Mary Poppins - the Complete Collection. P.L. Travers

the seaweed here is excellent.”

      “Thank you kindly, I’m sure, Amelia. But we have to be home in half a minute.” Mary Poppins laid a firm hand on the handle of the perambulator.

      Amelia was clearly disappointed.

      “Whatever kind of visit is that? Hullo and goodbye in the same breath. Next time you must stay for tea, and we’ll all sit together on a rock and sing a song to the moon. Eh, Froggie?”

      Froggie squeaked.

      “That will be lovely,” said Mary Poppins, and Jane and Michael echoed her words. They had never yet sat on a rock and sung a song to the moon.

      “Well, au revoir, one and all. By the way, Mary, my dear, were you going to take that herring with you?”

      Amelia greedily eyed the fish, which, fearing the worst was about to happen, made itself as limp as it could in Mary Poppins’s hand.

      “No. I am planning to throw it back to the sea!” The herring gasped with relief.

      “A very proper decision, Mary,” Amelia toothily smiled. “We get so few of them in these parts, and they make a delicious meal. Why don’t we race for it, Froggie and me? When you say ‘Go!’, we’ll start swimming and see who gets it first.”

      Mary Poppins held the fish aloft.

      “Ready! Steady! Go!” she cried.

      And as if it were bird rather than fish, the herring swooped up and splashed into the sea.

      The Dolphins were after it in a second, two dark striving shapes rippling through the water.

      Jane and Michael could hardly breathe. Which would win the prize? Or would the prize escape?

      “Froggie! Froggie! Froggie!” yelled Michael. If the herring had to be caught and eaten, he wanted Froggie to win.

      “F-r-o-g-g-i-e!” The wind and sea both cried the name, but Michael’s voice was the stronger.

      “What do you think you’re doing, Michael?” Mary Poppins sounded ferocious.

      He glanced at her for a moment and turned again to the sea.

      But the sea was not there. Nothing but a neat green lawn; Jane, agog, beside him; the Twins in the perambulator; and Mary Poppins pushing it in the middle of the Park.

      “Jumping up and down and shouting! Making a nuisance of yourself. One would think you had done enough for one day. Step along at once, please!”

      “Round the world and back in a minute – what a wonderful box!” said Jane.

      “It’s a compass. Not a box. And it’s mine,” said Michael. “I found it. Give it to me!”

      “My compass, thank you,” said Mary Poppins, as she slipped it into her pocket.

      He looked as if he would like to kill her. But he shrugged his shoulders and stalked off taking no notice of anyone.

      The burning weight still hung heavily within him. After the adventure with the compass it seemed to grow worse, and towards the evening he grew naughtier and naughtier. He pinched the Twins when Mary Poppins was not looking, and when they cried he said in a falsely kind voice:

      “Why, darlings, what is the matter?”

      But Mary Poppins was not deceived by it.

      “You’ve got something coming to you!” she said significantly. But the burning thing inside him would not let him care. He just shrugged his shoulders and pulled Jane’s hair. And after that he went to the supper table and upset his bread-and-milk.

      “And that,” said Mary Poppins, “is the end. Such deliberate naughtiness I never saw. In all my born days I never did, and that’s a fact. Off you go! Straight into bed with you and not another word!” He had never seen her look so terrible.

      But still he didn’t care.

      He went into the Night-nursery and undressed. No, he didn’t care. He was bad, and if they didn’t look out he’d be worse. He didn’t care. He hated everybody. If they weren’t careful he would run away and join a circus. There! Off went a button. Good – there would be fewer to do up in the morning. And another! All the better. Nothing in all the world could ever make him feel sorry. He would get into bed without brushing his hair or his teeth – certainly without saying his prayers.

      He was just about to get into bed and, indeed, had one foot already in it, when he noticed the compass lying on top of the chest of drawers.

      Very slowly he withdrew his foot and tiptoed across the room. He knew now what he would do. He would take the compass and spin it and go round the world. And they’d never find him again. And it would serve them right. Without making a sound he lifted a chair and put it against the chest of drawers. Then he climbed up on it and took the compass in his hand.

      He moved it.

      “North, South, East, West!” he said very quickly, in case anybody should come in before he got well away.

      A noise behind the chair startled him and turned round guiltily, expecting to see Mary Poppins. But instead, there were four gigantic figures bearing down upon him – the bear with his fangs showing, the Macaw fiercely flapping his wings, the Panda with his fur on end, the Dolphin thrusting out her snout. From all quarters of the room they were rushing upon him, their shadows huge on the ceiling. No longer kind and friendly, they were now full of revenge. Their terrible angry faces loomed nearer. He could feel their hot breath on his face.

      “Oh! Oh!” Michael dropped the compass. “Mary Poppins, help me!” he screamed and shut his eyes in terror.

      And then something enveloped him. The great creatures and their greater shadows, with a mingled roar or squawk of triumph, flung themselves upon him. What was it that held him, soft and warm, in its smothering embrace? The Polar Bear’s fur coat? The Macaw’s feathers? The Panda’s fur he had stroked so gently? The mother Dolphin’s flippers? And what was he – or it might be she – planning to do to him? If only he had been good – if only!

      “Mary Poppins!” he wailed, as he felt himself carried through the air and set down in something still softer.

      “Oh, dear Mary Poppins!”

      “All right, all right. I’m not deaf, I’m thankful to say – no need to shout,” he heard her saying calmly.

      He opened one eye. He could see no sign of the four gigantic figures of the compass. He opened the other eye to make sure. No – not a glint of any of them. He sat up. He looked round the room. There was nothing there.

      Then he discovered that the soft thing that was round him was his own blanket, and the soft thing he was lying on was his own bed. And oh, the heavy burning thing that had been inside him all day had melted and disappeared. He felt peaceful and happy, and as if he would like to give everybody he knew a birthday present.

      “What – what happened?” he said rather anxiously to Mary Poppins.

      “I told you that was my compass, didn’t I? Be kind enough not to touch my things, if you please,” was all she said as she stooped and picked up the compass and put it in her pocket. Then she began to fold the clothes that he had thrown down on the floor.

      “Shall I do it?” he said.

      “No, thank you.”

      He watched her go into the next room, and presently she returned and put something warm into his hands. It was a cup of milk.

      Michael sipped it, tasting every drop several times with his tongue, making it last as long as possible so that Mary Poppins should stay beside him.

      She stood there without saying a word, watching the milk slowly disappear. He could smell her crackling white apron and the faint flavour of toast