"Oh, for just one more brick!" sighed Michael. "Everything's done but the chimney!"
Mary Poppins came swiftly across the room.
"There you are! That's what it needs!" she said. And she stooped and put one of her own dominoes in the place where the chimney should be.
"Hooray! It's completely finished!" he cried, glancing up at her with delight. Then he saw that she had placed the box of dominoes beside him. The sight of them made him queerly uneasy.
"You mean—" he said, swallowing. "You mean — we may keep them?"
He had always wanted those dominoes. But never before had Mary Poppins allowed him to touch her possessions. What did it mean? It was so unlike her. And suddenly, as she nodded at him, he, too, felt a pang of loneliness.
"Oh!" he broke out, with an anxious wail. "What's wrong, Mary Poppins? What can be the matter?"
"Wrong!" Her eyes snapped angrily. "I give you a nice respectable present and that's all the thanks I get! What's wrong indeed! I'll know better next time."
He rushed at her wildly and clutched her hand. "Oh, I didn't mean that, Mary Poppins! I — thank you. It was just a sudden idea I had—"
"Those ideas are going to get you into trouble one of these fine bright days. You mark my words!" she snorted. "Now, get your hats, please, all of you! We'll go for a walk to the Swings."
At the sight of that familiar glare their anxiety melted away. They flew to get ready, shouting and laughing, and knocking the Castle down as they ran.
The thin Spring sun shone over the Park as they hurried across the Lane. Green smoke hung around the Cherry-Trees where the small new leaves were sprouting. The scent of primroses was in the air and the birds were rehearsing their songs for summer.
"I'll race you to the Swings!" shouted Michael.
"We'll have them all to ourselves!" cried Jane. For nobody else was in the clearing where the five swings stood and waited.
In no time they had scrambled for places and Jane and Michael, John and Barbara were each on a swing of their own. Annabel, looking like a white woollen egg, shared hers with Mary Poppins.
"Now — one, two, THREE!" cried Michael loudly, and the swings swayed from the cross-beam. Higher and higher the children swung, swooping like birds through the delicate sunlight. Up they went with their heads to the sky and down they came with their feet to the earth. The trees seemed to spread their branches below them; the roofs of the houses nodded and bowed.
"It's like flying!" Jane cried happily, as the earth turned a somersault under her feet. She glanced across at Michael. His hair was tossing in all directions as he rode through the air. The Twins were squeaking like excited mice. And beyond them, with a dignified air, Mary Poppins swung backwards and forwards. One hand held Annabel on her knee and the other grasped her umbrella. Her eyes, as she rode her flying swing, shone with a strange, bright gleam. They were bluer than Jane had ever seen them, blue with the blueness of faraway. They seemed to look past the trees and houses, and out beyond all the seas and mountains, and over the rim of the world.
The afternoon faded and the Park grew grey as it tilted beneath their feet. But Jane and Michael took no notice. They were wrapped in a dream with Mary Poppins, a dream that swung them up and down between the earth and the sky, a rocking, riding, lulling dream that would never come to an end.
But come to an end it did, at last. The sun went over and the dream went with it. As the last rays spread across the Park, Mary Poppins put her foot to the ground and her swing stopped with a jerk.
"It is time to go," she said, quietly. And because her voice had, for once, no sternness, they stopped their swings immediately and obeyed without protesting. The perambulator gave its familiar groan as she dumped the Twins and Annabel into it. Jane and Michael walked quietly beside her. The earth was still swaying beneath their feet. They were happy and calm and silent.
Creak, creak! went the perambulator along the path.
Trip, trip, went Mary Poppins' shoes.
Michael glanced up as the last light fell on the faint green leaves of the Cherry-Trees.
"I believe," he said dreamily to Jane, "that Nellie Rubina's been here!"
"Here today and gone tomorrow — that's me!" cried a tinkling voice.
They turned to find Nellie Rubina herself rolling along on her wooden disc. And behind her came the wheeling shape of old Uncle Dodger.
"What a roll I've had!" cried Nellie Rubina. "I've looked for you everywhere!" she panted. "How are you all? Doing nicely, I hope! I wanted to see you, dear Miss Poppins, to give you a—"
"And also," said Uncle Dodger eagerly, "to wish you a very good—"
"Uncle Dodger!" said Nellie Rubina, with a warning glint in her eye.
"Oh, excuse me! Begging your pardon, my dear!" the old man answered quickly.
"Just a Little Something to remember us by," Nellie Rubina went on. Then, thrusting out her wooden arm, she popped a small white object into Mary Poppins' hand.
The children crowded to look at it.
"It's a Conversation!" Michael exclaimed.
Jane peered at the letters in the fading light. '"Fare Thee Well, my Fairy Fay!'" she read out. "Are you going away, then, Nellie Rubina?"
"Oh, dear me, yes! Tonight's the night!" Nellie Rubina gave a tinkling laugh as she glanced at Mary Poppins.
"You can keep it to eat on the way, Miss Poppins!" Uncle Dodger nodded at the Conversation.
"Uncle Dodger!" cried Nellie Rubina.
"Oh, my! Oh, my! Out of turn again! I'm too old, that's what it is, my dear. And begging your pardon, of course."
"Well, it's very kind of you both, I'm sure," said Mary Poppins politely. You could see she was pleased by the way she smiled. Then she tucked the Conversation into her pocket and gave the pram a push.
"Oh, do wait a minute, Mary Poppins!" cried a breathless voice behind them. A patter of steps came along the path and the children turned quickly.
"Why, it's Mr. and Mrs. Tbrvy!" cried Michael, as a tall, thin shape and a round, fat one came forward, hand in hand.
"We now call ourselves the Topsy-TUrvies. We think it sounds better." Mr. TUrvy looked down at them over his glasses as his wife shook hands all round.
"Well, Mary," he went on, in his gloomy voice, "we thought we'd drop in, just for a moment — to say So Long, you know."
"And not too long, we hope, dear Mary!" added Mrs. Turvy, smiling. Her round, fat face shook like a jelly and she looked extremely happy.
"Oh, thank you kindly, Cousin Arthur! And you, too, Topsy!" said Mary Poppins, as she shook them both by the hand.
"What does it mean — So Long?" asked Jane, as she leant against Mary Poppins. Something — perhaps it was the darkness — made her suddenly want to be very close to that warm and comforting figure.
"It means my daughters!" a small voice screeched, as a shape emerged from the shadows. "So long, so wide, so huge, so stupid — the great Gallumping Giraffes."
And there on the path stood Mrs. Corry with her coat all covered with threepenny-bits. And behind her, Fannie and Annie stalked, like a pair of mournful giants.
"Well, here we are again!" shrieked Mrs. Corry, as she grinned at the staring children. "H'm! Growing up fast, aren't they, Mary Poppins? I can see that they won't need you much longer!"
Mary Poppins gave a nod of agreement as Michael, with a cry of protest, rushed to her side.
"We'll always need her — always!" he cried, hugging Mary Poppins' waist so tightly that he felt her strong hard bones.
She glared at him like an angry panther.
"Kindly do not crush me, Michael! I am not a Sardine in a Tin!"
"Well, I just came to have a word with you," Mrs. Corry cackled on. "An old word, Mary, and one that is best said quickly. As I used to tell Solomon when he was making that fuss about the Queen of Sheba — if you've got to say it sometime, why not now?" Mrs. Corry looked searchingly at Mary Poppins. Then she added softly, "Good-bye, my dear!"