Mary Poppins Comes Back

CHAPTER THREE Bad Wednesday

Tick-tack! Tick-tock!

The pendulum of the Nursery clock swung backwards and forwards like an old lady nodding her head.

Tick-tack! Tick-tock!

Then the clock stopped ticking and began to whir and growl, quietly at first and then more loudly, as though it were in pain. And as it whirred it shook so violently that the whole mantel-piece trembled. The empty marmalade jar hopped and shook and shivered; John's hair-brush, left there over-night, danced in its bristles; the Royal Doulton Bowl that Mrs. Banks' Great-Aunt Caroline had given her as a Christening Present slipped sideways, so that the three little boys who were playing horses inside it stood on their painted heads.

And after all that, just when it seemed as if the clock must burst, it began to strike.

One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven!

On the last stroke Jane woke up.

The sun was streaming in through a gap in the curtains and falling in gold stripes upon her quilt. Jane sat up and looked round the Nursery. No sound came from Michael's bed. The Twins in their cots were sucking their thumbs and breathing deeply.

"I'm the only one awake," she said, feeling very pleased. "Everybody in the world is asleep except me. I can lie here all by myself and think and think and think."

And she drew her knees up to her chin and curled into the bed as though she were settling down into a nest.

"Now I am a bird!" she said to herself. "I have just laid seven lovely white eggs and I am sitting with my wings over them, brooding. Cluck-cluck! Cluck-cluck!"

She made a small broody noise in her throat.

"And after a long time, say half an hour, there will be a little cheep, and a little tap and the shells will crack. Then, out will pop seven little chicks, three yellow, two brown and two—"

"Time to get up!"

Mary Poppins, appearing suddenly from nowhere, tweaked the bed-clothes from Jane's shoulders.

"Oh, no, NO!" grumbled Jane, pulling them up again.

She felt very cross with Mary Poppins for rushing in and spoiling everything.

"I don't want to get up!" she said, turning her face into the pillow.

"Oh, indeed?" Mary Poppins said calmly, as though the remark had no interest for her. She pulled the bed-clothes right off the bed and Jane found herself standing on the floor.

"Oh, dear," she grumbled, "why do I always have to get up first?"

"You're the eldest — that's why." Mary Poppins pushed her towards the bath-room.

"But I don't want to be the eldest. Why can't Michael be the eldest sometimes?"

"Because you were born first — see?"

"Well, I didn't ask to be. I'm tired of being born first. I wanted to think."

"You can think when you're brushing your teeth."

"Not the same thoughts."

"Well, nobody wants to think the same thoughts all the time!"

"I do."

Mary Poppins gave her a quick, black look.

"That's enough, thank you!" And from the tone in her voice Jane knew she meant what she said.

Mary Poppins hurried away to wake Michael.

Jane put down her toothbrush and sat on the edge of the bath.

"It's not fair," she grumbled, kicking the linoleum with her toes. "Making me do all the horrid things just because I'm the eldest! I won't brush my teeth!"

Immediately she felt surprised at herself. She was usually quite glad to be older than Michael and the Twins. It made her feel rather superior and much more important. But to-day — what was the matter with to-day that she felt so cross and peevish?

"If Michael had been born first I'd have had time to hatch out my eggs!" She grumbled to herself, feeling that the day had begun badly.

Unfortunately, instead of getting better, it grew worse.

At breakfast Mary Poppins discovered there was only enough Puffed Rice for three.

"Well, Jane must have Porridge," she said, setting out the plates and sniffing angrily for she did not like making Porridge. There were always too many lumps in it.

"But why?" complained Jane. "I want Puffed Rice."

Mary Poppins darted a fierce look at her.

"Because you're the eldest!"

There it was again! That hateful word. She kicked the leg of her chair under the table, hoping she was scratching off the varnish, and ate her porridge as slowly as she dared. She turned it round and round in her mouth swallowing as little as possible. It would serve everybody right if she starved to death. Then they'd be sorry!

"What is to-day?" enquired Michael cheerfully, scraping up the last of his Puffed Rice.

"Wednesday," said Mary Poppins. "Leave the pattern on the plate, please!"

"Then it's to-day we're going to tea with Miss Lark!"

"If you're good," said Mary Poppins darkly, as though she did not believe such a thing was possible.

But Michael was in a cheerful mood and took no notice.

"Wednesday!" he shouted, banging his spoon on the table. "That's the day Jane was born. Wednesday's child is full of woe. That's why she has to have porridge instead of rice," he said naughtily.

Jane frowned and kicked at him under the table. But he swung his legs aside and laughed.

"Monday's child is fair of face, Tuesday's child is full of grace!" He chanted. "That's true, too. The Twins are full of grace and they were born on a Tuesday. And I'm Monday — fair of face."

Jane laughed scornfully.

"I am," he insisted. "I heard Mrs. Brill say so. She told Ellen I was as handsome as half-a-crown."

"Well, that's not very handsome," said Jane. "Besides, your nose turns up."

Michael looked at her reproachfully. And again Jane felt surprised at herself. At any other time she would have agreed with him, for she thought Michael a very good-looking little boy. But now she said cruelly,

"Yes, and your toes turn in. Bandy-legs! Bandy-legs!"

Michael rushed at her.

"That will be enough from you!" said Mary Poppins, looking angrily at Jane. "And if any body in this house is a beauty it's—" She paused and glanced with a satisfied smile at her own reflection in the mirror.

"Who?" demanded Michael and Jane together.

"Nobody of the name of Banks!" retorted Mary Poppins. "So there!"

Michael looked across at Jane as he always did when Mary Poppins made one of her curious remarks. But though she felt his look she pretended not to notice. She turned away and took her paint-box from the toy-cupboard.

"Won't you play trains?" asked Michael, trying to be friendly.

"No, I won't. I want to be by myself."

"Well, darlings, and how are you all this morning?"

Mrs. Banks came running into the room and kissed them hurriedly. She was always so busy that she never had time to walk.

"Michael," she said, "you must have some new slippers — your toes are coming out at the top. Mary Poppins, John's curls will have to come off, I'm afraid. Barbara, my pet, don't suck your thumb! Jane, run downstairs and ask Mrs. Brill not to ice the plum cake, I want a plain one."

There they were again, breaking into her day! As soon as she began to do anything they made her stop and do something else.

"Oh, Mother, must I? Why can't Michael?"

Mrs. Banks looked surprised.

"But I thought you liked helping! And Michael always forgets the message. Besides, you're the eldest. Run along."

She went downstairs as slowly as she could. She hoped she would be so late with the message that Mrs. Brill would have already iced the cake.

And all the time she felt astonished at the way she was behaving. It was as if there was another person inside her — somebody with a very bad temper and an ugly face — who was making her feel cross.

She gave the message to Mrs. Brill and was disappointed to find that she was in plenty of time.

"Well, that'll save a penn'orth of trouble anyway." Mrs. Brill remarked.

"And, Dearie," she went on, "you might just slip out into the garden and tell that Robertson he hasn't done the knives. My legs are bad and they're my only pair."

"I can't. I'm busy."

It was Mrs. Brill's turn to look surprised.

"Ah, be a kind girl, then — it's all I can do to stand, let alone walk!"

Jane sighed. Why couldn't they leave her alone? She kicked the kitchen door shut and dawdled out into the garden.

Robertson Ay was asleep on the path with his head on the watering-can. His lank hair rose and fell as he snored. It was Robertson Ay's special gift that he could sleep anywhere and at any time. In fact, he preferred sleeping to waking. And, usually, whenever they could, Jane and Michael prevented him from being found out. But to-day was different. The bad-tempered person inside her didn't care a bit what happened to Robertson Ay.

"I hate everybody!" she said, and rapped sharply on the watering-can.

Robertson Ay sat up with a start.

"Help! Murder! Fire!" he cried, waving his arms wildly.

Then he rubbed his eyes and saw Jane.

"Oh, it's only you!" he said, in a disappointed voice as if he had hoped for something more exciting.

"You're to go and do the knives at once," she ordered.

Robertson Ay got slowly to his feet and shook himself.

"Ah," he said sadly, "it's always something. If it's not one thing, it's another. I ought to be resting. I never get a moment's peace."

"Yes, you do!" said Jane cruelly. "You get nothing but peace. You're always asleep."

A hurt, reproachful look came over Robertson Ay's face, and at any other time it would have made her feel ashamed. But to-day she wasn't a bit sorry.

"Saying such things!" said Robertson Ay sadly. "And you the eldest and all. I wouldn't have thought it — not if I'd done nothing but think for the rest of my life."

And he gave her a sorrowful glance and shuffled slowly away to the kitchen.

She wondered if he would ever forgive her. And, as if in reply, the sulky creature inside her said, "I don't care if he doesn't!"

She tossed her head and went slowly back to the Nursery dragging her sticky hands along the fresh white wall because she had always been told not to.

Mary Poppins was flicking her feather duster round the furniture.

"Off to a funeral?" she enquired as Jane appeared.

Jane looked sulky and did not answer.

"I know somebody who's looking for Trouble. And he that seeks shall find!"

"I don't care!"

"Don't Care was made care! Don't Care was hung!" jeered Mary Poppins, putting the duster away.

"And now—" she looked warningly at Jane. "I am going to have my dinner. You are to look after the little ones and if I hear One Word—" She did not finish the sentence but she gave a long threatening sniff as she went out of the room.

John and Barbara ran to Jane and caught her hands. But she uncurled their fingers and crossly pushed them away.

"I wish I were an only child," she said bitterly.

"Why don't you run away," suggested Michael. "Somebody might adopt you."

Jane looked up, startled and surprised.

"But you'd miss me!"

"No, I wouldn't," he said stoutly. "Not if you're always going to be cross. Besides, then I could have your paint-box."

"No, you couldn't," she said jealously. "I'd take it with me."

And, just to show him that the paint-box was hers and not his, she got out the brushes and the painting-book and spread them on the floor.

"Paint the clock," said Michael helpfully.

"No."

"Well, the Royal Doulton Bowl."

Jane glanced up. The three little boys were racing over the field inside the green rim of the bowl. At any other time she would have liked to paint them but to-day she was not going to be pleasant or obliging.

"I won't. I will paint what I want."

And she began to make a picture of herself, quite alone, brooding over her eggs.

Michael and John and Barbara sat on the floor watching.

Jane was so interested in her eggs that she almost forgot her bad temper.

Michael leaned forward. "Why not put in a hen — just there!"

He pointed to a spare white patch, brushing against John with his arm. Over went John, falling sideways and upsetting the cup with his foot. The coloured water splashed out and flooded the picture.

With a cry Jane sprang to her feet.

"Oh, I can't bear it. You great Clumsy! You've spoilt everything!"

And, rushing at Michael, she punched him so violently that he, too, toppled over and crashed down on top of John. A squeal of pain and terror broke from the Twins, and above their cries rose Michael's voice wailing "My head is broken! What shall I do? My head is broken!" over and over again.

"I don't care, I don't care!" shouted Jane. "You wouldn't leave me alone and you've spoilt my picture. I hate you, I hate you, I hate—!"

The door burst open.

Mary Poppins surveyed the scene with furious eyes.

"What did I say to you?" she enquired of Jane in a voice so quiet that it was terrible. "That if I heard One Word — and now look what I find! A nice party you'll have at Miss Lark's, I don't think! Not one step will you go out of this room this afternoon or I'm a Chinaman."

"I don't want to go. I'd rather stay here." Jane put her hands behind her back and sauntered away. She did not feel a bit sorry.

"Very good."

Mary Poppins voice was gentle but there was something very frightening in it.

Jane watched her dressing the others for the party. And when they were ready Mary Poppins took her best hat out of a brown-paper bag and set it on her head at a very smart angle. She clipped her gold locket round her neck and over it wound the red-and-white checked scarf Mrs. Banks had given her. At one end was stitched a white label marked with a large M.P., and Mary Poppins smiled at herself in the mirror as she tucked the label out of sight.

Then she took her parrot-handled umbrella from the cupboard, popped it under her arm and hurried the little ones down the stairs.

"Now you'll have time to think!" she remarked tartly, and, with a loud sniff, shut the door behind her.

For a long time Jane sat staring in front of her. She tried to think about her seven eggs. But somehow they didn't interest her any more.

What were they doing now, at Miss Lark's? she wondered. Playing with Miss Lark's dogs, perhaps, and listening to Miss Lark telling them that Andrew had a wonderful pedigree but that Willoughby was half an Airedale and half a Retriever and the worst half of both. And presently they would all, even the dogs, have chocolate biscuits and walnut cake for tea.

"Oh, dear!"

The thought of all she was missing stirred angrily inside Jane and when she remembered it was all her own fault she felt crosser than ever.

Tick-tack! Tick-tock! said the clock loudly.

"Oh, be quiet!" cried Jane furiously, and picking up her paint-box she hurled it across the room.

It crashed against the glass face of the clock and, glancing off, clattered down upon the Royal Doulton Bowl.

Crrrrrrack! The Bowl toppled sideways against the clock.

Oh! Oh! What had she done?

Jane shut her eyes, not daring to look and see.

"I say — that hurt!"

A clear reproachful voice sounded in the room.

Jane started and opened her eyes.

"Jane!" said the voice again. "That was my knee!"

She turned her head quickly. There was nobody in the room.

She ran to the door and opened it. Still nobody!

Then somebody laughed.

"Here, silly!" said the voice again. "Up here!"

She looked up at the mantel-piece. Beside the clock lay the Royal Doulton Bowl with a large crack running right across it and, to her surprise, Jane saw that one of the painted boys had dropped the reins and was bending down holding his knee with both hands. The other two had turned and were looking at him sympathetically.

"But—" began Jane, half to herself and half to the unknown voice. "I don't understand." The boy in the Bowl lifted his head and smiled at her.

"Don't you? No, I suppose you don't. I've noticed that you and Michael often don't understand the simplest things — do they?"

He turned, laughing, to his brothers.

"No," said one of them, "not even how to keep the Twins quiet!"

"Nor the proper way to draw bird's eggs — she's made them all wriggly," said the other.

"How do you know about the Twins — and the eggs?" said Jane, flushing.

"Gracious!" said the first boy. "You don't think we could have watched you all this time without knowing everything that happens in this room! We can't see into the Night-Nursery, of course, or the bath-room. What coloured tiles has it?"

"Pink," said Jane.

"Ours has blue-and-white. Would you like to see it?"

Jane hesitated. She hardly knew what to reply, she was so astonished.

"Do come! William and Everard will be your horses, if you like, and I'll carry the whip and run alongside. I'm Valentine, in case you don't know. We're Triplets. And, of course, there's Christina."

"Where's Christina?" Jane searched the Bowl. But she saw only the green meadow and a little wood of alders and Valentine, William and Everard standing together.

"Come and see!" said Valentine persuasively, holding out his hand. "Why should the others have all the fun? You come with us — into the Bowl!"

That decided her. She would show Michael that he and the Twins were not the only ones who could go to a party. She would make them jealous and sorry for treating her so badly.

"All right," she said, putting out her hand. "I'll come!"

Valentine's hand closed round her wrist and pulled her towards the Bowl. And, suddenly, she was no longer in the cool Day-Nursery but out in a wide sunlit meadow, and instead of the ragged nursery carpet, a springing turf of grass and daisies was spread beneath her feet.

"Hooray!" said Valentine, William and Everard, dancing round her. She noticed that Valentine was limping.

"Oh," said Jane. "I forgot! Your knee!"

He smiled at her. "Never mind. It was the crack that did it. I know you didn't mean to hurt me!"

Jane took out her handkerchief and bound it round his knee.

"That's better!" he said politely, and put the reins into her hand.

William and Everard, tossing their heads and snorting, flew off across the meadow with Jane jingling the reins behind them.

Beside her, one foot heavy and one foot light, because of his knee, ran Valentine.

And as he ran, he sang—

"My love, thou art a nosegay sweet,

My sweetest flower I prove thee;

And pleased I pin thee to my breast,

And dearly I do love thee!"

William and Everard's voices came in with the chorus,

"And deeeee-arly I do lo-o-ove thee!"

Jane thought it was rather an old-fashioned song, but then, everything about the Triplets was old-fashioned — their long hair, their strange clothes and their polite way of speaking.

"It is odd!" she thought to herself, but she also thought that this was better than being at Miss Lark's, and that Michael would envy her when she told him all about it.

On ran the horses, tugging Jane after them, drawing her away and away from the Nursery.

Presently she pulled up, panting, and looked back over the tracks their feet had made in the grass. Behind her, at the other side of the meadow, she could see the outer rim of the Bowl. It seemed small and very far away. And something inside her warned her that it was time to turn back.

"I must go now," she said, dropping the jingling reins.

"Oh, no, no!" cried the Triplets, closing round her.

And now something in their voices made her feel uneasy.

"They'll miss me at home. I'm afraid I must go," she said quickly.

"It's quite early!" protested Valentine. "They'll still be at Miss Lark's. Come on. I'll show you my paint-box."

Jane was tempted.

"Has it got Chinese White?" she enquired. For Chinese White was just what her own paint-box lacked.

"Yes, in a silver tube. Come!"

Against her will Jane allowed him to draw her onwards. She thought she would just have one look at the paint-box and then hurry back. She would not even ask to be allowed to use it.

"But where is your house? It isn't in the Bowl!"

"Of course it is! But you can't see it because it's behind the wood. Come on!"

They were drawing her now under dark alder boughs. The dead leaves cracked under their feet and every now and then a pigeon swooped from branch to branch with a loud clapping of wings. William showed Jane a robin's nest in a pile of twigs, and Everard broke off a spray of leaves and twined it round her head. But in spite of their friendliness Jane was shy and nervous and she felt very glad when they reached the end of the wood.

"Here it is!" said Valentine, waving his hand.

And she saw rising before her a huge stone house covered with ivy. It was older than any house she had ever seen and it seemed to lean towards her threateningly. On either side of the steps a stone lion crouched, as if waiting the moment to spring.

Jane shivered as the shadow of the house fell upon her.

"I can't stay long—" she said, uneasily. "It's getting late."

"Just five minutes!" pleaded Valentine, drawing her into the hall.

Their feet rang hollowly on the stone floor. There was no sign of any human being. Except for herself and the Triplets the house seemed deserted. A cold wind swept whistling along the corridor.

"Christina! Christina!" called Valentine, pulling Jane up the stairs. "Here she is!"

His cry went echoing round the house and every wall seemed to call back frighteningly,

"HERE SHE IS!"

There was a sound of running feet and a door burst open. A little girl, slightly taller than the Triplets and dressed in an old-fashioned, flowery dress, rushed out and flung herself upon Jane.

"At last, at last!" she cried triumphantly. "The boys have been watching for you for ages! But they couldn't catch you before — you were always so happy!"

"Catch me?" said Jane. "I don't understand!"

She was beginning to be frightened and to wish she had never come with Valentine into the Bowl.

"Great-Grandfather will explain," said Christina, laughing curiously. She drew Jane across the landing and through the door.

"Heh! Heh! Heh! What's this?" demanded a thin, cracked voice.

Jane stared and drew back against Christina. For at the far end of the room, on a seat by the fire, sat a figure that filled her with terror. The firelight flickered over a very old man, so old that he looked more like a shadow than a human being. From his thin mouth a thin grey beard straggled and, though he wore a smoking cap, Jane could see that he was as bald as an egg. He was dressed in a long old-fashioned dressing-gown of faded silk, and a pair of embroidered slippers hung on his thin feet.

"So!" said the shadowy figure, taking a long curved pipe from his mouth. "Jane has arrived at last."

He rose and came towards her smiling frighteningly, his eyes burning in their sockets with a bright steely fire.

"I hope you had a good journey, my dear!" he croaked. And drawing Jane to him with a bony hand he kissed her cheek. At the touch of his grey beard Jane started back with a cry.

"Heh! Heh! Heh!" He laughed his cackling, terrifying laugh.

"She came through the alder wood with the boys, Great-Grandfather," said Christina.

"Ah? How did they catch her?"

"She was cross at being the eldest. So she threw her paint-box at the Bowl and cracked Val's knee."

"So!" the horrible old voice whistled. "It was temper, was it? Well, well—" he laughed thinly, "now you'll be the youngest, my dear! My youngest Great-Granddaughter. But I shan't allow any tempers here! Heh! Heh! Heh! Oh, dear, no. Well, come along and sit by the fire. Will you take tea or cherry-wine?"

"No, no!" Jane burst out. "I'm afraid there's been a mistake. I must go home now. I live at Number Seventeen Cherry Tree Lane."

"Used to, you mean," corrected Val triumphantly. "You live here now."

"But you don't understand!" Jane said desperately. "I don't want to live here. I want to go home."

"Nonsense!" croaked the Great-Grandfather. "Number Seventeen is a horrible place, mean and stuffy and modern. Besides you're not happy there. Heh! Heh! Heh! I know what it's like being the eldest — all the work and none of the fun. Heh! Heh! But here—" he waved his pipe, "here you'll be the Spoilt One, the Darling, the Treasure, and never go back any more!"

"Never!" echoed William and Everard dancing round her.

"Oh, I must. I will!" Jane cried, the tears springing to her eyes.

The Great-Grandfather smiled his horrible toothless smile.

"Do you think we will let you go?" he enquired, his bright eyes burning. "You cracked our Bowl. You must take the consequences. Christina, Valentine, William and Everard want you for their youngest sister. I want you for my youngest Great-Grandchild.

"Do you think we will let you go?" he enquired

Besides, you owe us something. You hurt Valentine's knee."

"I will make up to him. I will give him my paint-box."

"He has one."

"My hoop."

"He has out-grown hoops."

"Well—" faltered Jane. "I will marry him when I grow up."

The Great-Grandfather cackled with laughter.

Jane turned imploringly to Valentine. He shook his head.

"I'm afraid it's too late for that," he said sadly. "I grew up long ago."

"Then why, then what — oh, I don't understand. Where am I?" cried Jane, gazing about her in terror.

"Far from home, my child, far from home," croaked the Great-Grandfather. "You are back in the Past — back where Christina and the boys were young sixty years ago!"

Through her tears Jane saw his old eyes burning fiercely.

"Then — how can I get home?" she whispered.

"You cannot. You will stay here. There is no other place for you. You are back in the Past, remember! The Twins and Michael, even your Father and Mother, are not yet born; Number Seventeen is not even built. You cannot go home!"

"No, no!" cried Jane. "It's not true! It can't be!" Her heart was thumping inside her. Never to see Michael again, nor the Twins, nor her Father and Mother and Mary Poppins!

And suddenly she began to shout, lifting her voice so that it echoed wildly through the stone corridors.

"Mary Poppins! I'm sorry I was cross! Oh, Mary Poppins, help me, help me!"

"Quick! Hold her close! Surround her!"

She heard the Great-Grandfather's sharp command. She felt the four children pressing close about her.

She shut her eyes tight. "Mary Poppins!" she cried again, "Mary Poppins!"

A hand caught hers and pulled her away from the circling arms of Christina, Valentine, William and Everard.

"Heh! Heh! Heh!"

The Great-Grandfather's cackling laugh echoed through the room. The grasp on her hand tightened and she felt herself being drawn away. She dared not look for fear of those frightening eyes but she pulled fiercely against the tugging hand.

"Heh! Heh! Heh!"

The laugh sounded again and the hand drew her on, down stone stairs and echoing corridors.

She had no hope now. Behind her the voices of Christina and the Triplets faded away. No help would come from them.

She stumbled desperately after the flying footsteps and felt, though her eyes were closed, dark shadows above her head and damp earth under her feet.

What was happening to her? Where, oh, where was she going? If only she hadn't been so cross — if only!

The strong hand pulled her onwards and presently she felt the warmth of sunlight on her cheeks and sharp grass scratched her legs as she was dragged along. Then suddenly a pair of arms, like bands of iron, closed about her, lifted her up and swung her through the air.

"Oh, help, help!" She cried, frantically twisting and turning against those arms. She would not give in without a struggle, she would kick and kick and kick and—

"I'll thank you to remember," said a familiar voice in her ear, "that this is my best skirt and it has to last me the Summer!"

Jane opened her eyes. A pair of fierce blue eyes looked steadily into hers.

The arms that folded her so closely were Mary Poppins' arms and the legs she was kicking so furiously were the legs of Mary Poppins.

"Oh!" she faltered. "It was you! I thought you hadn't heard me, Mary Poppins! I thought I should be kept there forever. I thought—"

"Some people," remarked Mary Poppins, putting her gently down, "think a great deal too much. Of that I'm sure. Wipe your face, please!"

She thrust her blue handkerchief into Jane's hand and began to get the Nursery ready for the evening.

Jane watched her, drying her tear-stained face on the large blue handkerchief. She glanced round the well-known room. There were the ragged carpet and the toy-cupboard and Mary Poppins' arm-chair. At the sight of them she felt safe and warm and comforted. She listened to the familiar sounds as Mary Poppins went about her work, and her terror died away. A tide of happiness swept over her.

"It couldn't have been I who was cross!" she said wonderingly to herself. "It must have been somebody else."

Mary Poppins went to a drawer and took out the Twins' clean nightgowns.

Jane ran to her.

"Shall I air them, Mary Poppins?"

Mary Poppins sniffed.

"Don't trouble, thank you. You're much too busy, I'm sure! I'll get Michael to help me when he comes up."

Jane blushed.

"Please let me," she said. "I like helping. Besides I'm the eldest."

Mary Poppins put her hands on her hips and regarded Jane thoughtfully for a moment.

"Humph!" she said at last. "Don't burn them, then! I've enough holes to mend as it is."

And she handed Jane the nightgowns.

"But it couldn't really have happened!" scoffed Michael a little later when he heard of Jane's adventure. "You'd be much too big for the Bowl."

She thought for a moment. Somehow, as she told the story, it did seem rather impossible.

"I suppose it couldn't," she admitted. "But it seemed quite real at the time."

"I expect you just thought it. You're always thinking things." He felt rather superior because he himself didn't ever think at all.

"You two and your thoughts!" said Mary Poppins crossly, pushing them aside as she dumped the Twins into their cots.

"And now," she snapped, when John and Barbara were safely tucked in, "perhaps I shall have a moment to myself."

She took the pins out of her hat and thrust it back into its brown-paper bag. She unclipped the locket and put it carefully away in a drawer. Then she slipped off her coat, shook it out, and hung it on the peg behind the door.

"Why, where's your new scarf?" said Jane. "Have you lost it?"

"She couldn't have," said Michael. "She had it on when she came home. I saw it."

Mary Poppins turned on them.

"Be good enough to mind your own affairs," she said snappily, "and let me mind mine!"

"I only wanted to help—" Jane began.

"I can help myself, thank you!" said Mary Poppins, sniffing.

Jane turned to exchange looks with Michael. But this time it was he who took no notice. He was staring at the mantel-piece as if he could not believe his eyes.

"What is it, Michael?"

"You didn't just think it, after all!" he whispered, pointing.

Jane looked up at the mantel-piece. There lay the Royal Doulton Bowl with the crack running right across it. There were the meadow grasses and the wood of alders. And there were the three little boys playing horses, two in front and one running behind with the whip.

But — around the leg of the driver was knotted a small white handkerchief and, sprawling across the grass, as though someone had dropped it as they ran, was a red-and-white checked scarf. At one end of it was stitched a large white label bearing the initials—

M.P.

"So that's where she lost it!" said Michael, nodding his head wisely. "Shall we tell her we've found it?"

Jane glanced round. Mary Poppins was buttoning on her apron and looking as if the whole world had insulted her.

"Better not," she said, softly "I expect she knows."

For a moment Jane stood there, gazing at the cracked Bowl, the knotted handkerchief and the scarf.

Then with a wild rush she ran across the room and flung herself upon the starched white figure.

"Oh," she cried, "oh, Mary Poppins! I'll never be naughty again."

A faint smile twinkled at the corners of Mary Poppins' mouth as she smoothed out the creases from her apron.

"Humph!" was all she said….