_In Which the Teddy Bear Finds a Name._
IN A moment everything had become quiet. Sally sat up in bed rubbing
her eyes and quite unable to believe the evidence of her own senses.
For how could a rational little girl be expected to believe that a
Teddy bear was really standing beside her bed, bowing to her politely
and pausing, between bows, to take large bites out of a pink wafer that
he held daintily in one paw?
“Good evening,” said he; and “Good evening,” quoth Sally, almost too
much astonished to speak. Indeed she had to pinch herself quite hard in
order to convince herself that she was really wide awake and not sound
asleep and dreaming.
“Do not be surprised,” said the Teddy bear, and Sally smiled
involuntarily at the pomposity of his manner. “The scene that you have
just witnessed is not at all an unusual one. In fact, I, myself, am
rather astonished that after all the years you have been playing with
toys you never discovered the fact that they always waken at night.
Anyway why shouldn’t they?” and then as Sally did not make any reply,
being far too much amazed to do so, he added somewhat irritably, “Why
not? Why not?”
[Illustration]
“Why not?” repeated Sally mechanically. She was beginning to realize
that she was really awake and that the Teddy bear was really carrying
on a conversation with her. And, moreover, that the Teddy bear had a
very good opinion of himself, which made her extremely anxious not to
offend him. There was a short silence, during which the Teddy bear
finished his biscuit and, having daintily shaken a few stray crumbs
from his fur, sat quietly regarding the little girl with his head
tilted reflectively to one side and a rather inquiring expression in
his bright black eyes. He looked so comical in his pink striped pajamas
that she could not resist indulging in a smile, which, however, she
quickly hid in the pillow, being dreadfully afraid that the queer
little fellow would think she was making fun of him.
[Illustration: “Good evening,” said he; and “Good evening,” quoth
Sally.]
Presently she said, rather timidly, “If you please, would you mind
telling me how old you are?”
“According to your point of view,” replied the bear reflectively, “I
am about one month, twelve days and fifteen hours old.” Here Sally
interrupted him to remark that he was very well developed for his age,
but the hear frowned so dreadfully that she quickly subsided again into
the pillow.
“If you ask a fellow a question you should give him a chance to answer
it,” he observed sulkily. And then, as Sally politely remarked that she
hoped he would excuse her, he went on.
“According to my own point of view, which is undoubtedly the correct
one, I have no age at all, and never shall have any.” Then, as Sally
uttered a little exclamation of protest, he added hurriedly:
“Toys never grow up and so really never grow older. They never grow in
any other way whatever, consequently why should they ever become any
age at all? How perfectly absurd to suppose that they do!”
He ended with a contemptuous sniff, which so tickled his sharp black
nose that he fell into a fit of sneezing that lasted for several
minutes.
The child, rather alarmed, hastened to pat him on the back, and he
finally emerged from the attack none the worse and remarked that
probably some of the crumbs had gone the wrong way.
Sally, who all the time had been wondering if he were red in the face
under his fur, longed to remark that the crumbs must have gone the
wrong way with a vengeance if they had gone up his nose. However,
she rather feared provoking the Teddy bear, and remarked, by way of
continuing the conversation:
“Oh, of course, you don’t grow any bigger. That is because you are just
stuffed. There isn’t anything in you to grow.”
Somehow the child found arguing with the Teddy bear rather difficult.
And then he was so comical that in spite of his obstinacy it was
impossible to be offended with him.
“No, thank fortune, we don’t grow any bigger,” retorted the Teddy bear,
with some asperity. “Only live things, like yourself, for example, do
that. Now supposing I were a real, live bear, what size would I be by
this time? If you were a doll, you would not be obliged to grow up
either. But as you are only a girl of course you will have to.”
The little girl immediately thought of a dozen arguments in favor of
growing up; but not wishing to put the bear in a bad humor she said
quickly:
“I knew a boy once who talked just as you do. He never wanted to grow
up and so he ran away and lived with the fairies. His name was Peter
Pan. At least her name was.”
“Fairies! What are fairies?” exclaimed the bear. And then, before Sally
had time to answer, demanded severely, “How can his name be her name?”
Now Sally was really a very sweet tempered little girl, but to be
constantly contradicted and corrected by a stuffed Teddy bear was
decidedly getting on her nerves. So she replied quite sharply, “Oh, you
see it was a play, and the boy, Peter Pan, was really a girl. I think
I should like to call you Peter Pan; that is if you haven’t any other
name,” she added quickly.
“The name on my tag was Teddy, but it really doesn’t matter, as I have
never been christened,” returned the Teddy bear. “Really Peter Pan is
a pretty name, and decidedly more appropriate for me. Only I think the
latter part of it rather reminds one of cake. And, by the way, couldn’t
you hunt up some names for my wife and the cubs? You see we were all
named Teddy—Teddy bears. But it seems rather mixed up, don’t you know,
especially when there are so many of us.” Sally nodded acquiescently.
“To be sure, when you call for Teddy, you never know whether your wife
or the baby cub will answer. Besides which, Teddy is not at all an
appropriate name for a lady. And as for all being named alike, why, it
is just like a lot of fractions reduced to a common denominator. It
will never do in the world,” she said.
Now Peter Pan had not the remotest idea in the world as to what
fractions or common denominators were, but unwilling to betray his
ignorance he said nothing, while Sally finally discovered a way out of
the difficulty by suggesting that they should consult her Pretty Name
Dictionary, an idea which Peter Pan declared to be a fine one.
Finally it was decided that the twins should be called Tom and Jerry,
the baby cub Little Breeches, as he wore a pair of the most fascinating
blue overalls, and Mrs. Peter Pan Wendy, that being the name of the
little girl in the Peter Pan play, provided, of course, that she had no
preferences in any other direction.
By this time the grandfather’s clock in the lower hall began to strike
three and as Sally was beginning to look very sleepy Peter Pan said
good night. It was really good morning, so sliding from the bed he
scampered off to inform his family of all that had happened. And he
was just in the nick of time, for his wife was dying of curiosity and
certainly could not have restrained herself for another moment from
joining her husband and Sally and finding out what it was all about.
Sally cuddled down among her pillows and at once fell asleep; and
as her thoughts trailed off to dreamland she seemed still to hear a
querulous little voice drawling out rather peevishly, “Why not? Why
not?” Meantime, the question of names was being discussed by the bear
family. Mamma bear liked them all except the one intended for herself.
She said it was altogether too suggestive of a rising storm, an idea
with which her husband felt obliged to concur. She was warmly in favor
of Bedelia, and as there was no very good reason to object, Bedelia it
was and so remained to the end of the chapter.
[Illustration]