“And another pair of gloves!” said the Fox.
“More Barley Sugar!” the Bear bumbled.
“Parsley!” The one word came from the Hare.
And they too disappeared.
“Coo-roo-coo-roo,
This is for you!”
The great Bird swooped to Mary Poppins, stuck a wing feather into her hat and then became air and starlight.
Mary Poppins straightened the glowing feather and glanced up at Orion.
“Do not linger!” she warned him.
“Linger longer, Lucy,
Linger longer, Lou,
How I long to linger longer,
To linger longa you.”
Orion sang tunelessly, and gave her a rueful glance.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be where I belong, just as that fellow said. “But – to leave all this –” He flung out his arms, as if to embrace the whole width of the Park. “Oh, well – the Law’s the Law! But it’s no easy thing to obey it.” He gobbled up his remaining cherries, spat out the stones on the chamomile lawn, and took her hand and kissed it.
“Fare thee well, my fairy fay,” he said gruffly. And then, like a candle flame blown out, he was there no longer.
“Next year!” cried Jane and Michael shrilly, to the emptiness he had left.
And at that the Park Keeper leapt to his feet.
“No, now!” he cried. “They can have them now – all they want, and more.”
In a frenzy he dashed from bed to bed, plucking green branches of every kind and tossing them into the air.
“Take them! I’ll let the Bye-laws be! Rosemary for Remembrance, mister. All the fodder you need, lads, for the horse! Foxgloves for the Foxy! Sweet savours for the beasts and the Bird.”
He flung the herbs wildly towards the sky. And to the surprise of Jane and Michael, not a leaf, not a branch, came down – except a small spray of something that Mary Poppins caught in her hand and tucked into her belt.
“Forgive me, friends! I didn’t reckernise you!” the Park Keeper called to the nothingness. “And I didn’t reckernise meself, neither. I forgot what I knew when I was a boy. It needed the dark to show things plain. But I know who you are now, all of you. And I know who I am, Orion, sir! Cucumber or no cucumber, I’m the Park Keeper with or without my hat!”
And off he darted among the herbs, gathering, bellowing their names, tossing them into the air.
“St John’s Wort! Marigold! Coriander! Cornflower! Dandelion! Marjoram! Rue!”
“Really, Smith, you should be more careful! You might have knocked my eye out.”
Mr Banks, entering the Herb Garden, removed a sprig of Marjoram from the brim of his bowler hat. “And of course you are the Park Keeper! Whoever said you weren’t?”
The Park Keeper took no notice. On he went, madly tossing and yelling. “Good King Henry! Rampion! Sage! Sweet Cicely! Rocket! Basil!”
Up into the air went leaves and flowers and none of them came down.
Mr Banks stared after him.
“What’s he doing, throwing herbs around? A Park Keeper breaking the Bye-laws! The poor chap must have lost his wits.”
“Or found them!” said the Bird Woman softly.
“Aha! So this is where you are!” Mr Banks turned and raised his hat. “I missed you as I came by St Paul’s. Your birds were making an awful to-do. Don’t they ever stop eating? And no one was there to take my tuppence, so now, of course, they’re starving. Well, what are all of you doing here?”
He held out his arms to the children. “A Midsummer picnic, I presume. You might have left me a sausage roll.” He picked up a discarded piece of pastry and munched it hungrily.
“Are you looking for your own True Love?” Jane asked, hugging him.
“Of course not. I know where she is. I’m on my way to her now, as it happens. And how are you, Mary Poppins?” he asked, glancing at the upright figure as it rocked the perambulator. “You’re looking very sprightly tonight, with a spray of forget-me-not in your belt and your cherry earrings and Sunday-best hat. That feather must have cost a pretty penny!”
“Thank you, I’m sure.” She tossed her head, and smiled her self-satisfied smile. Compliments were no more than her due and she always accepted them calmly.
He gave her a thoughtful, puzzled glance. “You never get older, Mary Poppins, do you? What’s the secret? Tell me!” he teased her.
“Ah, that’s because she’s eaten Fern seed! “The Bird Woman eyed him slyly.
“Fern seed? Nonsense! An Old Wives’ Tale. ‘Eat Fern seed and you’ll live for ever’, they told me when I was a boy. And I used to come and look for it, here in this very garden.”
“I can’t imagine you as a boy.” Jane measured her height against his waistcoat button.
“I don’t see why not.” Mr Banks was hurt. “I was a very charming boy – about as high as you are now – in brown velveteen and a white collar and black stocking and button-up boots. ‘Fern seed, fern seed, where are you?’ I’d say. But of course I never found it. I’m not even sure that it exists.” Mr Banks looked sceptical.
“And, what was worse, I lost something – the first half-crown I ever had. Oh, the dreams I dreamed of that half-crown. I was going to buy the world with it. But it must have dropped out of a hole in my pocket.”
“That must be the one Orion found. He took it away with him,” said Michael. “Just before you came.”
“O’Ryan? A friend of Smith’s, I suppose! Those Irish fellows have all the luck. He’s probably spent it by now, the wretch! If I had turned up earlier, I’d have made him give it back. I can’t afford to lose pennies, let alone half-crowns.”
Mary Poppins regarded him sagely. “All that’s lost is somewhere,” she told him.
Mr Banks stared at her. For a moment he seemed quite mystified and then, of a sudden, his face cleared. He flung back his head and laughed.
“Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? It couldn’t fall out of the universe, could it? Everything has to be somewhere. Even so,” he sighed, “it would have been useful. Well, no good crying over spilt milk. I must get on. I’m late already.”
A hen-like screech rent the air. “You always were!” a voice cackled. “Late in the morning. Late at night. You’ll be late for your funeral, if you don’t look out!”
Mr Banks, startled, peered through the dusk and saw, half-hidden by the elder-tree, a little old woman in a black coat that was covered with – could it be? – threepenny bits! And beside her two large, formless shapes that might, or might not, be younger ladies.
It was true. He had to admit it. He was in the habit of not being on time. But how did this old person know it? And what right had she, a complete stranger, to meddle in his affairs?
“Well,” he began defensively, “I’m a busy man, I’d have you know. Making money to keep my family; often working late at the office – it’s hard to wake up in the morning—”
“Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy and wealthy and wise. I said that to Ethelred the Unready. But, of course, he wouldn’t listen.”