“And that,” said Mary Poppins, “is the end. Such deliberate naughtiness I never saw. In all my born days I never did, and that’s a fact. Off you go! Straight into bed with you and not another word!” He had never seen her look so terrible.
But still he didn’t care.
He went into the Night-nursery and undressed. No, he didn’t care. He was bad, and if they didn’t look out he’d be worse. He didn’t care. He hated everybody. If they weren’t careful he would run away and join a circus. There! Off went a button. Good – there would be fewer to do up in the morning. And another! All the better. Nothing in all the world could ever make him feel sorry. He would get into bed without brushing his hair or his teeth – certainly without saying his prayers.
He was just about to get into bed and, indeed, had one foot already in it, when he noticed the compass lying on top of the chest of drawers.
Very slowly he withdrew his foot and tiptoed across the room. He knew now what he would do. He would take the compass and spin it and go round the world. And they’d never find him again. And it would serve them right. Without making a sound he lifted a chair and put it against the chest of drawers. Then he climbed up on it and took the compass in his hand.
He moved it.
“North, South, East, West!” he said very quickly, in case anybody should come in before he got well away.
A noise behind the chair startled him and turned round guiltily, expecting to see Mary Poppins. But instead, there were four gigantic figures bearing down upon him – the bear with his fangs showing, the Macaw fiercely flapping his wings, the Panda with his fur on end, the Dolphin thrusting out her snout. From all quarters of the room they were rushing upon him, their shadows huge on the ceiling. No longer kind and friendly, they were now full of revenge. Their terrible angry faces loomed nearer. He could feel their hot breath on his face.
“Oh! Oh!” Michael dropped the compass. “Mary Poppins, help me!” he screamed and shut his eyes in terror.
And then something enveloped him. The great creatures and their greater shadows, with a mingled roar or squawk of triumph, flung themselves upon him. What was it that held him, soft and warm, in its smothering embrace? The Polar Bear’s fur coat? The Macaw’s feathers? The Panda’s fur he had stroked so gently? The mother Dolphin’s flippers? And what was he – or it might be she – planning to do to him? If only he had been good – if only!
“Mary Poppins!” he wailed, as he felt himself carried through the air and set down in something still softer.
“Oh, dear Mary Poppins!”
“All right, all right. I’m not deaf, I’m thankful to say – no need to shout,” he heard her saying calmly.
He opened one eye. He could see no sign of the four gigantic figures of the compass. He opened the other eye to make sure. No – not a glint of any of them. He sat up. He looked round the room. There was nothing there.
Then he discovered that the soft thing that was round him was his own blanket, and the soft thing he was lying on was his own bed. And oh, the heavy burning thing that had been inside him all day had melted and disappeared. He felt peaceful and happy, and as if he would like to give everybody he knew a birthday present.
“What – what happened?” he said rather anxiously to Mary Poppins.
“I told you that was my compass, didn’t I? Be kind enough not to touch my things, if you please,” was all she said as she stooped and picked up the compass and put it in her pocket. Then she began to fold the clothes that he had thrown down on the floor.
“Shall I do it?” he said.
“No, thank you.”
He watched her go into the next room, and presently she returned and put something warm into his hands. It was a cup of milk.
Michael sipped it, tasting every drop several times with his tongue, making it last as long as possible so that Mary Poppins should stay beside him.
She stood there without saying a word, watching the milk slowly disappear. He could smell her crackling white apron and the faint flavour of toast that always hung about her so deliciously. But try as he would, he could not make the milk last for ever, and presently, with a sigh of regret, he handed her the empty cup and slipped down into the bed. He had never known it be so comfortable, he thought. And he thought, too, how warm he was and how happy he felt and how lucky he was to be alive.
“Isn’t it a funny thing, Mary Poppins,” he said drowsily. “I’ve been so very naughty and I feel so very good.”
“Humph!” said Mary Poppins as she tucked him in and went away to wash up the supper things. . .
Chapter Seven
THE BIRD WOMAN
“PERHAPS SHE WON’T be there,” said Michael.
“Yes, she will,” said Jane. “She’s always there for ever and ever.”
They were walking up Ludgate Hill on the way to pay a visit to Mr Banks in the City. For he had said that morning to Mrs Banks:
“My dear, if it doesn’t rain I think Jane and Michael might call for me at the Office today – that is, if you are agreeable. I have a feeling I should like to be taken to Tea and Shortbread Fingers and it’s not often I have a Treat.”
And Mrs Banks had said she would think about it.
But all day long, though Jane and Michael had watched her anxiously, she had not seemed to be thinking about it at all. From the things she said, she was thinking about the Laundry Bill and Michael’s new overcoat and where was Aunt Flossie’s address, and why did that wretched Mrs Jackson ask her to tea on the second Thursday of the month when she knew that was the very day Mrs Banks had to go to the Dentist’s?
Suddenly, when they felt quite sure she would never think about Mr Banks’ treat, she said:
“Now, children, don’t stand staring at me like that. Get your things on. You are going to the City to have tea with your Father. Had you forgotten?”
As if they could have forgotten! For it was not as though it were only the Tea that mattered. There was also the Bird Woman, and she herself was the best of all Treats.
That is why they were walking up Ludgate Hill and feeling very excited.
Mary Poppins walked between them, wearing her new hat and looking very distinguished. Every now and then she would look into the shop window just to make sure the hat was still there and that the pink roses on it had not turned into common flowers like marigolds.
Every time she stopped to make sure, Jane and Michael would sigh, but they did not dare say anything for fear she would spend even longer looking at herself in the windows, and turning this way and that to see which attitude was the most becoming.
But at last they came to St Paul’s Cathedral, which was built a long time ago by a man with a bird’s name. Wren it was, but he was no relation to Jenny. That is why so many birds live near Sir Christopher Wren’s Cathedral, which also belongs to St Paul, and that is why the Bird Woman lives there, too.
“There she is!” cried Michael suddenly, and he danced on his toes with excitement.
“Don’t point,” said Mary Poppins, giving a last glance at the pink roses in the window of a carpet shop.
“She’s saying it! She’s saying it!” cried Jane, holding tight to herself for fear she would break in two with delight.