"Thank you," she said primly, to the Park Keeper.
He stood before her in his shirt-sleeves, shaking his head like a puzzled dog.
"I suppose you understand what it all means?" he said wistfully.
"I suppose I do," she replied smugly.
And without another word, she gave the perambulator a little push and sent it bowling past him. He was still staring after her, scratching his head, as she passed through the gate of the Park.
Mr. Banks, on his way home from the Office, whistled to them as they crossed the Lane.
"Well, Mary Poppins!" he greeted her. "You're very smart in your blue-and-red jacket! Have you joined the Salvation Army?"
"No, sir," she replied, primly. And the look she gave him made it quite clear she had no intention of explaining.
"It's the Park Keeper's coat," Jane told him hurriedly.
"He gave it to her just now," added Michael.
"What — Smith? He gave her the jacket of his uniform? Whatever for?" exclaimed Mr. Banks.
But Jane and Michael were suddenly silent. They could feel Mary Poppins' gimlet eyes making holes in the backs of their heads. They dared not go on with the story.
"Well, never mind!" said Mr. Banks calmly. "I suppose she did something to deserve it!"
They nodded. But they knew he would never know what she had done, not even if he lived to be fifty. They walked up the garden path beside him, clasping the coin and the book.
And as they went they thought of the child who had given them those gifts, the Marble Boy who for one short hour had danced and played in the Park. They thought of him standing alone on his pedestal, with his arm flung lovingly round his Dolphin — forever silent, forever still and the sweet light gone from his face. Darkness would come down upon him and the stars and the night would wrap him round. Proud and lonely he would stand there, looking down upon the waters of the little Lake, dreaming of the great sea and his home so far away….
CHAPTER 5
PEPPERMINT HORSES
HI!" shouted Mr. Banks, angrily, as he rattled the umbrellas in the Elephant's Leg that stood in the front hall.
"What is it now, George?" called Mrs. Banks, from the foot of the kitchen stairs.
"Somebody's taken my walking sticks!" Mr. Banks sounded like a wounded tiger.
"Here they are, Sir!" said Mary Poppins, as she tripped down from the Nursery. In one hand she carried a silver-headed ebony cane. From the other swung a grey ash stick with a curved nobbly handle. Without another word, and looking very superior, she handed the sticks to Mr. Banks.
"Oh!" he said, rather taken aback. "Why did you want them, Mary Poppins? I hope you haven't got a bad leg!"
"No, thank you, Sir!" she said with a sniff. And you knew by the haughty tone of her voice that Mr. Banks had insulted her. A bad leg, indeed! As if her legs, as well as every other part of her, were not in perfect condition!
"It was us!" said Jane and Michael together, peering out at their Father from behind Mary Poppins.
"You! What's the matter with your fat legs? Are they lame, or crippled or what?"
"Nothing's the matter," said Michael plaintively. "We wanted the sticks for horses."
"What! My Great-uncle Herbert's ebony cane and the stick I won in the Church Bazaar!" Mr. Banks could hardly believe his ears.
"Well, we've nothing to ride on!" grumbled Jane.
"Why not the rocking-horse — dear old Dobbin?" called Mrs. Banks from the kitchen.
"I hate old Dobbin. He creaks!" said Michael, and he stamped his foot at his Mother.
"But Dobbin doesn't go anywhere. We want real horses!" protested Jane.
"And I'm to provide them, I suppose!" Mr. Banks strode, fuming, down the hall. "Three meals a day are not enough! Warm clothes and shoes are merely trifles! Now you want horses! Horses, indeed! Are you sure you wouldn't prefer a camel?"
Michael looked at his Father with a pained expression. Really, he thought, what shocking behaviour! But aloud he said patiently—
"No, thank you. Just horses!"
"Well, you'll get them when the moon turns blue! That's all I can say!" snapped Mr. Banks.
"How often does that happen?" Jane enquired.
Mr. Banks looked at her angrily. What stupid children I've got, he thought. Can't understand a figure of speech!
"Oh — every thousand years or so. Once in a lifetime — if you're lucky!" he said crossly. And, stuffing the cane into the Elephant's Leg, he hooked the ash stick over his arm and started for the City.
Mary Poppins smiled as she watched him go. A curious, secret smile it was, and the children wondered what it meant.
Mrs. Banks came bustling up the kitchen stairs. "Oh dear! Mary Poppins, what do you think! Miss Lark's dog Willoughby has just been in and eaten a tyre off the perambulator!"
"Yes, ma'am," replied Mary Poppins calmly, as though nothing that Willoughby ever did could possibly surprise her.
"But what shall we do about the shopping?" Mrs. Banks was almost in tears.
"I really couldn't say, I'm sure." Mary Poppins gave her head a toss, as though neither dogs nor perambulators were any concern of hers.
"Oh, must we go shopping?" grumbled Jane.
"I'm sick of walking," said Michael crossly. "I'm sure it's bad for my health."
Mrs. Banks took no notice of them. "Perhaps, Mary Poppins," she suggested nervously, "you could leave Annabel at home today and take Robertson Ay to carry the parcels."
"He's asleep in the wheelbarrow," Jane informed them. She had looked through the window, just after breakfast, and seen him taking his morning rest.
"Well, he won't be there long," said Mary Poppins. And she stalked out into the garden.
She was quite right. He wasn't there long. She must have said something Really Awful, for as they trailed after her down the path Robertson Ay was waiting at the garden gate.
"Keep up and don't straggle, if you please! This is not a Tortoise Parade." Mary Poppins took a Twin by each hand and hurried them along beside her.
"Day in and day out, it's always the same. I never get a moment's peace." Robertson Ay gave a stifled yawn as he handed Jane his hat to carry and stumbled along beside her.
Down the High Street marched Mary Poppins, glancing at the windows now and again to admire her own reflection.
Her first stop was at Mr. TVimlet's — Ironmonger, Hardware and Garden Tools.
"One mouse-trap!" she said haughtily, as she darted in at the door of the shop and read from Mrs. Banks' list.
Mr. Trimlet was a bony man with a large purplish face. He was sitting behind the counter with his hat on the back of his head. And the morning paper was propped around him like an old Chinese screen.
"Only one?" he asked rudely, peering round the edge of the screen to look at Mary Poppins. "Sorry, Miss!" he said with a leer. "But one trap wouldn't be worth me while!" He shook his head and was about to turn away when he caught the look on her face. His purple cheeks turned the colour of lilac.
"Just my joke," he said hurriedly. "No offence meant! Why, I'd sell 'alf a mouse-trap if I thought you wanted it. Not to mention a nice bit o' cheese to go with it."
"One mincing machine," said Mary Poppins, as she fixed him with a stare.
"And I'll throw in a pound of steak for luck," said Mr. Trimlet eagerly.
Mary Poppins took no notice.
"Half-a-dozen pot cleaners, one tin of bees' wax, one floor mop," she read out quickly.
"Setting up 'ouse?" enquired Mr. Trimlet, smiling nervously as he tied up the parcels.
"A packet of nails and a garden rake," she went on. She looked right through his purple face as though it were made of glass.