Silently the children turned away. The Merry-go-round had left no trace in the grass, not a dent in the clover. Except for the Park Keeper, who stood there shouting and waving his arms, the green lawn was quite empty.
“She took a Return,” said Michael, walking slowly beside the perambulator. “Do you think that means she’ll come back?”
Jane thought for a moment. “Perhaps – if we want her enough, she will,” she said slowly.
“Yes, perhaps. . .!” he repeated, sighing a little, and said no more till they were back in the Nursery. . .
“I say! I say! I say!”
Mr Banks came running up the path and burst in at the front door.
“Hi! Where’s everybody?” he shouted, running up the stairs three at a time.
“Whatever is the matter?” said Mrs Banks, hurrying out to meet him.
“The most wonderful thing!” he cried, flinging open the Nursery door. “A new star has appeared. I heard about it on the way home. The Largest Ever. I’ve borrowed Admiral Boom’s telescope to look at it. Come and see!”
He ran to the window and clapped the telescope to his eye.
“Yes! Yes!” he said, hopping excitedly. “There it is! A Wonder! A Beauty! A Marvel! A Gem! See for yourself!”
He handed Mrs Banks the telescope.
“Children!” he shouted. “Look! There’s a new star!”
“I know,” began Michael. “But it’s not really a star. It’s—”
“You know? And it isn’t? What on earth do you mean?”
“Take no notice. He is just being silly!” said Mrs Banks. “Now, where is this star? Oh, I see! Very pretty! Quite the brightest in the sky! I wonder where it came from? Now, children!”
She gave the telescope in turn to Jane and Michael, and as they looked through the glass they could clearly see the circle of painted horses, the brass poles and the dark blur that ever and again whirled across their sight for a moment and was gone.
They turned to each other and nodded. They knew what the dark blur was – a neat, prim figure in a blue coat with silver buttons, a stiff straw hat on its head, and a parrot-headed umbrella under its arm. Out of the sky she had come, back to the sky she had gone. And Jane and Michael would not explain to anyone, for they knew there were things about Mary Poppins that could never be explained.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Excuse me, Ma’am,” said Mrs Brill, hurrying in, very red in the face. “But I think you ought to know that that there Mary Poppins has gone again!”
“Gone!” said Mrs Banks unbelievingly.
“Lock, stock and barrel – gone!” said Mrs Brill triumphantly. “Without a word, or By Your Leave. Just like last time. Even her Camp-bed and her carpet-bag – clean gone! Not even her Postcard-album as a Memento. So there!”
“Dear, dear!” said Mrs Banks. “How very tiresome! How thoughtless, how – George!” She turned to Mr Banks. “George, Mary Poppins has gone again!”
“Who? What? Mary Poppins? Well, never mind that! We’ve got a new star!”
“A new star won’t wash and dress the children!” said Mrs Banks crossly.
“It will look through their window at night!” cried Mr Banks happily. “That’s better than washing and dressing.”
He turned back to the telescope.
“Won’t you, my Wonder? My Marvel? My Beauty?” he said, looking up at the star.
Jane and Michael drew close and leant against him, gazing across the window-sill into the evening air.
And high above them the great shape circled and wheeled through the darkening sky, shining and keeping its secret for ever and ever and ever. . .
To Camillus
Contents
Dedication
The Fifth of November
Mr Twigley’s Wishes
The Cat That Looked at a King
The Marble Boy
Peppermint Horses
High Tide
Happy Ever After
The Other Door
Chapter One
THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER
IT WAS ONE of those bleak and chilly mornings that remind you winter is coming. Cherry Tree Lane was quiet and still. The mist hung over the Park like a shadow. All the houses looked exactly alike as the grey fog wrapped them round. Admiral Boom’s flagstaff, with the telescope at the top of it, had entirely disappeared.
The Milkman, as he turned into the Lane, could hardly see his way.
“Milk Be-l-o-o-ow!” he called, outside the Admiral’s door. And his voice sounded so queer and hollow that it gave him quite a fright.
“I’ll go ’Ome till the fog lifts,” he said to himself. “’Ere! Look where you’re goin’!” he went on, as a shape loomed suddenly out of the mist and bumped against his shoulder.
“Bumble, bumble, bum-bur-um-bumble,” said a gentle, muffled voice.
“Oh, it’s you!” said the Milkman, with a sigh of relief.
“Bumble,” remarked the Sweep again. He was holding his brushes in front of his face to keep his moustache dry.
“Out early, aren’t you?” the Milkman said.
The Sweep gave a jerk of his black thumb towards Miss Lark’s house.
“Had to do the chimbley before the dogs had breakfast. In case the soot gave them a cough,” he explained.
The Milkman laughed rudely. For that was what everybody did when Miss Lark’s two dogs were mentioned.
The mist went wreathing through the air. There was not a sound in the Lane.
“Ugh!” said the Milkman, shivering. “This quiet gives me the ’Orrors!”
And as he said that, the Lane woke up. A sudden roar came from one of the houses and the sound of stamping feet.
“That’s Number Seventeen!” said the Sweep. “Excuse me, old chap. I think I’m needed.” He cautiously felt his way to the gate and went up the garden path. . .
Inside the house, Mr Banks was marching up and down, kicking the hall furniture.
“I’ve had about all I can stand!” he shouted, waving his arms wildly.
“You keep on saying that,” Mrs Banks cried. “But you won’t tell me what’s the matter.” She looked at Mr Banks anxiously.
“Everything’s the matter!” he roared. “Look at this!” He waggled his right foot at her. “And this!” he went on, as he waggled his left.
Mrs Banks peered closely at the feet. She was rather short-sighted and the hall was misty.
“I – er – don’t see anything wrong,” she began timidly.
“Of course you don’t!” he said sarcastically. “It’s only imagination, of course, that makes me think Robertson Ay has given me one black shoe and one brown!” And again he waggled his feet.
“Oh!” said Mrs Banks hurriedly. For now she saw clearly what the trouble was.
“You may well say ’Oh!’ So will Robertson Ay when I give him the sack tonight!”
“It’s not his fault, Daddy!” cried Jane, from the stairs. “He couldn’t see – because of the fog. Besides, he’s not strong.”
“He’s strong enough to make my life a misery!” said Mr Banks angrily.