Mary Poppins Comes Back by P. L. Travers
There stood the Merry-go-round on a clear patch of lawn between the Lime Trees. It was a new one, very bright and shiny, with prancing horses going up and down on their brass poles. A striped flag fluttered from the top, and everywhere it was gorgeously decorated with golden scrolls and silver leaves and coloured birds and stars. It was, in fact, everything Miss Lark had said, and more.
The Merry-go-round slowed down and drew to a standstill as they arrived. The Park Keeper ran up officiously and held on to one of the brass poles.
“Come along, come along! Threepence a ride!” he called importantly.
“I know which horse I’ll have!” said Michael, dashing up to one painted blue-and-scarlet, with the name “Merry-legs” on its gold collar. He clambered on to its back and seized the pole.
“No Litter Allowed and Observe the Bye-Laws!” called the Keeper fussily, as Jane sped past him.
“I’ll have Twinkle!” she cried, climbing upon the back of a fiery white horse with its name on a red collar.
Then Mary Poppins lifted the Twins from the perambulator and put Barbara in front of Michael, and John behind Jane.
“Penny, Tuppeny, Threepenny, Fourpenny, or Fivepenny rides?” said the Merry-go-round Attendant, as he came to collect the money.
“Sixpenny,” said Mary Poppins, handing him four sixpenny-bits.
The children stared, amazed. They had never before had a sixpenny ride on a Merry-go-round.
“No Litter Allowed!” called the Keeper, his eye on the tickets in Mary Poppins’ hand.
“But aren’t you coming?” Michael called down to her.
“Hold tight, please! Hold tight! I’ll take the next turn!” she replied snappily.
There was a hoot from the Merry-go-round’s chimney. The music broke out again. And slowly, slowly the horses began to move.
“Hold on, please!” called Mary Poppins sternly.
They held on.
The trees were moving past them. The brass poles slipped up and down through the horses’ backs. A dazzle of light fell on them from the rays of the setting sun.
“Sit tight!” came Mary Poppins’ voice again.
They sat tight.
Now the trees were moving more swiftly, spinning about them as the Merry-go-round gathered speed. Michael tightened his arm about Barbara’s waist. Jane flung back her hand and held John firmly. On they rode, turning ever more quickly, with their hair blowing out behind them, and the wind sharp on their faces. Round and round went Merry-legs and Twinkle, with the children on their backs and the Park tipping and rocking, whirling and wheeling about them.
It seemed as if they would never stop, as if there were no such thing as Time, as if the world was nothing but a circle of light and a group of painted horses.
The sun died in the West and the dusk came fluttering down. But still they rode, faster and faster, till at last they could not distinguish tree from sky. The whole broad earth was spinning now about them with a deep, drumming sound like a humming top.
Never again would Jane and Michael and John and Barbara be so close to the centre of the world as they were on that whirling ride. And, somehow, it seemed as though they knew it.
For – “Never again! Never again!” was the thought in their hearts as the earth whirled about them and they rode through the dropping dusk.
Presently, the trees ceased to be a circular green blur and their trunks again became visible. The sky moved away from the earth, and the Park stopped spinning. Slower and slower went the horses. And at last the Merry-go-round stood still.
“Come along, come along! Threepence a ride!” the Park Keeper was calling in the distance.
Stiff from their long ride, the four children clambered down. But their eyes were shining, and their voices trembled with excitement.
“Oh, lovely, lovely, lovely!” cried Jane, gazing at Mary Poppins with sparkling eyes, as she put John into the perambulator.
“If only we could have gone on for ever!” exclaimed Michael, lifting Barbara in beside him.
Mary Poppins gazed down at them. Her eyes were strangely soft and gentle in the gathering dusk.
“All good things come to an end,” she said for the second time that day.
Then she flung up her head and glanced at the Merry-go-round.
“My turn!” she cried joyfully, as she stooped and took something from the perambulator.
Then she straightened and stood looking at them for a moment – that strange look that seemed to plunge right down inside them and see what they were thinking.
“Michael!” she said, lightly touching his cheek with her hand, “be good!”
He stared up at her uneasily. Why had she done that? What could be the matter?
“Jane! Take care of Michael and the Twins!” said Mary Poppins. And she lifted Jane’s hand and put it gently on the handle of the perambulator.
“All aboard! All aboard!” cried the Ticket Collector.
The lights of the Merry-go-round blazed up.
Mary Poppins turned.
“Coming!” she called, waving her parrot-headed umbrella.
She darted across the little gulf of darkness that lay between the children and the Merry-go-round.
“Mary Poppins!” cried Jane, with a tremble in her voice. For suddenly – she did not know why – she felt afraid.
“Mary Poppins!” shouted Michael, catching Jane’s fear.
But Mary Poppins took no notice. She leapt gracefully upon the platform, and, climbing upon the back of a dappled horse called Caramel, she sat down neatly and primly.
“Single or Return?” said the Ticket Collector.
For a moment she appeared to consider the question. She glanced across at the children and back at the Collector.
“You never know,” she said thoughtfully. “It might come in useful. I’ll take a Return.”
The Ticket Collector snapped a hole in a green ticket and handed it to Mary Poppins.
Jane and Michael noticed that she did not pay for it.
Then the music broke out again, softly at first, then loudly, wildly, triumphantly. Slowly the painted horses began to move.
Mary Poppins, looking straight ahead of her, was borne past the children. The parrot’s head of her umbrella nestled under her arm. Her neatly gloved hands were closed on the brass pole. And in front of her, on the horse’s neck—
“Michael!” cried Jane, clutching his arm. “Do you see? She must have hidden it under the rug! Her carpet-bag!”
Michael stared.
“Do you think. . .” he began, in a whisper.
Jane nodded.
“But – she’s wearing the locket! The chain hasn’t broken! I distinctly saw it!”
Behind them the Twins began to whimper, but Jane and Michael took no notice. They were gazing anxiously at the shining circle of horses.
The Merry-go-round was moving swiftly now, and soon the children could no longer tell which horse was which, nor distinguish Merry-legs from Twinkle.
Everything before them was a blaze of spinning light, except for the dark figure, neat and steady, that ever and again approached them and sped past and disappeared.
Wilder and wilder grew the drumming music. Faster and faster whirled the Merry-go-round. Again the dark shape rode towards them upon the dappled horse. And this time, as she came by, something bright and gleaming broke from her neck and came flying through the air to their feet.
Jane bent and picked it up. It was the gold locket, hanging loosely from its broken golden chain.
“It’s true, then, it’s true!” came Michael’s bursting cry. “Oh, open it, Jane!”
With trembling fingers she pressed the catch and the locket flew open. The flickering light fell across the glass and they saw before them their own pictured faces, clustered about a figure with straight black hair, stern blue eye, bright pink cheeks and a nose turning upwards like the nose of a Dutch doll.
“Jane, Michael, John,
Barbara and Annabel Banks
<
Mary Poppins”
read Jane from the little scroll beneath the picture.
“So that’s what was in it!” said Michael miserably, as Jane shut the locket and put it in her pocket. He knew there was no hope now. . .
They turned again to the Merry-go-round, dazzled and giddy in the spinning light, seeing it faintly through a mist of tears. By now the horses were flying more swiftly than ever, and the peeling music was louder than before.
And then a strange thing happened. With a great blast of trumpets, the whole Merry-go-round rose, spinning, from the ground. Round and round, rising ever higher and higher, the coloured horses wheeled and raced with Caramel and Mary Poppins at their head. And the springing circle of light went lifting among the trees, turning the leaves to gold as the light fell upon them.
“She’s going!” said Michael.
“Oh, Mary Poppins, Mary Poppins! Come back, come back!” they cried, lifting their arms towards her.
But her face was turned away, she looked out serenely above her horse’s head and gave no sign that she had heard.
“Mary Poppins!” It was a last despairing cry.
No answer came from the air.
By now the Merry-go-round had cleared the trees and was whirling up towards the stars. Away it went and away, growing smaller and smaller, until the figure of Mary Poppins was but a dark speck in a wheel of light.
On and on, pricking through the sky, went the Merry-go-round, carrying Mary Poppins with it. And at last it was just a tiny, twinkling shape, a little larger but not otherwise different from a star.
Michael sniffed and fumbled in his pocket for his handkerchief.
“I’ve got a crick in my neck,” he said, to explain the sniff. But when Jane was not looking he hurriedly wiped his eyes.
Jane, still watching the bright spinning shape, gave a sigh.
Then she turned away.
“We must go home,” she said flatly, remembering that Mary Poppins had told her to take care of Michael and the Twins.
“Come along, come along! Threepence a ride!”
The Park Keeper, who had been putting litter in the baskets, returned to the scene. He glanced at the place where the Merry-go-round had been and started violently. He looked around him and his mouth fell open. He looked up and his eyes nearly burst out of his head.
“See here!” he shouted. “This won’t do. Here one minute and gone the next! It’s Against the Regulations! I’ll have the Law on you.” He shook his fist wildly at the empty air. “I never saw such a thing! Not even when I was a boy. I must make a report! I shall tell the Lord Mayor!”
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
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.
“He needs rest, Daddy!” Michael reminded him, hurrying down after Jane.
“He’ll get it,” promised Mr Banks, as he snatched up his bag. “When I think of the things I could have done if I hadn’t gone and got married! Lived alone in a Cave, perhaps. Or I might have gone Round the World.”
“And what would we have done, then?” asked Michael.
“You would have had to fend for yourselves. And serve you right! Where’s my overcoat?”