to soothe him, but in her heart she felt as disturbed as Michael was. She knew very well that Mary Poppins never wasted time in being nice.
And yet, strange to say, during that afternoon Mary Poppins never said a cross word. Indeed, she hardly said a word at all. She seemed to be thinking very deeply, and when they asked questions she answered them in a far-away voice. At last Michael could bear it no longer.
“Oh, do be cross, Mary Poppins! Do be cross again! It is not like you. Oh, I feel so anxious.” And indeed, his heart felt heavy with the thought that something, he did not quite know what, was about to happen at Number Seventeen, Cherry Tree Lane.
“Trouble trouble and it will trouble you!” retorted Mary Poppins crossly, in her usual voice.
And immediately he felt a little better.
“Perhaps it’s only a feeling,” he said to Jane. “Perhaps everything is all right and I’m just imagining – don’t you think so, Jane?”
“Probably,” said Jane slowly. But she was thinking hard and her heart felt tight in her body.
The wind grew wilder towards evening, and blew in little gusts about the house. It went pulling and whistling down the chimneys, slipping through the cracks under the windows, turning the Nursery carpet up at the corners.
Mary Poppins gave them their supper and cleared away the things, stacking them neatly and methodically. Then she tidied up the Nursery and put the kettle on the hob.
“There!” she said, glancing round the room to see that everything was all right. She was silent for a minute. Then she put one hand lightly on Michael’s head and the other on Jane’s shoulder.
“Now,” she said, “I am just going to take the shoes down for Robertson Ay to clean. Behave yourselves, please, till I come back.” She went out and shut the door quietly behind her.
Suddenly, as she went, they both felt they must run after her, but something seemed to stop them. They remained quiet, with their elbows on the table waiting for her to come back. Each was trying to reassure the other without saying anything.
“How silly we are,” said Jane presently. “Everything’s all right.” But she knew she said it more to comfort Michael than because she thought it was true.
The Nursery clock ticked loudly from the mantelpiece. The fire flickered and crackled and slowly died down. They still sat there at the table, waiting.
At last Michael said uneasily: “She’s been gone a very long time, hasn’t she?”
The wind whistled and cried about the house as if in reply. The clock went on ticking its solemn double note.
Suddenly the silence was broken by the sound of the front door shutting with a loud bang.
“Michael!” said Jane, starting up.
“Jane!” said Michael, with a white, anxious look on his face.
They listened. Then they ran quickly to the window and looked out.
Down below, just outside the front door, stood Mary Poppins, dressed in her coat and hat, with her carpet bag in one hand and her umbrella in the other. The wind was blowing wildly about her, tugging at her skirt, tilting her hat rakishly to one side. But it seemed to Jane and Michael that she did not mind, for she smiled as though she and the wind understood each other.
She paused for a moment on the step and glanced back towards the front door. Then with a quick movement she opened the umbrella, though it was not raining, and thrust it over her head.
The wind, with a wild cry, slipped under the umbrella, pressing it upwards as though trying to force it out of Mary Poppins’ hand. But she held on tightly, and that, apparently was what the wind wanted her to do, for presently it lifted the umbrella higher into the air and Mary Poppins from the ground. It carried her lightly so that her toes just grazed along the garden path. Then it lifted her over the front gate and swept her upwards towards the branches of the cherry trees in the Lane.
“She’s going, Jane, she’s going!” cried Michael, weeping.
“Quick!” cried Jane. “Let us get the Twins. They must see the last of her.” She had no doubt now, nor had Michael, that Mary Poppins had gone for good because the wind had changed.
They each seized a Twin and rushed back to the window.
Mary Poppins was in the upper air now, floating away over the cherry trees and the roofs of the houses, holding tightly to the umbrella with one hand and to the carpet bag with the other.
The Twins began to cry quietly.
With their free hands Jane and Michael opened the window and made one last effort to stay Mary Poppins’ flight.
“Mary Poppins!” they cried. “Mary Poppins, come back!”
But she either did not hear or deliberately took no notice. For she went sailing on and on, up into the cloudy, whistling air, till at last she was wafted away over the hill and the children could see nothing but the trees bending and moaning under the wild west wind. . .
“She did what she said she would, anyway. She stayed till the wind changed,” said Jane, sighing and turning sadly from the window. She took John to his cot and put him into it. Michael said nothing, but as he brought Barbara back and tucked her into bed he was sniffing uncomfortably.
“I wonder,” said Jane, “if we’ll ever see her again?”
Suddenly they heard voices on the stairs.
“Children, children!” Mrs Banks was calling as she opened the door. “Children – I am very cross. Mary Poppins has left us—”
“Yes,” said Jane and Michael.
“You knew, then?” said Mrs Banks, rather surprised. “Did she tell you she was going?”
They shook their heads, and Mrs Banks went on:
“It’s outrageous. One minute here and gone the next. Not even an apology. Simply said, ‘I’m going!’ and off she went. Anything more preposterous, more thoughtless, more discourteous—What is it, Michael?” She broke off crossly, for Michael had grasped her skirt in his hands and was shaking her.
“What is it, child?”
“Did she say she’d come back?” he cried, nearly knocking his Mother over. “Tell me – did she?”
“You will not behave like a Red Indian, Michael,” she said, loosening his hold. “I don’t remember what she said, except that she was going. But I certainly shan’t have her back if she does want to come. Leaving me high and dry with nobody to help me and without a word of notice.”
“Oh, Mother!” said Jane reproachfully.
“You are a very cruel woman,” said Michael, clenching his fist as though at any minute he would have to strike her.
“Children! I’m ashamed of you – really I am! To want back anybody who has treated
