I really have no hope at all," he said. The nasty denunciation started again. "Slattery coughing at the dinner table." "The twins are eating mame nuts." "Curly eats tapas and sweet potatoes."

"Nebs talks with a mouthful of food." "I sue the twins." "I sue Curly." "I sue Nibs." "My dear, my dear," cried Wendy, "I sometimes think children are more trouble than fun." She bade them clear the table, and sit down to their sewing.The work-basket was full of long socks, each with the customary hole at the knee. "Wendy," protested Michael, "I'm too big for a cradle." "Someone has to sleep in the cradle," said Wendy, almost sharply. "You're the youngest, and the cradle is the cutest and most homely thing in the family."

They played beside Wendy while she sewed.So many smiling faces, and romping arms and legs, were illuminated red and bright by the romantic fire.This sight is common in subterranean homes; however, we saw it for the last time. There were footsteps above, and Wendy was the first to hear it. "Children, I hear your father's step, and he likes you to meet him at the gate." Above, the Indian bows to Peter. "Keep watch, warriors, as I say." Then, the joyous children dragged him down the tree hole.Such things used to happen often, but never again. He brought nuts to the children, and the exact hour to Wendy.

"You know what, Peter? You spoil them," Wendy said with a silly smile. "Yes, old woman," said Peter, hanging up his gun. "I told him to call his mother an old woman." Michael whispered to Curly. "I sue Michael." Curly said immediately. The eldest of the twins came up to Peter and said, "Father, we want to dance." "Let's dance then, little one," said Peter, in high spirits. "But we want you to dance too." Peter was actually the best dancer of them all, but he said with feigned surprise: "Me! I'm going to rattle my old bones."

"Mom dances too." "What," cried Wendy, "a mother of a lot of children, dancing!" "But it's Saturday night!" said Slightly flatteringly. It wasn't actually Saturday night, but maybe it was, because they had long since forgotten to count the dates; but.If they want to do something special, they always say, it's Saturday night, and they do it. "Of course it's Saturday night, Peter," said Wendy, somewhat relenting. "A family like ours... Wendy." "But now it's just with my own kids." "Of course, of course." So I told them they could dance, but they had to put on their pajamas first. "Yes, old woman," Peter said privately to Wendy, warming himself by the fire, looking down at Wendy sitting there mending the heel of a sock, "you and I sit by the fire after a day's work, little one There's nothing better than being around and spending an evening like this." "It's so sweet, Peter, isn't it?" Wen Bian said contentedly, "Peter, I think the curly nose looks like you." "Michael is like you." Wendy came up to Peter and put her hands on his shoulders. "Dear Peter," said Wendy, "you won't throw me out of my youth after having brought up such a large family, will you?" "No, Wendy." Of course Peter didn't want to change, but he looked at Wendy uneasily; blinking his eyes, you couldn't tell whether he was awake or asleep. "Peter, what's going on?" "I'm thinking," said Peter, a little panicked, "that I'm their father. It's a fake, isn't it?" "Yes." Wendy said gravely. "You see," Peter went on a little apologetically, "I'm going to look old to be their real father." "But they're ours, Peter, and yours and mine." "But not really, Wendy?" asked Peter anxiously. "It's not true if you don't want to," replied Wendy, who distinctly heard Peter's sigh of relief. "Peter," she said, trying to be calm, "what are your real feelings for me?" "Like a dutiful son, Wendy." "I expected that," said Wendy, and she went to the far end of the room and sat down by herself. "You're weird," said Peter, frankly bewildered. "Tiger Lily is just like that. She wants to be my thing, but she says she's not my mother." "Hmph! Of course not." Wendy said heavily.Now we understand why she did not like the Indians. "Then what does she want to do with me?" "That's not what a lady should say." "Well then," said Peter sarcastically, "perhaps Tinker Bell will tell me." "Of course, Tinker Bell will tell you," Wendy replied contemptuously. "She's a wild little thing." Tinker Bell was eavesdropping in her closet when an impertinent sentence shrieked. "She said she prided herself on being loose." Peter translated her words. Peter suddenly thought: "Perhaps Tinkerbell would like to be my mother?" "You idiot!" Tinkerbell yelled angrily. She had said that sentence so many times that Wendy didn't need a translator. "I almost feel as she does," said Wendy angrily.Come to think of it, Wendy could talk in a fit of rage.It could be seen that she had had enough, and she didn't expect what would happen this night.If she had known, she would never have been angry. None of them knew.Maybe it's better not to know.It is because of ignorance and ignorance that they can enjoy another hour of happiness; since this is their last hour on the island, let us celebrate their sixty minutes of happiness.They sang and danced in their pajamas to a goosebump-inducing song in which they pretended to be afraid of their own shadow; little did they know that it would soon cover them and make them Really fell into fear.They danced so cheerfully and lively, and they fought each other on the bed and off the bed.It was actually a pillow fight, not a dance; and when it was over, those pillows insisted on fighting again, like a bunch of mates who know they'll never see each other again.How many stories they told before Wendy told her Sleeping Tales!Even Slightly wanted to tell a story that night, but it got off to such a dull start that he couldn't go on with it himself.Then he said despondently: "Yeah, it's a boring beginning. I said, let's just make it the end." At last they all went to bed and heard Wendy's story, which was their favorite and Peter's least.Usually, when Wendy began to tell the story, Peter would leave the house, or put his hands to his ears; this time, if he had done the same, they might have remained on the island.But tonight, Peter was still sitting on his little stool.