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

Barbara, not to be outdone in courtesy, came out of her pillow and with her tears still wet on her face, sat up and plucked off both her socks.

      “Wonderful girl,” said Mrs Banks proudly, and kissed her.

      “There, you see, Mary Poppins! They’re quite good again. I can always comfort them. Quite good, quite good,” said Mrs Banks, as though she were singing a lullaby. “And the teeth will soon be through.”

      “Yes, ma’am,” said Mary Poppins quietly; and smiling to the Twins, Mrs Banks went out and closed the door.

      The moment she had disappeared the Starling burst into a peal of rude laughter.

      “Excuse me smiling!” he cried. “But really – I can’t help it. What a scene! What a scene!”

      John took no notice of him. He pushed his face through the bars of his cot and called softly and fiercely to Barbara:

      “I won’t be like the others. I tell you I won’t. They,” he jerked his head towards the Starling and Mary Poppins, “can say what they like. I’ll never forget, never!”

      Mary Poppins smiled, a secret, I-know-better-than-you sort of smile, all to herself.

      “Nor I,” answered Barbara. “Ever.”

      “Bless my tail-feathers – listen to them!” shrieked the Starling, as he put his wings on his hips and roared with mirth. “As if they could help forgetting! Why, in a month or two – three at the most – they won’t even know what my name is – silly cuckoos! Silly half-grown featherless cuckoos! Ha! Ha! Ha!” And with another loud peal of laughter he spread his speckled wings and flew out of the window.

      It was not very long afterwards that the teeth, after much trouble, came through as all teeth must, and the Twins had their first birthday.

      The day after the birthday party the Starling, who had been away on holiday at Bournemouth, came back to Number Seventeen, Cherry Tree Lane.

      “Hullo, hullo, hullo! Here we are again!” he screamed joyfully, landing with a little wobble upon the windowsill.

      “Well, how’s the girl?” he enquired cheekily of Mary Poppins, cocking his little head on one side and regarding her with bright, amused, twinkling eyes.

      “None the better for your asking,” said Mary Poppins, tossing her head.

      The Starling laughed.

      “Same old Mary P.,” he said. “No change out of you! How are the other ones – the cuckoos?” he asked, and looked across at Barbara’s cot.

      “Well, Barbarina,” he began in his soft, wheedling voice, “anything for the old fellow today?”

      “Be-lah-belah-belah-belah!” said Barbara, crooning gently as she continued to eat her arrowroot biscuit.

      The Starling, with a start of surprise, hopped a little nearer.

      “I said,” he repeated more distinctly, “is there anything for the old fellow today, Barbie dear?”

      “Ba-loo – ba-loo – ba-loo!” murmured Barbara, gazing up at the ceiling as she swallowed the last sweet crumb.

      The Starling stared at her.

      “Ha!” he said suddenly, and turned and looked enquiringly at Mary Poppins. Her quiet glance met his in a long look.

      Then with a darting movement the Starling flew over to John’s cot and alighted on the rail. John had a large woolly lamb hugged close in his arms.

      “What’s my name? What’s my name? What’s my name?” cried the Starling in a shrill anxious voice.

      “Er-umph!” said John, opening his mouth and putting the leg of the woolly lamb into it.

      With a little shake of the head the Starling turned away.

      “So – it’s happened,” he said quietly to Mary Poppins.

      She nodded.

      The Starling gazed dejectedly for a moment at the Twins. Then he shrugged his speckled shoulders.

      “Oh, well – I knew it would. Always told ’em so. But they wouldn’t believe it.” He remained silent for a little while, staring into the cots. Then he shook himself vigorously.

      “Well, well. I must be off. Back to my chimney. It will need a spring-cleaning, I’ll be bound.” He flew on to the window-sill and paused, looking back over his shoulder.

      “It’ll seem funny without them, though. Always liked talking to them – so I did. I shall miss them.”

      He brushed his wing quickly across his eyes.

      “Crying?” jeered Mary Poppins. The Starling drew himself up.

      “Crying? Certainly not. I have – er – a slight cold, caught on my return journey – that’s all. Yes, a slight cold. Nothing serious.” He darted up to the windowpane, brushed down his breast-feathers with his beak and then, “Cheerio!” he said perkily, and spread his wings and was gone. . .

Chapter Ten

       FULL MOON

      ALL DAY LONG Mary Poppins had been in a hurry, and when she was in a hurry she was always cross.

      Everything Jane did was bad, everything Michael did was worse. She even snapped at the Twins.

      Jane and Michael kept out of her way as much as possible, for they knew that there were times when it was better not to be seen or heard by Mary Poppins.

      “I wish we were invisible,” said Michael, when Mary Poppins had told him that the very sight of him was more than any self-respecting person could be expected to stand.

      “We shall be,” said Jane, “if we go behind the sofa. We can count the money in our money-boxes, and she may be better after she’s had her supper.”

      So they did that.

      “Sixpence and four pennies – that’s tenpence, and a halfpenny and a threepenny-bit,” said Jane, counting up quickly.

      “Four pennies and three farthings and – and that’s all,” sighed Michael, putting his money in a little heap.

      “That’ll do nicely for the poor box,” said Mary Poppins, looking over the arm of the sofa and sniffing.

      “Oh no,” said Michael reproachfully. “It’s for myself. I’m saving.”

      “Huh – for one of those aeryplanes, I suppose!” said Mary Poppins scornfully.

      “No, for an elephant – a private one for myself, like Lizzie at the Zoo. I could take you for rides then,” said Michael, half-looking and half-not-looking at her to see how she would take it.

      “Humph,” said Mary Poppins, “what an idea!” But they could see she was not quite so cross as before.

      “I wonder,” said Michael thoughtfully, “what happens in the Zoo at night, when everybody’s gone home?”

      “Care killed a cat,” snapped Mary Poppins.

      “I wasn’t caring, I was only wondering,” corrected Michael. “Do you know?” he enquired of Mary Poppins, who was whisking the crumbs off the table in double-quick time.

      “One more question from you – and spit-spot, to bed you go!” she said,