“Only Barley-sugar – can’t possibly hurt ’em,” the old lady said to Mary Poppins.
“Anything you give them, Mrs Corry, could only do them good,” said Mary Poppins with most surprising courtesy.
“What a pity,” Michael couldn’t help saying, “they weren’t Peppermint Bars.”
“Well, they are, sometimes,” said Mrs Corry gleefully, “and very good they taste, too. I often nibble ’em myself, if I can’t sleep at night. Splendid for the digestion.”
“What will they be next time?” asked Jane, looking at Mrs Corry’s fingers with interest.
“Aha!” said Mrs Corry. “That’s just the question. I never know from day to day what they will be. I take the chance, my dear, as I heard William the Conqueror say to his Mother when she advised him not to go conquering England.”
“You must be very old!” said Jane, sighing enviously, and wondering if she would ever be able to remember what Mrs Corry remembered.
Mrs Corry flung back her wispy little head and shrieked with laughter.
“Old!” she said. “Why, I’m quite a chicken compared to my Grandmother. Now, there’s an old woman if you like. Still, I go back a good way. I remember the time when they were making this world, anyway, and I was well out of my teens then. My goodness, that was a to-do, I can tell you!”
She broke off suddenly, screwing up her little eyes at the children.
“But, deary me – here am I running on and on and you not being served! I suppose, my dear” – she turned to Mary Poppins, whom she appeared to know very well – “I suppose you’ve all come for some Gingerbread?”
“That’s right, Mrs Corry,” said Mary Poppins politely.
“Good. Have Fannie and Annie given you any?” She looked at Jane and Michael as she said this.
Jane shook her head. Two hushed voices came from behind the counter.
“No, Mother,” said Miss Fannie meekly.
“We were just going to, Mother—” began Miss Annie in a frightened whisper.
At that Mrs Corry drew herself up to her full height and regarded her gigantic daughters furiously. Then she said in a soft, fierce, terrifying voice:
“Just going to? Oh, indeed! That is very interesting. And who, may I ask, Annie, gave you permission to give away my gingerbread—?”
“Nobody, Mother. And I didn’t give it away. I only thought—”
“You only thought! That is very kind of you. But I will thank you not to think. I can do all the thinking that is necessary here!” said Mrs Corry in her soft, terrible voice. Then she burst into a harsh cackle of laughter.
“Look at her! Just look at her! Cowardy-custard! Cry-baby!” she shrieked, pointing her knotty finger at her daughter.
Jane and Michael turned and saw a large tear coursing down Miss Annie’s huge, sad face, but they did not like to say anything, for, in spite of her tininess, Mrs Corry made them feel rather small and frightened. But as soon as Mrs Corry looked the other way Jane seized the opportunity to offer Miss Annie her handkerchief. The huge tear completely drenched it, and Miss Annie, with a grateful look, wrung it out before she returned it to Jane.
“And you, Fannie – did you think, too, I wonder?”The high little voice was now directed at the other daughter.
“No, Mother,” said Miss Fannie trembling.
“Humph! Just as well for you! Open that case!”
With frightened, fumbling fingers, Miss Fannie opened the glass case.
“Now, my darlings,” said Mrs Corry in quite a different voice. She smiled and beckoned so sweetly to Jane and Michael that they were ashamed of having been frightened of her, and felt that she must be very nice after all. “Won’t you come and take your pick, my lambs? It’s a special recipe today – one I got from Alfred the Great. He was a very good cook, I remember, though he did once burn the cakes. How many?”
Jane and Michael looked at Mary Poppins.
“Four each,” she said. “That’s twelve. One dozen.”
“I’ll make it a Baker’s Dozen – take thirteen,” said Mrs Corry cheerfully.
So Jane and Michael chose thirteen slabs of gingerbread, each with its gilt paper star. Their arms were piled up with the delicious dark cakes. Michael could not resist nibbling a corner of one of them.
“Good?” squeaked Mrs Corry, and when he nodded she picked up her skirts and did a few steps of the Highland Fling for pure pleasure.
“Hooray, hooray, splendid, hooray!” she cried in her shrill little voice. Then she came to a standstill and her face grew serious.
“But remember – I’m not giving them away. I must be paid. The price is threepence for each of you.”
Mary Poppins opened her purse and took out three threepenny-bits. She gave one each to Jane and Michael.
“Now,” said Mrs Corry. “Stick ’em on my coat! That’s where they all go.”
They looked closely at her long black coat. And sure enough they found it was studded with threepenny-bits as a Coster’s coat is with pearl buttons.
“Come along. Stick ’em on!” repeated Mrs Corry, rubbing her hands with pleasant expectation. “You’ll find they won’t drop off.”
Mary Poppins stepped forward and pressed her threepenny-bit against the collar of Mrs Corry’s coat.
To the surprise of Jane and Michael, it stuck.
Then they put theirs on – Jane’s on the right shoulder and Michael’s on the front hem. Theirs stuck, too.
“How very extraordinary,” said Jane.
“Not at all, my dear,” said Mrs Corry, chuckling. “Or rather, not so extraordinary as other things I could mention.” And she winked largely at Mary Poppins.
“I’m afraid we must be off now, Mrs Corry,” said Mary Poppins. “There is Baked Custard for lunch, and I must be home in time to make it. That Mrs Brill—”
“A poor cook?” enquired Mrs Corry, interrupting.
“Poor!” said Mary Poppins contemptuously. “That’s not the word.”
“Ah!” Mrs Corry put her finger alongside her nose and looked very wise. Then she said:
“Well, my dear Miss Poppins, it has been a very pleasant visit and I am sure my girls have enjoyed it as much as I have.” She nodded in the direction of her two large, mournful daughters. “And you’ll come again soon, won’t you, with Jane and Michael and the Babies? Now, are you sure you can carry the Gingerbread?” she continued, turning to Michael and Jane.
They nodded. Mrs Corry drew closer to them, with a curious, important, inquisitive look on her face.
“I wonder,” she said dreamily, “what you will do with the paper stars?”
“Oh, we’ll keep them,” said Jane. “We always do.”
“Ah – you keep them! And I wonder where you keep them?” Mrs Corry’s eyes were half closed and she looked more inquisitive than ever.
“Well,” Jane began. “Mine are all under my handkerchiefs in the top left-hand drawer and—”
“Mine are in a shoe box on the bottom shelf of the wardrobe,” said Michael.
“Top left-hand drawer and shoe box in the wardrobe,” said Mrs Corry thoughtfully, as though she were committing the words to memory. Then she gave Mary Poppins a long look and nodded her head slightly. Mary Poppins nodded slightly in return. It seemed as if some secret had passed between them.