And turning away disgustedly, she opened the door with an angry fling and hurried down the stairs.
Michael was silent for a minute, thinking and remembering.
“It’s funny,” he said presently. “I thought it was true. But I must have dreamed it.”
Jane did not answer.
She had suddenly darted out of bed and was putting a chair against the toy cupboard. She climbed up quickly and seized the animals and ran across to Michael.
“Feel their feet!” she whispered excitedly.
He ran his hand over the Pig’s trotters; he felt the grey-flannel hooves of Alfred, the Duck’s webbed feet and Pinnie’s paws.
“They’re wet!” he said, with astonishment.
Jane nodded.
“And look!” she cried, snatching their slippers from under the beds and Mary Poppins’ shoes from the boot-box.
The slippers were drenched and stained with dew; and on the soles of Mary Poppins’ shoes were wet little broken blades of grass, the sort of thing you would expect to find on shoes that have danced at night in the Park.
Michael looked up at Jane and laughed.
“It wasn’t a dream, then!” he said happily.
Jane shook her head, smiling.
They sat together on Michael’s bed, nodding knowingly at each other, saying in silence the secret things that could not be put into words.
Presently Mary Poppins came in with the crumpets in her hand.
They looked at her over the shoes and slippers.
She looked at them over the plate of crumpets.
A long, long look of understanding passed between the three of them. They knew that she knew that they knew.
“Is today the New Year, Mary Poppins?” asked Michael.
“Yes,” she said calmly, as she put the plate down on the table.
Michael looked at her solemnly. He was thinking about the Crack.
“Shall we too, Mary Poppins?” he asked, blurting out the question.
“Shall you too, what?” she enquired with a sniff.
“Live happily ever afterwards?” he said eagerly.
A smile, half sad, half tender, played faintly round her mouth.
“Perhaps,” she said thoughtfully. “It all depends.”
“What on, Mary Poppins?”
“On you,” she said quietly, as she carried the crumpets to the fire. . .
Chapter Eight
THE OTHER DOOR
“IT WAS A Round-the-Mulberry-Bush sort of morning, cold and rather frosty. The pale grey daylight crept through the Cherry Trees and lapped like water over the houses. A little wind moaned through the gardens. It darted across the Park with a whistle and whined along the Lane.
“Brrrrrr!” said Number Seventeen. “What can that wretched wind be doing – howling and fretting around like a ghost! Hi! Stop that, can’t you? You’re making me shiver!”
“Whe-ew! Whe-ew! What shall I do?” cried the wind, taking no notice.
Number Seventeen gave itself a little shake. “Fanciful – that’s what I am!” it said sensibly. “I must have slept too long. What’s that?”
A raking noise came from inside the house. Robertson Ay was removing the ashes and laying fresh wood in the fireplaces.
“Ah, that’s what I need!” said Number Seventeen, as Mary Poppins lit a fire in the Nursery. “Something to warm my chilly old bones. There goes that mournful wind again! I wish it would howl somewhere else!”
“Whe-ee! Whe-ee! When will it be?” sobbed the wind among the Cherry Trees.
The Nursery fire sprang up with a crackle. Behind their bars the bright flames danced and shone on the window-pane. Robertson Ay slouched down to the broom cupboard to take a rest from his morning labours. Mary Poppins bustled about, as usual, airing the clothes and preparing the breakfast.
Jane had wakened before anyone else, for the howl of the wind had disturbed her. And now she sat on the window-seat, sniffing the delicious scent of toast and watching her reflection in the window. Half of the Nursery shone in the garden, a room made entirely of light. The flames of the fire were warm on her back, but another fire leapt and glowed before her. It danced in the air between the houses beneath the reflection of the mantelpiece. Out there another rocking-horse was tossing his dappled head; and from the other side of the window another Jane watched and nodded and smiled. When Jane breathed on the window-pane and drew a face in the misty circle, her reflection did the very same thing. And all the time she was breathing and drawing, she could see right through herself. Behind the face that smiled at her were the bare black boughs of the Cherry Trees, and right through the middle of her body was the wall of Miss Lark’s house.
Presently the front door banged and Mr Banks went away to the City. Mrs Banks hurried into the drawing-room to answer the morning’s letters. Down in the kitchen Mrs Brill was having a kipper for breakfast. Ellen had caught another cold and was busily blowing her nose. And up in the Nursery the fire went pop! and Mary Poppins’ apron went crackle! Altogether, except for the wind outside, it was a peaceful morning.
Not for very long, however. For Michael burst in with a sudden rush and stood in the doorway in his pyjamas. His eyes had a silver, sleepy look as he stood there staring at Mary Poppins. He stared at her face and he stared at her feet with an earnest, measuring, searching gaze that missed out no part of her. Then he said “Oh!” in a disappointed voice and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
“Well? What’s the matter with you?” she enquired. “Lost sixpence and found a penny?”
He shook his head dejectedly. “I dreamed you had turned into a beautiful princess. And here you are just the same as ever.”
She bridled and gave her head a toss. “Handsome is as Handsome does!” she said with a haughty sniff. “I’m perfectly well as I am, thank you! I’m satisfied, if you’re not.”
Princess, indeed, you could see her thinking. As if any princess in the world wouldn’t give her eyes to be Mary Poppins!
He flew to her side and tried to appease her.
“Oh, I am satisfied, Mary Poppins!” he said eagerly. “I just thought that if the dream had come true it would be – er – a sort of change.”
“Change!” she exclaimed with another sniff. “You’ll get all the changes you want soon enough – I promise you, Michael Banks!”
He looked at her uneasily. What did she mean by that, he wondered.
“I was only joking, Mary Poppins. I don’t want any changes, really! I only want you – for always!”
And suddenly it seemed to him that princesses were very silly creatures with nothing to be said in their favour.
“Humph!” said Mary Poppins crossly, as she plonked the toast on the table. “You can’t have anything for always – and don’t you think it, sir!”
“Except you!” he retorted confidently, smiling his mischievous smile.
A strange expression came over her face. But Michael did not notice it. Out of the corner of his eye he had seen what Jane was doing. And now he was climbing up beside her to breathe on another patch of window.
“Look!” he said proudly. “I’m drawing a ship. And there’s another Michael outside drawing one igzackly like it!”
“Um-hum!” said Jane, without looking up, as she gazed at her own reflection. Then suddenly she turned away and called to Mary Poppins.