LITMIR.BIZ

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spoon was attached to the neck of the bottle, and into this Mary Poppins poured a dark crimson fluid.

      “Is that your medicine?” enquired Michael, looking very interested.

      “No, yours,” said Mary Poppins, holding out the spoon to him. Michael stared. He wrinkled up his nose. He began to protest.

      “I don’t want it. I don’t need it. I won’t!”

      But Mary Poppins’ eyes were fixed upon him, and Michael suddenly discovered that you could not look at Mary Poppins and disobey her. There was something strange and extraordinary about her – something that was frightening and at the same time most exciting. The spoon came nearer. He held his breath, shut his eyes and gulped. A delicious taste ran round his mouth. He turned his tongue in it. He swallowed, and a happy smile ran round his face.

      “Strawberry ice,” he said ecstatically. “More, more, more!”

      But Mary Poppins, her face as stern as before, was pouring out a dose for Jane. It ran into the spoon, silvery, greeny, yellowy. Jane tasted it.

      “Lime-juice cordial,” she said, sliding her tongue deliciously over her lips. But when she saw Mary Poppins moving towards the Twins with the bottle Jane rushed at her.

      “Oh, no – please. They’re too young. It wouldn’t be good for them. Please!”

      Mary Poppins, however, took no notice, but with a warning, terrible glance at Jane, tipped the spoon towards John’s mouth. He lapped at it eagerly, and by the few drops that were spilt on his bib, Jane and Michael could tell that the substance in the spoon this time was milk. Then Barbara had her share, and she gurgled and licked the spoon twice.

      Mary Poppins then poured out another dose and solemnly took it herself.

      “Rum punch,” she said, smacking her lips and corking the bottle.

      Jane’s eyes and Michael’s popped with astonishment, but they were not given much time to wonder, for Mary Poppins, having put the miraculous bottle on the mantelpiece, turned to them.

      “Now,” she said, “spit-spot into bed.” And she began to undress them. They noticed that whereas buttons and hooks had needed all sorts of coaxing from Katie Nanna, for Mary Poppins they flew apart almost at a look. In less than a minute they found themselves in bed and watching, by the dim light from the nightlight, the rest of Mary Poppins’ unpacking being performed.

      From the carpet-bag she took out seven flannel nightgowns, four cotton ones, a pair of boots, a set of dominoes, two bathing caps and a postcard album. Last of all came a folding camp bedstead with blankets and eiderdown complete, and this she set down between John’s cot and Barbara’s.

      Jane and Michael sat hugging themselves and watching. It was all so surprising that they could find nothing to say. But they knew, both of them, that something strange and wonderful had happened at Number Seventeen, Cherry Tree Lane.

      Mary Poppins, slipping one of the flannel nightgowns over her head, began to undress underneath it as though it were a tent. Michael, charmed by this strange new arrival, unable to keep silent any longer, called to her.

      “Mary Poppins,” he cried, “you’ll never leave us, will you?”

      There was no reply from under the nightgown. Michael could not bear it.

      “You won’t leave us, will you?” he called anxiously.

      Mary Poppins’ head came out of the top of the nightgown. She looked very fierce.

      “One word more from that direction,” she said threateningly, “and I’ll call the Policeman.”

      “I was only saying,” began Michael, meekly, “that we hoped you wouldn’t be going away soon—” He stopped, feeling very red and confused.

      Mary Poppins stared from him to Jane in silence. Then she sniffed.

      “I’ll stay till the wind changes,” she said shortly, and she blew out her candle and got into bed.

      “That’s all right,” said Michael, half to himself and half to Jane. But Jane wasn’t listening. She was thinking about all that had happened, and wondering. . .

      And that is how Mary Poppins came to live at Number Seventeen, Cherry Tree Lane. And although they sometimes found themselves wishing for the quieter, more ordinary days when Katie Nanna ruled the household, everybody, on the whole, was glad of Mary Poppins’ arrival. Mr Banks was glad because, as she arrived by herself and did not hold up the traffic, he had not had to tip the Policeman. Mrs Banks was glad because she was able to tell everybody that her children’s nurse was so fashionable that she didn’t believe in giving references. Mrs Brill and Ellen were glad because they could drink strong cups of tea all day in the kitchen and no longer needed to preside at nursery suppers. Robertson Ay was glad, too, because Mary Poppins had only one pair of shoes, and those she polished herself.

      But nobody ever knew what Mary Poppins felt about it, for Mary Poppins never told anything. . .

Chapter Two

       THE DAY OUT

      “EVERY THIRD THURSDAY,” said Mrs Banks. “Two till five.”

      Mary Poppins eyed her sternly. “The best people, ma’am,” she said, “give every second Thursday, and one till six. And those I shall take or—” Mary Poppins paused, and Mrs Banks knew what the pause meant. It meant that if she didn’t get what she wanted Mary Poppins would not stay.

      “Very well, very well,” said Mrs Banks hurriedly, though she wished Mary Poppins did not know so very much more about the best people than she did herself.

      So Mary Poppins put on her white gloves and tucked her umbrella under her arm – not because it was raining but because it had such a beautiful handle that she couldn’t possibly leave it at home. How could you leave your umbrella behind if it had a parrot’s head for a handle? Besides, Mary Poppins was very vain and liked to look her best. Indeed, she was quite sure that she never looked anything else.

      Jane waved to her from the Nursery window.

      “Where are you going?” she called.

      “Kindly close that window,” replied Mary Poppins, and Jane’s head hurriedly disappeared inside the Nursery.

      Mary Poppins walked down the garden-path and opened the gate. Once outside in the Lane, she set off walking very quickly as if she were afraid the afternoon would run away from her if she didn’t keep up with it. At the corner she turned to the right and then to the left, nodded haughtily to the Policeman, who said it was a nice day, and by that time she felt that her Day Out had begun.

      She stopped beside an empty motor car in order to put her hat straight with the help of the windscreen, in which it was reflected, then she smoothed down her frock and tucked her umbrella more securely under her arm so that the handle, or rather the parrot, could be seen by everybody. After these preparations she went forward to meet the Match Man.

      Now, the Match Man had two professions. He not only sold matches like any ordinary match man, but he drew pavement pictures as well. He did these things turn-about according to the weather. If it was wet, he sold matches because the rain would have washed away his pictures if he had painted them. If it was fine, he was on his knees all day, making pictures in coloured chalks on the side-walks, and doing them so quickly that often you would find he had painted up one side of a street and down the other almost before you’d had time to come round the corner.

      On this particular day, which

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