Mary Poppins Comes Back mp-2, Page 2

  They fell back, fumbling in their pockets.

  "Humph! Put them on, please!"

  Trembling with excitement and delight, Jane and Michael stuffed their hands into the gloves and put on their hats.

  Mary Poppins moved towards the perambulator. The Twins cooed happily as she strapped them in more securely and straightened the rug. Then she glanced round.

  "Who put that duck in the pond?" she demanded, in that stern, haughty voice they knew so well.

  "I did," said Jane. "For the Twins. He was going to New York."

  "Well, take him out, then!" said Mary Poppins. "He is not going to New York — wherever that is — but Home to Tea."

  And, slinging her carpet-bag over the handle of the perambulator, she began to push the Twins towards the gate.

  The Park Keeper, suddenly finding his voice, blocked her way.

  "See here," he said, staring. "I shall have to report this. It's against the Regulations. Coming down out of the sky, like that. And where from, I'd like to know, where from?"

  He broke off, for Mary Poppins was eyeing him up and down in a way that made him feel he would rather be somewhere else.

  "If I was a Park Keeper," she remarked, primly, "I should put on my cap and button my coat. Excuse me."

  And, haughtily waving him aside, she pushed past with the perambulator.

  Blushing, the Keeper bent to pick up his hat.

  When he looked up again Mary Poppins and the children had disappeared through the gate of Number Seventeen Cherry Tree Lane.

  He stared at the path. Then he stared up at the sky and down at the path again.

  He took off his hat, scratched his head, and put it on again.

  "I never saw such a thing!" he said, shakily. "Not even when I was a boy!"

  And he went away muttering and looking very upset.

  "Why, it's Mary Poppins!" said Mrs. Banks, as they came into the hall. "Where did you come from? Out of the blue?"

  "Yes," began Michael joyfully, "she came down on the end—"

  He stopped short for Mary Poppins had fixed him with one of her terrible looks.

  "I found them in the Park, ma'am," she said, turning to Mrs. Banks, "so I brought them home!"

  "Have you come to stay, then?"

  "For the present, ma'am."

  "But, Mary Poppins, last time you were here you left me without a Word of Warning. How do I know you won't do it again?"

  "You don't, ma'am," replied Mary Poppins, calmly.

  Mrs. Banks looked rather taken aback.

  "But — but will you, do you think?" she asked uncertainly.

  "I couldn't say, ma'am, I'm sure."

  "Oh!" said Mrs. Banks, because, at the moment, she couldn't think of anything else.

  And before she had recovered from her surprise, Mary Poppins had taken her carpet-bag and was hurrying the children upstairs.

  Mrs. Banks, gazing after them, heard the Nursery door shut quietly. Then with a sigh of relief she ran to the telephone.

  "Mary Poppins has come back!" she said happily, into the receiver.

  "Has she, indeed?" said Mr. Banks at the other end. "Then perhaps I will, too."

  And he rang off.

  Upstairs Mary Poppins was taking off her overcoat. She hung it on a hook behind the Night-Nursery door. Then she removed her hat and placed it neatly on one of the bed-posts.

  Jane and Michael watched the familiar movements. Everything about her was just as it had always been. They could hardly believe she had ever been away.

  Mary Poppins bent down and opened the carpet-bag.

  It was quite empty except for a large Thermometer.

  "What's that for?" asked Jane curiously.

  "You," said Mary Poppins.

  "But I'm not ill," Jane protested. "It's two months since I had measles."

  "Open!" said Mary Poppins in a voice that made Jane shut her eyes very quickly and open her mouth. The Thermometer slipped in.

  "I want to know how you've been behaving since I went away," remarked Mary Poppins sternly. Then she took out the Thermometer and held it up to the light.

  "Careless, thoughtless and untidy," she read out.

  Jane stared.

  "Humph!" said Mary Poppins, and thrust the Thermometer into Michael's mouth. He kept his lips tightly pressed upon it until she plucked it out and read,

  "A very noisy, mischievous, troublesome little boy."

  "I'm not," he said angrily.

  For answer she thrust the Thermometer under his nose and he spelt out the large red letters.

  "A-V-E-R-Y-N-O-I-S—"

  "You see?" said Mary Poppins looking at him triumphantly. She opened John's mouth and popped in the Thermometer.

  "Peevish and Excitable." That was John's temperature.

  And when Barbara's was taken Mary Poppins read out the two words, "Thoroughly spoilt."

  "Humph!" she snorted. "It's about time I came back!"

  Then she popped it quickly in her own mouth, left it there for a moment, and took it out.

  "A very excellent and worthy person, thoroughly reliable in every particular."

  A pleased and conceited smile lit up her face as she read her temperature aloud.

  "I thought so," she said, priggishly. "Now — Tea and Bed!"

  It seemed to them no more than a minute before they had drunk their milk and eaten their cocoanut cakes and were in and out of the bath. As usual, everything that Mary Poppins did had the speed of electricity. Hooks and eyes rushed apart, buttons darted eagerly out of their holes, sponge and soap ran up and down like lightning, and towels dried with one rub.

  Mary Poppins walked along the row of beds tucking them all in. Her starched white apron crackled and she smelt deliciously of newly made toast.

  When she came to Michael's bed she bent down, and rummaged under it for a minute. Then she carefully drew out her camp-bedstead with her possessions laid upon it in neat piles. The cake of Sunlight-soap, the toothbrush, the packet of hairpins, the bottle of scent, the small folding arm-chair and the box of throat lozenges. Also the seven flannel nightgowns, the four cotton ones, the boots, the dominoes, the two bathing-caps and the postcard album.

  Jane and Michael sat up and stared.

  "Where did they come from?" demanded Michael. "I've been under my bed simply hundreds of times and I know they weren't there before."

  Mary Poppins did not reply. She had begun to undress.

  Jane and Michael exchanged glances. They knew it was no good asking, because Mary Poppins never explained anything.

  She slipped off her starched white collar and fumbled at the clip of a chain round her neck.

  "What's inside that?" enquired Michael, gazing at a small gold locket that hung on the end of the chain.

  "A portrait."

  "Whose?"

  "You'll know when the time comes — not before," she snapped.

  "When will the time come?"

  "When I go."

  They stared at her with startled eyes.

  "But, Mary Poppins," cried Jane, "you won't ever leave us again, will you? Oh, say you won't!"

  Mary Poppins glared at her.

  "A nice life I'd have," she remarked, "if I spent all my days with you!"

  "But you will stay?" persisted Jane eagerly.

  Mary Poppins tossed the locket up and down on her palm.

  "I'll stay till the chain breaks," she said briefly.

  And popping a cotton nightgown over her head, she began to undress beneath it.

  "That's all right," Michael whispered across to Jane. "I noticed the chain and it's a very strong one!"

  He nodded to her reassuringly. They curled up in their beds and lay watching Mary Poppins as she moved mysteriously beneath the tent of her nightgown. And they thought of her first arrival at Cherry Tree Lane and all the strange and astonishing things that happened afterwards; of how she had flown away on her umbrella when the wind changed; of the long weary days without her and her marvellous descent from the
sky this afternoon.

  Suddenly Michael remembered something.

  "My Kite!" he said, sitting up in bed. "I forgot all about it! Where's my Kite?"

  Mary Poppins' head came up through the neck of the nightgown.

  "Kite?" she said crossly. "Which Kite? What Kite?"

  "My green-and-yellow Kite with the tassels. The one you came down on, at the end of the string."

  Mary Poppins stared at him. He could not tell if she was more astonished than angry, but she looked as if she was both.

  And her voice when she spoke, was more awful than her look.

  "Did I understand you to say that—" she repeated the words slowly, between her teeth—"that I came down from somewhere and on the end of a string?"

  "But — you did!" faltered Michael. "To-day. Out of a cloud. We saw you."

  "On the end of a string? Like a monkey or a spinning-top? Me, Michael Banks?"

  Mary Poppins, in her fury, seemed to have grown to twice her usual size. She hovered over him in her nightgown, huge and angry, waiting for him to reply.

  He clutched the bed-clothes for support.

  "Don't say any more, Michael!" Jane whispered warningly across from her bed. But he had gone too far now to stop.

  "Then — where's my Kite?" he said recklessly. "If you didn't come down — er, in the way I said — where's my Kite? It's not on the end of the string."

  "O-ho? And I am, I suppose?" she enquired with a scoffing laugh.

  He saw then that it was no good going on. He could not explain. He would have to give it up.

  "N — no," he said, in a thin, small voice. "No, Mary Poppins."

  She turned and snapped out the electric light.

  "Your manners," she remarked tartly, "have not improved since I went away! On the end of a string, indeed! I have never been so insulted in my life. Never!"

  And with a furious sweep of her arm, she turned down her bed and flounced into it, pulling the blankets tight over her head.

  Michael lay very quiet, still holding his bed-clothes tightly.

  "She did, though, didn't she? We saw her." He whispered presently to Jane.

  But Jane did not answer. Instead, she pointed towards the Night-Nursery door.

  Michael lifted his head cautiously.

  Behind the door, on a hook, hung Mary Poppins' overcoat, its silver buttons gleaming in the glow of the night-light. And dangling from the pocket were a row of paper tassels, the tassels of a green-and-yellow Kite.

  They gazed at it for a long time.

  Then they nodded across to each other. They knew there was nothing to be said, for there were things about Mary Poppins they would never understand. But — she was back again. That was all that mattered. The even sound of her breathing came floating across from the camp-bed. They felt peaceful and happy and complete.

  "I don't mind, Jane, if it has a purple tail," hissed Michael presently.

  "No, Michael!" said Jane. "I really think a red would be better."

  After that there was no sound in the nursery but the sound of five people breathing very quietly….

  "P-p! P-p!" went Mr. Banks' pipe.

  "Click-click!" went Mrs. Banks' knitting needles.

  Mr. Banks put his feet up on the study mantle-piece and snored a little.

  After a while Mrs. Banks spoke.

  "Do you still think of taking a long sea-voyage?" she asked.

  "Er — I don't think so. I am rather a bad sailor. And my hat's all right now. I had the whole of it polished by the shoe-black at the corner and it looks as good as new. Even better. Besides, now that Mary Poppins is back, my shaving water will be just the right temperature."

  Mrs. Banks smiled to herself and went on knitting.

  She felt very glad that Mr. Banks was such a bad sailor and that Mary Poppins had come back.

  Down in the Kitchen, Mrs. Brill was putting a fresh bandage round Ellen's ankle.

  "I never thought much of her when she was here!" said Mrs. Brill, "but I must say that this has been a different house since this afternoon. As quiet as a Sunday and as neat as ninepence. I'm not sorry she's back."

  "Neither am I, indeed!" said Ellen thankfully.

  "And neither am I," thought Robertson Ay, listening to the conversation through the wall of the broom-cupboard. "Now I shall have a little peace."

  He settled himself comfortably on the upturned coal-scuttle and fell asleep again with his head against a broom.

  But what Mary Poppins thought about it nobody ever knew for she kept her thoughts to herself and never told anyone anything….

  CHAPTER TWO

  Miss Andrew's Lark

  It was Saturday afternoon.

  In the hall of Number Seventeen Cherry Tree Lane, Mr. Banks was busy tapping the barometer and telling Mrs. Banks what the weather was going to do.

  "Moderate South wind; average temperature; local thunder; sea slight," he said. "Further outlook unsettled. Hullo — what's that?"

  He broke off as a bumping, jumping, thumping noise sounded overhead.

  Round the bend in the staircase Michael appeared, looking very bad-tempered and sulky as he bumped heavily down. Behind him with a Twin on each arm came Mary Poppins, pushing her knee into his back and sending him with a sharp thud from one stair to the next. Jane followed, carrying the hats.

  "Well begun is half done. Down you go, please!" Mary Poppins was saying tartly.

  Mr. Banks turned from the barometer and looked up as they appeared.

  "Well, what's the matter with you?" he demanded.

  "I don't want to go for a walk! I want to play with my new engine," said Michael, gulping as Mary Poppins' knee jerked him one stair lower.

  "Nonsense, darling!" said Mrs. Banks. "Of course you do. Walking makes such long, strong legs."

  "But I like short legs best," grumbled Michael, stumbling heavily down another stair.

  "When I was a little boy," said Mr. Banks, "I loved going for walks. I used to walk with my Governess down to the second lamp-post and back every day. And I never grumbled."

  Michael stood still on his stair and looked doubtfully at Mr. Banks.

  "Were you ever a little boy?" he said, very surprised.

  Mr. Banks seemed quite hurt.

  "Of course I was. A sweet little boy with long yellow curls, velvet breeches and button-up boots."

  "I can hardly believe it," said Michael, hurrying down the stairs of his own accord and staring up at Mr. Banks.

  He simply could not imagine his Father as a little boy. It seemed to him impossible that Mr. Banks had ever been anything but six feet high, middle-aged and rather bald.

  "What was the name of your Governess?" asked Jane, running downstairs after Michael. "And was she nice?"

  "She was called Miss Andrew and she was a Holy Terror!"

  "Hush!" said Mrs. Banks, reproachfully.

  "I mean—" Mr. Banks corrected himself, "she was — er — very strict. And always right. And she loved putting everybody else in the wrong and making them feel like a worm. That's what Miss Andrew was like!"

  Mr. Banks mopped his brow at the mere memory of his Governess.

  Ting! Ting! Ting!

  The front door bell pealed and echoed through the house.

  Mr. Banks went to the door and opened it. On the step, looking very important, stood the Telegraph Boy.

  "Urgent Telegram. Name of Banks. Any answer?" He handed over an orange-coloured envelope.

  "If it's good news I'll give you sixpence," said Mr. Banks as he tore open the Telegram and read the message. His face grew pale.

  "No answer," he said shortly.

  "And no sixpence?"

  "Certainly not!" said Mr. Banks bitterly. The Telegraph Boy gave him a reproachful look and went sorrowfully away.

  "Oh, what is it?" asked Mrs. Banks, realising the news must be very bad. "Is somebody ill?"

  "Worse than that," said Mr. Banks miserably.

  "Have we lost all our money?" By this time Mrs. Banks, too,
was pale and very anxious.

  "Worse still! Didn't the barometer say thunder? And further outlook Unsettled? Listen!"

  He smoothed out the telegram and read aloud—

  "Coming to stay with you for a month.

  Arriving this afternoon three o'clock.

  Please light fire in bedroom.

  Euphemia Andrew."

  "Andrew? Why, that's the same name as your Governess!" said Jane.

  "It is my Governess," said Mr. Banks, striding up and down and running his hands nervously through what was left of his hair. "Her other name is Euphemia. And she's coming to-day at three!"

  He groaned loudly.

  "But I don't call that bad news," said Mrs. Banks, feeling very relieved. "It will mean getting the spare room ready, of course, but I don't mind. I shall like having the dear old soul—"

  "Dear old soul!" roared Mr. Banks. "You don't know what you're talking about. Dear old — my jumping godfathers, wait till you see her, that's all. Just wait till you see her!"

  He seized his hat and waterproof.

  "But, my dear!" cried Mrs. Banks, "you must be here to meet her. It looks so rude! Where are you going?"

  "Anywhere. Everywhere. Tell her I'm dead!" he replied bitterly. And he hurried away from the house looking very nervous and depressed.

  "My goodness, Michael, what can she be like?" said Jane.

  "Curiosity killed the Cat," said Mary Poppins. "Put your hats on, please!"

  She settled the Twins into the perambulator and pushed it down the garden path. Jane and Michael followed her out into the Lane.

  "Where are we going to-day, Mary Poppins?"

  "Across the Park and along the Thirty-Nine bus route, up the High Street and over the Bridge and home through the Railway Arch!" she snapped.

  "If we do that we'll be walking all night," whispered Michael, dropping behind with Jane. "And we'll miss Miss Andrew."

  "She's going to stay for a month," Jane reminded him.

  "But I want to see her arrive," he complained, dragging his feet and shuffling along the pavement.

  "Step along, please," said Mary Poppins, briskly. "I might as well be taking a stroll with a couple of snails as you two!"