“As for you, Smith, this is all your fault. Your duty is to look after the Park! But what do I find when I pass this way? Wild animals running all over it. You disappoint me again and again. I must mention it to the King.”
The Park Keeper fell on his knees with a groan.
“Oh, please don’t mention it, Your Honour! Think of me poor old mother!”
“You should have thought of her yourself before you let that Lion in!”
“But I never let ’im in, Your Worship! It wasn’t my fault ’e came over the wall. If anyone’s to blame, it’s—” The Park Keeper broke off nervously, but he looked in Mary Poppins’ direction.
So did the Lord Mayor.
“Aha!” he exclaimed, with a gracious smile. “Charmed to meet you again, Miss – er?”
“Poppins,” said Mary Poppins politely.
“Poppins – ah, yes! A charming name! Now, if Smith were only you, Miss Poppins, these things would never occur!”
With a bow, the Lord Mayor turned away and billowed down the Walk. The two Aldermen also bowed, and billowed along behind him.
“That’s all you know!” said the Park Keeper, as he watched them disappear. “If I was ’er – ha, ha, that’s funny! – anything could happen!”
“If I were you, I’d straighten my tie,” said Mary Poppins primly. “Get down from that fountain, Jane and Michael!” She glanced at their grimy knees and faces. “You look like a couple of Blackamoors!”
“We can’t all be like you, you know!” the Park Keeper said sarcastically.
“No,” she agreed. “And more’s the pity!” She pushed the perambulator forward.
“But, Mary Poppins,” Michael burst out. He was longing to ask her about the Lion.
“Butting’s for goats – not human beings! Best foot forward, please!”
“It’s no use, Michael,” whispered Jane. “You know she never explains.”
But Michael was too excited to heed.
“Well, if I can’t talk about the Lion, will you let me blow your whistle?”
“Certainly not!” She sauntered on.
“I wonder, Mary Poppins,” he cried,“if you’ll ever let me do anything!”
“I wonder!” she said, with a mocking smile.
Twilight was falling over the Park. People were scrambling out of the trees and hurrying home to safety.
From the Far Gate came a frightful din. And looking through it the children saw a motionless block of traffic. The lights were red, the horns were hooting and the drivers were shaking their fists.
The Policeman was calmly surveying the scene. He had been given an order and he was obeying it.
“Has your brother Albert gone for good?” cried Jane, as he waved to them.
“No idea,” he replied calmly. “And it’s no affair of mine!”
Then round the perambulator swung and they all went back by the Long Walk. The Twins and Annabel, weary of playing with the blue duck, let it drop over the side. Nobody noticed. Jane and Michael were far too busy thinking about the day’s adventure. And Mary Poppins was far too busy thinking about Mary Poppins.
“I wonder where Albert’s gone?” murmured Michael as he strolled along beside her.
“How should I know?” she answered, shrugging.
“I thought you knew everything!” he retorted. “I meant it politely, Mary Poppins!”
Her face, which was just about to be fierce, took on a conceited expression.
“Maybe I do,” she said smugly, as she hurried them across the Lane and in through the front gate. . .
“Oh, Ellen!” Mrs Banks was saying, as they all came into the hall. “Would you dust the mantelpiece while you’re there? Well, darlings?” She greeted the children gaily.
Ellen, halfway up the stairs, replied with a loud sneeze. “A-tishoo!” She had Hay Fever. She was carrying mugs of milk on a tray and they rattled each time she sneezed.
“Oh, go on, Ellen! You’re so slow!” said Michael impatiently.
“You’re hard-hearted – a-tishoo!” she cried, as she dumped the tray on the Nursery table.
Helter-skelter they all ran in, as Ellen took a cloth from her pocket and began to dust Miss Andrew’s treasures.
“Rock cakes for supper! I’ll have the biggest!” cried Michael greedily.
Mary Poppins was buttoning on her apron. “Michael Banks. . .” she began in a warning voice. But the sentence was never finished.
“Oh, help!” A wild scream rent the air and Ellen fell backwards against the table.
Bang! went the milk mugs on to the floor.
“It’s him!” shrieked Ellen. “Oh, what shall I do?” She stood in a running stream of milk and pointed to the mantelpiece.
“What’s him? Who’s him?” cried Jane and Michael. “Whatever’s the matter, Ellen?”
“There! Under that banana bush! His very self! A-tishoo!”
She was pointing straight at Miss Andrew’s huntsman as he smiled in the arms of his Lion.
“Why, of course!” cried Jane, as she looked at the huntsman. “He’s exactly like Egbert – our Policeman!”
“The only one I ever loved, and now a wild beast’s got him!”
Ellen flung out a frenzied arm and knocked the teapot over. “A-tishoo!” she sneezed distractedly, as she hurried sobbing from the room and thundered down the stairs.
“What a silly she is!” said Michael, laughing. “As if he’d have turned into china! Besides, we saw him a moment ago, away by the Far Gate!”
“Yes, she’s a silly,” Jane agreed. “But he’s very like the huntsman, Michael.” She smiled at the smiling china face. “And both such manly figures. . .”
“Well, Constable?” said Mr Banks, as he came up the garden path that evening. He wondered if he had broken a Bye-law when he saw the Policeman at the door.
“It’s about the duck!” The Policeman smiled.
“We don’t keep ducks,” said Mr Banks. “Good heavens! What have you done to your face?”
The Policeman patted his bruised cheek. “Just a scratch,” he murmured modestly. “But now, that there blue duck—”
“Whoever heard of a blue duck? Go and ask Admiral Boom!”
The Policeman gave a patient sigh and handed over a dingy object.
“Oh, that thing!” Mr Banks exclaimed. “I suppose the children dropped it!” He stuffed the blue duck into his pocket and opened the front door.
It was at this moment that Ellen, her face hidden in her duster, hurled herself down the front stairs and straight into his arms.
“A-tishoo!” She sneezed so violently that Mr Banks’ bowler hat fell off.
“Why, Ellen! What on earth’s the matter?” Mr Banks staggered beneath her weight.
“He’s gone right into that bit of china!” Her shoulders heaved as she sobbed out the news.
“You’re going to China?” said Mr Banks. “Well, don’t be so depressed about it! My dear,” he remarked to Mrs Banks, who was hurrying up the kitchen stairs. “Ellen is feeling upset, she says, because she is going to China!”