THE NURSERY AND THE TREE-TOPS
_The old nursery appears again with everything just as it was at the
beginning of the play, except that the kennel has gone and that the
window is standing open. So Peter was wrong about mothers; indeed there
is no subject on which he is so likely to be wrong._
_Mrs. Darling is asleep on a chair near the window, her eyes tired with
searching the heavens. Nana is stretched out listless on the floor. She
is the cynical one, and though custom has made her hang the children’s
night things on the fire-guard for an airing, she surveys them not
hopefully but with some self-contempt._
MRS. DARLING (_starting up as if we had whispered to her that her brats
are coming back_). Wendy, John, Michael! (NANA _lifts a sympathetic
paw to the poor soul’s lap_.) I see you have put their night things
out again, Nana! It touches my heart to watch you do that night after
night. But they will never come back.
(_In trouble the difference of station can be completely ignored,
and it is not strange to see these two using the same handkerchief.
Enter_ LIZA, _who in the gentleness with which the house has been run
of late is perhaps a little more masterful than of yore_.)
LIZA (_feeling herself degraded by the announcement_). Nana’s dinner is
served.
(NANA, _who quite understands what are_ LIZA’S _feelings, departs
for the dining-room with our exasperating leisureliness, instead of
running, as we would all do if we followed our instincts_.)
LIZA. To think I have a master as have changed places with his dog!
MRS. DARLING (_gently_). Out of remorse, Liza.
LIZA (_surely exaggerating_). I am a married woman myself. I don’t
think it’s respectable to go to his office in a kennel, with the
street boys running alongside cheering. (_Even this does not rouse her
mistress, which may have been the honourable intention._) There, that
is the cab fetching him back! (_Amid interested cheers from the street
the kennel is conveyed to its old place by a cabby and friend, and_
MR. DARLING _scrambles out of it in his office clothes_.)
MR. DARLING (_giving her his hat loftily_). If you will be so good,
Liza. (_The cheering is resumed._) It is very gratifying!
LIZA (_contemptuous_). Lot of little boys.
MR. DARLING (_with the new sweetness of one who has sworn never to lose
his temper again_). There were several adults to-day.
(_She goes off scornfully with the hat and the two men, but he has
not a word of reproach for her. It ought to melt us when we see how
humbly grateful he is for a kiss from his wife, so much more than he
feels he deserves. One may think he is wrong to exchange into the
kennel, but sorrow has taught him that he is the kind of man who
whatever he does contritely he must do to excess; otherwise he soon
abandons doing it._)
MRS. DARLING (_who has known this for quite a long time_). What sort of
a day have you had, George?
(_He is sitting on the floor by the kennel._)
MR. DARLING. There were never less than a hundred running round the
cab cheering, and when we passed the Stock Exchange the members came
out and waved.
(_He is exultant but uncertain of himself, and with a word she could
dispirit him utterly._)
MRS. DARLING (_bravely_). I am so proud, George.
MR. DARLING (_commendation from the dearest quarter ever going to his
head_). I have been put on a picture postcard, dear.
MRS. DARLING (_nobly_). Never!
MR. DARLING (_thoughtlessly_). Ah, Mary, we should not be such
celebrities if the children hadn’t flown away.
MRS. DARLING (_startled_). George, you are sure you are not enjoying it?
MR. DARLING (_anxiously_). Enjoying it! See my punishment: living in a
kennel.
MRS. DARLING. Forgive me, dear one.
MR. DARLING. It is I who need forgiveness, always I, never you. And now
I feel drowsy. (_He retires into the kennel._) Won’t you play me to
sleep on the nursery piano? And shut that window, Mary dearest; I feel
a draught.
MRS. DARLING. Oh, George, never ask me to do that. The window must
always be left open for them, always, always.
(_She goes into the day nursery, from which we presently hear her
playing the sad song of Margaret. She little knows that her last
remark has been overheard by a boy crouching at the window. He steals
into the room accompanied by a ball of light._)
PETER. Tink, where are you? Quick, close the window. (_It closes._)
Bar it. (_The bar slams down._) Now when Wendy comes she will think
her mother has barred her out, and she will have to come back to
me! (TINKER BELL _sulks_.) Now, Tink, you and I must go out by the
door. (_Doors, however, are confusing things to those who are used
to windows, and he is puzzled when he finds that this one does not
open on to the firmament. He tries the other, and sees the piano
player._) It is Wendy’s mother! (TINK _pops on to his shoulder and
they peep together_.) She is a pretty lady, but not so pretty as my
mother. (_This is a pure guess._) She is making the box say ‘Come
home, Wendy.’ You will never see Wendy again, lady, for the window is
barred! (_He flutters about the room joyously like a bird, but has to
return to that door._) She has laid her head down on the box. There are
two wet things sitting on her eyes. As soon as they go away another
two come and sit on her eyes. (_She is heard moaning ‘Wendy, Wendy,
Wendy.’_) She wants me to unbar the window. I won’t! She is awfully
fond of Wendy. I am fond of her too. We can’t both have her, lady! (_A
funny feeling comes over him._) Come on, Tink; we don’t want any silly
mothers.
(_He opens the window and they fly out._
_It is thus that the truants find entrance easy when they alight on
the sill_, JOHN _to his credit having the tired_ MICHAEL _on his
shoulders. They have nothing else to their credit; no compunction for
what they have done, not the tiniest fear that any just person may be
awaiting them with a stick. The youngest is in a daze, but the two
others are shining virtuously like holy people who are about to give
two other people a treat._)
MICHAEL (_looking about him_). I think I have been here before.
JOHN. It’s your home, you stupid.
WENDY. There is your old bed, Michael.
MICHAEL. I had nearly forgotten.
JOHN. I say, the kennel!
WENDY. Perhaps Nana is in it.
JOHN (_peering_). There is a man asleep in it.
WENDY (_remembering him by the bald patch_). It’s father!
JOHN. So it is!
MICHAEL. Let me see father. (_Disappointed_) He is not as big as the
pirate I killed.
JOHN (_perplexed_). Wendy, surely father didn’t use to sleep in the
kennel?
WENDY (_with misgivings_). Perhaps we don’t remember the old life as
well as we thought we did.
JOHN (_chilled_). It is very careless of mother not to be here when we
come back.
(_The piano is heard again._)
WENDY. H’sh! (_She goes to the door and peeps._) That is her playing!
(_They all have a peep._)
MICHAEL. Who is that lady?
JOHN. H’sh! It’s mother.
MICHAEL. Then are you not really our mother, Wendy?
WENDY (_with conviction_). Oh dear, it is quite time to be back!
JOHN. Let us creep in and put our hands over her eyes.
WENDY (_more considerate_). No, let us break it to her gently.
(_She slips between the sheets of her bed; and the others, seeing the
idea at once, get into their beds. Then when the music stops they
cover their heads. There are now three distinct bumps in the beds._
MRS. DARLING _sees the bumps as soon as she comes in, but she does
not believe she sees them_.)
MRS. DARLING. I see them in their beds so often in my dreams that I
seem still to see them when I am awake! I’ll not look again. (_She sits
down and turns away her face from the bumps, though of course they are
still reflected in her mind._) So often their silver voices call me,
my little children whom I’ll see no more.
(_Silver voices is a good one, especially about_ JOHN; _but the heads
pop up_.)
WENDY (_perhaps rather silvery_). Mother!
MRS. DARLING (_without moving_). That is Wendy.
JOHN (_quite gruff_). Mother!
MRS. DARLING. Now it is John.
MICHAEL (_no better than a squeak_). Mother!
MRS. DARLING. Now Michael. And when they call I stretch out my arms to
them, but they never come, they never come!
(_This time, however, they come, and there is joy once more in the
Darling household. The little boy who is crouching at the window sees
the joke of the bumps in the beds, but cannot understand what all the
rest of the fuss is about._
* * * * *
_The scene changes from the inside of the house to the outside, and
we see_ MR. DARLING _romping in at the door, with the lost boys
hanging gaily to his coat-tails. So we may conclude that_ WENDY _has
told them to wait outside until she explains the situation to her
mother, who has then sent_ MR. DARLING _down to tell them that they
are adopted. Of course they could have flown in by the window like
a covey of birds, but they think it better fun to enter by a door.
There is a moment’s trouble about_ SLIGHTLY, _who somehow gets shut
out. Fortunately_ LIZA _finds him_.)
LIZA. What is the matter, boy?
SLIGHTLY. They have all got a mother except me.
LIZA (_starting back_). Is your name Slightly?
SLIGHTLY. Yes’m.
LIZA. Then I am your mother.
SLIGHTLY. How do you know?
LIZA (_the good-natured creature_). I feel it in my bones.
(_They go into the house and there is none happier now than_
SLIGHTLY, _unless it be_ NANA _as she passes with the importance of a
nurse who will never have another day off_. WENDY _looks out at the
nursery window and sees a friend below, who is hovering in the air
knocking off tall hats with his feet. The wearers don’t see him. They
are too old. You can’t see_ PETER _if you are old. They think he is a
draught at the corner._)
WENDY. Peter!
PETER (_looking up casually_). Hullo, Wendy.
(_She flies down to him, to the horror of her mother, who rushes to
the window._)
WENDY (_making a last attempt_). You don’t feel you would like to say
anything to my parents, Peter, about a very sweet subject?
PETER. No, Wendy.
WENDY. About me, Peter?
PETER. No.
(_He gets out his pipes, which she knows is a very bad sign. She
appeals with her arms to_ MRS. DARLING, _who is probably thinking
that these children will all need to be tied to their beds at night_.)
MRS. DARLING (_from the window_). Peter, where are you? Let me adopt
you too.
(_She is the loveliest age for a woman, but too old to see_ PETER
_clearly_.)
PETER. Would you send me to school?
MRS. DARLING (_obligingly_). Yes.
PETER. And then to an office?
MRS. DARLING. I suppose so.
PETER. Soon I should be a man?
MRS. DARLING. Very soon.
PETER (_passionately_). I don’t want to go to school and learn solemn
things. No one is going to catch me, lady, and make me a man. I want
always to be a little boy and to have fun.
(_So perhaps he thinks, but it is only his greatest pretend._)
MRS. DARLING (_shivering every time_ WENDY _pursues him in the air_).
Where are you to live, Peter?
PETER. In the house we built for Wendy. The fairies are to put it high
up among the tree-tops where they sleep at night.
WENDY (_rapturously_). To think of it!
MRS. DARLING. I thought all the fairies were dead.
WENDY (_almost reprovingly_). No indeed! Their mothers drop the babies
into the Never birds’ nests, all mixed up with the eggs, and the mauve
fairies are boys and the white ones are girls, and there are some
colours who don’t know what they are. The row the children and the
birds make at bath time is positively deafening.
PETER. I throw things at them.
WENDY. You will be rather lonely in the evenings, Peter.
PETER. I shall have Tink.
WENDY (_flying up to the window_). Mother, may I go?
MRS. DARLING (_gripping her for ever_). Certainly not. I have got you
home again, and I mean to keep you.
WENDY. But he does so need a mother.
MRS. DARLING. So do you, my love.
PETER. Oh, all right.
MRS. DARLING (_magnanimously_). But, Peter, I shall let her go to you
once a year for a week to do your spring cleaning.
(WENDY _revels in this, but_ PETER, _who has no notion what a spring
cleaning is, waves a rather careless thanks_.)
MRS. DARLING. Say good-night, Wendy.
WENDY. I couldn’t go down just for a minute?
MRS. DARLING. No.
WENDY. Good-night, Peter!
PETER. Good-night, Wendy!
WENDY. Peter, you won’t forget me, will you, before spring-cleaning
time comes?
(_There is no answer, for he is already soaring high. For a moment
after he is gone we still hear the pipes._ MRS. DARLING _closes and
bars the window_.)
* * * * *
_We are dreaming now of the Never Land a year later. It is bed-time
on the island, and the blind goes up to the whispers of the lovely
Never music. The blue haze that makes the wood below magical by day
comes up to the tree-tops to sleep, and through it we see numberless
nests all lit up, fairies and birds quarrelling for possession, others
flying around just for the fun of the thing and perhaps making bets
about where the little house will appear to-night. It always comes and
snuggles on some tree-top, but you can never be sure which; here it is
again, you see John’s hat first as up comes the house so softly that it
knocks some gossips off their perch. When it has settled comfortably
it lights up, and out come Peter and Wendy._
_Wendy looks a little older, but Peter is just the same. She is cloaked
for a journey, and a sad confession must be made about her; she flies
so badly now that she has to use a broomstick._
* * * * *
WENDY (_who knows better this time than to be demonstrative at
partings_). Well, good-bye, Peter; and remember not to bite your nails.
PETER. Good-bye, Wendy.
WENDY. I’ll tell mother all about the spring cleaning and the house.
PETER (_who sometimes forgets that she has been here before_). You do
like the house?
WENDY. Of course it is small. But most people of our size wouldn’t
have a house at all. (_She should not have mentioned size, for he has
already expressed displeasure at her growth. Another thing, one he has
scarcely noticed, though it disturbs her, is that she does not see him
quite so clearly now as she used to do._) When you come for me next
year, Peter--you will come, won’t you?
PETER. Yes. (_Gloating_) To hear stories about me!
WENDY. It is so queer that the stories you like best should be the ones
about yourself.
PETER (_touchy_). Well, then?
WENDY. Fancy your forgetting the lost boys, and even Captain Hook!
PETER. Well, then?
WENDY. I haven’t seen Tink this time.
PETER. Who?
WENDY. Oh dear! I suppose it is because you have so many adventures.
PETER (_relieved_). ’Course it is.
WENDY. If another little girl--if one younger than I am---- (_She can’t
go on._) Oh, Peter, how I wish I could take you up and squdge you! (_He
draws back._) Yes, I know. (_She gets astride her broomstick._) Home!
(_It carries her from him over the tree-tops._
_In a sort of way he understands what she means by ‘Yes, I know,’ but
in most sorts of ways he doesn’t. It has something to do with the
riddle of his being. If he could get the hang of the thing his cry
might become ‘To live would be an awfully big adventure!’ but he can
never quite get the hang of it, and so no one is as gay as he. With
rapturous face he produces his pipes, and the Never birds and the
fairies gather closer till the roof of the little house is so thick
with his admirers that some of them fall down the chimney. He plays
on and on till we wake up._)
_The End_
* * * * *
Transcriber’s note
Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice. Italization
was standardized.
Spelling was retained as in the original except for the following
changes:
Page 48: “the tidings has leaked” “the tidings have leaked”
Page 140: “he has a sinking” “he has a sinking feeling”