Once a week Jane 's nurse had her evening off ; and then it was Wendy 's part to put Jane to bed . That was the time for stories . It was Jane 's invention to raise the sheet over her mother 's head and her own , thus making a tent , and in the awful darkness to whisper : ` What do we see now ? ' ' I do n't think I see anything to-night , ' says Wendy , with a feeling that if Nana were here she would object to further conversation . ` Yes , you do , ' says Jane , ` you see when you were a little girl . ' ` That is a long time ago , sweetheart , ' says Wendy . ` Ah me , how time flies ! ' ` Does it fly , ' asks the artful child , ` the way you flew when you were a little girl ? ' ` The way I flew ! Do you know , Jane , I sometimes wonder whether I ever did really fly . ' ` Yes , you did . ' ` The dear old days when I could fly ! ' ` Why ca n't you fly now , mother ? ' ` Because I am grown up , dearest . When people grow up they forget the way . ' ` Why do they forget the way ? ' ` Because they are no longer gay and innocent and heartless . It is only the gay and innocent and heartless who can fly . ' ` What is gay and innocent and heartless ? I do wish I was gay and innocent and heartless . '
Or perhaps XXXXX admits that she does see something . '
Jane Nana Wendy child darkness days dearest evening head time