Instead of feeling that he was behaving badly he danced with
glee; then he peeped into the day-nursery to see who was playing.
He whispered to Tink, "It's Wendy's mother! She is a pretty
lady, but not so pretty as my mother. Her mouth is full of
thimbles, but not so full as my mother's was."

Of course he knew nothing whatever about his mother; but he
sometimes bragged about her.

He did not know the tune, which was "Home, Sweet Home," but he
knew it was saying, "Come back, Wendy, Wendy, Wendy"; and he
cried exultantly, "You will never see Wendy again, lady, for the
window is barred!"

He peeped in again to see why the music had stopped, and now he
saw that Mrs. Darling had laid her head on the box, and that two
tears were sitting on her eyes.

"She wants me to unbar the window," thought Peter, "but I
won't, not I!"

He peeped again, and the tears were still there, or another two
had taken their place.

"She's awfully fond of Wendy," he said to himself. He was
angry with her now for not seeing why she could not have Wendy.

The reason was so simple: "I'm fond of her too. We can't both
have her, lady."

But the lady would not make the best of it, and he was unhappy.
He ceased to look at her, but even then she would not let go of
him. He skipped about and made funny faces, but when he stopped
it was just as if she were inside him, knocking.

"Oh, all right," he said at last, and gulped. Then he unbarred
the window. "Come on, Tink," he cried, with a frightful sneer at
the laws of nature; "we don't want any silly mothers"; and he
flew away.