Down below them Miss Calico’s voice grew fainter every moment.
“Peppermint Candy! Bargain Prices! All of them made of the Finest Sugar!”
And at last it seemed to Jane and Michael that the voice was no longer Miss Calico’s, but the faint shrill neigh of a little horse in a very distant meadow.
They threaded their way through the crowding riders, bouncing upon their peppermint sticks. The wind ran swiftly by their faces and the echo of hooves was in their ears. Oh, where were they riding? Home to dinner? Or out to the uttermost ends of the earth?
And ever before them, showing the way, making a path through the jostling riders, went the figure of Mary Poppins. She sat her umbrella with elegant ease, her hands well down on its parrot head. The pigeon’s wing in her hat flew at a perfect angle, not a fold of her dress was out of place. What she was thinking, they could not tell. But her mouth had a small self-satisfied smile as though she were thoroughly pleased with herself.
Cherry Tree Lane grew nearer and nearer. The Admiral’s telescope shone in the sun.
“Oh, I wish we need never go down!” cried Michael.
“I wish we could ride all day!” cried Jane.
“I wish to be home by One O’clock. Keep up with me, please!” said Mary Poppins. She pointed the beak of her parrot umbrella towards Number Seventeen.
They sighed, though they knew it was no good sighing. They patted the necks of their walking-sticks and followed her downwards through the sky.
The garden lawn, like a bright green paddock, rose slowly up to meet them. Down to it raced the peppermint sticks, rearing and prancing like polo ponies. Robertson Ay was the first to land. His stick pulled up in the pansy bed and Robertson opened his eyes and blinked. He yawned and gathered his parcels together and staggered into the house.
Down past the Cherry Trees trotted the children. Down, down, till the grasses grazed their feet, and the sticks stood still on the lawn.
At the same moment, the parrot-headed umbrella, its black silk folds like a pair of wings, swooped down among the flowers. Mary Poppins alighted with a ladylike jump. Then she gave the umbrella a little shake and tucked it under her arm. To look at that neat, respectable pair, you would never have guessed they had crossed the Park in such a curious fashion.
“Oh, what a glorious ride!” cried Michael. “How lucky you had those pins, Mary Poppins!” He rushed to her across the lawn and hugged her round the waist.
“Is this a garden or a Jumble Sale? I’ll thank you to let me go!” she snapped.
“I’ll never lose my temper again! I feel so sweet and good!” said Jane.
Mary Poppins smiled disbelievingly. “How very unusual!” she remarked, as she stooped to pick up the sticks.
“I’ll take mine, Mary Poppins!” he pleaded. “I shan’t even nibble the handle!”
Mary Poppins took not the slightest notice. Without a word she sailed upstairs with the walking-sticks under her arm.
“But they’re ours!” complained Michael, turning to Jane. “Miss Calico told us to keep them!”
“No, she didn’t,” said Jane, with a shake of her head. “She said we might keep them if we could.”
“Well, of course we can!” said Michael stoutly. “We’ll keep them to ride on always!”
And indeed, the sight of the walking-sticks, as they stood in a corner by Mary Poppins’ bed, was very reassuring. For who, the children fondly thought, would want to steal four sticky poles of sugar? Already the pink-and-white striped sticks seemed part of the Nursery furniture.
They leant together with handles locked, like four faithful friends. Not a movement came from any of them. They were just like any other sticks, quietly waiting in a dusty corner to go for a walk with their owners. . .
The afternoon passed and bedtime came and the scent of peppermint filled the Nursery. Michael sniffed as he hurried in from his bath. He flung a loving glance at the sticks.
“They’re all right!” he whispered, as Jane came in. “But I think we should stay awake tonight and see that nothing happens.”
Jane nodded. She had seen those sticks do curious things and she felt that Michael was right.
So, long after Mary Poppins had gone, they lay awake and stared at the corner. The four dim shapes stood still and silent beside the neat camp bed.
“Where shall we go tomorrow?” asked Michael. “I think I’ll ride over to see Aunt Flossie and ask her how she liked it.” He gave a yawn and shut his right eye. He could see just as well with one, he thought. And the other could take a rest.
“I’d like to see Timbuctoo,” said Jane. “It has such a beautiful sound.”
There was a long pause.
“Don’t you think that’s a good idea, Michael?”
But Michael did not answer. He had closed the other eye – just for a moment. And in that moment he had fallen asleep.
Jane sat up, faithfully watching the sticks. She watched and watched and watched and watched, till her head fell sideways upon the pillow.
“Timbuctoo,” she murmured drowsily, with her eyes on the slender shapes in the corner. And after that she said nothing more because she was much too sleepy. . .
Downstairs the Grandfather Clock struck ten. But Jane did not hear it. She did not hear Mary Poppins creep in and undress beneath her cotton nightgown. She did not hear Mr Banks locking the doors, nor the house as it settled down for the night. She was dreaming a beautiful dream of horses and through it came Michael calling her name.
“Jane! Jane! Jane!” came the urgent whisper.
She sprang up and tossed the hair from her eyes. Beyond Mary Poppins’ sleeping shape she could see Michael sitting on the edge of his bed with his finger to his lips.
“I heard a funny noise!” he hissed.
Jane listened. Yes! She heard it too. She held her breath as she caught the sound of a high, shrill, far-away whistle.
“Whew-ee! Whew-ee!”
It came nearer and nearer. Then, suddenly, from the night outside, they heard a shrill voice calling.
“Come, Sugar! Come, Lightfoot! Come, Candy! Come, Mint! Don’t wait or you’ll be late. That’s the law!”
Again came the whistle, clearer and louder. And at the same moment there was a quick scuffle in the corner by Mary Poppins’ bed.
Rattle! Clash! Bang! Swoop!
And the four walking-sticks, one after another, rose up and leapt out of the window.
In a flash the children were out of bed and leaning across the sill. All was darkness. The night had not a single star. But over the Cherry Trees something shone with a queer unearthly brilliance.
It was Miss Calico. She flashed like a little silver hedgehog, as she rode through the sky on a peppermint stick. Her whip made little cracks in the air and her whistle pierced the still, dark night.
“Come up, you slow-coaches!” she screamed, as the four sticks followed her, neighing wildly.
“Dancer, you donkey, come up!” she called. And from somewhere, down by the kitchen steps, another stick came trotting.
“That must be Robertson Ay’s!” said Jane.
“Where are you, Trixie? Come up, my girl!” Miss Calico cracked her whip again. And out from Miss Lark’s best bedroom window another stick leapt to join the throng.
“Come, Stripe! Come, Lollipop! Dapple and Trot!” From every direction the sticks came racing. And Miss Calico flashed like a star among them.
“Shake a leg, Blossom! Look sharp, there, Honey! Those who roam, must come home. That’s the law!” She whistled them up and cracked her whip and laughed as they leapt through the air towards her.
The whole sky now was studded with sticks. It rang with the thunder of galloping hooves and the trumpeting neighs of peppermint horses. At first they looked like small black shadows with the colour gone from their shining backs. But a glow of moonrise came from the Park and soon they appeared in all their brightness. They shone and shimmered as they galloped; their pink legs flashed in the rising light.
“Come up, my fillies! Come up, my nags! All of you made of the finest sugar!”
High and sweet came Miss Calico’s voice, as she called her horses home. Crack! went her whip as they trotted behind her, snorting and tossing their peppermint heads.
Then the moon rose, full and round and clear, above the trees of the Park. And Jane, as she saw it, gave a gasp and clutched her brother’s hand.
“Oh, Michael! Look! It’s blue!” she cried.
And blue indeed it was.
Out from the other side of earth the great blue moon came marching. Over the Park and over the Lane it spread its bright blue rays. It hung from the topmost peak of the sky, and shone like a lamp on the sleeping world.
And across its light, like a flock of bats, rode Miss Calico and her string of horses. Their shapes sped past the big blue moon and flashed for a moment in its brightness. Then away went the racing peppermint sticks, through the distant shining sky. The crack of the whip grew smaller and smaller. Miss Calico’s voice grew fast and faint. Till at last it seemed as though she and her horses had faded into the moonlight.
“All of them made of the Finest Sugar!”
A last small echo came floating back.
The children leant on the window-sill and were silent for a moment.
Then Michael spoke.
“We couldn’t keep them, after all,” he said in a mournful whisper.
“She never meant us to,” said Jane, as she gazed at the empty sky.
They turned together from the window and the moon’s blue light streamed into the room. It lay like water upon the floor. It crept across the children’s cots till it reached the bed in the corner. Then, full and clear and bold and blue, it shone upon Mary Poppins. She did not wake. But she smiled a secret, satisfied smile as though, even in her deepest dreams, she was thoroughly pleased with herself.
They stood beside her, hardly breathing, as they watched that curious smile. Then they looked at each other and nodded wisely.
“She knows,” said Michael, in a whisper. And Jane breathed an answering “Yes.”
For a moment they smiled at her sleeping figure. Then they tip-toed back to their beds.
The blue moonlight lay over their pillows. It lapped them round as they closed their eyes. It gleamed upon Mary Poppins’ nose as she lay in her old camp bed. And presently, as though blue moons were nothing to her, she turned her face away. She pulled the sheet up over her head and huddled down deeper under the blankets. And soon the only sound in the Nursery was Mary Poppins’ snoring.
Chapter Six
HIGH TIDE
“AND BE SURE you don’t drop it!” said Mary Poppins, as she handed Michael a large black bottle.
He met the warning glint in her eye and shook his head earnestly.
“I’ll be extra specially careful,” he promised. He could not have gone more cautiously if he had been a Burglar.
He and Jane and Mary Poppins had been on a visit to Admiral Boom to borrow a Bottle of Port for Mr Banks. Now it was lying in Michael’s arms and he was walking gingerly – pit-pat, pit-pat – like a cat on hot bricks. And dawdling along behind came Jane, holding the Spotted Cowrie Shell that Mrs Boom had given her.
They had had a wonderful afternoon. The Admiral had sung “I Saw Three Ships a-Sailing” and shown them his full-rigged Ship in a Bottle. Mrs Boom had provided Ginger Pop and a plate of macaroons. And Binnacle, the retired Pirate who did the Admiral’s booking and mending, had allowed them to look at the Skull and Crossbones tattooed upon his chest.
Yes, thought Michael, looking down at the bottle, it had really been a lovely day.
Then, aloud, he said wistfully, “I wish I could have a Glass of Port. I’m sure it must be delicious!”
“Step up, please!” Mary Poppins commanded. “And don’t keep scratching at that label, Michael! You are not a Tufted Woodpecker!”
“I can’t step up any quicker!” he grumbled. “And why must we hurry, Mary Poppins?” He was thinking that when the bottle was empty he would make a ship to put in it. A beautiful little full-rigged ship, like the one in the Admiral’s bottle.
“We are hurrying,” said Mary Poppins, with awful distinctness, “because this is the Second Thursday and I am going out.”
“Oh!” groaned Michael, who had quite forgotten. “That means an evening with Ellen!”
He looked at Jane for sympathy but Jane took no notice. She was holding her Cowrie Shell to her ear and listening to the sound of the sea.
“I can’t bear Ellen!” Michael grumbled. “She’s always got a cold and her feet are too big.”
“I wish I could see the Sea!” Jane murmured, as she peered inside the shell.
Mary Poppins gave an impatient snort. “There you go! Wish, wish, wishing – all day long! If it isn’t a Glass of Port, it’s the Sea! I never knew such a pair for wishing!”
“Well, you never need to wish!” said Michael. “You’re perfect, just as you are!”
She’ll be pleased with that, he thought to himself, as he gave her a flattering smile.
“Humph!” said her disbelieving look. But a dimple danced suddenly into her cheek.
“Get along with you, Michael Banks!” she cried, and hustled them through the gate. . .
It turned out later, to Michael’s surprise, that Ellen had no cold. She had another ailment, however, which went by the name of ’Ay Fever. She sneezed and sneezed till her face grew red. And it seemed to Michael that her feet grew bigger.
“I’m afraid I’ll sneeze me ’ead right off!” she said lugubriously. And Michael almost wished she would.
“If there weren’t any Thursdays,” he said to Jane, “Mary Poppins would never go out!”
But, unfortunately, every week had a Thursday and once Mary Poppins was out of the house it was no good calling her back.
There she went now, tripping down the Lane. She wore her black straw hat with daisies and her best blue coat with silver buttons. The children leant from the Nursery window and watched her retreating back. The parrot-head of her umbrella had a perky look and she walked with a jaunty, contented air as though she knew that a pleasant surprise awaited her round the corner.
“I wonder where she’s going!” said Jane.
“I wish I were going too!” groaned Michael. “Oh, Ellen, can’t you stop sneezing!”
“Colder-hearted than a Toad, that boy is!” observed Ellen to her handkerchief. “As if I did it for choice! A-tishoo!”
She sneezed till the Nursery furniture trembled. She sneezed the afternoon away and she sneezed all through supper. She sneezed the five of them through their baths and put them into bed, still sneezing. Then she sneezed on the nightlight, sneezed the door shut and sneezed herself down the stairs.
“Thank goodness!” said Michael. “Now, let’s do something!”
If Mary Poppins had been on duty they would never have dared to do anything. But nobody took any notice of Ellen. She simply didn’t count.
Jane pattered over to the mantelpiece and took down the Cowrie Shell.
“It’s still going on!” she said with delight. “Singing and gently roaring!”
“Good gracious!” cried Michael, as he too listened. “I can even hear the fish swimming!”
“Don’t be so silly! What nonsense you talk! Nobody can hear a fish swim!”
Jane and Michael glanced round hurriedly. Whose voice was that? And where did it come from?
“Well, don’t stand goggling at each other! Come on in!” the strange voice cried. And this time it seemed to come from the Shell.
“It’s perfectly simple! Just shut your eyes and hold your breath – and dive!”
“Dive where?” said Michael disbelievingly. “We don’t want to hit our heads on the hearthrug!”
“Hearthrug? Don’t be so silly! Dive!” the voice commanded again.
“Come on, Michael! Stand beside me! At least we can try!” said Jane.
So, holding the Cowrie Shell between them, they shut
their eyes and drew in their breath and dived as the voice had told them. To their surprise their heads hit nothing. But the roaring sound from the Shell grew louder and a wind ran swiftly by their cheeks. Down they went, swooping like a pair of swallows, till suddenly the water splashed around them and a wave went over their heads.
Michael opened his mouth and gave a splutter. “Oh, oh!” he cried loudly, “it tastes of salt!”
“Well, what did you think it would taste of? Sugar?” said the same little voice beside them.
“Are you all right, Michael?” Jane called anxiously.
“Ye-yes,” he said bravely. “As long as you’re there!”
She seized his hand and they dived together through rising walls of water.
“Shan’t be long now,” the voice assured them. “I can see the lights already.”
Lights in the water – how strange! thought Jane. And she opened her eyes for a peep.
Below shone a ripple of coloured flares – blue, rose and silver, scarlet and green.
“Pretty, aren’t they?” said the voice in her ear. And, turning, she saw, looking gleefully at her, the round, bright eye of a Sea-Trout. He was perched like a bird on the bough of a tree, whose branches were all of crimson.
“That’s coral!” she cried in astonishment. “We must be down in the deeps of the sea!”
“Well, wasn’t that what you wanted?” said the Trout. “I thought you wished you could see the sea!”
“I did,” said Jane, looking very surprised. “But I never expected the wish to come true.”
“Great Oceans! Why bother to wish it, then? I call that simply a waste of time. But come on! We mustn’t be late for the Party!”
And before they had time to wonder where the Party was, he swept away through the forests of coral and they dived behind him with the greatest of ease.
“Oh, what a glorious feeling!” shrieked Michael, as he swam along at the tail of the Trout.
“Jumping Jellyfish!” cried a frightened voice. “What a start you gave me! It looked like a net!” A large fish darted through a curl of Jane’s hair and hurtled away, looking very upset.
“That’s the Haddock. He’s jumpy,” the Trout explained. “He’s lost so many friends up there –” he pointed his fin up through the water – “and he’s always afraid it’s his turn next.”
Mary Poppins--the Complete Collection Page 40