Mary Poppins in the Park

by P. L. Travers

  "Oh, get along, do—the pair of you!" said Mary Poppins snappily. For the Lion had rushed to lick her hand and darted back to his friend.

  "Woof? Wurra-woof?" he said in a growl.

  "Will I come with you? What do you think? As if I could ever leave you again!" And flinging his arm round the Lion's shoulders, the Second Policeman turned.

  "Hey!" cried the First Policeman sternly. "Where are you going to, may I ask? And where are you taking that animal?"

  "He's taking me!" cried the Second Policeman. "And we're going where we belong!" His gloomy face had quite changed. It was now rosy and gay.

  "But what about the traffic lights? Who's going to look after those?"

  "They're all at green!" said the Second Policeman. "No more signals for me, Egbert! The traffic can do what it likes!"

  He looked at the Lion and roared with laughter, and the two of them turned away. Over the lawns they sauntered, chatting—the Lion on its hind legs and the Policeman limping a little. When they came to the Lane Gate they paused for a moment and waved. Then through they went and shut it behind them, and the watchers saw them no more.

  The Keeper of the Zoological Gardens gathered up his net.

  "I hope they're not making for the Zoo. We haven't a cage to spare!"

  "Well, as long as he's out of the public Park——" The Prime Minister clambered out of the tree.

  "Haven't we met before?" he enquired, as he took off his hat to Mary Poppins. "I'm afraid I've forgotten where it was!"

  "Up in the air! On a red balloon!" She bowed in a ladylike manner.

  "Ah, yes! Hurrrmph!" He seemed rather embarrassed. "Well—I must be off and make some more laws!"

  And, glancing round to make sure the Lion was not coming back, he made for the Far Gate.

  "Constable!" cried the Lord Mayor, as he swung himself down from his branch. "You must go at once to the signal box and switch the lights to red. The traffic can do as it likes, indeed! Whoever heard of such a thing!"

  The Policeman, mopping up his scratches, gallantly sprang to attention.

  "Very good, Your Honour!" he said smartly, and marched away down the Walk.

  "As for you, Smith, this is all your fault. Your duty is to look after the Park! But what do I find when I pass this way? Wild animals running all over it. You disappoint me again and again. I must mention it to the King."

  The Park Keeper fell on his knees with a groan.

  "Oh, please don't mention it, Your Honour! Think of me poor old mother!"

  "You should have thought of her yourself before you let that lion in!"

  "But I never let 'im in, Your Worship! It wasn't my fault 'e came over the wall. If anyone's to blame, it's——" The Park Keeper broke off nervously, but he looked in Mary Poppins' direction.

  So did the Lord Mayor.

  "Aha!" he exclaimed, with a gracious smile. "Charmed to meet you again, Miss—er——?"

  "Poppins," said Mary Poppins politely.

  "Poppins—ah, yes! A charming name! Now, if Smith were only you, Miss Poppins, these things would never occur!"

  With a bow, the Lord Mayor turned away and billowed down the Walk. The two Aldermen also bowed, and billowed along behind him.

  "That's all you know!" said the Park Keeper, as he watched them disappear. "If I was 'er—ha, ha, that's funny!—anything could happen!"

  "If I were you, I'd straighten my tie," said Mary Poppins primly. "Get down from that fountain, Jane and Michael!" She glanced at their grimy knees and faces. "You look like a couple of Blackamoors!"

  "We can't all be like you, you know!" the Park Keeper said sarcastically.

  "No," she agreed. "And mores the pity!" She pushed the perambulator forward.

  "But, Mary Poppins——" Michael burst out. He was longing to ask her about the Lion.

  "Butting's for goats—not human beings! Best foot forward, please!"

  "It's no use, Michael," whispered Jane. "You know she never explains."

  But Michael was too excited to heed.

  "Well, if I can't talk about the Lion, will you let me blow your whistle?"

  "Certainly not!" She sauntered on.

  "I wonder, Mary Poppins," he cried, "if you'll ever let me do anything!"

  "I wonder!" she said, with a mocking smile.

  Twilight was falling over the Park. People were scrambling out of the trees and hurrying home to safety.

  From the Far Gate came a frightful din. And looking through it the children saw a motionless block of traffic. The lights were red, the horns were hooting and the drivers were shaking their fists.

  The Policeman was calmly surveying the scene. He had been given an order and he was obeying it.

  "Has your brother Albert gone for good?" cried Jane, as he waved to them.

  "No idea," he replied calmly. "And it's no affair of mine!"

  Then round the perambulator swung and they all went back by the Long Walk. The Twins and Annabel, weary of playing with the blue duck, let it drop over the side. Nobody noticed. Jane and Michael were far too busy thinking about the day's adventure. And Mary Poppins was far too busy thinking about Mary Poppins.

  "I wonder where Albert's gone?" murmured Michael, as he strolled along beside her.

  "How should I know?" she answered, shrugging.

  "I thought you knew everything!" he retorted. "I meant it politely, Mary Poppins!"

  Her face, which was just about to be fierce, took on a conceited expression.

  "Maybe I do," she said smugly, as she hurried them across the Lane and in through the front gate....

  "Oh, Ellen!" Mrs. Banks was saying, as they all came into the hall. "Would you dust the mantelpiece while you're there? Well, darlings?" She greeted the children gaily.

  Ellen, half-way up the stairs, replied with a loud sneeze. "A-tishoo!" She had Hay Fever. She was carrying mugs of milk on a tray and they rattled each time she sneezed.

  "Oh, go on, Ellen! You're so slow!" said Michael impatiently.

  "You hard-hearted—a-tishoo!" she cried, as she dumped the tray on the nursery table.

  Helter-skelter they all ran in, as Ellen took a cloth from her pocket and began to dust Miss Andrew's treasures.

  "Rock cakes for supper! I'll have the biggest!" cried Michael greedily.

  Mary Poppins was buttoning on her apron. "Michael Banks——" she began in a warning voice. But the sentence was never finished.

  "Oh, help!" A wild scream rent the air and Ellen fell backwards against the table.

  Bang! went the milk mugs on to the floor.

  "It's him!" shrieked Ellen. "Oh, what shall I do?" She stood in a running stream of milk and pointed to the mantelpiece.

  "What's him? Who's him?" cried Jane and Michael. "Whatever's the matter, Ellen?"

  "There! Under that banana bush! His very self! A-tishoo!"

  She was pointing straight at Miss Andrew's huntsman as he smiled in the arms of his Lion.

  "Why, of course!" cried Jane, as she looked at the huntsman. "He's exactly like Egbert—our Policeman!"

  "The only one I ever loved, and now a wild beast's got him!"

  Ellen flung out a frenzied arm and knocked the teapot over. "A-tishoo!" she sneezed, distractedly, as she hurried sobbing from the room and thundered down the stairs.

  "What a silly she is!" said Michael, laughing. "As if he'd have turned into china! Besides, we saw him a moment ago, away by the Far Gate!"

  "Yes, she's a silly," Jane agreed. "But he's very like the huntsman, Michael——" She smiled at the smiling china face. "And both such manly figures..."

  "Well, Constable?" said Mr. Banks, as he came up the garden path that evening. He wondered if he had broken a bye-law when he saw the policeman at the door.

  "It's about the duck!" The Policeman smiled.

  "We don't keep ducks," said Mr. Banks. "Good heavens! What have you done to your face?"

  The Policeman patted his bruised cheek. "Just a scratch," he murmured modestly. "But now, that there blue duck—�
�"

  "Whoever heard of a blue duck? Go and ask Admiral Boom!"

  The Policeman gave a patient sigh and handed over a dingy object.

  "Oh, that thing!" Mr. Banks exclaimed. "I suppose the children dropped it!" He stuffed the blue duck into his pocket and opened the front door.

  It was at this moment that Ellen, her face hidden in her duster, hurled herself down the front stairs and straight into his arms.

  "A-tishoo!" She sneezed so violently that Mr, Banks' bowler hat fell off.

  "Why, Ellen! What on earth's the matter?" Mr. Banks staggered beneath her weight.

  "He's gone right into that bit of china!" Her shoulders heaved as she sobbed out the news.

  "You're going to China?" said Mr. Banks. "Well, don't be so depressed about it! My dear," he remarked to Mrs. Banks, who was hurrying up the kitchen stairs. "Ellen is feeling upset, she says, because she is going to China!"

  "China?" cried Mrs. Banks, raising her eyebrows.

  "No! It's him that's gorn!" insisted Ellen. "Under a banana in the African jungle!"

  "Africa!" Mr. Banks exclaimed, catching only a word here and there. "I made a mistake," he said to Mrs. Banks. "She's going to Africa!"

  Mrs. Banks seemed quite stupefied.

  "I'm not! I'm not!" shrieked Ellen wildly.

  "Well, wherever you're going, do make up your mind!" Mr. Banks thrust her towards a chair.

  "Allow me, sir!" the Policeman murmured, stepping into the hall.

  Ellen looked up at the sound of his voice and gave a strangled sob.

  "Egbert. But I thought you were up on the mantelpiece—and a wild beast going to eat you!" She flung out her arm towards the nursery.

  "Mantelpiece?" Mr. Banks exclaimed.

  "A wild beast?" murmured Mrs. Banks. Could they—they wondered—believe their ears?

  "Leave it to me," the Policeman said. "I'll take her a turn along the path. Perhaps it will clear her head."

  He heaved Ellen out of the chair and led her, still gaping, through the door.

  Mr. Banks mopped his beaded brow. "Neither China, nor Africa," he murmured. "Merely to the front gate with the Policeman. I never knew that his name was Egbert! Well, I'll just go and say goodnight to the children.... All well, Mary Poppins?" he asked gaily, as he sauntered into the nursery.

  She gave a conceited toss of her head. Could all be anything but well while she was about the house?

  Mr. Banks glanced contentedly at the roomful of rosy children. Then his eye fell on the mantelpiece and he gave a start of surprise.

  "Hullo!" he exclaimed. "Where did those things come from?"

  "Miss Andrew!" all the children answered.

  "Quick—let me escape!" Mr. Banks turned pale. "Tell her I've run away! Gone to the moon!"

  "She's not here, Daddy," they reassured him. "She's far away in the South Seas. And these are all her treasures."

  "Well, I hope she stays there—right at the bottom! Her treasures, you say! Well this one isn't!" Mr. Banks marched to the mantelpiece and picked up the celulloid horse. "I won him myself at an Easter Fair when I was a little boy. Ah, there's my friend, the soapstone bird! A thousand years old, she said it was. And, look, I made that little ship. Aren't you proud of your father?"

  Mr. Banks smiled at his cleverness as he glanced along the mantelpiece.

  "I feel like a boy again," he said. "These things all come from my old schoolroom. That hen used to warm my breakfast egg. And the fox and the clown and Home Sweet Home—how well I remember them! And there—bless their hearts!—are the Lion and Huntsman. I always called them the Faithful Friends. Used to be a pair of these fellows, but they weren't complete, I remember. The second huntsman was broken off, nothing left of him but his boot. Ah! There's the other—the broken one. Good gracious!" He gave a start of surprise. "Both the huntsmen are here!"

  They looked at the broken ornament and blinked with astonishment.

  For there, where the blank white gap had been, was a second smiling figure. Beneath the banana tree he sat, leaning—like his unbroken brother—against a shaggy shape. A paw lay lovingly on his breast and his lion—only this morning so sad and tearful—was now showing all his teeth in a grin.

  The two ornaments were exactly alike—the two trees bore the same fruit, the two lions were equally happy and the two huntsmen smiled. Exactly alike—but for one exception. For the second huntsman had a crack in his leg just above his boot—the sort of crack you always find when two pieces of broken china are carefully fitted together.

  A smile swept over Jane's face as she realised what had happened. She gently touched the crack with her fingers.

  "It's Albert, Michael! Albert and Rover! And the other"—she touched the unbroken pair—"the other must be Herbert!"

  Michael's head nodded backwards and forwards like the head of a mandarin.

  The questions rose in them like bubbles and they turned to Mary Poppins.

  But just as the words leapt to their tongues she silenced them with a look.

  "Extraordinary thing," Mr. Banks was saying. "I could have sworn one figure was missing. It just goes to show—I'm getting older. Losing my memory, I'm afraid. Well, what are you two so amused about?"

  "Nothing!" they gurgled, as they flung back their heads and burst into peals of laughter. How could they assure him that his memory was as good as ever it was? How explain the afternoon's adventure, or tell him that they knew now where the Second Policeman had gone? Some things there are that are past telling. And it's no use trying—as they knew very well—to say what cannot be said.

  "It's a long time," grumbled Mr. Banks, "since I could laugh at nothing!"

  But he looked quite cheerful as he kissed them and went downstairs to dinner.

  "Let's put them side by side," said Jane, setting the little cracked huntsman next to his crackless brother. "Now they're both at home!"

  Michael looked up at the mantelpiece and gave a contented chuckle.

  "But what will Miss Andrew say, I wonder? Everything was to be kept safe—nothing broken, nothing mended. You don't think she'll separate them, Jane?"

  "Just let her try!" said a voice behind them. "Safe she said they were to be, and safe they are going to stay!"

  Mary Poppins was standing on the hearthrug with the teapot in her hand. And her manner was so belligerent that for half a second Jane and Michael felt sorry for Miss Andrew.

  She looked from them to the mantelpiece, glancing from their living faces to the smiling china figures.

  "One and one makes two," she declared. "And two halves make a whole. And Faithful Friends should be together, never kept apart. But, of course, if you don't approve, Michael——" for his face had assumed a thoughtful expression. "If you think they'd be safer somewhere else——If you'd like to go to the South Seas and ask Miss Andrew's permission——"

  "You know I approve, Mary Poppins!" he cried. "And I don't want to go to the South Seas. I was only thinking——" He hesitated. "Well—if you hadn't been there, Mary Poppins, do you think they'd have found each other?"

  She stood there like a pillar of starch. He was almost sorry he had spoken, she looked so stern and priggish.

  "Ifs and whys and buts and hows—you want too much," she said. But her blue eyes gave a sudden sparkle, and a pleased smile—very like those on the huntsmen's face—trembled about her lips.

  At the sight of it Michael forgot his question. Only that sparkle mattered.

  "Oh, be my lion, Mary Poppins! Put your paw around me!"

  "And me!" cried Jane as she turned to join them.

  Her arms came lightly across their shoulders as she drew them close to the starched apron. And there they were, the three of them, embracing under the nursery lamplight as though beneath a banana tree.

  With a little push, Michael spun them round. And again a push. And again a spin. And soon they were all revolving gently in the middle of the room.

  "Michael," said Mary Poppins severely, "I am not a merry-go-round!"

/>   But he only laughed and hugged her tighter.

  "The Faithful Friends are together," he cried. "All the Faithful Friends!"

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lucky Thursday

  It's dod fair!" grumbled Michael.

  He pressed his nose to the window-pane and sniffed a tear away. And, as if to taunt him, a gust of rain rattled against the glass.

  All day the storm had raged. And Michael, because he had a cold, was not allowed to go out. Jane and the Twins had put on gum-boots and gone to play in the Park. Even Annabel, wrapped in a mackintosh, had sailed off under the parrot umbrella, looking as proud as a queen.

  Oh, how lonely Michael felt! It was Ellen's Day Out. His mother had gone shopping. Mrs. Brill was down in the kitchen. And Robertson Ay, up in the attic, was asleep in a cabin trunk.

  "Get up and play in your dressing-gown. But don't put a toe outside the nursery!" Mary Poppins had warned him.

  So there he was, all by himself, with nothing to do but grumble. He built a castle with his blocks, but it tumbled down when he blew his nose. He tried cutting his hair with his penknife, but the blade was far too blunt. And at last there was nothing left to do but breathe on the rainy window-pane and draw a picture there.

  The nursery clock ticked the day away. The weather grew wetter and Michael grew crosser.

  But then, at sunset, the clouds lifted and a line of crimson shone from the West. Everything glittered in rain and sun. Rat-tat-tat—on the black umbrellas, the cherry-trees dropped their weight of water. The shouts of Jane and John and Barbara floated up to the window. They were playing leapfrog over the gutters on their way home from the Park.

  Admiral Boom came splashing past, looking like a shiny sunflower in his big yellow sou'wester.

  The Ice Cream Man trundled along the lane, with a waterproof cape spread over his tricycle. And in front of it the notice said:

  DON'T STOP ME

  I WANT MY TEA

  He glanced at Number Seventeen and waved his hand to the window. Michael, on any other day, would gladly have answered back. But today he deliberately took no notice. He huddled on the window-seat, glumly watching the sunset, and looking over Miss Lark's roof at the first faint star in the sky.