John cried, “Father didn’t take his!”
“O father!” Wendy exclaimed.
“What do you mean by ‘O father’?” Mr. Darling demanded. “I wanted to take my medicine, but I – I did not have enough time.”
“Look here, all of you,” he said, as soon as[16] Nana went into the bathroom. “I have a splendid joke. I shall pour my medicine into Nana’s bowl, and she will drink it, thinking it is milk!”
It was the colour of milk; but the children did not have their father’s sense of humour, and they looked at him reproachfully as he poured the medicine into Nana’s bowl. Mrs. Darling and Nana returned.
“Nana, good dog,” he said, “I put some milk into your bowl, Nana.”
Nana wagged her tail, ran to the medicine, and began to lap it. Then she gave Mrs. Darling such a look, not an angry look: she showed him the great red tear, and crept into her kennel.
The children, who loved their old nurse very dearly, were terribly distressed. Mr. Darling smelt the bowl. “O George,” she said, “it’s your medicine!”
“It was only a joke,” he answered, and Wendy hugged Nana.
“Oh, that dog…” cried Mr. Darling. “I refuse to allow that dog to rule in my nursery! The proper place for this dog is the yard…”
Mr. Darling, angry that they did not enjoy his joke, coaxed Nana out of her kennel, seized her by the collar and dragged her off in disgrace. The children wept, but he felt he was a strong man again.
“George, George,” Mrs. Darling whispered, “remember what I told you about that boy.”
But he wanted to show who was the master in that house. He was ashamed of himself, but he took Nana and brought the dog outdoor.
Mrs. Darling put the children to bed in silence and lit their night-lights. Nana was barking, and John whimpered, “It is because he is chaining her up in the yard,” but Wendy was wiser.
“No,” she said, “that is her bark when she smells danger.”
Danger!
“Are you sure, Wendy?”
“Oh, yes.”
Mrs. Darling went to the window. It was securely fastened. She looked out, the stars were crowding round the house.
Michael asked, “Can anything harm us, mother, after the night-lights are lit?”
“Nothing, precious,” she said; “they are the eyes a mother leaves behind her to guard her children.”
Michael flung his arms round her. “Mother,” he cried, “I’m glad of you[17].”
They were the last words she heard from him.