Mary Poppins in the Park (19 page)

"That will be nice for the boys, Matilda!" Mr. Mo brightened at the thought.

Mrs. Mo gave him a scornful glance.

"Eenie, Meenie and Mynie," she said, "can fend for themselves in the attic. The nursery will be for my
own
children. And—if she brings me a reference, saying she is honest and reliable—Mary Poppins may come and look after them!"

"But she's looking after us!" cried Michael. He seized a fold of the sprigged skirt and pulled her to his side.

"It's kind of you, I'm sure, Matilda. But I never give references."

Mary Poppins' eyes had a curious glint as she thrust the perambulator forward.

"Then you're no use to me!" declared Mrs. Mo, strutting backwards through her invisible mansion.

"Oh, indeed?" Mary Poppins' balmy tones had-now an icy edge.

"Yes, indeed!" retorted Mrs. Mo. "I won't have people in my castle who are likely to steal the silver! And don't look at me like that!" she added. There was now a note of alarm in her voice, as though there was something frightening in the smiling face that pursued her.

"Like what?" said Mary Poppins softly. And she gave the perambulator another push.

Mrs. Mo retreated again and raised her rolling-pin.

"Away with you! Be off!" she cried. "You're an uninvited guest!" Her face was the colour of her apron and her large body trembled.

"Oh no, I'm not!" said Mary Poppins, moving forward, like an oncoming storm. "You told me to stay and wash the dishes!"

"Well—I take it back!" quavered Mrs. Mo. "You pay us what you owe and be gone. I won't have you in my Park!" The rolling-pin shivered in her hand as she stumbled back into the forest shade.

"
Your
Park, did you say?" murmured Mary Poppins, advancing with ever quicker steps.

"Yes, mine! Oh, Samuel, do something—can't you? I won't have her smiling at me like that! Ow! Let me go! Oh, what has caught me! I'm stuck, I can't get free! What is it?"

As she spoke, an arm went round her waist and strong hands gripped her by the wrist.

Behind her stood a stalwart figure smiling triumphantly. A head-dress of feathers was on his brow, a bow and some arrows hung from one shoulder and the other was draped with a striped blanket.

"At last! At last I find my squaw!" He grasped his wriggling captive closer.

"Let me go, you savage!" shrieked Mrs. Mo, as she turned and beheld his face.

"Let go? Not I! What I find I keep. You shall come with me to my wigwam."

"I won't! Unhand me! Samuel! Tell him to set me free!"

"Oh, I wouldn't dare—he's far too strong. And the best of friends must part, Matilda!"

"Free? Nay, nay, you shall be my slave. There!" said the Indian cheerfully, as he strung some yellow beads round her head and stuck a feather in the knob of her hair. "This I give as a great honour. Nowyou're Indian, too!"

"I'm not! I won't! Oh, help! Oh, Sam!"

"Well, you wanted a crown of beaded gold and you seem to have got it, my dear!"

"Wash in the stream, cook over twigs!" The Indian wrinkled his nose at her. "All the wide greenwood for your house and sky above for your roof!"

"That's larger than the largest castle." Mr. Mo gave her a beaming glance.

"Nay, struggle not," said the Indian, as Mrs. Mo tried to wriggle away. "A good squaw obeys her master. And a queen must do the same!"

"
Let me go, you savage!

"Queen?" cried Mrs. Mo, wildly kicking.

The Indian tossed his head proudly. "Did you not know I was King of the Forest?"

"Matilda, how splendid! Just what you wanted!"

"I didn't, I didn't! Not in this way!"

"There are more ways than one of being a queen," said Mary Poppins primly.

Mrs. Mo turned on her in a fury. She drummed with her feet on the Indian's shins and brandished the rolling-pin.

"This is
your
doing—you wolf in sheep's clothing! Things were going so nicely until you came. Oh, Samuel, why did you let her in?" Mrs. Mo burst into angry tears.

"Nicely for you!" said Mary Poppins. "But not for anyone else!"

"A wolf? A lamb, you mean, Matilda! I didn't let her in—she came. As if I could keep
that
wolf from the door!" Mr. Mo laughed at his little joke.

"Oh, help me, Samuel! Set me free and I'll lend you the threepenny-piece. And the boys can have a slice of pie every second Friday!" Mrs. Mo, with an imploring gesture, flung out her knobbly arms.

"What?" she cried, glaring at each in turn. "Does
nobody
want me back?"

There was silence in the little group. Mr. Mo glanced at his three sons and then at Mary Poppins. One by one all shook their heads.

"Coo-roo! Coo-roo!
They don't want you!"

cooed the doves as they fluttered past.

"Oh, what shall I do?" wailed Mrs. Mo.

"
I
want you, Mahtildah!" the Indian cried. "I need you, Mahtildah, to boil the pot! Sweep the wigwam! Sew the moccasins! Make the arrows! Fill the pipe! And—on every second Monday, Mahtildah,

"You shall sit on the blanket beneath a moonbeam And feed on wild strawberries, snakes and nut cream!"

"Snakes? Moonbeams? Let me go! I eat nothing but mutton chops. Oh, help! Murder! Ambulance! Fire!"

Her voice rose to an anguished scream as the Indian flung her over his shoulder and stepped back into the woodland. Clasping his struggling burden tightly, he glanced at the three little boys.

"They let me go when I hollered," he said. "So—one good turn deserves another!"

And, smiling broadly at Mr. Mo, he bore the protesting Mrs. Mo into the depths of the forest.

"Police! Police!" they heard her shriek, as she and the Indian and the rolling-pin disappeared from view.

Mr. Mo gave a sigh of relief.

"Well, it certainly is an ill wind that blows nobody any good! I hope Matilda will settle down and enjoy being a queen. Mary, you've paid me well for that handle. I shall always be in your debt."

"She said she would do it in her own good time—and she has," said Michael proudly.

"Ah!" said Mr. Mo, shaking his head. "She does everything in her own time—it's a very special kind."

"You owe me nothing, Cousin Sam!" Mary Poppins turned away from the forest with a conquering shine in her eye. "Except, of course," she added severely, "not to be so foolish in future."

"Out of the frying-pan into the fire? Oh, I'll never marry again, Mary! Once bitten, twice shy. The boys must manage somehow."

"Perhaps, Mr. Mo," Mrs. Hickory dimpled, "you would let
me
wash and mend for them. It would be no trouble at all."

"What a beautiful thought!" cried Mr. Mo. "All's well that ends well, Mary, you see! And I in return, Mrs. Hickory, will build you a nice little house. Oh, I've lost sixpence and found a shilling! Look!" he said, pointing to the sunset. "Red sky at night is the shepherd's delight! My dears, we are all going to be so happy. I shall start on my Fun Fair at once!"

And away he dashed across the lawn, with the rest of the party at his heels.

"But what about the wedding-breakfast?" Michael panted after him.

"My goodness, I'd forgotten. Here—fruit, cake, sausages, buns!" He took a piece from every dish and thrust it into Michael's hands.

Mary Poppins looked on disapprovingly.

"Now, Michael, not another bite! You will have no room for your supper."

"Enough's as good as a feast, my lad!" Mr. Mo grinned at Michael as he watched the food disappearing.

"Enough is too much!" said Mary Poppins. "Come along, both of you!"

"Oh, I cannot bear to leave it!" cried Jane. Her little Park seemed brighter than ever, as it shone in the setting sun.

"You never will!" Mr. Mo declared. "As long as you remember it, you can always come and go. And I hope you're not going to tell me that you can't be in two places at once. A clever girl who makes parks and people surely knows how to do that!" He smiled his twinkling, teasing smile.

Mary Poppins stepped out from under the buttercup, with a homeward look in her eye.

"Say goodbye politely, Jane!" She sent the perambulator rolling along the pebbled path.

"Goodbye, Mr. Mo!" said Jane softly, as she stood on tip-toe and held out her arms.

"Oh, luck! Oh, joy!" He patted his cheek. "This is no Park for Poor People! I'm rich—she's given me a kiss! Share and share alike!" he cried, as he kissed Mrs. Hickory right on a dimple.

"Remember, Sam!" warned Mary Poppins. "Look before you leap!"

"Oh, I shan't do any leaping, Mary! A little dance and a hop or two—nothing more serious, I assure you!"

She gave a disbelieving sniff, but Mr. Mo did not hear it. He was skipping beside Mrs. Hickory and seizing her apron-strings.

"May I have the pleasure?" they heard him saying.

"Me, too!" cried Eeenie, Meenie and Mynie, as they flew to join their father.

And there they all were, prancing round the table, helping themselves to pie and wine and hanging the cherries behind their ears. Mrs. Hickory's dimples were twinkling gaily and her babies were bobbing about in her arms.

"It's a poor heart that never rejoices!" cried Mr. Mo, as he whirled her about. He seemed to have quite forgotten his guests in the gaiety of the moment.

"It's love that makes the world go round!" yelled Eenie, Meenie and Mynie.

And, indeed, the world did seem to be spinning, turning for joy upon its axis, as the little Park spun round its buttercup tree. Round and round and round it went in a steady, stately movement.

The wedding-party was waltzing and singing, and the Ice Cream Man was singing, too, as he pedalled back along the path. A cluster of Fruit Bars was in his hand and he tossed them on to the table.

"Three for luck and free for luck!" he cried, as he trundled by.

"Step up, if you please," said Mary Poppins, hustling them along before her as a hen hustles her chicks. "And what are you doing, Jane and Michael, walking backwards like that?"

"I'b wadching the weddig-feast!" mumbled Michael, with his mouth full of his last cherry. He gave a long lugubrious sigh as each creak of the perambulator drew him farther from that wonderful meal.

"Taking one more look at my Park, Mary Poppins," said Jane, as she gazed at the happy scene.

"Well, you're not a pair of crabs! Turn round—and walk in the right direction."

The sunset dazzled their eyes as they turned. And the afternoon seemed to be turning with them, from two o'clock till five. Tick-tock! said every clock. Ding-dong! said the bells in the steeples.

Then the spinning world slowed down and was still, and they blinked as though coming out of a dream. Had it taken them seconds, minutes or hours to walk down that pebbly path? They looked about them curiously.

The blossoms of clover were now at their feet, instead of above their heads, and the grasses of the Wild Corner brushed against their knees. The bumble-bee went buzzing by, no larger, it seemed, than usual. And the fly on a near-by bluebell was about the size of a fly. As for the ant—it was hiding under a grass-seed and was therefore invisible.

The big Park spread serenely round them, just the same as ever. The Ice Cream Man, who had come to the last verse of his song—

"I'll sing you twelve-o
Green grow the rushes-o,"

was wheeling away from the Wild Corner. And the Park Keeper, with the finished daisy-chain round his neck, was lumbering towards them.

They glanced down. Below them lay the little Park, hemmed in by its walls of weed. They blinked again and smiled at each other as they fell on their knees among the flowers.

The little lawns were now in shadow. Long patterns of daisy and bluebell lay black across the paths. The tiny flowers in Jane's garden were bending on their stems. By lake and swing the seats were deserted.

"They've eaten every bit of the feast. Look!" whispered Michael. "Empty plates!"

"And not a sign of anyone. I expect they've all gone home to bed." Jane sighed. She would like to have seen Mr. Mo again, and to measure herself against his elbow.

"They're lucky, then, 'ooever they are! Let's to bed, says Sleepy-'Ead—as they told me when I was a boy!" The Park Keeper stooped above them and surveyed Jane's handiwork.

"No Parks allowed in the Park!" he observed. Then he eyed the two rapt faces. "Well, you seem very preh'occupied! What are you lookin' for?"

Jane gave him an absent-minded glance.

"Mary Poppins' cousin," she murmured, as she searched through the little Park.

The Park Keeper's face was a sight to see.

"Cousin! Down there—among the weeds? You'll be tellin' me next 'e's a beetle!"

"
I'll
be telling you something in a minute!" said a wrathful voice beside him. Mary Poppins regarded him frostily. "Did I or didn't I hear you referring to me as an insect?"

"Well—not to you," the Park Keeper faltered. "But if your cousin's down in that grass, what can 'e be but a beetle?"

"Oh, indeed! And if he's a beetle, what am I?"

He looked at her uneasily and wished that something would strike him dumb.