Mary Poppins Comes Back

by P. L. Travers

  “Do you know us, then?” said Michael, staring at her, amazed.

  “Oh, dear me, yes!” she trilled gaily. “I’ve often heard my Father and Mother speak of you. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” She laughed, and insisted on shaking hands all round again.

  “I thought, Nellie-Rubina,” said Mary Poppins, “that maybe you could spare an ounce of Conversations.”

  “Most certainly!” said Nellie-Rubina, smiling and rolling towards the counter. “To do anything for you, Miss Poppins, is an Honour and a Joy!”

  “But can you have conversation by the ounce?” said Jane.

  “Yes, indeed. By the pound too. Or the ton, if you like.” Nellie-Rubina broke off. She lifted her arms to the large jar on the shelf. They were just too short to reach it. “Tch, tch, tch!” Not long enough. I must have a bit added. In the meantime, I’ll get my Uncle to lift them down. Uncle Dodger! Uncle Dod-ger!”

  She screamed the last words through a door behind the counter, and immediately an odd-looking person appeared.

  He was as round as Nellie-Rubina, but much older, and with a sadder sort of face. He, too, had a little flat hat on his head, and his coat was tightly buttoned across a chest as woodeny as Nellie-Rubina’s. And Jane and Michael could see, as his apron swung aside for a moment, that, like his niece, he was solid from the waist downwards. In his hand he carried a wooden cuckoo half-covered with grey paint and there were splashes of the same paint on his own nose.

  “You called, my dear?” he asked, in a mild, respectful voice.

  Then he saw Mary Poppins.

  “Ah, here you are at last, Miss Poppins! Nellie-Rubina will be pleased. She’s been expecting you to help us with—”

  He caught sight of the children and broke off suddenly.

  “Oh, I beg your pardon. I didn’t know there was Company, my dear! I’ll just go and finish this bird—”

  “You will not, Uncle Dodger!” said Nellie-Rubina sharply. “I want the Conversations lifted down. Will you be so good?”

  Although she had such a jolly, cheerful face, the children noticed that when she spoke to her Uncle she gave orders rather than asked favours.

  Uncle Dodger sprang forward as swiftly as anybody could who had no legs.

  “Certainly, my dear, certainly!” He lifted his arms jerkily and set the jar on the counter.

  “In front of me, please!” ordered Nellie-Rubina haughtily.

  Fussily, Uncle Dodger edged the jar along.

  “There you are, my dear, begging your pardon!”

  “Are those the Conversations?” asked Jane, pointing to the jar. “They look more like sweets.”

  “So they are, Miss! They’re Conversation Sweets,” said Uncle Dodger, dusting the jars with his apron.

  “Does one eat them?” enquired Michael.

  Uncle Dodger, glancing cautiously at Nellie-Rubina, leant across the counter.

  “One does,” he whispered behind his hand. “But I don’t, being only an Uncle-by-Marriage. But she –” he nodded respectfully towards his niece – “she’s the Eldest Daughter and a Direct Descendant!”

  Neither Jane nor Michael knew in the least what he meant, but they nodded politely.

  “Now,” cried Nellie-Rubina gaily, as she unscrewed the lid of the Jar. “Who’ll choose first?”

  Jane thrust in her hand and brought out a flat, star-shaped sweet rather like a peppermint.

  “There’s writing on it!” she exclaimed.

  Nellie-Rubina shrieked with laughter. “Of course there is! It’s a Conversation! Read it.”

  “You’re My Fancy,” read Jane aloud.

  “How very nice!” tinkled Nellie-Rubina, pushing the jar towards Michael. He drew out a pink sweet shaped like a shell.

  “I Love You. Do You Love Me?” he spelt out.

  “Ha, ha! That’ a good one! Yes, I do!” Nellie-Rubina laughed loudly, and gave him a quick kiss that left a sticky patch of paint on his cheek.

  John’s yellow Conversation read, “Deedle, deedle, dumpling!” and on Barbara’s was written in large letters, “Shining-bright and airy.”

  “And so you are!” cried Nellie-Rubina, smiling at her over the counter.

  “Now you, Mary Poppins!” And as Nellie-Rubina tipped the jar towards Mary Poppins, Jane and Michael noticed a curious, understanding look pass between them.

  Off came the large woollen glove and Mary Poppins, shutting her eyes, put in her hand and scrabbled for a moment among the Conversations. Then her fingers closed on a white one shaped like a half-moon and she held it out in front of her.

  “Ten o’clock Tonight,” said Jane, reading the inscription aloud.

  Uncle Dodger rubbed his hands together.

  “That’s right. That’s the time when we—”

  “Uncle Dod-ger!” cried Nellie-Rubina in a warning voice.

  The smile faded away from his face and left it sadder than before.

  “Begging your pardon, my dear!” he said humbly. “I’m an old man, I’m afraid, and I sometimes say the wrong things – beg pardon.” He looked very ashamed of himself, but Jane and Michael could not see that he had done anything very wrong.

  “Well,” said Mary Poppins, slipping her Conversation carefully into her handbag, “if you’ll excuse us, Nellie-Rubina, I think we’d better be going!”

  “Oh, must you?” Nellie-Rubina rolled a little on her disc. “It has been such a Satisfaction! Still,” she glanced out of a window, “it might snow again and keep you imprisoned here. And you wouldn’t like that, would you?” she trilled, turning to the children.

  “I would,” said Michael stoutly. “I would love it. And then, perhaps, I’d find out what these are for.” He pointed to the painted branches, the sheep and birds and flowers.

  “Those? Oh those are just decorations,” said Nellie-Rubina, airily dismissing them with a jerky wave of her hand.

  “But what do you do with them?”

  Uncle Dodger leant eagerly across the counter.

  “Well, you see, we take them out and—”

  “Uncle Dod-ger!” Nellie-Rubina’s eyes were snapping dangerously.

  “Oh, dear! There I go again. Always speaking out of my turn. I’m too old, that’s what it is!” said Uncle Dodger mournfully.

  Nellie-Rubina gave him an angry look. Then she turned, smiling, to the children.

  “Goodbye,” she said, jerkily shaking hands. “I’ll remember our Conversations. You’re my Fancy, I love You, Deedle-deedle and Shining-bright!”

  “You’ve forgotten Mary Poppins’ Conversation. It’s ‘Ten o’clock Tonight’,” Michael reminded her.

  “Ah, but she won’t!” said Uncle Dodger, smiling happily.

  “Uncle Dod-ger!”

  “Oh, begging your pardon, begging your pardon!”

  “Goodbye!” said Mary Poppins. She patted her handbag importantly and another strange look passed between her and Nellie-Rubina.

  “Goodbye, goodbye!”

  When Jane and Michael thought about it afterwards, they could not remember how they had got out of that curious room. One moment they were inside it saying goodbye to Nellie-Rubina, and the next they were out in the snow again, licking their Conversations and hurrying after Mary Poppins.

  “Do you know, Michael,” said Jane, “I believe that sweet was a message.”

  “Which one? Mine?”

  “No. The one Mary Poppins chose.”

  “You mean. . .?”

  “I think something is going to happen at ten o’clock tonight and I’m going to stay awake and see.”

  “Then so will I,” said Michael.

  “Come along, please! Keep up!” said Mary Poppins. “I haven’t all day to waste. . .”

  Jane was dreaming deeply. And in her dream somebody was calling her name in a small, urgent voice. She sat up with a start to find Michael standing beside her in his pyjamas.

  “You said you’d stay awake!” he whispered accusingly.

  “What? Where? Why? Oh, it’s you,
Michael! Well, you said you would too.”

  “Listen!” he said.

  There was a sound of somebody tip-toeing in the next room.

  Jane drew in her breath sharply. “Quick! Get back into bed. Pretend to be asleep. Hurry!”

  With a bound Michael was under the blankets. In the darkness he and Jane held their breaths, listening.

  From the other Nursery, the door opened stealthily. The thin gap of light widened and grew larger. A head came round the edge and peeped into the room. Then somebody slipped through and silently shut the door behind them.

  Mary Poppins, wrapped in her fur coat and holding her shoes in her hands, tip-toed through their room.

  They lay still, listening to her steps hurrying down the stairs. Far away the key of the front door scraped in its lock. There was a scurry of steps on the garden path and the front gate clicked.

  And at that moment the clock struck ten.

  Out of bed they sprang and rushed into the other Nursery, where the windows opened on the Park.

  The night was black and splendid, lit with high, swinging stars. But tonight it was not stars they were looking for. If Mary Poppins’ Conversation had really been a message, there was something more interesting to be seen.

  “Look!” Jane gave a little gulp of excitement, and pointed.

  Over in the Park, just by the entrance gate, stood the curious ark-shaped building, loosely moored to a tree-trunk.

  “But how did it get there?” said Michael, staring. “It was at the other side of the Park this morning.”

  Jane did not reply. She was too busy watching.

  The roof of the Ark was open and on the top of the ladder stood Nellie-Rubina, balancing on her round disc. From inside Uncle Dodger was handing up to her bundle after bundle of painted wooden branches.

  “Ready, Miss Poppins?” tinkled Nellie-Rubina, passing an armful down to Mary Poppins, who was standing on the deck waiting to receive them.

  The air was so clear and still that Jane and Michael, crouched in the window-seat, could hear every word.

  Suddenly there was a loud noise inside the Ark as a wooden shape clattered to the floor.

  “Uncle Dod-ger! Be careful, please. They’re fragile!” said Nellie-Rubina sternly. And Uncle Dodger, as he lifted out a pile of painted clouds, replied apologetically:

  “Begging your pardon, my dear!”

  The flock of wooden sheep came next, all very stiff and solid. And last of all, the birds, butterflies and flowers.

  “That’s the lot!” said Uncle Dodger, heaving himself up through the open roof. Under his arm he carried the wooden cuckoo, now entirely covered with grey paint. And in his hand swung a large, green paint-pot.

  “Very well,” said Nellie-Rubina. “Now, if you’re ready, Miss Poppins, we’ll begin.”

  And then began one of the strangest pieces of work Jane and Michael had ever seen. Never, never, they thought, would they forget it, even if they lived to be ninety.

  From the pile of painted wood, Nellie-Rubina and Mary Poppins each took a long spray of leaves and, leaping into the air, attached them swiftly to the naked frosty branches of the trees. The sprays seemed to clip on easily, for it did not take more than a minute to attach them. And as each was slipped into place, Uncle Dodger would spring up and neatly dab a spot of green paint at the point where the spray joined the tree.

  “My Goodness Goodness!” exclaimed Jane, as Nellie-Rubina sailed lightly up to the top of a tall poplar and fixed a large branch there. But Michael was too astonished to say anything.

  All over the Park went the three, jumping up to the tallest branch as if they were on springs. And, in no time, every tree in the Park was decked out with wooden sprays of leaves and neatly finished off with dabs of paint from Uncle Dodger’s brush.

  Every now and then Jane and Michael heard Nellie-Rubina’s shrill voice crying, “Uncle Dod-ger! Be careful!” and Uncle Dodger’s voice begging her pardon.

  And now Nellie-Rubina and Mary Poppins took up in their arms the flat, white wooden clouds. With these they soared higher than ever before, shooting right above the trees and pressing the clouds carefully against the sky.

  “They’re sticking, they’re sticking!” cried Michael excitedly, dancing on the window-seat. And, sure enough, against the sparkling, darkling sky the flat, white clouds stuck fast.

  “Who-o-o-op!” cried Nellie-Rubina as she swooped down. “Now for the sheep!”

  Very carefully, on a snowy strip of lawn, they set up the wooden flock, huddling the larger sheep together with the stiff white lambs among them.

  “We’re getting on!” Jane and Michael heard Mary Poppins say, as she put the last lamb on its legs.

  “I don’t know what we’d have done without you, Miss Poppins, indeed I don’t!” said Nellie-Rubina pleasantly. Then, in quite a different voice, “Flowers, please, Uncle Dodger! And look sharp!”

  “Here, my dear!” He rolled hurriedly up to her, his apron bulging with snowdrops, scyllas and aconites.

  “Oh, look! Look!” Jane cried, hugging herself delightedly. For Nellie-Rubina was sticking the wooden shapes round the edge of an empty flower-bed. Round and round she rolled, planting her wooden border and reaching up her hand again and again for a fresh flower from Uncle Dodger’s apron.

  “That’s neat!” said Mary Poppins admirably, and Jane and Michael were astonished at the pleasant, friendly tone of her voice.

  “Yes, isn’t it?” trilled Nellie-Rubina, brushing the snow from her hands. “Quite a Sight. What’s left, Uncle Dodger?”

  “The birds, my dear, and the butterflies!” He held out his apron. Nellie-Rubina and Mary Poppins seized the remaining wooden shapes and ran swiftly about the Park, setting the birds on branches or in nests and tossing the butterflies into the air. And the curious thing was that they stayed there, poised above the earth, their bright patches of paint showing clearly in the starlight.

  “There! I think that’s all!” said Nellie-Rubina, standing still on her disc, with her hands on her hips, as she gazed round at her handiwork.

  “One thing more, my dear!” said Uncle Dodger.

  And, rather unevenly, as though the evening’s work had made him feel old and tired, he bowled towards the ash tree near the Park Gates. He took the cuckoo from under his arm and set it on a branch among the wooden leaves.

  “There, my bonny! There, my dove!” he said, nodding his head at the bird.

  “Uncle Dod-ger! When will you learn? It’s not a dove. It’s a cuckoo!”

  He bent his head humbly.

  “A dove of a cuckoo – that’s what I meant. Begging your pardon, my dear!”

  “Well, now, Miss Poppins, I’m afraid we really must be going!” said Nellie-Rubina; and, rolling towards Mary Poppins, she took the pink face between her two wooden hands and kissed it.

  “See you soon, Tra-la!” she cried airily, bowling along the deck of the Ark and up the little ladder. At the top she turned and waved her hand jerkily to Mary Poppins. Then, with a woodeny clatter, she leapt down and disappeared inside.

  “Uncle Dod-ger! Come along! Don’t keep me waiting!” her thin voice floated back.

  “Coming, my dear, coming! Begging your pardon!” Uncle Dodger rolled towards the deck, shaking hands with Mary Poppins on the way. The wooden cuckoo stared out from its leafy branch. He flung it a sad, affectionate glance. Then his flat disc rose in the air and echoed woodenly as he landed inside. The roof flew down and shut with a click.

  “Let her go!” came Nellie-Rubina’s shrill command from within. Mary Poppins stepped forward and unwound the mooring-rope from the tree. It was immediately drawn in through one of the windows.

  “Make way, there, please! Make way!” shouted Nellie-Rubina. Mary Poppins stepped back hurriedly.

  Michael clutched at Jane’s arm excitedly.

  “They’re off!” he cried, as the Ark rose from the ground and moved top-heavily above the snow. Up it went, rocking drunkenly between the trees. Then it stea
died itself and passed lightly up and over the top-most boughs.

  A jerky arm waved downwards from one of the windows, but before Jane and Michael could be certain whether it was Nellie-Rubina’s or Uncle Dodger’s, the Ark swept into the star-lit air and a corner of the house hid it from view.

  Mary Poppins stood for a moment by the Park Gates waving her woollen gloves.

  Then she came hurrying across the Lane and up the garden path. The front door key scraped in the lock. A cautious footstep creaked on the stairs.

  “Back to bed, quick!” said Jane. “She mustn’t find us here!”

  Down from the window-seat and through the door they fled and with two quick jumps landed in their beds. They had just time to put the bedclothes over their heads before Mary Poppins opened the door and quietly tip-toed through.

  Zup! That was her coat being hung on it hook. Crackle! That was her hat rustling down into its paper-bag. But they heard no more. For by the time she had undressed and climbed into her camp bed, Jane and Michael had huggled down under the blankets and were fast asleep. . .

  “Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!”

  Across the Lane the soft bird note came floating.

  “Jumping Giraffes!” cried Mr Banks, as he lathered his face. “The Spring is here!”

  And he flung down his shaving-brush and rushed out into the garden. He gave one look at it and then, flinging back his head, he made a trumpet with his hands.

  “Jane! Michael! John! Barbara!” he called up to the Nursery windows. “Come down! The snow’s gone and Spring has come!”

  They came tumbling down the stairs and out of the front door to find the whole Lane alive with people.

  “Ship ahoy!” roared Admiral Boom, waving his muffler. “Rope and Rigging! Cockles and Shrimps! Here’s the Spring!”

  “Well,” said Miss Lark, hurrying out through her gate. “A fine day at last! I was thinking of getting Andrew and Willoughby two pairs of leather boots each, but now the snow’s gone I shan’t have to!”

  At that Andrew and Willoughby looked very relieved and licked her hand to show they were glad she had not disgraced them.