Mary Poppins in the Park (20 page)

"Hum," he said, fumbling for a word. "I may be as mad as a March Hatter——"

"
May
be!" she gave a disdainful sniff.

"But I don't see 'ow you
can
'ave a cousin sittin' under a buttercup!"

"I can have a cousin anywhere—and no business of yours!"

"You can't!" he cried. "T'isn't natural. I suppose," he added sarcastically, "you're related to the Man in the Moon!"

"My uncle!" said Mary Poppins calmly, as she turned the perambulator into the path that led from the Wild Corner.

The Park Keeper opened his mouth in surprise and shut it again with a snap.

"Ha, ha! You will 'ave your little joke. 'Owsumever, I don't believe it!"

"Nobody asked you to," she replied. "Come, Jane! Come, Michael! Quick march, please!"

Night had now come to the little Park. The wildweed, thickly clustered about it, looked very like a forest. No light came through the trackless stems, it was dark as any jungle. With a last glance at the lonely lawns, they turned away regretfully and ran after the perambulator.

"Mary Poppins! They've all gone home," cried Michael. "There's nothing left on the plates."

"East, West, home's best. And who are 'they,' I'd like to know?"

"I meant your funny little cousin—and all his family!"

She pulled up sharply and looked at him with a calm that was worse than anger.

"Did you say 'funny'?" she enquired. "And what was so funny about him, pray?"

"Well—at first he wasn't as big as a beetle and then he stretched out to the usual s-s-size!" He trembled as he looked at her.

"Beetles again! Why not grasshoppers? Or perhaps you'd prefer a grub! Stretching, indeed! Are you trying to tell me, Michael Banks, that my cousin is made of elastic?"

"Well—no, not elastic. Plasticine!" There! It was out. He had said it at last.

She drew herself up. And now it seemed as if
she
were stretching, for her rage seemed to make her twice as tall.

"Well!" she began, in a voice that told him clearly she had never been so shocked in her life. "If anyone had ever warned me——" But he interrupted wildly.

"Oh, don't be angry,
please,
Mary Poppins—not in your tulip hat! I didn't mean he was funny to laugh at, but funny in the nicest way. And I won't say another word—I promise!"

"Humph!" She subsided. "Silence is golden."

And as she stalked along beside him, with her heels going click-clack on the path, he wondered where he had heard that before.

He glanced at Jane carefully from the corner of his eye.

"But it happened, didn't it?" he whispered. "We did go into the little Park and join them at the feast? I'm sure it was true, because I'm not hungry. All I want for supper is a hard-boiled egg and a piece of buttered toast. And rice pudding and two tomatoes and perhaps a cup of milk!"

"Oh, yes, it was true." Jane sighed for joy as she gazed round the great familiar Park. Within it, she knew, lay another one. And perhaps——

"Do you think, Mary Poppins——" She hesitated. "Do you think that everything in the world is inside something else? My little Park inside the big one and the big one inside a larger one? Again and again? Away and away?" She waved her arm to take in the sky. "And to someone very far out there—do you think we would look like ants?"

"Ants and beetles! Grasshoppers! Grubs! What next, I'd like to know! I can't answer for you, Jane, but
I'm
not an ant to
anyone,
thank you!"

Mary Poppins gave a disgusted sniff.

"Of course you're not!" said a cheerful voice, as Mr. Banks—coming back from the City—caught up with the little group.

"You're more like a glow-worm, Mary Poppins, shining to show us the right way home!" He waited for the self-satisfied smile to spread across her face. "Here," he said, "take the evening paper and I'll wheel the perambulator. The exercise will do me good. I think I'm getting a cold."

The Twins and Annabel crowed with delight as Mr. Banks sent them skimming along.

"Dear me," he remarked. "What a fine new handle! That cousin of yours is a good workman. You must let me know what you paid for it."

"
I
know!" cried Michael eagerly. "She gave Mrs. Mo to the Indian!"

"A-tishoo! I didn't quite hear what you said, Michael. She gave Mr. Rowe two shillings?" Mr. Banks blew his nose with a flourish.

"No, no! She gave Mrs. Mo——! I mean——" He never finished the sentence. For Mary Poppins' eye was on him and he thought it best to drop the subject.

"There will be no charge, sir!" she said politely. "My cousin was pleased to do it."

"That's uncommonly kind of him, Mary Poppins. Hey!" he broke off. "Do look where you're going! Observe the rules of the Park, Smith! You nearly upset the perambulator."

For the Park Keeper, bounding after them, had knocked into the little group and scattered it in all directions.

"Beg pardon all, I'm sure!" he panted. "Sorry, Mr. Banks, sir, but if you'll excuse me, it's
'er
I'm after."

He flung out a hand at Mary Poppins. The daisy-chain dangled from his wrist.

"Why, Mary Poppins, what have you done? Broken a bye-law or what?"

The Park Keeper gave a lonely groan.

"Bye-law? She's broken
all
the laws! Oh, it isn't natural—but it's true!" He turned to Mary Poppins.

"You said you could 'ave one anywhere! Well, 'e's down there under a dandelion. I 'eard 'im with me own ears—laughin' and singin'—just like a party.

'Ere, take it!" he cried in a broken voice, as he flung the daisy-chain over her head. "I meant it for me poor old Mother—but I feel I owe you somethin'."

"You do," said Mary Poppins calmly, as she straightened the daisy-chain.

The Park Keeper stared at her for a moment. Then he turned away with a sigh.

"I shall never h'understand," he muttered, knocking over a litter-basket as he tottered off down the path.

Mr. Banks gazed after him with a look of shocked surprise.

"Somebody under a dandelion? Having a party? What can he mean? Really, I sometimes wonder if Smith is right in the head. Under a dandelion—laughing and singing! Did you ever hear such a thing?"

"Never!" said Mary Poppins demurely, with a dainty shake of her head.

And as she shook it a buttercup petal fell from the brim of her hat.

The children watched it fluttering down and turned and smiled at each other.

"There's one on your head, too, Michael!"

"Is there?" he said, with a happy sigh. "Bend down and let me look at yours."

And sure enough Jane had a petal, too.

"I told you so!" She nodded wisely. And she held her head very high and still so as not to disturb it.

Crowned with the gold of the buttercup tree she walked home under the maple boughs. All was quiet. The sun had set. The shadows of the Long Walk were falling all about her. And at the same time the brightness of the little Park folded her closely round. The dark of one, the light of the other—she felt them both together.

"I am in two places at once," she whispered, "just as he said I would be!"

And she thought again of the little clearing among the thronging weeds. The daisies would grow again, she knew. Clover would hide the little lawns. Cardboard table and swings would crumble. The forest would cover it all.

But somehow, somewhere, in spite of that, she knew she would find it again—as neat and as gay and as happy as it had been today. She only had to remember it and there she would be once more. Time upon time she would return—hadn't Mr. Mo said so?—and stand at the edge of that patch of brightness and never see it fade....

Mary Poppins!" called Michael. "Wait for us!"

"W-a-a-a-i-t!" the wind echoed, whining round him.

It was a dusky, gusty autumn evening. The clouds blew in and out of the sky. And in all the houses of Cherry Tree Lane the curtains blew in and out of the windows. Swish-swish. Flap-flap.

The Park was tossing like a ship in a storm. Leaves and litter-paper turned head-over-heels in the air. The trees groaned and waved their arms, the spray of the fountain was blown and scattered. Benches shivered. Swings were creaking. The Lake water leapt into foamy waves. Nothing was still in the whole Park as it bowed and shuddered under the wind.

And through it all stalked Mary Poppins, with not a hair out of place. Her neat blue coat with its silver buttons was neither creased nor ruffled, and the tulip sat on her hat so firmly that it might have been made of marble.

Far behind her the children ran, splashing through drifts of leaves. They had been to Mr. Folly's stall for nuts and toffee-apples. And now they were trying to catch her up.

"
Wait for us, Mary Poppins!
"

In front of her, on the Long Walk, the perambulator trundled. The wind whistled through the wheels, and the Twins and Annabel clung together for fear of being blown overboard. Their tasselled caps were tossing wildly and the rug was flapping loose, like a flag.

"O-o-o-h!" they squeaked, like excited mice, as a sudden gust tore it free and carried it away.

Someone was coming down the path, bowling along like a tattered newspaper.

"Help!" shrilled a high, familiar voice. "Something has blown right over my hat! I can't see where I'm going."

It was Miss Lark, out for her evening walk. Her two dogs bounded on ahead and behind her the Professor straggled, with his hair standing on end.

"Is that you, Mary Poppins?" she cried, as she plucked the rug away from her face and flung it upon the perambulator. "What a dreadful night! Such a wild wind! I wonder you're not blown away!"

Mary Poppins raised her eyebrows and gave a superior sniff. If the wind blew anyone away, it would not be herself, she thought.

"What do you mean—a dreadful night?" Admiral Boom strode up behind them. His dachshund, Pompey, was at his heels, wearing a little sailor's jacket to keep him from catching cold.

"It's a perfect night, my dear lady, for a life on the ocean wave!

Sixteen men on a dead man's chest
Yo, ho, ho! And a bottle of rum.

You must sail the Seven Seas, Lucinda!"

"Oh—I couldn't sit on a dead man's chest!" Miss Lark seemed quite upset at the thought. "Nor drink rum, either, Admiral. Do keep up, Professor, please. There—my scarf has blown away! Oh, goodness, now the dogs have gone!"

"Perhaps they've blown away, too!" The Professor glanced up into a tree, looking for Andrew and Willoughby. Then he peered short-sightedly down the Walk.

"Ah, here they come!" he murmured vaguely. "How strange they look with only two legs!"

"Two legs!" said Miss Lark reproachfully. "How absent-minded you are, Professor. Those aren't my darling, precious dogs—they're only Jane and Michael."

The Admiral whipped out his telescope and clapped it to his eye.

"Ahoy, there, shipmates!" he roared to the children.

"Look!" shouted Michael, running up. "I put out my hand to hold my cap and the wind blew a leaf right into it!"

"And one into mine the same minute!" Jane panted behind him.