Mary Poppins: The Original Story

Mary Poppins: The Original Story P. L. Travers Discover the joy and wonder of Mary Poppins in the classic adventures!The original best-loved classic about the world’s most famous nanny – Mary Poppins.When the Banks family advertise for a nanny, Mary Poppins and her talking umbrella appear out of the sky, ready to take the children on extraordinary adventures.Mary Poppins is strict but fair, and soon Michael and Jane are whisked off to a funfair inside a pavement picture and on many more outings with their wonderful new nanny!Needless to say, when at last ‘the wind changes’ and she flies away, the children are devastated. But the magic of Mary Poppins will stay with the Banks family forever.The original story of the world’s most famous nanny, Mary Poppins, is a timeless classic that has enchanted generations. Copyright (#ulink_e40a2b9e-e688-5bb6-b9bb-efa8a24961c8) First published in Great Britain by Peter Davies Ltd 1934 First published by HarperCollins 1958 This edition published by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2016 HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd, 1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF The HarperCollins Children’s Books website address is www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk) Text copyright reserved P.L. Travers 1934 Illustrations copyright reserved 1934 Postscript copyright © Brian Sibley 1998 Why You’ll Love This Book copyright © Cameron Mackintosh 2008 Cover design copyright © HarperCollins Children’s Books 2018 Cover design by Katie Everson P.L. Travers and Mary Shepard assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Source ISBN: 9780007286416 Ebook Edition © 2016 ISBN: 9780007372171 Version: 2018-06-28 To myMOTHER1875 – 1928 Why You’ll Love This Book by Cameron Mackintosh (#ulink_aa1ffaaf-7a6e-55d9-ae1a-0fe24af8b32c) Mary Poppins delights in letting us know that she “never explains anything” and yet the Banks family fall under her spell and other families all over the world are put back together again by the world’s most famous nanny. I fell in love with Mary Poppins and Julie Andrews in 1964, just after I left school, when I went to see Walt Disney’s magical film. On reading the credits, I realised the film was based on books by P.L. Travers which I then read avidly, discovering that there were many more stories and characters than those in the film. Her forthright, quirkily funny dialogue stayed with me, brought to life in my head by Julie’s brilliant, no-nonsense delivery in the film. In the late 1970’s I tried, like many other producers, to see if I could get the stage rights to Mary Poppins – but to no avail. Over the years, I often used to think of Mary but it wasn’t until 1993 when I was introduced to her creator, the formidable Pamela Travers, that I found that she wouldn’t explain anything to me either. By then Pamela was a frail, but extremely sharp, 93 year old lady, living in her Chelsea house, in a street looking remarkably like Cherry Tree Lane, eyeing me up and down, asking me lots of questions as she batted away my own. I felt like Michael and Jane Banks, waiting to be told “you’ll do”. After several meetings, Pamela decided that I really was interested in turning her books into a stage musical, rather than just putting the film on stage – something she had refused to allow for decades, wanting a new and different score. Once Pamela decided I could be trusted with her great creation – though she never admitted creating (a word she hated) Mary, or any of the other characters, saying that “Mary just arrived” – I was in turn able to persuade her that a stage musical could only be made by combining her stories with the key songs from the film. Realising that I was probably her best chance to achieve her long cherished dream of a stage musical, she agreed and I finally felt a musical Mary might fly after all. Mary Poppins is, and always will be, unique; stern, dependable, businesslike, magical and yet eternally loveable. When Jane and Michael call out “we will never forget you Mary Poppins” you know that though she has flown away, the gift she has brought will remain for always and that Mary is genuinely happy that her charges are now: “practically perfect and I hope it remains so”. Though Pamela would never say where Mary came from, she did in fact give an answer to the children when they asked Mary, “where is your home?” and Mary replies, “My home is wherever I am”. From the time Pamela entrusted me with the stage rights to her books it took me several years to persuade Disney that a new musical could be created out of both the books and the films key Sherman Brothers songs and during that time I tried to piece together an outline for a dramatic structure that would make theatre audiences want to come back for a second half. The answer of course lay with Pamela herself. In the books Mary Poppins leaves the family twice and comes back only until she’s no longer required. This gave me the clue where the interval should be and enabled me to start putting the songs from the film into new dramatic situations and decide which new songs would be needed. I remember writing much of this treatment on the quayside by the Sydney Opera House, not far from the Old Grand Opera House where Pamela had herself danced and sung in her theatrical days. When I showed what I’d done to Tom Schumacher, who had just become the new head of Disney’s Theatrical production company in 2001, he presented me with armfuls of documents from the Disney vaults written by Pamela herself and said, “It was amazing that I had focused on many of the characters and episodes from the books that Travers wanted included in the Mary Poppins film sequel that was never made”. Whenever I was stuck for an idea, I would think, “What would Pamela do or say”. By separating the film and stage rights, Pamela somehow managed from beyond the grave to get Disney and I to work together and, with the enormous contribution of a lot of talented people, especially Tom, the stage musical she always wanted has now been created and has been miraculously embraced by Disney, fans of her books, her friends, family, trustees, as well as new audiences around the world. I like to think that Pamela would also say “it’ll do” as I have no doubt that if she disapproved she would have somehow sent me her notes! Cameron Mackintosh Cameron Mackintosh has been producing shows for more than 40 years during which time he has put on hundreds of productions around the world including Cats, Les Mis?rables, The Phantom of the Opera – the three longest running musicals of all time – and Miss Saigon. His other productions include the stage musicals Mary Poppins with Disney, Little Shop of Horrors, Side by Side by Sondheim, Follies, Martin Guerre, The Witches of Eastwick and acclaimed international revivals of My Fair Lady, Oliver! and Oklahoma! Contents Cover (#ua319339b-cc20-5ba2-ab63-8c755addc5fe) Title Page (#u6094f17f-6e93-5aa5-ae95-09798b470d38) Copyright (#u990d7463-09fb-516d-b467-36751b573616) Dedication (#uf5370f39-3266-525a-b352-f7fd90733cf7) Why You’ll Love This Book by Cameron Mackintosh (#u239c02e6-5719-56b2-81a1-af5fd4ce0aad) Chapter One – East Wind (#u6f62f2ba-125a-51f5-a130-c30cde673211) Chapter Two – The Day Out (#u06e81380-ba52-587c-bd90-6d1ddef5419f) Chapter Three – Laughing Gas (#u815a4f83-f928-5838-a5f2-c36789d10a73) Chapter Four – Miss Lark’s Andrew (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Five – The Dancing Cow (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Six – Bad Tuesday (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seven – The Bird Woman (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eight – Mrs Corry (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nine – John and Barbara’s Story (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Ten – Full Moon (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eleven – Christmas Shopping (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twelve – West Wind (#litres_trial_promo) More than a story (#litres_trial_promo) About the Author (#litres_trial_promo) Have you read all the original Mary Poppins adventures? (#litres_trial_promo) About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter One (#ulink_a3b410b9-9e61-5132-b7d5-a194aa96f174) EAST WIND (#ulink_a3b410b9-9e61-5132-b7d5-a194aa96f174) IF YOU WANT to find Cherry Tree Lane all you have to do is ask the Policeman at the crossroads. He will push his helmet slightly to one side, scratch his head thoughtfully, and then he will point his huge white-gloved finger and say: “First to your right, second to your left, sharp right again, and you’re there. Good morning.” And sure enough, if you follow his directions exactly, you will be there – right in the middle of Cherry Tree Lane, where the houses run down one side and the Park runs down the other and the cherry-trees go dancing right down the middle. If you are looking for Number Seventeen – and it is more than likely that you will be, for this book is all about that particular house – you will very soon find it. To begin with, it is the smallest house in the Lane. And besides that, it is the only one that is rather dilapidated and needs a coat of paint. But Mr Banks, who owns it, said to Mrs Banks that she could have either a nice, clean, comfortable house or four children. But not both, for he couldn’t afford it. And after Mrs Banks had given the matter some consideration she came to the conclusion that she would rather have Jane, who was the eldest, and Michael, who came next, and John and Barbara, who were twins and came last of all. So it was settled, and that was how the Banks family came to live at Number Seventeen, with Mrs Brill to cook for them, and Ellen to lay the tables, and Robertson Ay to cut the lawn and clean the knives and polish the shoes and, as Mr Banks always said, “to waste his time and my money.” And, of course, besides these there was Katie Nanna, who doesn’t really deserve to come into the book at all because, at the time I am speaking of, she had just left Number Seventeen. “Without a by your leave or a word of warning. And what am I to do?” said Mrs Banks. “Advertise, my dear,” said Mr Banks, putting on his shoes. “And I wish Robertson Ay would go without a word of warning, for he has again polished one boot and left the other untouched. I shall look very lopsided.” “That,” said Mrs Banks, “is not of the least importance. You haven’t told me what I’m to do about Katie Nanna.” “I don’t see how you can do anything about her since she has disappeared,” replied Mr Banks. “But if it were me – I mean I – well, I should get somebody to put in the Morning Paper the news that Jane and Michael and John and Barbara Banks (to say nothing of their mother) require the best possible Nannie at the lowest possible wage and at once. Then I should wait and watch for the Nannies to queue up outside the front gate, and I should get very cross with them for holding up the traffic and making it necessary for me to give the policeman a shilling for putting him to so much trouble. Now I must be off. Whew, it’s as cold as the North Pole. Which way is the wind blowing?” And as he said that, Mr Banks popped his head out of the window and looked down the Lane to Admiral Boom’s house at the corner. This was the grandest house in the Lane, and the Lane was very proud of it because it was built exactly like a ship. There was a flagstaff in the garden, and on the roof was a gilt weathercock shaped like a telescope. “Ha!” said Mr Banks, drawing in his head very quickly. “Admiral’s telescope says East Wind. I thought as much. There is frost in my bones. I shall wear two overcoats.” And he kissed his wife absentmindedly on one side of her nose and waved to the children and went away to the City. Now, the City was a place where Mr Banks went every day – except Sundays, of course, and Bank Holidays – and while he was there he sat on a large chair in front of a large desk and made money. All day long he worked, cutting out pennies and shillings and half-crowns and threepenny-bits. And he brought them home with him in his little black bag. Sometimes he would give some to Jane and Michael for their money-boxes, and when he couldn’t spare any he would say, “The Bank is broken,” and they would know he hadn’t made much money that day. Well, Mr Banks went off with his black bag, and Mrs Banks went into the drawing room and sat there all day long writing letters to the papers and begging them to send some Nannies to her at once as she was waiting; and upstairs in the Nursery, Jane and Michael watched at the window and wondered who would come. They were glad Katie Nanna had gone, for they had never liked her. She was old and fat and smelt of barley-water. Anything, they thought, would be better than Katie Nanna – if not much better. When the afternoon began to die away behind the Park, Mrs Brill and Ellen came to give them their supper and to bath the Twins. And after supper Jane and Michael sat at the window watching for Mr Banks to come home, and listening to the sound of the East Wind blowing through the naked branches of the cherry trees in the Lane. The trees themselves, turning and bending in the half light, looked as though they had gone mad and were dancing their roots out of the ground. “There he is!” said Michael, pointing suddenly to a shape that banged heavily against the gate. Jane peered through the gathering darkness. “That’s not Daddy,” she said. “It’s somebody else.” Then the shape, tossed and bent under the wind, lifted the latch of the gate, and they could see that it belonged to a woman, who was holding her hat on with one hand and carrying a bag in the other. As they watched, Jane and Michael saw a curious thing happen. As soon as the shape was inside the gate the wind seemed to catch her up into the air and fling her at the house. It was as though it had flung her first at the gate, waited for her to open it, and then lifted and thrown her, bag and all, at the front door. The watching children heard a terrific bang, and as she landed the whole house shook. “How funny! I’ve never seen that happen before,” said Michael. “Let’s go and see who it is!” said Jane, and taking Michael’s arm she drew him away from the window, through the Nursery and out on to the landing. From there they always had a good view of anything that happened in the front hall. Presently they saw their Mother coming out of the drawing room with a visitor following her. Jane and Michael could see that the newcomer had shiny black hair – “Rather like a wooden Dutch doll,” whispered Jane. And that she was thin, with large feet and hands, and small, rather peering blue eyes. “You’ll find that they are very nice children,” Mrs Banks was saying. Michael’s elbow gave a sharp dig at Jane’s ribs. “And that they give no trouble at all,” continued Mrs Banks uncertainly, as if she herself didn’t really believe what she was saying. They heard the visitor sniff as though she didn’t either. “Now, about references—” Mrs Banks went on. “Oh, I make it a rule never to give references,” said the other firmly. Mrs Banks stared. “But I thought it was usual,” she said. “I mean – I understood people always did.” “A very old-fashioned idea, to my mind,” Jane and Michael heard the stern voice say. “Very old-fashioned. Quite out of date, as you might say.” Now, if there was one thing Mrs Banks did not like, it was to be thought old-fashioned. She just couldn’t bear it. So she said quickly: “Very well, then. We won’t bother about them. I only asked, of course, in case you – er – required it. The nursery is upstairs—” And she led the way towards the staircase, talking all the time, without stopping once. And because she was doing that Mrs Banks did not notice what was happening behind her, but Jane and Michael, watching from the top landing, had an excellent view of the extraordinary thing the visitor now did. Certainly she followed Mrs Banks upstairs, but not in the usual way. With her large bag in her hands she slid gracefully up the banisters, and arrived at the landing at the same time as Mrs Banks. Such a thing, Jane and Michael knew, had never been done before. Down, of course, for they had often done it themselves. But up – never! They gazed curiously at the strange new visitor. “Well, that’s all settled, then.” A sigh of relief came from the children’s Mother. “Quite. As long as I’m satisfied,” said the other, wiping her nose with a large red and white bandanna handkerchief. “Why, children,” said Mrs Banks, noticing them suddenly, “what are you doing there? This is your new nurse, Mary Poppins. Jane, Michael, say how do you do! And these” – she waved her hand at the babies in their cots – “are the Twins.” Mary Poppins regarded them steadily, looking from one to the other as though she were making up her mind whether she liked them or not. “Will we do?” said Michael. “Michael, don’t be naughty,” said his Mother. Mary Poppins continued to regard the four children searchingly. Then, with a long, loud sniff that seemed to indicate that she had made up her mind, she said: “I’ll take the position.” “For all the world,” as Mrs Banks said to her husband later, “as though she were doing us a signal honour.” “Perhaps she is,” said Mr Banks, putting his nose round the corner of the newspaper for a moment and then withdrawing it very quickly. When their Mother had gone, Jane and Michael edged towards Mary Poppins, who stood, still as a post, with her hands folded in front of her. “How did you come?” Jane asked. “It looked just as if the wind blew you here.” “It did,” said Mary Poppins briefly. And she proceeded to unwind her muffler from her neck and to take off her hat, which she hung on one of the bedposts. As it did not seem as though Mary Poppins was going to say any more – though she sniffed a great deal – Jane, too, remained silent. But when she bent down to undo her bag, Michael could not restrain himself. “What a funny bag!” he said, pinching it with his fingers. “Carpet,” said Mary Poppins, putting her key in the lock. “To carry carpets in, you mean?” “No. Made of.” “Oh,” said Michael. “I see.” But he didn’t – quite. By this time the bag was open, and Jane and Michael were more than surprised to find it was completely empty. “Why,” said Jane, “there’s nothing in it!” “What do you mean – nothing?” demanded Mary Poppins, drawing herself up and looking as though she had been insulted. “Nothing in it, did you say?” And with that she took out from the empty bag a starched white apron and tied it round her waist. Next she unpacked a large cake of Sunlight Soap, a toothbrush, a packet of hairpins, a bottle of scent, a small folding armchair and a box of throat lozenges. Jane and Michael stared. “But I saw,” whispered Michael. “I’m sure it was empty.” “Hush!” said Jane, as Mary Poppins took out a large bottle labelled “One Teaspoon to be Taken at Bedtime.” A spoon was attached to the neck of the bottle, and into this Mary Poppins poured a dark crimson fluid. “Is that your medicine?” enquired Michael, looking very interested. “No, yours,” said Mary Poppins, holding out the spoon to him. Michael stared. He wrinkled up his nose. He began to protest. “I don’t want it. I don’t need it. I won’t!” But Mary Poppins’ eyes were fixed upon him, and Michael suddenly discovered that you could not look at Mary Poppins and disobey her. There was something strange and extraordinary about her – something that was frightening and at the same time most exciting. The spoon came nearer. He held his breath, shut his eyes and gulped. A delicious taste ran round his mouth. He turned his tongue in it. He swallowed, and a happy smile ran round his face. “Strawberry ice,” he said ecstatically. “More, more, more!” But Mary Poppins, her face as stern as before, was pouring out a dose for Jane. It ran into the spoon, silvery, greeny, yellowy. Jane tasted it. “Lime-juice cordial,” she said, sliding her tongue deliciously over her lips. But when she saw Mary Poppins moving towards the Twins with the bottle Jane rushed at her. “Oh, no – please. They’re too young. It wouldn’t be good for them. Please!” Mary Poppins, however, took no notice, but with a warning, terrible glance at Jane, tipped the spoon towards John’s mouth. He lapped at it eagerly, and by the few drops that were spilt on his bib, Jane and Michael could tell that the substance in the spoon this time was milk. Then Barbara had her share, and she gurgled and licked the spoon twice. Mary Poppins then poured out another dose and solemnly took it herself. “Rum punch,” she said, smacking her lips and corking the bottle. Jane’s eyes and Michael’s popped with astonishment, but they were not given much time to wonder, for Mary Poppins, having put the miraculous bottle on the mantelpiece, turned to them. “Now,” she said, “spit-spot into bed.” And she began to undress them. They noticed that whereas buttons and hooks had needed all sorts of coaxing from Katie Nanna, for Mary Poppins they flew apart almost at a look. In less than a minute they found themselves in bed and watching, by the dim light from the night-light, the rest of Mary Poppins’ unpacking being performed. From the carpet-bag she took out seven flannel nightgowns, four cotton ones, a pair of boots, a set of dominoes, two bathing-caps and a postcard album. Last of all came a folding camp-bedstead with blankets and eiderdown complete, and this she set down between John’s cot and Barbara’s. Jane and Michael sat hugging themselves and watching. It was all so surprising that they could find nothing to say. But they knew, both of them, that something strange and wonderful had happened at Number Seventeen, Cherry Tree Lane. Mary Poppins, slipping one of the flannel nightgowns over her head, began to undress underneath it as though it were a tent. Michael, charmed by this strange new arrival, unable to keep silent any longer, called to her. “Mary Poppins,” he cried, “you’ll never leave us, will you?” There was no reply from under the nightgown. Michael could not bear it. “You won’t leave us, will you?” he called anxiously. Mary Poppins’ head came out of the top of the nightgown. She looked very fierce. “One word more from that direction,” she said threateningly, “and I’ll call the Policeman.” “I was only saying,” began Michael, meekly, “that we hoped you wouldn’t be going away soon—” He stopped, feeling very red and confused. Mary Poppins stared from him to Jane in silence. Then she sniffed. “I’ll stay till the wind changes,” she said shortly, and she blew out her candle and got into bed. “That’s all right,” said Michael, half to himself and half to Jane. But Jane wasn’t listening. She was thinking about all that had happened, and wondering … And that is how Mary Poppins came to live at Number Seventeen, Cherry Tree Lane. And although they sometimes found themselves wishing for the quieter, more ordinary days when Katie Nanna ruled the household, everybody, on the whole, was glad of Mary Poppins’ arrival. Mr Banks was glad because, as she arrived by herself and did not hold up the traffic, he had not had to tip the Policeman. Mrs Banks was glad because she was able to tell everybody that her children’s nurse was so fashionable that she didn’t believe in giving references. Mrs Brill and Ellen were glad because they could drink strong cups of tea all day in the kitchen and no longer needed to preside at nursery suppers. Robertson Ay was glad, too, because Mary Poppins had only one pair of shoes, and those she polished herself. But nobody ever knew what Mary Poppins felt about it, for Mary Poppins never told anything … Chapter Two (#ulink_4eec7fae-a977-5fa0-a375-d5318063122a) THE DAY OUT (#ulink_4eec7fae-a977-5fa0-a375-d5318063122a) “EVERY THIRD THURSDAY,” said Mrs Banks. “Two till five.” Mary Poppins eyed her sternly. “The best people, ma’am,” she said, “give every second Thursday, and one till six. And those I shall take or—” Mary Poppins paused, and Mrs Banks knew what the pause meant. It meant that if she didn’t get what she wanted Mary Poppins would not stay. “Very well, very well,” said Mrs Banks hurriedly, though she wished Mary Poppins did not know so very much more about the best people than she did herself. So Mary Poppins put on her white gloves and tucked her umbrella under her arm – not because it was raining but because it had such a beautiful handle that she couldn’t possibly leave it at home. How could you leave your umbrella behind if it had a parrot’s head for a handle? Besides, Mary Poppins was very vain and liked to look her best. Indeed, she was quite sure that she never looked anything else. Jane waved to her from the Nursery window. “Where are you going?” she called. “Kindly close that window,” replied Mary Poppins, and Jane’s head hurriedly disappeared inside the Nursery. Mary Poppins walked down the garden-path and opened the gate. Once outside in the Lane, she set off walking very quickly as if she were afraid the afternoon would run away from her if she didn’t keep up with it. At the corner she turned to the right and then to the left, nodded haughtily to the Policeman, who said it was a nice day, and by that time she felt that her Day Out had begun. She stopped beside an empty motor car in order to put her hat straight with the help of the windscreen, in which it was reflected, then she smoothed down her frock and tucked her umbrella more securely under her arm so that the handle, or rather the parrot, could be seen by everybody. After these preparations she went forward to meet the Match Man. Now, the Match Man had two professions. He not only sold matches like any ordinary match man, but he drew pavement pictures as well. He did these things turn-about according to the weather. If it was wet, he sold matches because the rain would have washed away his pictures if he had painted them. If it was fine, he was on his knees all day, making pictures in coloured chalks on the side-walks, and doing them so quickly that often you would find he had painted up one side of a street and down the other almost before you’d had time to come round the corner. On this particular day, which was fine but cold, he was painting. He was in the act of adding a picture of two Bananas, an Apple, and a head of Queen Elizabeth to a long string of others, when Mary Poppins walked up to him, tiptoeing so as to surprise him. “Hey!” called Mary Poppins softly. He went on putting brown stripes on a banana and brown curls on Queen Elizabeth’s head. “Ahem!” said Mary Poppins, with a ladylike cough. He turned with a start and saw her. “Mary!” he cried, and you could tell by the way he cried it that Mary Poppins was a very important person in his life. Mary Poppins looked down at her feet and rubbed the toe of one shoe along the pavement two or three times. Then she smiled at the shoe in such a way that the shoe knew quite well that the smile wasn’t meant for it. “It’s my Day, Bert,” she said. “Didn’t you remember?” Bert was the Match Man’s name – Herbert Alfred for Sundays. “Of course I remembered, Mary,” he said, “but—” and he stopped and looked sadly into his cap. It lay on the ground beside his last picture and there was tuppence in it. He picked it up and jingled the pennies. “That all you got, Bert?” said Mary Poppins, and she said it so brightly you could hardly tell she was disappointed at all. “That’s the lot,” he said. “Business is bad today. You’d think anybody’d be glad to pay to see that, wouldn’t you?” And he nodded his head at Queen Elizabeth. “Well – that’s how it is, Mary,” he sighed. “Can’t take you to tea today, I’m afraid.” Mary Poppins thought of the raspberry-jam cakes they always had on her Day Out, and she was just going to sigh, when she saw the Match Man’s face. So, very cleverly, she turned the sigh into a smile – a good one with both ends turned up – and said: “That’s all right, Bert. Don’t you mind. I’d much rather not go to tea. A stodgy meal, I call it – really.” And that, when you think how very much she liked raspberry-jam cakes, was rather nice of Mary Poppins. The Match Man apparently thought so, too, for he took her white-gloved hand in his and squeezed it hard. Then together they walked down the row of pictures. “Now, there’s one you’ve never seen before!” said the Match Man proudly, pointing to a painting of a mountain covered with snow and its slopes simply littered with grasshoppers sitting on gigantic roses. This time Mary Poppins could indulge in a sigh without hurting his feelings. “Oh, Bert,” she said, “that’s a fair treat!” And by the way she said it she made him feel that by rights the picture should have been in the Royal Academy, which is a large room where people hang the pictures they have painted. Everybody comes to see them, and when they have looked at them for a very long time, everybody says to everybody else: “The idea – my dear!” The next picture Mary Poppins and the Match Man came to was even better. It was the country – all trees and grass and a little bit of blue sea in the distance, and something that looked like Margate in the background. “My word!” said Mary Poppins admiringly, stooping so that she could see it better. “Why, Bert, whatever is the matter?” For the Match Man had caught hold of her other hand now and was looking very excited. “Mary,” he said, “I got an idea! A real idea. Why don’t we go there – right now – this very day? Both together, into the picture. Eh, Mary?” And still holding her hands he drew her right out of the street, away from the iron railings and the lamp-posts, into the very middle of the picture. Pff! There they were, right inside it! How green it was there and how quiet, and what soft crisp grass under their feet! They could hardly believe it was true, and yet here were green branches huskily rattling on their hats as they bent beneath them, and little coloured flowers curling round their shoes. They stared at each other, and each noticed that the other had changed. To Mary Poppins, the Match Man seemed to have bought himself an entirely new suit of clothes, for he was now wearing a bright green-and-red striped coat and white flannel trousers and, best of all, a new straw hat. He looked unusually clean, as though he had been polished. “Why, Bert, you look fine!” she cried in an admiring voice. Bert could not say anything for a moment, for his mouth had fallen open and he was staring at her with round eyes. Then he gulped and said: “Golly!” That was all. But he said it in such a way and stared so steadily and so delightedly at her that she took a little mirror out of her bag and looked at herself in it. She, too, she discovered, had changed. Round her shoulders hung a cloak of lovely artificial silk with watery patterns all over it, and the tickling feeling at the back of her neck came, the mirror told her, from a long curly feather that swept down from the brim of her hat. Her best shoes had disappeared, and in their place were others much finer and with large diamond buckles shining upon them. She was still wearing the white gloves and carrying the umbrella. “My goodness,” said Mary Poppins, “I am having a Day Out!” So, still admiring themselves and each other, they moved on together through the little wood, till presently they came upon a little open space filled with sunlight. And there on a green table was Afternoon Tea! A pile of raspberry-jam cakes as high as Mary Poppins’ waist stood in the centre, and beside it tea was boiling in a big brass urn. Best of all, there were two plates of whelks and two pins to pick them out with. “Strike me pink!” said Mary Poppins. That was what she always said when she was pleased. “Golly!” said the Match Man. And that was his particular phrase. “Won’t you sit down, Moddom?” enquired a voice, and they turned to find a tall man in a black coat coming out of the wood with a table napkin over his arm. Mary Poppins, thoroughly surprised, sat down with a plop upon one of the little green chairs that stood round the table. The Match Man, staring, collapsed on to another. “I’m the Waiter, you know!” explained the man in the black coat. “Oh! But I didn’t see you in the picture,” said Mary Poppins. “Ah, I was behind the tree,” explained the Waiter. “Won’t you sit down?” said Mary Poppins, politely. “Waiters never sit down, Moddom,” said the man but he seemed pleased at being asked. “Your whelks, Mister!” he said, pushing a plate of them over to the Match Man. “And your Pin!” He dusted the pin on his napkin and handed it to the Match Man. They began upon the afternoon tea, and the Waiter stood beside them to see they had everything they needed. “We’re having them after all,” said Mary Poppins in a loud whisper, as she began on the heap of raspberry-jam cakes. “Golly!” agreed the Match Man, helping himself to two of the largest. “Tea?” said the Waiter, filling a large cup for each of them from the urn. They drank it and had two cups more each, and then, for luck, they finished the pile of raspberry-jam cakes. After that they got up and brushed the crumbs off. “There is Nothing to Pay,” said the Waiter, before they had time to ask for the bill. “It is a Pleasure. You will find the Merry-go-Round just over there!” And he waved his hand to a little gap in the trees, where Mary Poppins and the Match Man could see several wooden horses whirling round on a stand. “That’s funny,” said she. “I don’t remember seeing that in the picture, either.” “Ah,” said the Match Man, who hadn’t remembered it himself, “it was in the Background, you see!” The Merry-go-Round was just slowing down as they approached it. They leapt upon it, Mary Poppins on a black horse and the Match Man on a grey. And when the music started again and they began to move, they rode all the way to Yarmouth and back, because that was the place they both wanted most to see. When they returned it was nearly dark and the Waiter was watching for them. “I’m very sorry, Moddom and Mister,” he said politely, “but we close at Seven. Rules, you know. May I show you the Way Out?” They nodded as he flourished his table-napkin and walked on in front of them through the wood. “It’s a wonderful picture you’ve drawn this time, Bert,” said Mary Poppins, putting her hand through the Match Man’s arm and drawing her cloak about her. “Well, I did my best, Mary,” said the Match Man modestly. But you could see he was really very pleased with himself indeed. Just then the Waiter stopped in front of them, beside a large white doorway that looked as though it were made of thick chalk lines. “Here you are!” he said. “This is the Way Out.” “Goodbye and thank you,” said Mary Poppins, shaking his hand. “Moddom, goodbye!” said the Waiter, bowing so low that his head knocked against his knees. He nodded to the Match Man, who cocked his head on one side and closed one eye at the Waiter, which was his way of bidding him farewell. Then Mary Poppins stepped through the white doorway and the Match Man followed her. And as they went, the feather dropped from her hat and the silk cloak from her shoulders and the diamonds from her shoes. The bright clothes of the Match Man faded, and his straw hat turned into his old ragged cap again. Mary Poppins turned and looked at him, and she knew at once what had happened. Standing on the pavement she gazed at him for a long minute, and then her glance explored the wood behind him for the Waiter. But the Waiter was nowhere to be seen. There was nobody in the picture. Nothing moved there. Even the Merry-go-Round had disappeared. Only the still trees and the grass and the unmoving little patch of sea remained. But Mary Poppins and the Match Man smiled at one another. They knew, you see, what lay behind the trees … When she came back from her Day Out, Jane and Michael came running to meet her. “Where have you been?” they asked her. “In Fairyland,” said Mary Poppins. “Did you see Cinderella?” said Jane. “Huh, Cinderella? Not me,” said Mary Poppins, contemptuously. “Cinderella, indeed!” “Or Robinson Crusoe?” asked Michael. “Robinson Crusoe – pooh!” said Mary Poppins rudely. “Then how could you have been there? It couldn’t have been our Fairyland!” Mary Poppins gave a superior sniff. “Don’t you know,” she said pityingly, “that everybody’s got a Fairyland of their own?” And with another sniff she went upstairs to take off her white gloves and put the umbrella away. Chapter Three (#ulink_506b1c14-4aa8-5061-9b5b-9cbb05c67ba2) LAUGHING GAS (#ulink_506b1c14-4aa8-5061-9b5b-9cbb05c67ba2) “ARE YOU QUITE sure he will be at home?” said Jane, as they got off the Bus, she and Michael and Mary Poppins. “Would my Uncle ask me to bring you to tea if he intended to go out, I’d like to know?” said Mary Poppins, who was evidently very offended by the question. She was wearing her blue coat with the silver buttons and the blue hat to match, and on the days when she wore these it was the easiest thing in the world to offend her. All three of them were on the way to pay a visit to Mary Poppins’ uncle, Mr Wigg, and Jane and Michael had looked forward to the trip for so long that they were more than half afraid that Mr Wigg might not be in, after all. “Why is he called Mr Wigg – does he wear one?” asked Michael, hurrying along beside Mary Poppins. “He is called Mr Wigg because Mr Wigg is his name. And he doesn’t wear one. He is bald,” said Mary Poppins. “And if I have any more questions we will just go Back Home.” And she sniffed her usual sniff of displeasure. Jane and Michael looked at each other and frowned. And the frown meant: “Don’t let’s ask her anything else or we’ll never get there.” Mary Poppins put her hat straight at the Tobacconist’s Shop at the corner. It had one of those curious windows where there seem to be three of you instead of one, so that if you look long enough at them you begin to feel you are not yourself but a whole crowd of somebody else. Mary Poppins sighed with pleasure, however, when she saw three of herself, each wearing a blue coat with silver buttons and a blue hat to match. She thought it was such a lovely sight that she wished there had been a dozen of her or even thirty. The more Mary Poppinses the better. “Come along,” she said sternly, as though they had kept her waiting. Then they turned the corner and pulled the bell of Number Three, Robertson Road. Jane and Michael could hear it faintly echoing from a long way away and they knew that in one minute, or two at the most, they would be having tea with Mary Poppins’ uncle, Mr Wigg, for the first time ever. “If he’s in, of course,” Jane said to Michael in a whisper. At that moment the door flew open and a thin, watery-looking lady appeared. “Is he in?” said Michael quickly. “I’ll thank you,” said Mary Poppins, giving him a terrible glance, “to let me do the talking.” “How do you do, Mrs Wigg,” said Jane politely. “Mrs Wigg!” said the thin lady, in a voice even thinner than herself. “How dare you call me Mrs Wigg? No, thank you! I’m plain Miss Persimmon and proud of it. Mrs Wigg indeed!” She seemed to be quite upset, and they thought Mr Wigg must be a very odd person if Miss Persimmon was so glad not to be Mrs Wigg. “Straight up and first door on the landing,” said Miss Persimmon, and she went hurrying away down the passage saying: “Mrs Wigg indeed!” to herself in a high, thin, outraged voice. Jane and Michael followed Mary Poppins upstairs. Mary Poppins knocked at the door. “Come in! Come in! And welcome!” called a loud, cheery voice from inside. Jane’s heart was pitter-pattering with excitement. “He is in!” she signalled to Michael with a look. Mary Poppins opened the door and pushed them in front of her. A large, cheerful room lay before them. At one end of it a fire was burning brightly and in the centre stood an enormous table laid for tea – four cups and saucers, piles of bread and butter, crumpets, coconut cakes and a large plum cake with pink icing. “Well, this is indeed a Pleasure,” a huge voice greeted them, and Jane and Michael looked round for its owner. He was nowhere to be seen. The room appeared to be quite empty. Then they heard Mary Poppins saying crossly: “Oh, Uncle Albert – not again? It’s not your birthday, is it?” And as she spoke she looked up at the ceiling. Jane and Michael looked up too and to their surprise saw a round, fat, bald man who was hanging in the air without holding on to anything. Indeed, he appeared to be sitting on the air, for his legs were crossed and he had just put down the newspaper which he had been reading when they came in. “My dear,” said Mr Wigg, smiling down at the children, and looking apologetically at Mary Poppins, “I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid it is my birthday.” “Tch, tch, tch!” said Mary Poppins. “I only remembered last night and there was no time then to send you a postcard asking you to come another day. Very distressing, isn’t it?” he said, looking down at Jane and Michael. “I can see you’re rather surprised,” said Mr Wigg. And, indeed, their mouths were so wide open with astonishment that Mr Wigg, if he had been a little smaller, might almost have fallen into one of them. “I’d better explain, I think,” Mr Wigg went on calmly. “You see, it’s this way. I’m a cheerful sort of man and very disposed to laughter. You wouldn’t believe, either of you, the number of things that strike me as being funny. I can laugh at pretty nearly everything, I can.” And with that Mr Wigg began to bob up and down, shaking with laughter at the thought of his own cheerfulness. “Uncle Albert!” said Mary Poppins, and Mr Wigg stopped laughing with a jerk. “Oh, beg pardon, my dear. Where was I? Oh, yes. Well, the funny thing about me is – all right, Mary, I won’t laugh if I can help it! – that whenever my birthday falls on a Friday, well, it’s all up with me. Absolutely U.P.,” said Mr Wigg. “But why—?” began Jane. “But how—?” began Michael. “Well, you see, if I laugh on that particular day I become so filled with Laughing Gas that I simply can’t keep on the ground. Even if I smile it happens. The first funny thought, and I’m up like a balloon. And until I can think of something serious I can’t get down again.” Mr Wigg began to chuckle at that, but he caught sight of Mary Poppins’ face and stopped the chuckle, and continued: “It’s awkward, of course, but not unpleasant. Never happens to either of you, I suppose?” Jane and Michael shook their heads. “No, I thought not. It seems to be my own special habit. Once, after I’d been to the Circus the night before, I laughed so much that – would you believe it? – I was up here for a whole twelve hours, and couldn’t get down till the last stroke of midnight. Then, of course, I came down with a flop because it was Saturday and not my birthday any more. It’s rather odd, isn’t it? Not to say funny? “And now here it is Friday again and my birthday, and you two and Mary P. to visit me. Oh, Lordy, Lordy, don’t make me laugh, I beg of you—” But although Jane and Michael had done nothing very amusing, except to stare at him in astonishment, Mr Wigg began to laugh again loudly, and as he laughed he went bouncing and bobbing about in the air, with the newspaper rattling in his hand and his spectacles half on and half off his nose. He looked so comic, floundering in the air like a great human bubble, clutching at the ceiling sometimes and sometimes at the gas-bracket as he passed it, that Jane and Michael, though they were trying hard to be polite, just couldn’t help doing what they did. They laughed. And they laughed. They shut their mouths tight to prevent the laughter escaping, but that didn’t do any good. And presently they were rolling over and over on the floor, squealing and shrieking with laughter. “Really!” said Mary Poppins. “Really, such behaviour!” “I can’t help it, I can’t help it!” shrieked Michael, as he rolled into the fender. “It’s so terribly funny. Oh, Jane, isn’t it funny?” Jane did not reply, for a curious thing was happening to her. As she laughed she felt herself growing lighter and lighter, just as though she were being pumped full of air. It was a curious and delicious feeling and it made her want to laugh all the more. And then suddenly, with a bouncing bounce, she felt herself jumping through the air. Michael, to his astonishment, saw her go soaring up through the room. With a little bump her head touched the ceiling and then she went bouncing along it till she reached Mr Wigg. “Well!” said Mr Wigg, looking very surprised indeed. “Don’t tell me it’s your birthday, too?” Jane shook her head. “It’s not? Then this Laughing Gas must be catching! Hi – whoa there, look out for the mantelpiece!” This was to Michael, who had suddenly risen from the floor and was swooping through the air, roaring with laughter, and just grazing the china ornaments on the mantelpiece as he passed. He landed with a bounce right on Mr Wigg’s knee. “How do you do,” said Mr Wigg, heartily shaking Michael by the hand. “I call this really friendly of you – bless my soul, I do! To come up to me since I couldn’t come down to you – eh?” And then he and Michael looked at each other and flung back their heads and simply howled with laughter. “I say,” said Mr Wigg to Jane, as he wiped his eyes. “You’ll be thinking I have the worst manners in the world. You’re standing and you ought to be sitting – a nice young lady like you. I’m afraid I can’t offer you a chair up here, but I think you’ll find the air quite comfortable to sit on. I do.” Jane tried it and found she could sit down quite comfortably on the air. She took off her hat and laid it down beside her and it hung there in space without any support at all. “That’s right,” said Mr Wigg. Then he turned and looked down at Mary Poppins. “Well, Mary, we’re fixed. And now I can enquire about you, my dear. I must say, I am very glad to welcome you and my two young friends here today – why, Mary, you’re frowning. I’m afraid you don’t approve of – er – all this.” He waved his hand at Jane and Michael, and said hurriedly: “I apologize, Mary, my dear. But you know how it is with me. Still, I must say I never thought my two young friends here would catch it, really I didn’t, Mary! I suppose I should have asked them for another day or tried to think of something sad or something—” “Well, I must say,” said Mary Poppins primly, “that I have never in my life seen such a sight. And at your age, Uncle—” “Mary Poppins, Mary Poppins, do come up!” interrupted Michael. “Think of something funny and you’ll find it’s quite easy.” “Ah, now do, Mary!” said Mr Wigg persuasively. “We’re lonely up here without you!” said Jane, and held out her arms towards Mary Poppins. “Do think of something funny!” “Ah, she doesn’t need to,” said Mr Wigg sighing. “She can come up if she wants to, even without laughing – and she knows it.” And he looked mysteriously and secretly at Mary Poppins as she stood down there on the hearth rug. “Well,” said Mary Poppins, “it’s all very silly and undignified, but, since you’re all up there and don’t seem able to get down, I suppose I’d better come up, too.” With that, to the surprise of Jane and Michael, she put her hands down at her sides and without a laugh, without even the faintest glimmer of a smile, she shot up through the air and sat down beside Jane. “How many times, I should like to know,” she said snappily, “have I told you to take off your coat when you come into a hot room?” And she unbuttoned Jane’s coat and laid it neatly on the air beside the hat. “That’s right, Mary, that’s right,” said Mr Wigg contentedly, as he leant down and put his spectacles on the mantelpiece. “Now we’re all comfortable—” “There’s comfort and comfort,” sniffed Mary Poppins. “And we can have tea,” Mr Wigg went on, apparently not noticing her remark. And then a startled look came over his face. “My goodness!” he said. “How dreadful! I’ve just realized – the table’s down there and we’re up here. What are we going to do? We’re here and it’s there. It’s an awful tragedy – awful! But oh, it’s terribly comic!” And he hid his face in his handkerchief and laughed loudly into it. Jane and Michael, though they did not want to miss the crumpets and the cakes, couldn’t help laughing too, because Mr Wigg’s mirth was so infectious. Mr Wigg dried his eyes. “There’s only one thing for it,” he said. “We must think of something serious. Something sad, very sad.And then we shall be able to get down. Now – one, two, three! Something very sad, mind you!” They thought and thought, with their chins on their hands. Michael thought of school, and that one day he would have to go there. But even that seemed funny today and he had to laugh. Jane thought: “I shall be grown up in another fourteen years!” But that didn’t sound sad at all but quite nice and rather funny. She could not help smiling at the thought of herself grown up, with long skirts and a handbag. “There was my poor old Aunt Emily,” thought Mr Wigg out loud. “She was run over by an omnibus. Sad. Very sad. Unbearably sad. Poor Aunt Emily. But they saved her umbrella. That was funny, wasn’t it?” And before he knew where he was, he was heaving and trembling and bursting with laughter at the thought of Aunt Emily’s umbrella. “It’s no good,” he said, blowing his nose. “I give it up. And my young friends here seem to be no better at sadness than I am. Mary, can’t you do something? We want our tea.” To this day Jane and Michael cannot be sure of what happened then. All they know for certain is that, as soon as Mr Wigg had appealed to Mary Poppins, the table below began to wriggle on its legs. Presently it was swaying dangerously, and then with a rattle of china and with cakes lurching off their plates on to the cloth, the table came soaring through the room, gave one graceful turn, and landed beside them so that Mr Wigg was at its head. “Good girl!” said Mr Wigg, smiling proudly upon her. “I knew you’d fix something. Now, will you take the foot of the table and pour out, Mary? And the guests on either side of me. That’s the idea,” he said, as Michael ran bobbing through the air and sat down on Mr Wigg’s right. Jane was at his left hand. There they were, all together, up in the air and the table between them. Not a single piece of bread-and-butter or a lump of sugar had been left behind. Mr Wigg smiled contentedly. “It is usual, I think, to begin with bread-and-butter,” he said to Jane and Michael, “but as it’s my birthday we will begin the wrong way – which I always think is the right way – with the Cake!” And he cut a large slice for everybody. “More tea?” he said to Jane. But before she had time to reply there was a quick, sharp knock at the door. “Come in!” called Mr Wigg. The door opened, and there stood Miss Persimmon with a jug of hot water on a tray. “I thought, Mr Wigg,” she began, looking searchingly round the room, “you’d be wanting some more hot—Well, I never! I simply never!” she said, as she caught sight of them all seated on the air round the table. “Such goings on I never did see! In all my born days I never saw such. I’m sure, Mr Wigg, I always knew you were a bit odd. But I’ve closed my eyes to it – being as how you paid your rent regular. But such behaviour as this – having tea in the air with your guests – Mr Wigg, sir, I’m astonished at you! It’s that undignified, and for a gentleman of your age – I never did—” “But perhaps you will, Miss Persimmon!” said Michael. “Will what?” said Miss Persimmon haughtily. “Catch the Laughing Gas, as we did,” said Michael. Miss Persimmon flung back her head scornfully. “I hope, young man,” she retorted, “I have more respect for myself than to go bouncing about in the air like a rubber ball on the end of a bat. I’ll stay on my own feet, thank you, or my name’s not Amy Persimmon, and – oh dear, oh dear, my goodness, oh DEAR – what is the matter? I can’t walk, I’m going, I – oh, help, HELP!” For Miss Persimmon, quite against her will, was off the ground and was stumbling through the air, rolling from side to side like a very thin barrel, balancing the tray in her hand. She was almost weeping with distress as she arrived at the table and put down her jug of hot water. “Thank you,” said Mary Poppins in a calm, very polite voice. Then Miss Persimmon turned and went wafting down again, murmuring as she went: “So undignified – and me a well-behaved, steady-going woman. I must see a doctor—” When she touched the floor she ran hurriedly out of the room, wringing her hands, and not giving a single glance backwards. “So undignified!” they heard her moaning as she shut the door behind her. “Her name can’t be Amy Persimmon, because she didn’t stay on her own feet!” whispered Jane to Michael. But Mr Wigg was looking at Mary Poppins – a curious look, half-amused, half-accusing. “Mary, Mary, you shouldn’t – bless my soul, you shouldn’t, Mary. The poor old body will never get over it. But, oh, my goodness, didn’t she look funny waddling through the air – my Gracious goodness, but didn’t she?” And he and Jane and Michael were off again, rolling about the air, clutching their sides and gasping with laughter at the thought of how funny Miss Persimmon had looked. “Oh dear!” said Michael. “Don’t make me laugh any more. I can’t stand it. I shall break!” “Oh, oh, oh!” cried Jane, as she gasped for breath, with her hand over her heart. “Oh, my Gracious, Glorious, Galumphing Goodness!” roared Mr Wigg, dabbing his eyes with his coat-tail because he couldn’t find his handkerchief. “IT IS TIME TO GO HOME.” Mary Poppins’ voice sounded above the roars of laughter like a trumpet. And suddenly, with a rush, Jane and Michael and Mr Wigg came down. They landed on the floor with a huge bump, all together. The thought that they would have to go home was the first sad thought of the afternoon, and the moment it was in their minds the Laughing Gas went out of them. Jane and Michael sighed as they watched Mary Poppins come slowly down the air, carrying Jane’s coat and hat. Mr Wigg sighed, too. A great, long, heavy sigh. “Well, isn’t that a pity?” he said soberly. “It’s very sad that you’ve got to go home. I never enjoyed an afternoon so much – did you?” “Never,” said Michael sadly, feeling how dull it was to be down on the earth again with no Laughing Gas inside him. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/p-travers-l/mary-poppins-the-original-story/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.