“Ants and beetles! Grasshoppers! Grubs! What next, I’d like to know! I can’t answer for you, Jane, but I’m not an ant to anyone, thank you!”
Mary Poppins gave a disgusted sniff.
“Of course you’re not!” said a cheerful voice, as Mr Banks – coming back from the City – caught up with the little group.
“You’re more like a glow-worm, Mary Poppins, shining to show us the right way home!” He waited for the self-satisfied smile to spread across her face. “Here,” he said, “take the evening paper and I’ll wheel the perambulator. The exercise will do me good. I think I’m getting a cold.”
The Twins and Annabel crowed with delight as Mr Banks sent them skimming along.
“Dear me,” he remarked. “What a fine new handle! That cousin of yours is a good workman. You must let me know what you paid for it.”
“I know!” cried Michael eagerly. “She gave Mrs Mo to the Indian!”
“Atishoo! I didn’t quite hear what you said, Michael. She gave Mr Rowe two shillings?” Mr Banks blew his nose with a flourish.
“No, no! She gave Mrs Mo! I mean—” He never finished the sentence. For Mary Poppins’ eye was on him and he thought it best to drop the subject.
“There will be no charge, sir!” she said politely. “My cousin was pleased to do it.”
“That’s uncommonly kind of him, Mary Poppins. Hey!” he broke off. “Do look where you’re going! Observe the Rules of the Park, Smith! You nearly upset the perambulator.”
For the Park Keeper, bounding after them, had knocked into the little group and scattered it in all directions.
“Beg pardon all, I’m sure!” he panted. “Sorry, Mr Banks, sir, but if you’ll excuse me, it’s ’er I’m after.”
He flung out a hand at Mary Poppins. The daisy-chain dangled from his wrist.
“Why, Mary Poppins, what have you done? Broken a Bye-law or what?”
The Park Keeper gave a lonely groan.
“Bye-law? She’s broken all the laws! Oh, it isn’t natural – but it’s true!” He turned to Mary Poppins.
“You said you could ’ave one anywhere! Well, ’e’s down here under a dandelion. I ’eard ’im with me own ears – laughin’ and singin’ – just like a party. ’Ere, take it!” he cried in a broken voice, as he flung the daisy-chain over her head. “I meant it for me poor old mother – but I feel I owe you somethin’.”
“You do,” said Mary Poppins calmly, as she straightened the daisy-chain.
The Park Keeper stared at her for a moment. Then he turned away with a sigh.
“I shall never h’understand,” he muttered, knocking over a Litter-basket as he tottered off down the path.
Mr Banks gazed after him with a look of shocked surprise.
“Somebody under a dandelion? Having a party? What can he mean? Really, I sometimes wonder if Smith is right in the head. Under a dandelion – laughing and singing! Did you ever hear such a thing?”
“Never!” said Mary Poppins demurely, with a dainty shake of her head.
And as she shook it a buttercup petal fell from the brim of her hat.
The children watched it fluttering down and turned and smiled at each other.
“There’s one on your head too, Michael!”
“Is there?” he said, with a happy sigh. “Bend down and let me look at yours.”
And, sure enough, Jane had a petal too.
“I told you so!” She nodded wisely. And she held her head very high and still so as not to disturb it.
Crowned with the gold of the buttercup tree, she walked home under the maple boughs. All was quiet. The sun had set. The shadows of the Long “Walk were falling all about her. And at the same time the brightness of the little Park folded her closely round. The dark of one, the light of the other – she felt them both together.
“I am in two places at once,” she whispered, “just as he said I would be!”
And she thought again of the little clearing among the thronging weeds. The daisies would grow again, she knew. Clover would hide the little lawns. Cardboard table and swings would crumble. The forest would cover it all.
But somehow, somewhere, in spite of that, she knew she would find it again – as neat and gay and as happy as it had been today. She had only to remember it and there she would be once more. Time upon time she would return – hadn’t Mr Mo said so? – and stand at the edge of that patch of brightness and never see it fade. . .
Chapter Six
HALLOWE’EN
“MARY POPPINS!” called Michael. “Wait for us!”
“W-a-a-a-i-t!” the wind echoed, whining round him.
It was a dusky, gusty autumn evening. The clouds blew in and out of the sky. And in all the houses of Cherry Tree Lane the curtains blew in and out of the windows. Swish-swish. Flap-flap.
The Park was tossing like a ship in a storm. Leaves and Litter-paper turned head-over-heels in the air. The trees groaned and waved their arms, the spray of the fountain was blown and scattered. Benches shivered. Swings were creaking. The Lake water leapt into foamy waves. Nothing was still in the whole Park as it bowed and shuddered under the wind.
And through it all stalked Mary Poppins, with not a hair out of place. Her neat blue coat with its silver buttons was neither creased nor ruffled, and the tulip sat on her hat so firmly that it might have been made of marble.
Far behind her the children ran, splashing through drifts of leaves. They had been to Mr Folly’s stall for nuts and toffee-apples. And now they were trying to catch her up.
“Wait for us, Mary Poppins!”
In front of her, on the Long Walk, the perambulator trundled. The wind whistled through the wheels, and the Twins and Annabel clung together for fear of being blown overboard. Their tasselled caps were tossing wildly and the rug was flapping loose, like a flag.
“O-o-o-h!” they squeaked, like excited mice, as a sudden gust tore it free and carried it away.
Someone was coming down the path, bowling along like a tattered newspaper.
“Help!” shrilled a high, familiar voice. “Something has blown right over my hat! I can’t see where I’m going.”
It was Miss Lark, out for her evening walk. Her two dogs bounded on ahead and behind her the Professor straggled, with his hair standing on end.
“Is that you, Mary Poppins?” she cried, as she plucked the rug away from her face and flung it upon the perambulator. “What a dreadful night! Such a wild wind! I wonder you’re not blown away!”
Mary Poppins raised her eyebrows and gave a superior sniff. If the wind blew anyone away, it would not be herself, she thought.
“What do you mean – a dreadful night?” Admiral Boom strode up behind them. His dachshund, Pompey, was at his heels, wearing a little sailor’s jacket to keep him from catching cold.
“It’s a perfect night, my dear lady, for a life on the ocean wave!
‘Sixteen men on a dead man’s chest –
Yo, ho, ho! And a bottle of rum.’
You must sail the Seven Seas, Lucinda!”
“Oh – I couldn’t sit on a dead man’s chest!” Miss Lark seemed quite upset at the thought. “Nor drink rum, either, Admiral. Do keep up, Professor, please. There – my scarf has blown away! Oh, goodness, now the dogs have gone!”