Mary Poppins Opens the Door. P. Travers L.

      

      

       Copyright

      First published in Great Britain by Peter Davies 1944

      First published by William Collins Sons & Co Ltd. 1958

      This edition published by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2016

      HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

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      The HarperCollins Children’s Books website address is www.harpercollins.co.uk

      Text copyright © The Trustees of the P.L. Travers Will Trust 1944

      Illustrations copyright © Mary Shepard 1944

      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 this work.

      A catalogue copy of 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: 9780008205768

      Ebook Edition © 2016 ISBN: 9780007404315

      Version: 2018-06-28

       To Camillus

       CONTENTS

       Cover

       Title Page

Copyright

       Dedication

Chapter One – The Fifth of November

Chapter Two – Mr Twigley’s Wishes

       Chapter Three – The Cat That Looked at a King

       Chapter Four – The Marble Boy

       Chapter Five – Peppermint Horses

       Chapter Six – High Tide

       Chapter Seven – Happy Ever After

       Chapter Eight – The Other Door

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       Have you read all the original Mary Poppins adventures?

       About the Publisher

      

       Chapter One THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER

      IT WAS ONE of those bleak and chilly mornings that remind you winter is coming. Cherry Tree Lane was quiet and still. The mist hung over the Park like a shadow. All the houses looked exactly alike as the grey fog wrapped them round. Admiral Boom’s flagstaff, with the telescope at the top of it, had entirely disappeared.

      The Milkman, as he turned into the Lane, could hardly see his way.

      “Milk Be-l-o-o-ow!” he called, outside the Admiral’s door. And his voice sounded so queer and hollow that it gave him quite a fright.

      “I’ll go ’Ome till the fog lifts,” he said to himself. “’Ere! Look where you’re goin’!” he went on, as a shape loomed suddenly out of the mist and bumped against his shoulder.

      “Bumble, bumble, bum-bur-um-bumble,” said a gentle, muffled voice.

      “Oh, it’s you!” said the Milkman, with a sigh of relief.

      “Bumble,” remarked the Sweep again. He was holding his brushes in front of his face to keep his moustache dry.

      “Out early, aren’t you?” the Milkman said.

      The Sweep gave a jerk of his black thumb towards Miss Lark’s house.

      “Had to do the chimbley before the dogs had breakfast. In case the soot gave them a cough,” he explained.

      The Milkman laughed rudely. For that was what everybody did when Miss Lark’s two dogs were mentioned.

      The mist went wreathing through the air. There was not a sound in the Lane.

      “Ugh!” said the Milkman, shivering. “This quiet gives me the ’Orrors!”

      And as he said that, the Lane woke up. A sudden roar came from one of the houses and the sound of stamping feet.

      “That’s Number Seventeen!” said the Sweep. “Excuse me, old chap. I think I’m needed.” He cautiously felt his way to the gate and went up the garden path…

      Inside the house, Mr Banks was marching up and down, kicking the hall furniture.

      “I’ve had about all I can stand!” he shouted, waving his arms wildly.

      “You keep on saying that,” Mrs Banks cried. “But you won’t tell me what’s the matter.” She looked at Mr Banks anxiously.

      “Everything’s the matter!” he roared. “Look at this!” He waggled his right foot at her. “And this!” he went on, as he waggled his left.

      Mrs Banks peered closely at the feet. She was rather short-sighted and the hall was misty.

      “I – er – don’t see anything wrong,” she began timidly.

      “Of course you don’t!” he said sarcastically. “It’s only imagination, of course, that makes me think Robertson Ay has given me one black shoe and one brown!” And again he waggled his feet.

      “Oh!” said Mrs Banks hurriedly. For now she saw clearly