After supper, they returned to the drawing-room for a dance.
Delightful music was played, and it was a pretty sight to see the fancy costumes gracefully flit about in the dance.
When it was nearly time to go home, one of the “nurses” came to Lady Hamilton saying that a belated guest had arrived.
“Who is it?” asked Lady Hamilton, surprised that any one should arrive so late.
“He says he is Peter Pan,” answered the maid.
“Show him in, at once,” said Lady Hamilton, “we surely want to see Peter Pan—the boy who never could grow up.”
And then through the doorway came a figure that unmistakably represented Peter Pan.
The well-known costume of russet browns and autumn-leaf tints, the small, close cap with its single feather, and the fierce-looking dagger were all there. To be sure, it was a much larger Peter Pan than any of them had seen in the play, but otherwise it was surely Peter.
At first, Lady Hamilton looked completely bewildered, and then, as she realised that it was really her own father, she turned pale and then very pink.
Patty stood near her, and though she didn’t know what might happen, she felt sure Lady Hamilton would be quite able to cope with the situation.