Mary Poppins Comes Back by P. L. Travers
But for once the Aldermen disobeyed. Hot milk, indeed! they seemed to say as they dragged him to the Prime Minister’s tree and pushed him into the branches.
“Police! Police!” the Lord Mayor cried, catching hold of a bough.
“I’m here, Your Honour!” the Policeman panted, pushing away a tawny paw.
But the Lion took this for a mark of affection.
“Gurrrrumph!” he said in a husky voice, as he clasped the Policeman tighter.
“Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” Miss Lark wailed. “Has nobody got a gun?”
“A dagger! A sword! A crowbar!” cried the voices from every tree.
The Park was ringing with shouts and screams. The Park Keeper rattled his stick on the Litter-basket. “Yoo-hoo!” cried the Keeper of the Zoological Gardens to distract the Lion’s attention. The Lion was growling. The Policeman was yelling. The Lord Mayor and the Aldermen were still crying “Police!”
Then suddenly a silence fell. And a neat, trim figure appeared on the path. Straight on she came, as a ship into port, with the perambulator wheeling before her and the tulip standing up stiff on her hat.
Creak went the wheels.
Tap went her shoes.
And the watching faces grew pale with horror as she tripped towards the Lion.
“Go back, Mary Poppins!” screamed Miss Lark, breaking the awful silence. “Save yourself and the little ones! There’s a wild beast down on the path!’
Mary Poppins looked up at Miss Lark’s face as it hung like a fruit among the leaves.
“Go back? When I’ve only just come out?” She smiled a superior smile.
“Away! Away!” The Prime Minister warned her. “Take care of those children, woman!”
Mary Poppins gave him a glance so icy that he felt himself freeze to the bough.
“I am taking care of these children, thank you. And as for the wild beasts,” She gave a sniff. “They seem to be all in the trees!”
“It’s a lion, Mary Poppins, look!” Michael pointed a trembling finger – and she turned and beheld the two locked figures.
The Policeman now was ducking sideways to prevent the Lion licking his cheek. His helmet was off and his face was pale, but he still had a plucky look in his eye.
“I might have known it!” said Mary Poppins, as she stared at the curious pair. “Rover!” she called in exasperation. “What do you think you’re doing?”
From under his lacy, flopping mane the Lion pricked up an ear.
“Rover!” she called again. “Down, I say!”
The Lion gave one look at her and dropped with a thud to the ground. Then he gave a little throaty growl and bounded away towards her.
“Oh, the Twins! He’ll eat them! Help!” cried Jane.
But the Lion hardly looked at the Twins. He was fawning at Mary Poppins. He rolled his eyes and wagged his tail and arched himself against her skirt. Then away he rushed to the Policeman, seized the blue trousers between his teeth and tugged them towards the perambulator.
“Don’t be so silly!” said Mary Poppins. “Do as I tell you! Let him go! You’ve got the wrong one.”
The Lion loosed the trouser-leg and rolled his eyes in surprise.
“Do you mean,” the Prime Minister called from his bough, “he’s to eat another Policeman?”
Mary Poppins made no reply. Instead, she fished inside her handbag and brought out a silver whistle. Then, setting it daintily to her lips, she puffed out her cheeks and blew.
“Why – I could have blown my whistle – ” the Policeman stared at the silver shape – “if only I’d thought of it.”
She turned upon him a look of scorn. “The trouble with you is that you don’t think. Neither do you!” she snapped at the Lion.
He hung his head between his paws and looked very hurt and foolish.
“You don’t listen, either,” she added severely. “In at one ear and out of the next. There was no need to make such a foolish mistake.”
The Lion’s tail crept between his legs.
“You’re careless, thoughtless and inattentive. You ought to be thoroughly ashamed of yourself.”
The Lion gave a humble snuffle as though he agreed with her.
“Who whistled?” called a voice from the Gate. “Who summoned an Officer of the Law?”
Along the Walk came another policeman, limping unevenly. His face had a melancholy look, as though he possessed a secret sorrow.
“I can’t stay long whatever it is,” he said, as he reached the group. “I left the lights when I heard the whistle and I must get back to them. Why Egbert!” he said to the First Policeman, “what’s the matter with you?”
“Oh, nothing to complain of, Albert! I’ve just been attacked by a lion!”
“Lion?” The sad face grew a shade more cheerful as the Second Policeman glanced about him. “Oh, what a beauty!” he exclaimed, limping towards the tawny shape at Mary Poppins’ side.
Jane turned to whisper in Michael’s ear.
“He must be the Policeman’s brother – the one with the wooden foot!”
“Nice lion! Pretty lion!” said the Second Policeman softly.
And the Lion, at the sound of his voice, leapt to his feet with a roar.
“Now gently, gently! Be a good lion. He’s an elegant fellow, so he is!” the Second Policeman crooned.
Then he put back the mane from the Lion’s brow and met the golden eyes. A shudder of joy ran through his frame.
“Rover! My dear old friend! It’s you!” He flung out his arms with a loving gesture and the Lion rushed into them.
“Oh, Rover! After all these years!” the Second Policeman sobbed.
“Wurra, wurra!” the Lion growled, licking the tears away.
And for a whole minute it was nothing but Rover – Wurra, Rover – “Wurra, while they hugged and kissed each other.
“But how did you get here? How did you find me?” demanded the Second Policeman.
“Woof! Burrrum!” replied the Lion, nodding towards the perambulator.
“No! You don’t say! How very kind! We must always be grateful, Rover! And if I can do you a good turn, Miss Poppins—”
“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! Hurrumph!” 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
“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 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 more’s 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, halfway 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’re 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.
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 anything be all 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 celluloid 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. The 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 the 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!”