Mary Poppins in the Park (18 page)

"What kind of job?" demanded Michael.

"It's a new—ah, there you are, Mrs. Hickory!"

Mr. Mo turned and waved a greeting as a dumpy little feminine figure came hurrying towards them. Two dimples twinkled in her cheeks, two rosy babies bounced in her arms and she carried in her looped-up apron a large bulky object.

"But she had no children!" said Jane to herself, as she stared at the two fat babies.

"We've brought you a present, Mr. Mo!" Mrs. Hickory blushed and opened her apron. "I found this lovely loaf on the lawn—somebody dropped it, I expect. My twins—this is Dickory, this is Dock," she explained to the astonished children—"are far too young to eat fresh bread. So here it is for the breakfast!"

"That's not a loaf, it's a sponge-cake crumb. I dropped it myself," said Michael. But he could not help feeling that the crumb was a good deal larger than he remembered it.

"Tee-hee!"

Mrs. Hickory giggled shyly and her dimples went in and out. You could see she thought he was joking and that she liked being joked with.

"A neighbourly thought!" said Mr. Mo. "Let's cut it in two and have half each. Half a loaf's better than no bread! And, in return, Mrs. Hickory, may I give you a speck of butter?"

"Indeed you may
NOT
!" said a furious voice. And the door of Mr. Mo's house burst open.

Jane and Michael fell back a pace. For there stood the largest and ugliest woman they had ever seen in their lives. She seemed to be made of a series of knobs, rather like a potato. A knob of a nose, a knob of hair, knobbly hands, knobbly feet, and her mouth had only two teeth.

She was more like a lump of clay than a human being and Jane was reminded of the scrap of plasticine that had lain behind the summer-house. A dingy pinafore covered her body and in one of her large knobbly hands she held a rolling-pin.

"May I ask what you think you're doing, Samuel? Giving away
my
butter?"

She stepped forward angrily and flourished the rolling-pin.

"I—I thought we could spare it, my—er—dear!" Mr. Mo quailed beneath her gaze.

"Not unless she pays for it! Spare, spare and your back will go bare!"

"Oh, no, my dear, you've got it wrong! Spare, spare and you'll know no care. Poor people must share and share alike—that's what makes them happy!"

"Nobody's going to share anything that belongs to Matilda Mo! Or spare either, if it comes to that. Last week you spared a footstool for your cousin, Mrs. Corry! And what have you got to show for it?"

"A lucky threepenny-piece from her coat!"

"Tush! And you mended a table for the Turvys——"

"Well, Topsy gave me a charming smile!" Mr. Mo beamed at the sweet recollection.

"Smiles won't fill a sack with gold! And the week before that it was Albert Wigg who wanted his ceiling raised."

"Well, he needed more room to bounce about in. And it gave me so much pleasure, Matilda!"

"Pleasure? Where's the profit in that? In future you can get your pleasure by giving things to
me.
And you, too!" added Mrs. Mo, shaking her fist at the boys.

"Alas, alas!" muttered Mr. Mo. "No rose without a thorn! No joy without annoy!"

"Eenie!" Mrs. Mo shouted. "Get me a wedding-wreath this instant! Look at me—a blushing bride—and nothing on my head."

"Oh, no!" breathed Jane. "You'll spoil my garden!"

But Eenie, with a look of alarm, had already darted to the flower-beds and plucked a crown of flowers.

"Not good enough, but better than nothing!" Mrs. Mo grunted ungraciously as she planted the garland on her knobbly head.

"Coo, Coo!" laughed the doves on the buttercup branch.

"They don't suit you.
Oo-hoo! Oo-hoo!"

"Meenie!" cried Mrs. Mo in a rage. "Up with you quickly and catch those birds! I'll make them into a pigeon pie!"

But the doves merely ruffled their wings and flew away, giggling.

"Two birds in the bush are worth one in the hand," said Mr. Mo, gazing after them. "I mean," he added nervously, "they sing more sweetly when they're free! Don't you agree, Matilda?"

"I never agree," snapped Mrs. Mo. "And I'll have no singing here. Mynie! Tell that man to be quiet!"

For a lusty voice was filling the air with the words of a well-known song.

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

It was the Ice Cream Man, cycling along the path.

Jane and Michael had no time to wonder how he had managed to get into the little Park, for Eenie, Meenie and Mynie were shouting.

"Papa! Papa! A penny, please!"

"No ices!" bellowed Mrs. Mo. "We haven't the money to spare!"

"Matilda!" Mr. Mo entreated. "There's my lucky threepenny-piece."

"That is for a rainy day. Not for mere enjoyment."

"Oh, it's not going to rain, I'm sure, Matilda!"

"Of course it will rain. And, anyway, it's
my
threepenny-piece. From today, Samuel, what's yours is mine. Get along," she yelled to the Ice Cream Man, "and don't come here making foolish noises."

"It's not a noise, it's a song," he retorted. "And I'll sing it as much as I like."

And away he wheeled, singing

"I'll sing you two-o"

as loudly as he could.

"Out of sight," sighed Mr. Mo, as the barrow disappeared among the trees, "but not, alas, out of mind! Well, we mustn't grumble, boys!" He brightened. "We still have the wedding-feast. Now, Mrs. Hickory, where will you sit?"

Mrs. Hickory's dimples twinkled gaily.

"She won't sit anywhere, Samuel. She has not received an invitation."

The dimples disappeared again.

"Oh, but, Matilda——!" cried Mr. Mo, with a crestfallen look on his rosy face.

"But me no buts!" Mrs. Mo retorted, advancing towards the table. "What's this?" she demanded. "Something's missing! A peach and an orange have disappeared. And who has been eating my apple-pie?"

"I h-have," said Michael nervously. "B-but only a very small slice."

"And I took a peach," Jane said in a whisper. She found it hard to make the confession, Mrs. Mo looked so large and fierce.

"Oh, indeed?" The knobbly woman turned to the children. "And who invited
you?
"

"Well, you see," began Jane, "I was making a Park. And suddenly I found myself—I mean, it happened—I mean—I—well——" However could she explain?

"Don't hum and haw, Jane, if you please. Speak when you're spoken to. Come when you're called. And, Michael, do not gape like that. The wind may change and where will you be?"

A voice that was welcome as Nuts in May sounded in their ears.

"Mary Poppins!" cried Michael in glad surprise, staring—in spite of the changing wind—from her to Mr. Mo.

For there, beneath the buttercup, was the crowded perambulator. And beside it stood a tidy shape with buttoned-shoes, tulip-trimmed hat and parrot-headed umbrella.

"Oh, Mary! At last! Better late than never! How are you?" cried Mr. Mo. He darted round the end of the table and kissed her black-gloved hand.

"I knew he reminded me of someone!" said Michael in a careful whisper. "Look, Jane! Their noses are just the same!"

"Nicely, thank you, Cousin Sam! My goodness, how the boys have grown!" With a ladylike air she offered her cheek to Eenie, Meenie and Mynie.

Mr. Mo looked on with a fond smile. But it faded as he turned to his wife.

"And this," he said sadly, "is Matilda!"

Mary Poppins regarded Mrs. Mo with a long and searching look. Then she smiled, to the children's great surprise, and made a dainty bow.

"I hope," she said, in a well-bred voice, "that we are not intruding? I wanted Sam—with your permission, of course, Matilda"—she bowed again to Mrs. Mo—"to make me a new——"

"It's ready, Mary!" cried Mr. Mo, as he seized his piece of polished wood. "All it wants is——" He flew to the perambulator. "A nail
here
and a nail
there
and another one and it's finished!"

The brand-new handle gleamed in its place and John and Barbara clapped their hands.

"Don't think you're going to get it free!" Mrs. Mo shook the rolling-pin. "From now on, everything's got to be paid for. Nothing for nothing—that's my motto!"

"Oh, I'll certainly pay him," said Mary Poppins, with her best society simper. "Everyone gets what he deserves—that's my motto, Matilda!"

"Well, the quicker the better, please, Miss Poppins. I've no intention of waiting!"

"You won't have to wait, I promise you!" Mary Poppins gave a twirl to her handbag and Jane and Michael watched with interest as she glanced round the little Park. They had never seen her behave like this—such elegant tact, such polished manners.

"What a charming little place you have!" She waved the parrot-headed umbrella towards the summer-house.

Mrs. Mo gave a snort of disgust.

"Charming, you call it? I call it a hovel. If Samuel thinks I can live in that, he'll have to change his mind. He's not going to knock
me
down with a feather!"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Matilda! I don't possess such a thing."

"A castle is what I want, Samuel. You owe it to your handsome bride!"

"Handsome is as handsome does!" said Mr. Mo in a whisper.

But Mary Poppins' smile grew brighter.

"Handsome indeed," she agreed admiringly. "And you're wearing such a lovely wreath!"

"Pooh," Mrs. Mo remarked, with contempt. "Two or three flowers twisted together. A crown of gold would be more to my liking—and I'll have it, too, before I'm finished!"

"Kind hearts are more than coronets," said Mr. Mo meekly.

"Not to me!" snapped Mrs. Mo. "I'll have a beaded band of gold! You mark my words, Miss Mary Poppins, I'll be queen of the forest yet!"

"I do not doubt it," said Mary Poppins. And her manner was so correct and respectful that Mrs. Mo smiled a mollified smile and displayed her two front teeth.

"Well," she said grudgingly, "now that you're here, you'd better stay and be useful. You may pass round the food at the wedding-feast. And then you can wash up the dishes."

The children clapped their hands to their lips and glanced at Mary Poppins. What would she say to
that,
they wondered.

Mr. Mo gave a gasp of horror. "But, Matilda—don't you realise? Don't you know who she is?"

"That will do, Sam," said Mary Poppins. She waved him aside with the parrot umbrella. Her blue eyes had grown a shade more blue but, to Jane's and Michael's astonishment, her smile was broader than ever.

"So pleased to be of use, Matilda. And where do you plan to build your castle?"

"Well, I thought"—Mrs. Mo fell back a step and swung the rolling-pin—"we'd have the entrance gates here. And here"—she took another large stride backwards—"the main door and the marble stairs."

"But we can't dwell in marble halls, Matilda! They're far too grand for us."

"For you, perhaps, Samuel. Nothing can be too grand for me. And then"—Mrs. Mo fell back again—"a large and lofty reception room where I shall receive my guests."

"Splendid!" said Mary Poppins brightly, pushing the perambulator before her, as she followed step by step.

And behind her marched Mr. Mo and the children, followed by Eenie, Meenie and Mynie, and Mrs. Hickory and her babies—all of them gazing, as if in a trance, at the two figures before them.

"The ballroom here!" shouted Mrs. Mo, sweeping the rolling-pin about her.

"Ballroom!" Mr. Mo groaned. "But who is going to use it?"

"I am," said Mrs. Mo, smirking. "And you'll please let
me
do the talking, Samuel!"

"Silence is golden, Matilda, remember!" Mr. Mo warned her.

"Oh, pray go on!" urged Mary Poppins, advancing another foot.

"Drawing-room! Dining-room! Pantry! Kitchen!"

Chamber by chamber the castle grew, invisible but imposing. With every word Mrs. Mo fell backwards. With every word Mary Poppins stepped forward. And the rest of the party followed. They were almost across the Park now—for Mrs. Mo's rooms were large and airy—and nearing the edge of the woodland.

"My bedroom will be here!" she declared, swinging her arms in a wide circle. "And next to it"—the rolling-pin wheeled again through the air—"I shall have a spacious nursery."