rather foolishly over the medicine. If he had a weakness, it was
for thinking that all his life he had taken medicine boldly, and
so now, when Michael dodged the spoon in Nana's mouth, he had
said reprovingly, "Be a man, Michael."

"Won't; won't!" Michael cried naughtily. Mrs. Darling left the
room to get a chocolate for him, and Mr. Darling thought this
showed want of firmness.

"Mother, don't pamper him," he called after her. "Michael,
when I was your age I took medicine without a murmur. I said,
`Thank you, kind parents, for giving me bottles to make we
well.'"

He really thought this was true, and Wendy, who was now in her
night-gown, believed it also, and she said, to encourage
Michael, "That medicine you sometimes take, father, is much
nastier, isn't it?"

"Ever so much nastier," Mr. Darling said bravely, "and I would
take it now as an example to you, Michael, if I hadn't lost the
bottle."

He had not exactly lost it; he had climbed in the dead of night
to the top of the wardrobe and hidden it there. What he did not
know was that the faithful Liza had found it, and put it back on
his wash-stand.

"I know where it is, father," Wendy cried, always glad to be of
service. "I'll bring it," and she was off before he could stop