“Ship ahoy!” roared Admiral Boom, waving his muffler. “Rope and Rigging! Cockles and Shrimps! Here’s the Spring!”
“Well,” said Miss Lark, hurrying out through her gate. “A fine day at last! I was thinking of getting Andrew and Willoughby two pairs of leather boots each, but now the snow’s gone I shan’t have to!”
At that Andrew and Willoughby looked very relieved and licked her hand to show they were glad she had not disgraced them.
The Ice Cream Man wheeled slowly up and down, keeping an eye open for customers. And today his notice-board read:
“Spring has come,
Rum-ti-tum,
Stop and buy one,
Spring has come!”
And the Sweep, carrying only one brush, walked along the Lane, looking from right to left with a satisfied air, as though he himself had arranged the lovely day.
And in the middle of all the excitement Jane and Michael stood still, staring about them.
Everything shone and glistened in the sunlight. There was not a single flake of snow to be seen.
From every branch of every tree, the tender, pale-green buds were bursting. Round the edge of the flower-beds just inside the Park, fragile green shoots of aconites, snowdrops and scyllas were breaking into a border of yellow, white and blue. Presently the Park Keeper came along and picked a tiny bunch and put them carefully in his button-hole.
From flower to flower brightly coloured butterflies were darting on downy wings, and in the branches, thrushes and tits and swallows and finches were singing and building nests.
A flock of sheep, with soft young lambs at their heels, went by, baa-ing loudly.
And from the bough of the ash tree by the Park Gates came the clear, double-noted call:
“Cuckoo! Cuckoo!”
Michael turned to Jane. His eyes were shining.
“So that’s what they were doing – Nellie-Rubina and Uncle Dodger and Mary Poppins!”
Jane nodded, gazing wonderingly about her.
Among the faint green smoke of buds a grey body rocked backwards and forwards on the ash-bough.
“Cuckoo! Cuckoo!”
“But. . . I thought they were all made of painted wood!” said Michael. “Did they come alive in the night, do you think?”
“Perhaps,” said Jane.
“Cuckoo! Cuckoo!”
Jane seized Michael’s hand and, as though he guessed the thought in her mind, he ran with her through the garden, across the Lane and into the Park.
“Hi! Where are you going, you two?” called Mr Banks.
“Ahoy, there, messmates!” roared Admiral Boom.
“You’ll get lost!” warned Miss Lark shrilly.
The Ice Cream Man tingled his bell wildly and the Sweep stood staring after them.
But Jane and Michael took no notice. They ran on, right through the Park and under the trees to the place where they had first seen the Ark.
They drew up, panting. It was cold and shadowy here under the dark branches, and the snow had not yet melted. They peered about, seeking, seeking. But there was only a heavy drift of snowflakes spread under the dark green boughs.
“It’s really gone, then!” said Michael, gazing round. “Do you think we only imagined it, Jane?” he asked doubtfully.
She bent down suddenly and picked up something from the snow.
“No,” she said slowly. “I’m sure we didn’t.” She held out her hand. In her palm lay a round, pink Conversation Sweet. She read out the words:
“Goodbye till Next Year,
Nellie-Rubina Noah.”
Michael drew a deep breath.
“So that’s who she was. Uncle Dodger said she was the Eldest Daughter. But I never guessed.”
“She brought the Spring!” said Jane dreamily, gazing at the Conversation.
“I’ll thank you,” said a voice behind them, “to come home at once and eat your breakfast!”
They turned guiltily.
“We were just. . .” Michael began to explain.
“Then don’t!” snapped Mary Poppins. She leant over Jane’s shoulder and took the Conversation.
“That, I believe, is mine!” she remarked; and, putting it in her apron pocket, she led the way home through the Park.
Michael broke off a spray of green buds as he went. He examined them carefully.
“They seem quite real now,” he said.
“Perhaps they always were,” said Jane.
And a mocking voice came floating from the ash tree:
“Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!”
Chapter Ten
MERRY-GO-ROUND
IT HAD BEEN a quiet morning.
More than one person, passing along Cherry Tree Lane, had looked over the fence of Number Seventeen and said, “How very extraordinary! Not a sound!”
Even the House, which usually took no notice of anything, began to feel alarmed.
“Dear me! Dear me!” it said to itself, listening to the silence. “I hope nothing’s wrong!”
Downstairs in the Kitchen, Mrs Brill, with her spectacles on the tip of her nose, was nodding over the newspaper.
On the first-floor landing, Mrs Banks and Ellen were tidying the linen-cupboard and counting the sheets.
Upstairs in the Nursery Mary Poppins was quietly clearing away the luncheon things.
“I feel very good and sweet today,” Jane was saying drowsily, as she lay stretched on the floor in a patch of sunlight.
“That must be a change!” remarked Mary Poppins with a sniff.
Michael took the last chocolate out of the box Aunt Flossie had given him last week for his sixth birthday.
Should he offer it to Jane, he wondered? Or to the Twins? Or Mary Poppins?
No. After all, it had been his birthday.
“Last, lucky last!” he said quickly and popped it into his own mouth. “And I wish there were more!” he added regretfully, gazing into the empty box.
“All good things come to an end, sometime,” said Mary Poppins primly.
He cocked his head on one side and looked up at her.
“You don’t!” he said daringly. “And you’re a good thing.”
The beginnings of a satisfied smile glimmered at the corners of her mouth, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come.
“That’s as may be!” she retorted. “Nothing lasts for ever.”
Jane looked round, startled.
If nothing lasted for ever it meant that Mary Poppins—
“Nothing?” she said uneasily.
“Nothing at all!” snapped Mary Poppins.
And as if she had guessed what was in Jane’s mind, she went to the mantelpiece and took down her large Thermometer. Then she pulled her carpet-bag from under the camp bed and popped the Thermometer into it.
Jane sat up quickly.
“Mary Poppins, why are you doing that?”
Mary Poppins gave her a curious look.
“Because,” she said priggishly, “I was always taught to be tidy.” And she pushed the carpet-bag under the bed again.
Jane sighed. Her heart felt tight and heavy in her chest.
“I feel rather sad and anxious,” she whispered to Michael.
“I expect you had too much Steam Pudding!” he retorted.
“No, it’s not that kind of feeling—” she began, and broke off suddenly for a knock had sounded at the door.
Tap! Tap!