“Yes, I am—ever so much.”
“You’re not. You’re pretending, because you don’t want to come back. Now then, no nonsense.”
Pan stood like a stork, with his chin down upon his chest.
“Will—you—come—on?”
It was very dark, but Sydney could just make out that the boy shook his head.
“Then it isn’t because you are so tired. It’s obstinacy.”
No response.
“I declare you’re as obstinate as an old donkey; and if you don’t come on I’ll serve you the same.”
Pan did not stir.
“Do you want me to cut a stick, and make you come, Pan?”