Читать книгу Mary Poppins - the Complete Collection - Памела Трэверс, P.L. Travers - Страница 38

IT WAS SATURDAY afternoon.

In the hall of Number Seventeen Cherry Tree Lane, Mr Banks was busy tapping the barometer and telling Mrs Banks what the weather was going to do.

“Moderate South wind; average temperature: local thunder; sea slight,” he said. “Further outlook unsettled. Hullo – what’s that?”

He broke off as a bumping, jumping, thumping noise sounded overhead.

Round the bend in the staircase Michael appeared, looking very bad-tempered and sulky as he bumped heavily down. Behind him, with a Twin on each arm, came Mary Poppins, pushing her knee into his back and sending him with a sharp thud from one stair to the next. Jane followed, carrying the hats.

“Well begun is half done. Down you go, please!” Mary Poppins was saying tartly.

Mr Banks turned from the barometer and looked up as they appeared.

“Well, what’s the matter with you?” he demanded.

“I don’t want to go for a walk! I want to play with my new engine!” said Michael, gulping as Mary Poppins’ knee jerked him one stair lower.

“Nonsense, darling!” said Mrs Banks. “Of course you do. Walking makes such long, strong legs.”

“But I like short legs best,” grumbled Michael, stumbling heavily down another stair.

“When I was a little boy,” said Mr Banks, “I loved going for walks. I used to walk with my Governess down to the second lamp-post and back every day. And I never grumbled.”

Michael stood still on his stair and looked doubtfully at Mr Banks.

“Were you ever a little boy?” he said, very surprised.

Mr Banks seemed quite hurt.

“Of course I was. A sweet little boy with long yellow curls and a lace collar and velvet breeches and button-up boots.”

“I can hardly believe it,” said Michael, hurrying down the stairs of his own accord and staring up at Mr Banks.

“What was the name of your Governess?” asked Jane, running downstairs after Michael. “And was she nice?”

“She was called Miss Andrew, and she was a Holy Terror!”

“Hush!” said Mrs Banks reproachfully.

“I mean –” Mr Banks corrected himself – “she was – er – very strict. And always right. And she loved putting everybody else in the wrong and making them feel like a worm. That’s what Miss Andrew was like!”

Mr Banks mopped his brow at the mere memory of his Governess.

Ting! Ting! Ting!

The front door bell pealed and echoed through the house.

Mr Banks went to the door and opened it. On the step, looking very important, stood the Telegraph Boy.

“Urgent Telegram. Name of Banks. Any answer?” He handed over an orange-coloured envelope.

“If it’s good news I’ll give you sixpence,” said Mr Banks as he tore the Telegram open and read the message. His face grew pale.

“No answer!” he said shortly.

“And no sixpence?”

“Certainly not!” said Mr Banks bitterly. The Telegraph Boy gave him a reproachful look and went sorrowfully away.

“Oh, what is it?” asked Mrs Banks. “Is somebody ill?”

“Worse than that!” said Mr Banks miserably.

“Have we lost all our money?” By this time Mrs Banks, too, was pale and very anxious.

“Worse still! Didn’t the barometer say thunder? And further outlook unsettled? Listen!”

He smoothed out the telegram and read aloud:

Coming to stay with you for a month. Arriving this afternoon three o’clock. Please light fire in bedroom.

EUPHEMIA ANDREW

“Andrew? Why, that’s the same name as your Governess!” said Jane.

“It is my Governess!” said Mr Banks, striding up and down and running his hands nervously through what was left of his hair. “Her other name is Euphemia. And she’s coming today at three!”

He groaned loudly.

“But I don’t call that bad news,” said Mrs Banks, feeling very relieved. “It will mean getting the spare room ready, of course, but I don’t mind. I shall like having the dear old soul—”

“Dear old soul!” roared Mr Banks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Dear old – my Jumping Godfathers, wait till you see her, that’s all. Just wait till you see her!”

He seized his hat and waterproof.

“But, my dear!” cried Mrs Banks. “You must be here to meet her. It looks so rude. Where are you going?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere. Tell her I’m dead!” he replied bitterly. And he hurried away from the house looking very nervous and depressed.

“My goodness, Michael, what can she be like?” said Jane.

“Curiosity killed the Cat,” said Mary Poppins. “Put your hats on, please!”

She settled the Twins into the perambulator and pushed it down the garden path. Jane and Michael followed her out into the Lane.

“Where are we going today, Mary Poppins?”

“Across the Park and along the Thirty-Nine bus route, up the High Street, and over the Bridge and home through the Railway Arch!” she snapped.

“If we do that, we’ll be walking all night,” whispered Michael, dropping behind with Jane. “And we’ll miss Miss Andrew.”

“She’s going to stay for a month,” Jane reminded him.

“But I want to see her arrive,” he complained, dragging his feet and shuffling along the pavement.

“Step along, please,” said Mary Poppins briskly. “I might as well be taking a stroll with a couple of snails as you two!”

But when they caught up with her she kept them waiting for quite five minutes outside a fried-fish shop while she looked at herself in the window.

She was wearing her new white blouse with the pink spots, and her face, as she beheld herself reflected back from the piles of fried whiting, had a pleased and satisfied air. She pushed back her coat a little so that more of the blouse was visible and she thought that, on the whole, she had never seen Mary Poppins look nicer. Even the fried fish, with their fried tails curled into their mouths, seemed to gaze at her with round, admiring eyes.

Mary Poppins gave a little conceited nod to her reflection and hurried on. They had passed the High Street now and were crossing the Bridge. Soon they came to the Railway Arch, and Jane and Michael sprang eagerly ahead of the perambulator and ran all the way until they turned the corner of Cherry Tree Lane.

“There’s a cab!” cried Michael excitedly. “That must be Miss Andrew’s.”

They stood still at the corner waiting for Mary Poppins and watching for Miss Andrew.

A Taxi-cab, moving slowly down the Lane, drew up at the gate of Number Seventeen. It groaned and rattled as the engine stopped. And this was not surprising, for from wheel to roof it was heavily weighted with luggage. You could hardly see the cab itself for the trunks on the roof and the trunks at the back and the trunks on either side.

Suit-cases and hampers could be seen half-in and half-out of the windows. Hat-boxes were strapped to the steps, and two large Gladstone bags appeared to be sitting in the Driver’s seat.

Presently the Driver himself emerged from under them. He climbed out carefully, as though he were descending a steep mountain, and opened the door.

A boot-box came bounding out, followed by a large brown-paper parcel, and after these came an umbrella and a walking-stick tied together with string. Last of all, a small weighing-machine clattered down from the rack, knocking the Taxi-man over.

“Be careful!” a huge, trumpeting voice shouted from inside the Taxi. “This is valuable luggage!”

“And I’m a valuable driver!” retorted the Taxi-man, picking himself up and rubbing his ankle. “You seen to ’ave forgotten that, ’aven’t you?”

“Make way, please, make way! I’m coming out!” called the huge voice again.

And at that moment there appeared on the step of the cab the largest foot the children had ever seen. It was followed by the rest of Miss Andrew.

A large coat with a fur collar was wrapped about her, a man’s felt hat was perched on her head, and from the hat floated a long grey veil. With one hand she held up the folds of her skirt and from the other swung a circular object covered with a checked cloth.

The children crept cautiously along by the fence, gazing with interest at the huge figure, with its beaked nose, grim mouth, and small eyes that peered angrily from behind glasses. They were almost deafened by her voice as she argued with the Taxi-man.

“Four and threepence!” she was saying. “Preposterous! I could go halfway round the world for that amount. I shan’t pay it. And I shall report you to the Police.”

The Taxi-man shrugged his shoulders. “That’s the fare,” he said calmly. “If you can read, you can read it on the meter. You can’t go driving in a Taxi for love, you know, not with this luggage.”

Miss Andrew snorted and, diving her hand into her large pocket, took out a very small purse. She handed over a coin. The Taxi-man looked at it and turned it over and over in his hand, as if he thought it a curiosity. Then he laughed rudely.

“This for the Driver?” he remarked sarcastically.

“Certainly not. It’s your fare. I don’t approve of tips,” said Miss Andrew.

“You wouldn’t!” said the Taxi-man, staring at her. And to himself he remarked: “Enough luggage to fill ’arf the Park, and she doesn’t approve of tips – the ’Arpy!”

But Miss Andrew did not hear him. The children had arrived at the gate and she turned to greet them, her feet ringing on the pavement and her veil flowing out behind her.

“Well?” she said gruffly, smiling a thin smile. “I don’t suppose you know who I am?”

“Oh, yes we do!” said Michael. He spoke in his friendliest voice, for he was very glad to meet Miss Andrew. “You’re the Holy Terror!”

A dark, purple flush rose up from Miss Andrew’s neck and flooded her face.

“You are a very rude, impertinent boy. I shall report you to your Father!”

Michael looked surprised. “I didn’t mean to be rude,” he began. “It was Daddy who said—”

“Tut! Silence! Don’t dare to argue with me!” said Miss Andrew. She turned to Jane.

“And you’re Jane, I suppose? H’m. I never cared for the name.”

“How do you do?” said Jane politely, but secretly thinking she did not care much for the name Euphemia.

“That dress is much too short!” trumpeted Miss Andrew. “And you ought to be wearing stockings. Little girls in my day never had bare legs. I shall speak to your Mother.”

“I don’t like stockings,” said Jane. “I only wear them in the Winter.”

“Don’t be impudent. Children should be seen and not heard!” said Miss Andrew.

She leant over the perambulator, and with her huge hand pinched the Twins’ cheeks in greeting.

John and Barbara began to cry.

“Tut! What manners!” exclaimed Miss Andrew. “Brimstone and Treacle – that’s what they need!” she went on, turning to Mary Poppins. “No well-brought-up child cries like that. Brimstone and Treacle. And plenty of it. Don’t forget.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Mary Poppins, with icy politeness, “but I bring the children up in my own way and take advice from nobody.”

Miss Andrew stared. She looked as if she could not believe her ears.

Mary Poppins stared back, calm and unafraid.

“Young woman,” said Miss Andrew, drawing herself up, “you forget yourself. How dare you answer me like that! I shall take steps to have you removed from this establishment! Mark my words!”

She flung open the gate and strode up the path, furiously swinging the circular object under the checked cloth, and saying “Tut-tut!” over and over again.

Mrs Banks came running out to meet her.

“Welcome, Miss Andrew, welcome!” she said politely. “How kind of you to pay us a visit. Such an unexpected pleasure. I hope you had a good journey?”

“Most unpleasant. I never enjoy travelling,” said Miss Andrew. She glanced with an angry, peering eye round the garden.

“Disgracefully untidy!” she remarked disgustedly. “Take my advice and dig up those things –” she pointed to the sunflowers – “and plant evergreens. Much less trouble. Saves time and money. And looks neater. Better still, no garden at all. Just a plain, cement courtyard.”

“But,” protested Mrs Banks gently, “I like flowers best!”

“Ridiculous! Stuff and nonsense! You are a silly woman. And your children are very rude – especially the boy.”

“Oh, Michael, I am surprised! Were you rude to Miss Andrew? You must apologise at once.” Mrs Banks was getting very nervous and flustered.

“No, Mother, I wasn’t. I only—” He began to explain, but Miss Andrew’s loud voice interrupted.

“He was most insulting,” she insisted. “He must go to a boarding-school at once. And the girl must have a Governess. I shall choose one myself. And as for the young person you have looking after them –” she nodded in the direction of Mary Poppins, “you must dismiss her this instant. She is impertinent, incapable and totally unreliable.”

Mrs Banks was plainly horrified.

“Oh, surely you are mistaken, Miss Andrew! We think she is such a Treasure.”

“You know nothing about it. I am never mistaken. Dismiss her!”

Miss Andrew swept on up the path.

Mrs Banks hurried behind her, looking very worried and upset.

“I – er – hope we shall be able to make you comfortable, Miss Andrew,” she said politely. But she was beginning to feel rather doubtful.

“H’m. It’s not much of a house,” replied Miss Andrew. “And it’s in a shocking condition – peeling everywhere, and most dilapidated. You must send for a carpenter. And when were these steps white-washed? They’re very dirty.”

Mrs Banks bit her lip. Miss Andrew was turning her lovely, comfortable house into something mean and shabby, and it made her feel very unhappy.

“I’ll have them done tomorrow,” she said meekly.

“Why not today?” demanded Miss Andrew. “No time like the present. And why paint your door white? Dark brown – that’s the proper colour for a door. Cheaper, and doesn’t show the dirt. Just look at those spots!”

And putting down the circular object, she began to point out the marks on the front door.

“There! There! There! Everywhere! Most disreputable!”

“I’ll see to it immediately,” said Mrs Banks faintly. “Won’t you come upstairs now to your room?”

Miss Andrew stamped into the hall after her.

“I hope there is a fire in it.”

“Oh, yes. A good one. This way, Miss Andrew. Robertson Ay will bring up your luggage.”

“Well, tell him to be careful. The trunks are full of medicine bottles. I have to take care of my health!”

Miss Andrew moved towards the stairs. She glanced round the hall.

“This wall needs re-papering. I shall speak to George about it. And why I should like to know, wasn’t he here to meet me? Very rude of him. His manners, I see, have not improved!”

The voice grew a little fainter as Miss Andrew followed Mrs Banks upstairs. Far away the children could hear their Mother’s gentle voice, meekly agreeing to do whatever Miss Andrew wished.

Michael turned to Jane.

“Who is George?” he asked.

“Daddy.”

“But his name is Mr Banks.”

“Yes, but his other name is George.”

Michael sighed.

“A month is an awfully long time, Jane, isn’t it?”

“Yes – four weeks and a bit,” said Jane, feeling that a month with Miss Andrew would seem more like a year.

Michael edged closer to her.

“I say –” he began in an anxious whisper, “she can’t really make them send Mary Poppins away, can she?”

“Odd!”

The word sounded behind them like an explosion.

They turned. Mary Poppins was gazing after Miss Andrew with a look that could have killed her.

“Odd!” she repeated, with a long-drawn sniff. “That’s not the word for her. Humph! I don’t know how to bring up children, don’t I? I’m impertinent, incapable, and totally unreliable, am I? We’ll see about that!”

Jane and Michael were used to threats from Mary Poppins, but today there was a note in her voice they had never heard before. They stared at her in silence, wondering what was going to happen.

A tiny sound, partly a sigh and partly a whisper, fell on the air.

“What was that?” said Jane quickly.

The sound came again, a little louder this time. Mary Poppins cocked her head and listened.

Again a faint chirping seemed to come from the doorstep.

“Ah!” cried Mary Poppins triumphantly. “I might have known it!”

And with a sudden movement, she sprang at the circular object Miss Andrew had left behind and tweaked off the cover.

Beneath it was a brass bird-cage, very neat and shiny. And sitting at one end of the perch, huddled between his wings, was a small, light-brown bird. He blinked a little as the afternoon light streamed down upon his head. Then he gazed solemnly about him with a round, dark eye. His glance fell upon Mary Poppins, and, with a start of recognition, he opened his beak and gave a sad, throaty, little cheep. Jane and Michael had never heard such a miserable sound.

“Did she, indeed? Tch, tch tch! You don’t say!” said Mary Poppins, nodding her head sympathetically.

“Chirp-irrup!” said the bird, shrugging its wings dejectedly.

“What? Two years? In that cage? Shame on her!” said Mary Poppins to the bird, her face flushing with anger.

The children stared. The bird was speaking in no language they knew, and yet here was Mary Poppins carrying on an intelligent conversation with him as though she understood.

“What is it saying—” Michael began.

“Sh!” said Jane, pinching his arm to make him keep quiet.

They stared at the bird in silence. Presently he hopped a little way along the perch towards Mary Poppins and sang a note or two in a low, questioning voice.

Mary Poppins nodded. “Yes – of course I know that field. Was that where she caught you?”

The bird nodded. Then he sang a quick, trilling phrase that sounded like a question.

Mary Poppins thought for a moment. “Well,” she said, “it’s not very far. You could do it in about an hour. Flying South from here.”

The bird seemed pleased. He danced a little on his perch and flapped his wings excitedly. Then his song broke out again, a stream of round, clear notes, as he looked imploringly at Mary Poppins.

She turned her head and glanced cautiously up the stairs.

“Will I? What do you think? Didn’t you hear her call me a Young Person? Me!” She sniffed disgustedly.

The bird’s shoulders shook as though he were laughing.

Mary Poppins bent down.

“What are you going to do, Mary Poppins?” cried Michael, unable to contain himself any longer. “What kind of a bird is that?”

“A Lark,” said Mary Poppins briefly, turning the handle of the little door. “You’re seeing a Lark in a cage for the first time – and the last!”

And as she said that, the door of the cage swung open. The Lark, flapping his wings, swooped out with a shrill cry and alighted on Mary Poppins’ shoulder.

“Humph!” she said, turning her head. “That’s an improvement, I should think?”

“Chirr-up!” agreed the Lark, nodding.

“Well, you’d better be off,” Mary Poppins warned him. “She’ll be back in a minute.”

At that the Lark burst into a stream of running notes, flicking his wings at her and bowing his head again and again.

“There, there!” said Mary Poppins gruffly. “Don’t thank me. I was glad to do it. I couldn’t see a Lark in a cage! Besides, you heard what she called me!”

The Lark tossed back his head and fluttered his wings. He seemed to be laughing heartily. Then he cocked his head to one side and listened.

“Oh, I quite forgot!” came a loud voice from upstairs. “I left Caruso outside. On those dirty steps. I must go and get him.”

Miss Andrew’s heavy-footed tread sounded on the stairs.

“What?” she called back in reply to some question of Mrs Banks. “Oh, he’s my Lark, my Lark, Caruso! I call him that because he used to be such a beautiful singer. What? No, he doesn’t sing at all now, not since I trapped him in a field and put him in a cage. I can’t think why.”

The voice was coming nearer, growing louder as it approached.

“Certainly not!” it called back to Mrs Banks. “I will fetch him myself. I wouldn’t trust one of those impudent children with him. Your banisters want polishing. They should be done at once.”

Tramp-tramp. Tramp-tramp. Miss Andrew’s steps sounded through the hall.

“Here she comes!” hissed Mary Poppins. “Be off with you.” She gave her shoulder a little shake.

“Quickly!” cried Michael anxiously.

“Oh, hurry!” said Jane.

With a quick movement the Lark bent his head and pulled out one of his wing feathers with his beak.

“Chirr-chirr-chirr-irrup!” he sang, and stuck the feather into the ribbon of Mary Poppins’ hat. Then he spread his wings and swept into the air.

At the same moment Miss Andrew appeared in the doorway.

“What?” she shouted, when she saw Jane and Michael and the Twins. “Not gone up to bed yet? This will never do. All well-brought-up children –” she looked balefully at Mary Poppins – “should be in bed by five o’clock. I shall certainly speak to your Father.”

She glanced round.

“Now, let me see. Where did I leave my—” She broke off suddenly. The uncovered cage, with its open door, stood at her feet. She stared down at it as though she were unable to believe her eyes.

“Why? When? Where? What? Who?” she spluttered. Then she found her full voice.

“Who took off that cover?” she thundered. The children trembled at the sound.

“Who opened that cage?”

There was no reply.

“Where is my Lark?”

Still there was silence as Miss Andrew stared from one child to another. At last her gaze fell accusingly upon Mary Poppins.

“You did it!” she cried, pointing her large finger. “I can tell by the look on your face! How dare you! I shall see that you leave this house tonight – bag and baggage! You impudent, impertinent, worthless—”

Chirp-irrup!

From the air came a little trill of laughter. Miss Andrew looked up. The Lark was lightly balancing on his wings just above the sunflowers.

“Ah, Caruso – there you are!” cried Miss Andrew. “Now come along! Don’t keep me waiting. Come back to your nice, clean cage, Caruso, and let me shut the door!”

But the Lark just hung in the air and went into peals of laughter, flinging back his head and clapping his wings against his side.

Miss Andrew bent and picked up the cage and held it above her head.

“Caruso – what did I say? Come back at once!” she commanded, swinging the cage towards him. But he swooped past it and brushed against Mary Poppins’ hat.

“Chirp-irrup!” he said, as he sped by.

“All right!” said Mary Poppins, nodding in reply.

“Caruso, did you hear me?” cried Miss Andrew. But now there was a hint of dismay in her loud voice. She put down the cage and tried to catch the Lark with her hands. But he dodged and flickered past her, and, with a lift of his wings, dived higher into the air.

A babble of notes streamed down to Mary Poppins.

“Ready!” she called back.

And then a strange thing happened.

Mary Poppins fixed her eyes upon Miss Andrew; and Miss Andrew, suddenly spellbound by that strange dark gaze, began to tremble on her feet. She gave a little gasp, staggered uncertainly forward and, with a thundering rush, she dashed towards the cage. Then – was it that Miss Andrew grew smaller or the cage larger? Jane and Michael could not be sure. All they knew for certain was that the cage door shut to with a little click and closed upon Miss Andrew.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” she cried, as the Lark swooped down and seized the cage by the handle.

“What am I doing? Where am I going?” Miss Andrew shouted as the cage swept into the air.

“I have no room to move! I can hardly breathe!” she cried.

“Neither could he!” said Mary Poppins quietly.

Miss Andrew rattled at the bars of the cage.

“Open the door! Let me out, I say! Let me out!”

“Humph! Not likely,” said Mary Poppins in a low, scoffing voice.

On and on went the Lark, climbing higher and higher and singing as he went. And the heavy cage, with Miss Andrew inside it, lurched after him, swaying dangerously as it swung from his claw.

Above the clear song of the Lark, they heard Miss Andrew hammering at the bars and crying:

“I who was Well-Brought-Up. I who was Always Right. I who was Never Mistaken. That I should come to this!”

Mary Poppins gave a curious, quiet little laugh.

The Lark looked very small now, but still he circled upwards, singing loudly and triumphantly. And still Miss Andrew and her cage circled heavily after him, rocking from side to side, like a ship in a storm.

“Let me out, I say! Let me out!” Her voice came screaming down.

Suddenly the Lark changed his direction. His song ceased for a moment as he darted sideways. Then it began again, wild and clear, as, shaking the ring of the cage from his foot, he flew towards the South.

“He’s off!” said Mary Poppins.

“Where?” cried Jane and Michael.

“Home – to his meadows!” she replied, gazing upwards.

“But he’s dropped the cage!” said Michael, staring.

And well he might stare, for the cage was now hurtling downwards, lurching and tumbling, end over end. They could clearly see Miss Andrew, now standing on her head and now on her feet as the cage turned through the air. Down, down, it came, heavy as a stone, and landed with a plop on the top step.

With a fierce movement, Miss Andrew tore open the door. And it seemed to Jane and Michael as she came out that she was as large as ever and even more frightening.

For a moment she stood there, panting, unable to speak, her face purpler than before.

“How dare you!” she said in a throaty whisper, pointing a trembling finger at Mary Poppins. And Jane and Michael saw that her eyes were no longer angry and scornful, but full of terror.

“You – you—” stammered Miss Andrew huskily, “you cruel, disrespectful, unkind, wicked, wilful girl – how could you, how could you?”

Mary Poppins fixed her with a look. From half-closed eyes, she gazed revengefully at Miss Andrew for a long moment.

“You said I didn’t know how to bring up children,” she said, speaking slowly and distinctly.

Miss Andrew shrank back, trembling with fear.

“I – I apologise,” she said, gulping.

“That I was imprudent, incapable and totally unreliable,” said Mary Poppins.

“It was a mistake. I – I’m sorry,” Miss Andrew stammered.

“That I was a Young Person!” continued Mary Poppins remorselessly.

“I take it back,” panted Miss Andrew. “All of it. Only let me go. I ask nothing more.” She clasped her hands and gazed at Mary Poppins imploringly.

“I can’t stay here,” she whispered. “No! No! Not here! Let me go!”

Mary Poppins gazed at her, long and thoughtfully. Then, with a little outward movement of her hand – “Go!” she said.

Miss Andrew gave a gasp of relief. “Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Still keeping her eyes fixed on Mary Poppins, she staggered backwards down the steps. Then she turned and went stumbling unevenly down the garden path.

The Taxi-man, who all this time had been unloading the luggage, was starting up his engine and preparing to depart.

Miss Andrew held up a trembling hand.

“Wait!” she cried brokenly. “Wait for me. You shall have a Ten-shilling note for yourself if you will drive me away at once.”

The man stared at her.

“I mean it!” she said urgently. “See,” she fumbled feverishly in her pocket, “here it is. Take it – and drive on!”

Miss Andrew tottered into the cab and collapsed upon the seat.

The Taxi-man, still gaping, closed the door upon her.

Then he began hurriedly re-loading the luggage. Robertson Ay had fallen asleep across a pile of trunks, but the Taxi-man did not stop to wake him. He swept him off on to the path and finished the work himself.

“Looks as though the ’ole girl ’as ’ad a shock! I never saw anybody take on so. Never!” he murmured to himself as he drove off.

But what kind of a shock it was the Taxi-man did not know and, if he lived to be a hundred, could not possibly guess. . .

“Where is Miss Andrew?” said Mrs Banks, hurrying to the front door in search of the visitor.

“Gone!” said Michael.

“What do you mean – gone?” Mrs Banks looked very surprised.

“She didn’t seem to want to stay,” said Jane.

Mrs Banks frowned.

“What does this mean, Mary Poppins?” she demanded.

“I couldn’t say, m’m, I’m sure,” said Mary Poppins calmly, as though the matter did not interest her. She glanced down at her new blouse and smoothed out a crease.

Mrs Banks looked from one to the other and shook her head.

“How very extraordinary! I can’t understand it.”

Just then the garden gate opened and shut with a quiet little click. Mr Banks came tip-toeing up the path. He hesitated and waited nervously on one foot as they all turned towards him.

“Well? Has she come?” he said anxiously, in a loud whisper.

“She has come and gone,” said Mrs Banks.

Mr Banks stared.

“Gone? Do you mean – really gone? Miss Andrew?”

Mrs Banks nodded.

“Oh, joy, joy!” cried Mr Banks. And seizing the skirts of his waterproof in both hands, he proceeded to dance the Highland Fling in the middle of the path. He stopped suddenly.

“But how? When? Why?” he asked.

“Just now – in a taxi. Because the children were rude to her, I suppose. She complained to me about them. I simply can’t think of any other reason. Can you, Mary Poppins?”

“No, m’m, I can’t,” said Mary Poppins, brushing a speck of dust off her blouse with great care.

Mr Banks turned to Jane and Michael with a sorrowful look on his face.

“You were rude to Miss Andrew? My Governess? That dear old soul? I’m ashamed of you both – thoroughly ashamed.” He spoke sternly, but there was a laughing twinkle in his eyes.

“I’m a most unfortunate man,” he went on, putting his hands into his pockets. “Here am I slaving day-in and day-out to bring you up properly, and how do you repay me? By being rude to Miss Andrew! It’s shameful. It’s outrageous! I don’t know that I shall ever be able to forgive you. But –” he continued, taking two sixpences out of his pocket and solemnly offering one to each of them – “I shall do my best to forget!”

He turned away smiling.

“Hullo!” he remarked, stumbling against the bird-cage. “Where did this come from? Whose is it?”

Jane and Michael and Mary Poppins were silent.

“Well, never mind,” said Mr Banks. “It’s mine now. I shall keep it in the garden and train my sweet peas over it.”

And he went off, carrying the bird-cage and whistling very happily. . .

“Well,” said Mary Poppins sternly, as she followed them into the Nursery, “this is nice goings on, I must say. You behaving so rudely to your Father’s guest.”

“But we weren’t rude!” Michael protested. “I only said she was a Holy Terror and he called her that himself.”

“Sending her away like that when she’d only just come – don’t you call that rude?” demanded Mary Poppins.

“But we didn’t,” said Jane. “It was you—”

“I was rude to your Father’s guest?” Mary Poppins, with her hands on her hips, eyed Jane furiously. “Do you dare to stand there and tell me that?”

“No, no! You weren’t rude, but—”

“I should think not, indeed!” retorted Mary Poppins, taking off her hat and unfolding her apron, “I was properly brought up!” she added sniffing, as she began to undress the Twins.

Michael sighed. He knew it was no use arguing with Mary Poppins.

He glanced at Jane. She was turning her sixpence over and over in her hand.

“Michael!” she said. “I’ve been thinking.”

“What?”

“Daddy gave us these because he thought we sent Miss Andrew away.”

“I know.”

“And we didn’t. It was Mary Poppins!”

Michael shuffled his feet.

“Then you think—” he began uneasily, hoping she didn’t mean what he thought she meant.

“Yes, I do,” said Jane, nodding.