Mary Poppins Opens the Door

CHAPTER 2 MR. TWIGLEY'S WISHES

OH, DO come on, Mary Poppins!" said Michael impatiently, as he danced up and down on the pavement.

Mary Poppins took no notice. She was standing in the Lane admiring her reflection in the brass plate on Dr. Simpson's gate.

"You look quite tidy!" Jane assured her.

"Tidy!" Mary Poppins snorted. Tidy in her new black hat with the blue bow? Tidy indeed! Handsome, she thought, would be nearer the mark. Tossing her head, she strode on quickly and they had to run to keep up with her.

The three of them were walking through the fine May afternoon to find Mr. Twigley. For the Drawing-room piano was out of tune and Mrs. Banks had asked Mary Poppins to find a piano-tuner.

"There's my cousin, Ma'am, Mr. Twigley. Just three blocks from here." Mary Poppins had announced. And when Mrs. Banks said she had never heard of him, Mary Poppins, with her usual sniff, had reminded Mrs. Banks that her relatives were composed of the Very Best People.

And now Jane and Michael, who had already met two members of Mary Poppins' family, were wondering what Mr. Twigley would be like.

"I think he will be tall and thin, like Mr. Thrvy," said Michael.

"I think he will be round and fat, like Mr. Wigg," said Jane.

"I never knew such a pair for thinking!" said Mary Poppins. "You'll wear your brains out. Turn here, please!"

They hurried along and turned a corner and found themselves standing in a narrow street lined with small, old-fashioned houses.

"Why, what street is this? I never saw it before! And I've been here lots of times!" cried Jane.

"Well, don't blame me!" Mary Poppins snapped. "You don't suppose I put it there!"

"I shouldn't wonder if you did!" said Michael, as he gazed at the strange little houses. Then he added, with a flattering smile, "You're so very clever, you know!"

"Humph!" she said tartly, though her mouth took on a conceited look. "Clever is as clever does. And it's more than you are, anyway!" And, sniffing, she led them down the street and rang the bell of one of the houses.

"Pang!" said the bell loudly. And at the same moment an upstairs window swung open. A large head, with a knob of hair at the back, popped out like a Jack-in-the-Box.

"Well, what's the matter now?" a harsh voice cried. Then the woman looked down and spied Mary Poppins. "Oh, it's you, is it?" she said angrily. "Well, you can just turn round and go back to wherever you came from. He isn't in!" The window swung to and the head disappeared.

The children felt very disappointed.

"Perhaps we can come again tomorrow," said Jane anxiously.

"Today — or Never. That's my motto!" snapped Mary Poppins. And she rang the bell again.

This time it was the front door that burst open. The owner of the head stood before them glowering. She wore large black boots, a blue-and-white checked apron and a black shawl round her shoulders. Jane and Michael thought she was the ugliest person they had ever seen. And they felt very sorry for Mr. Twigley.

"What — you again!" the huge woman shouted. "I told you he wasn't in. And in he is not, or my name's not Sarah Clump!"

"Then you aren't Mrs. Twigley!" exclaimed Michael, with relief.

"Not yet," she remarked, with an ominous smile. "Here! Down you come, all of you!" she added. For Mary Poppins, with the speed of a serpent, had slipped through the doorway and was dragging the children up the stairs. "Do you hear me? I'll have the Law on you, bursting into a decent woman's house like a set of Vampires!"

"Decent!" said Mary Poppins, snorting. "If you're decent I'm a Dromedary!" And she rapped three times on a door at her right.

"Who's there?" called an anxious voice from within. Jane and Michael trembled with excitement. Perhaps Mr. Twigley was at home, after all!

"It's me, Cousin Fred. Unlock the door, please!"

There was a moment's silence. Then the sound of a key being turned in the lock. The door opened and Mary Poppins, pulling the children after her, shut it and locked it again.

"Let me in — you Pirate!" roared Mrs. Clump, angrily rattling the handle.

Mary Poppins laughed quietly. The children glanced about them. They were in a large attic littered with scraps of wood, tins of paint and bottles of glue. Every available space in the room was filled with musical instruments. A harp stood in one corner and in another was a pile of drums. Ttumpets and violins hung from the rafters; flutes and tin-whistles were stacked on the shelves. A dusty table by the window was littered with carpenter's tools. And on the edge of the bench was a small polished box with a tiny screw-driver tossed beside it.

In the middle of the floor stood five half-finished musical boxes. Brightly they shone in their fresh new colours and round them, chalked on the boards in large white letters, were the words

WET PAINT

The whole attic smelt deliciously of wood-shavings, paint and glue. There was only one thing missing from it. And that was Mr. Twigley.

"Will you let me in or shall I go for the Police?" shouted Mrs. Clump, banging again. Mary Poppins took no notice. And presently they heard her thumping downstairs, muttering furiously as she went.

"Has she gone?" a thin voice cackled anxiously.

"She's gone downstairs and I've locked the door! Now, what have you done with yourself, please, Fred?" Mary Poppins gave an impatient sniff.

"I've wished, Mary!" chirped the voice again.

Jane and Michael stared round the dusty attic. Where could Mr. Twigley be?

"Oh, Fred! Don't tell me it's the—! Well, wish again, please, wherever you are! I haven't all day to waste."

"All right! I'm coming! No need for excitement!"

The violins played a stave of music. Then, out of the air — as it seemed to the children — came two short legs clad in baggy trousers. They were followed by a body in an old frock-coat. And last of all came a long white beard, a wrinkled face with glasses on its nose and a bald head in a smoking cap.

"Really, Cousin Fred!" said Mary Poppins crossly. "You're old enough to know better!"

"Nonsense, Mary!" said Mr. Twigley, beaming. "Nobody's ever old enough to know better! I'm sure you agree with me, young man!" He looked at Michael with his twinkly eyes. And Michael couldn't help twinkling back.

"But where were you hiding?" he demanded. "You couldn't have just come out of the air."

"Oh, yes, I could!" said Mr. Twigley. "If I wished," he added, as he skipped round the room.

"You mean, you just wished — and you disappeared?"

With a glance at the door, Mr. Twigley nodded.

"I had to — to get away from her!"

"Why? What would she do to you?" asked Jane.

"Why? Because she wants to marry me! She wants to get my wishes."

"Do you get everything you wish for?" asked Michael enviously.

"Oh, everything. That is, if I wish on the first New Moon, after the Second Wet Sunday, after the Third of May. And she—" Mr. Twigley waved at the door. "She wants me to wish for a Golden Palace and Peacock Pie every day for dinner. What would I do with a golden palace? All that I want is—"

"Be careful, Fred!" warned Mary Poppins.

Mr. Twigley clapped his hand to his mouth. "Tut, tut! I really must remember! I've used up two wishes already!"

"How many do you get?" asked Jane.

"Seven," said Mr. Twigley, sighing. "My Godmother thought that a suitable number. I know the old lady meant it kindly. But I'd rather have had a Silver Mug. More useful. And much less trouble."

"I'd rather have wishes," said Michael, stoutly.

"Oh, no, you wouldn't!" cried Mr. Twigley. "They're tricky. And hard to handle. You think out the loveliest things to ask for — then Supper Time comes and you're feeling hungry and you find yourself wishing for Sausage and Mashed!"

"What about the two you've already had? Were they any good?" demanded Michael.

"Well, not so bad, now I come to think of it. I was working on my Birdie there—" Mr. Twigley nodded towards his bench—" when I heard her coming up the stairs. 'Oh, Goodness!' I thought, 'I wish I could vanish!' And — when I looked round, I wasn't there! It gave me quite a turn for a moment. No wonder she told you I was out!"

Mr. Twigley gave a happy cackle as he beamed at the children and swung his coat-tails. They had never seen such a twinkly person. He seemed to them more like a star than a man.

"Then, of course," Mr. Twigley went on blandly, "I had to wish myself back again in order to see Mary Poppins! Now, Mary, what can I do for you?"

"Mrs. Banks would like her piano tuned, please, Fred. Number Seventeen, Cherry-Tree Lane, Opposite the Park," Mary Poppins said primly.

"Ah! Mrs. Banks. Then these must be—?" Mr. Twigley waved his hand at the children.

"They're Jane and Michael Banks," she explained, glancing at them with a look of disgust.

"Delighted. I call this a very great honour!" Mr. Twigley bowed and flung out his hands. "I wish I could offer you something to eat but I'm all at sixes and sevens today."

A flute rang gaily through the attic.

"What's this?" Mr. TWigley staggered back. In each of his upturned, outstretched hands lay a dish of Peaches-and-Cream.

Mr. Twigley stared. Then he sniffed at the peaches.

"There goes my third wish!" he said ruefully, as he handed the dishes to the children. "Well, it can't be helped. I've still got four more. And now I shall have to be really careful!"

"If you must waste wishes, Cousin Fred, I wish you would waste them on Bread and Butter. You'll spoil their Supper!" snapped Mary Poppins.

Jane and Michael spooned up their peaches hurriedly. They were not going to give Mr. Twigley the chance of wishing them away again.

"And now," said Mary Poppins, as the last mouthful disappeared. "Say Thank You to Mr. Twigley and we'll get along home."

"Oh, no, Mary! Why, you've only just come!" Mr. Twigley was so shocked that for once he stood quite still.

"Oh, do stay a little longer, Mary Poppins!" Jane and Michael begged. The thought of leaving Mr. Twigley all alone with his wishes was too much for them.

Mr. Twigley took Mary Poppins' hand.

"I feel so much safer when you're here, Mary! And it's ages since we've seen each other! Why not stay for a while — I wish you would!"

Jug, jug, jug, jug!

A shower of bird notes broke on the air. At the same moment the determined look on Mary Poppins' face changed to a polite smile. She took off her hat and laid it on the bench beside the glue-pot.

"Oh, my!" Mr. Twigley gasped in horror. "I've been and gone and done it again!"

"That's four!" cried Jane and Michael gaily, shouting with laughter at his look of surprise.

Four, four, four, four! The bird notes echoed.

"Dear me! How careless! I'm ashamed of myself!" For a moment Mr. Twigley looked almost sad. Then his face and his feet began to twinkle. "Well, it's no good crying over spilt wishes. We must just take care of the ones that are left. I'm coming, my Duckling! I'm coming, my Chick!" he called in the direction of the bird notes.

And, tripping to the dusty table, he took up the little polished box. His fingers touched a hidden spring. The lid flew open and the smallest, brightest bird the children had ever seen leapt up from a nest of gold. Clear jets of music poured from its beak. Its small throat throbbed with the stream of notes.

Jug, jug, jug, jug — tereu! it sang. And when the burning song was ended the bird dropped back to its golden nest.

"Oh, Mr. Twigley, what bird is that?" Jane looked at the box with shining eyes.

"A Nightingale," Mr. Twigley told her. "I was working on him when you came in. He has to be finished tonight, you see. Such lovely weather for nightingales."

"Why don't you just wish?" suggested Michael. "Then you needn't do any work."

"What! Wish on my Birdie? Certainly not! You see what happens when I start wishing. Why — he might turn into a Bald-headed Eagle!"

"Will you keep him to sing to you always?" Jane asked enviously. She wished she could have a bird like that.

"Keep him? Oh, dear, no! I'll set him free! Can't litter the place up with finished work. I've more things to do than take care of a bird. I have to put figures on those—" he nodded at the half-finished musical boxes. "And I've got a rush order that must be finished — a music box playing 'A Day in the Park.'"

"A Day in the Park?" The children stared.

"The Band, you know!" Mr. Twigley explained. "And the sound of the fountains. And gossiping ladies. Rooks caw-cawing, and children laughing, and the slow, soft murmur of trees as they grow."

Mr. Twigley's eyes glowed behind his spectacles as he thought of all the lovely things he would put in the musical box.

"But you can't hear trees growing," protested Michael. "There's no music for that!"

"Tut!" said Mr. Twigley impatiently. "Of course there is! There's a music for everything. Didn't you ever hear the earth spinning? It makes a sound like a humming-top. Buckingham Palace plays 'Rule Britannia'; the River Thames is a drowsy flute. Dear me, yes! Everything in the world — trees, rocks and stars and human beings — they all have their own true music."

As he spoke Mr. Twigley tripped across the floor and wound up a musical box. Immediately the little platform at the top began to turn. And from within came a clear high piping like the sound of a penny whistle.

"That's mine!" said Mr. Twigley proudly, as he cocked his head to listen. He wound up another musical box and a new tune fell on the air.

"That's 'London Bridge Is Falling Down'! It's my favourite song!" cried Michael.

"What did I tell you?" smiled Mr. Twigley, as he turned another handle. The tune broke gaily from the box.

"That's mine!" said Jane, with a crow of delight. "It's 'Oranges and Lemons.'"

"Of course it is!" twinkled Mr. Twigley. And gaily seizing the children's hands he swept them away across the attic. The three little platforms turned and spun and the three tunes mingled in the air.

"London Bridge is Falling Down,

Dance over, my Lady Leigh!"

sang Michael.

"Oranges and Lemons,

Said the Bells of St. Clements."

sang Jane.

And Mr. Twigley whistled like a happy blackbird.

The feet of the children were light as wings as they danced to their own true music. Never before, they told themselves, had they felt so light and merry.

Bang! The front door slammed and shook the house. Mr. TVigley paused on one toe and listened. Thump! Thump! came the footsteps on the stairs. A loud voice rumbled across the landing.

Mr. Twigley gave a gasp of horror, and swung his coat-tails over his ears.

"She's coming!" he shrieked. "Oh, dear! Oh, my! I wish I were in a nice safe place!"

A blast of music came from the trumpets. And then a strange thing happened.

Mr. Twigley, as though by an unseen hand, was snatched from the floor of the attic. Off he went, hurtling past the children, like a seed of thistledown tossed by the wind. Then choking and gasping, shaking and panting, he landed upon his musical box. He did not seem to have grown smaller nor the box larger. Yet, somehow, they fitted perfectly together.

Round and round Mr. Twigley spun and upon his face spread a smile of triumph.

"I'm safe!" he yelled, as he waved to the children, "She'll never catch me now!"

"Hooray!" they were just about to shout but the word was caught in their throats, like a hiccup. For something had seized them by the hair and was flinging them both across the attic. Their arms and legs went sprawling wildly as they landed upon their musical boxes. They wobbled a little for a moment, but soon they were steadily whirling round.

"Oh!" panted Jane. "What a lovely surprise!"

"I feel like a spinning top!" shouted Michael.

Mr. Twiglev gave a little start and stared at them in astonishment.

"Did I do that? Good Gracious me! I'm getting quite clever at wishing."

"Clever!" said Mary Poppins sniffing. "Ridiculous — that's what I call it!"

"Well, at least it's safe," said Mr. Twigley. "And rather pleasant. Why don't you try it?"

"Wish!" urged Michael, with a wave of his hand.

"Ah! She doesn't need to," said Mr. Twigley, with a curious glance at Mary Poppins.

"Well, if you insist…" she said with a sniff. And placing her two feet neatly together she rose from the floor and swept past the rafters. Then, without a smile, not even a wobble, she alighted upon a musical box. Immediately, though no one had wound it, the tune broke gaily out.

"Round and round the Cobbler's bench,

The Monkey chased the Weasel,

The Monkey said it was all in fun—

Pop goes the Weasel!"

it sang.

And round and round went Mary Poppins, as calmly as though she had turned and spun from the very day she was born.

"Now we're all together!" Jane cried happily. She glanced at the window and waved her hand to draw Michael's attention.

Outside in the street the little houses were revolving on their foundations. Above in the sky spun two white clouds. And the attic itself, like the musical boxes, was turning round and round.

But loudly though the four tunes rang, another sound could be heard above them. Thump! Thump! The heavy steps came nearer.

And the next moment somebody banged on the door.

"Open, I say, in the name of the Law!" cried a voice that was somehow familiar.

A strong hand twisted the rickety lock. And then, with a crash, the door burst open. On the threshold stood Mrs. Clump and the Policeman. They stared.

She alighted upon a musical box

Their eyes popped. Their mouths fell open with astonishment.

"Well, of all the shameful sights!" cried Mrs. Clump. "I never thought to see this house turned into an Amusement Park!" She shook her fist at Mary Poppins. "You're going to get your reward, my girl. The Policeman here will deal with you! And as for you, Mr. Twigley, down you get from that silly razzle-dazzle and comb your hair and put on your hat. We're going off to be married!"

Mr. Twigley shuddered. But he swung his coat-tails jauntily.

"Don't shout and thump

Please, Mrs. Clump,

It makes me jump!"

he sang, as he sped round. The Policeman took out notebook and pencil.

"Come on! Stop spinning, all of you. I'm as giddy as a Garden Goat. And I want an Explanation!"

Mr. Twigley gave a gleeful cackle.

"You've come to the wrong place, Officer dear! I've never yet made an Explanation. And what's more, as I used to say to my boy, Methuselah, I don't believe in 'em!"

"Now, now, joking'11 only make things worse. You can't tell me you're Methuselah's father!" The Policeman smiled a knowing smile.

"Grandfather!" Mr. Twigley retorted, as he sailed gracefully round.

"Now, that's enough. You just come down! This spinning and twirling is bad for the 'Ealth. And not permitted in Private Dwellings. 'Ere! 'Oo's that pulling me! Let me go!" The Policeman gave a frightened shriek as he shot off his feet and through the air. A music box broke into noisy song as he dropped like a stone upon it.

"Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do!

I've gone crazy, all for the love of you!"

it shouted.

"'Elp! 'Elp! It's me — PC. 32 calling!" The Policeman wildly snatched at his whistle and blew a resounding blast.

"Officer!" shouted Mrs. Clump. "You do your duty or I'll have the Law on you, too. Get down and arrest that woman!" She thrust a huge finger at Mary Poppins. "I'll have you put behind bars, my girl. I'll have you — Here! Stop spinning me round!" Her eyes grew wide with angry amazement. For a curious thing was happening.

Slowly, on the spot where she stood, Mrs. Clump began to revolve. She had no musical box, no platform, she simply went round and round on the floor. The boards gave a loud protesting creak as the huge shape turned upon them.

"Well, that's fixed you!" cried Mr. Twigley.

"Try and jump

Dear Mrs. Clump!"

he advised her, with a gleeful shriek.

A shudder of horror shook Mrs. Clump as she tried to move her large black boots. She struggled. She writhed. She wriggled her body. But her feet were firmly glued to the floor.

"Clever girl, Mary! I'd never have thought of it!" Mr. Twigley smiled at Mary Poppins with pride and admiration.

"This is your doing — you wilful, wicked, cold-hearted Varmint!" Mrs. Clump gave an angry shout as she tried to clutch at Mary Poppins. "But I'll get even with you yet — or my name's not Sarah Clump!"

"It'll never be Twigley, anyway!" shrieked Mr. Twigley joyously.

"I want to go home! I want the Police Station!" wailed the Policeman, spinning madly.

"Well, nobody's keeping you, I'm sure!" said Mary Poppins, sniffing. As she spoke the Policeman's box came to a standstill and he stumbled off it, panting.

"Scotland Yard!" he cried, staggering to the door. "I must see the Chief! I must make a Report." And, blowing a frantic peal on his whistle, he fled downstairs and out of the house.

"Come back, you Villain!" screamed Mrs. Clump. "He's gone!" she went on, as the front door banged. "Oh, what shall I do? Help! Murder! Fire!"

Her face grew red as she tried to free herself. But it was no good. Her feet were firmly fixed to the floor, and she flung out her arms with a cry of anguish.

"Mr. Twigley!" she begged. "Please help me, Sir! I've always cooked you tasty meals. I've always kept you clean and tidy. You won't have to marry me, I promise. If you'll only wish something to set me free!"

"Be careful, Fred!" warned Mary Poppins, as she twirled in a dignified manner.

"A Wish in Time saves Nine! Now, let me think!" murmured Mr. Twigley.

He pressed his fingers to his eyes. Jane and Michael could see he was making an effort to wish Something Really Useful. For a moment he spun round, deep in thought. Then he looked up, smiling, and clapped his hands.

"Mrs. Clump," he cried gaily. "You shall be free! I wish for you a Golden Palace and Peacock Pie every day for dinner. But—" he winked across at Mary

Poppins, "my kind of palace, Mrs. Clump! And my kind of pie!"

A roll of drums boomed through the attic.

Mrs. Clump looked at Mary Poppins and smiled a smile of triumph.

"Aha!" she said smugly. "What did I tell you?"

But even as she spoke the proud smile faded. It changed to a look of purest terror.

For Mrs. Clump was no longer a large fat woman. Her buxom body was rapidly shrinking. Her feet as they spun on the creaking floor grew smaller with every turn.

"What's this?" she panted. "Oh, what can it be?" Her arms and her legs grew short and skinny as her figure dwindled to half its size.

"Police! Fire! Murder! S.O.S." Her voice grew thinner as she shrank.

"Oh, Mr. Twigley! What have you done? Police! Police!" squeaked the tiny voice.

As she spoke the floor gave an angry heave and flung her, spinning, into the air. She bounced back with a frantic shriek and stumbled away across the room. And as she ran she grew smaller than ever and her movements more and more jerky. One moment she was the size of a kitten and the next no bigger than a small-sized mouse. Away she went, stumbling and bouncing and tripping, till at the end of the attic she dashed into a tiny golden palace that had suddenly appeared.

"Oh, why did I speak to him? What has he done?" Mrs. Clump cried out in a tinny voice.

And looking through one of the golden windows, the children saw her collapse on a chair before a small tin pie. She began to cut it with jerky movements as the palace door closed with a bang.

At that moment the boxes ceased to spin. The music stopped and the attic was silent.

Down from his box sprang Mr. Twigley and ran to the golden palace. With a cry of delight he picked it up and gazed at the scene within.

"Very clever! I really must congratulate myself. All it needs now is a penny-in-the-slot and then it will do for Brighton Pier. One Penny, Only One Penny, folks! To see the Fat Woman Eating the Pie! Roll up! Roll up! Only one Penny!"

Waving the palace, Mr. Twigley went gaily capering round the room. Jane and Michael, leaping down from their boxes, ran after him and caught his coat-tails. They peered through the windows at Mrs. Clump. There was a look of horror on her mechanical face as she cut her mechanical pie.

"That was your sixth wish!" Michael reminded him.

"It was indeed!" Mr. Twigley agreed. "A Really useful idea, for once! Where there's a wish, there's a way, you see! Especially if she's around!" He nodded at Mary Poppins, who was stepping off her musical box in the most majestic manner.

"Get your hats, please!" she commanded sharply. "I want to get home for a Cup of Tea. I am not a Desert Camel."

"Oh, just one moment, please, Mary Poppins! Mr. Twigley's got one more wish!"

Jane and Michael, both talking at once, were tugging at her hands.

"Why, so I have! I'd quite forgotten. Now, what shall I—?"

"Cherry-Tree Lane, remember, Fred!" Mary Poppins' voice had a warning note.

"Oh, I'm glad you reminded me. Just a second!" Mr. Twigley put his hand to his brow and a scale of music sounded.

"What did you wish?" asked Jane and Michael.

But Mr. Twigley seemed suddenly to have become deaf, for he took no notice of the question. He shook hands hurriedly as though, having wished all his wishes, he was now anxious to be alone.

"You have to be going, you said? How sad! Is this your hat? Well, delighted you came! I hope — are these your gloves, dear Mary? — I hope you'll pay me another visit when my wishes come round again!"

"When will that be?" demanded Michael.

"Oh, in about ninety years or so." Mr. Twigley answered airily.

"But we'll be quite old by then!" said Jane.

"Maybe," he replied, with a little shrug. "But at least not as old as I am!"

And with that he kissed Mary Poppins on both cheeks and hustled them out of the room.

The last thing they saw was his jubilant smile as he began to fix a Penny-in-the-Slot to Mrs. Clump's palace….

Later, when they came to think about it, Jane and Michael could never remember how they got out of Mr. Twigley's house and into Cherry-Tree Lane. It seemed as though at one moment they were on the dusty stairs and the next were following Mary Poppins through the pearly evening light.

Jane glanced back for one last look at the little house.

"Michael!" she said in a startled whisper. "It's gone. Everything's gone!"

He looked round. Yes! Jane was right. The little street and the old-fashioned houses were nowhere to be seen. There was only the shadowy Park before them and the well-known curve of Cherry-Tree Lane.

"Well, where have we been all the afternoon?" said Michael, staring about him.

But it needed someone wiser than Jane to answer that question truly.

"We must have been somewhere," she said sensibly.

But that was not enough for Michael. He rushed away to Mary Poppins and pulled at her best blue skirt.

"Mary Poppins, where have we been today? What's happened to Mr. Twigley?"

"How should I know?" snapped Mary Poppins. "I'm not an Encyclopaedia."

"But he's gone! And the street's gone! And I suppose the musical box has gone, too — the one he went round on this afternoon!"

Mary Poppins stood still on the kerb, and stared.

"A cousin of mine on a musical box? What nonsense you do talk, Michael Banks!"

"But he did!" cried Jane and Michael together. "We all went round on musical boxes. Each of us to our own true music. And yours was 'Pop Goes the Weasel.'"

Her eyes blazed sternly through the darkness. She seemed to grow larger as she glared.

"Each to our — weasel? Round and round?" Really, she was so angry she could hardly get the words out.

"On top of a musical box, did you say? So, this is what I get for my pains! You spend the afternoon with a well-brought up, self-respecting pair like my cousin and myself. And all you can do afterwards is to make a mock of us. Round and round with a weasel, indeed! For Two Pins I'd leave you — here, on this spot — and never come back! I warn you!"

"On top of a musical weasel!" she fumed, as she stalked through the gathering dusk.

Snap, snap, went her heels along the pavement. Even her back had an angry look.

Jane and Michael hurried after her. It was no good arguing with Mary Poppins, especially when she looked like that. The best thing to do was to say nothing. And be glad there was nobody in the Lane to offer her Two Pins. In silence they walked along beside her, and thought of the afternoon's adventure and looked at each other and wondered….

"Oh, Mary Poppins!" said Mrs. Banks brightly, as she opened the front door. "I'm sorry, but I don't need your cousin, after all. I tried the piano again just now. And it's quite in tune. In fact, better than ever."

"I'm glad of that, ma'am," said Mary Poppins, stealing a glance at herself in the mirror. "My cousin will make no charge."

"Well, I should think not!" cried Mrs. Banks indignantly. "Why, he hasn't even been here."

"Exactly, ma'am," said Mary Poppins. She sniffed as she turned towards the stairs.

Jane and Michael exchanged a secret look.

"That must have been the seventh wish!" Michael whispered. And Jane gave an answering nod.

Jug, jug, jug, jug — tereu!

From the Park came a shower of wild sweet music. It had a familiar sound.

"What can that be?" cried Mrs. Banks as she ran to the door to listen. "Good gracious! It's a Nightingale!"

Down from the branches fell the song, note by note, like plums from a tree. It burnt upon the evening air. It throbbed through the listening dusk.

"How very strange!" said Mrs. Banks. "They never sing in the city!"

Behind her back the children nodded and looked at each other wisely.

"It's Mr. Twigley's," murmured Jane.

"He's set it free!" answered Michael softly.

And they knew, as they listened to the burning song, that somewhere, somehow, Mr. Twigley was true — as true as his little golden bird that was singing now in the Park.

The Nightingale sang once more and was silent.

Mrs. Banks sighed and shut the door. "I wish I knew where he came from!" she said dreamily.

But Jane and Michael, who could have told her, were already half-way up the stairs. So they said nothing. There were things that could be explained, they knew, and things that could not be explained.

Besides, there were Currant Buns for Tea and they knew what Mary Poppins would say if they dared to keep her waiting….