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 her.