Mary Poppins: The Original Story. P. Travers L.

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      But Mr Wigg was looking at Mary Poppins – a curious look, half-amused, half-accusing.

      “Mary, Mary, you shouldn’t – bless my soul, you shouldn’t, Mary. The poor old body will never get over it. But, oh, my goodness, didn’t she look funny waddling through the air – my Gracious goodness, but didn’t she?”

      And he and Jane and Michael were off again, rolling about the air, clutching their sides and gasping with laughter at the thought of how funny Miss Persimmon had looked.

      “Oh dear!” said Michael. “Don’t make me laugh any more. I can’t stand it. I shall break!”

      “Oh, oh, oh!” cried Jane, as she gasped for breath, with her hand over her heart.

      “Oh, my Gracious, Glorious, Galumphing Goodness!” roared Mr Wigg, dabbing his eyes with his coat-tail because he couldn’t find his handkerchief.

      “IT IS TIME TO GO HOME.” Mary Poppins’ voice sounded above the roars of laughter like a trumpet.

      And suddenly, with a rush, Jane and Michael and Mr Wigg came down. They landed on the floor with a huge bump, all together. The thought that they would have to go home was the first sad thought of the afternoon, and the moment it was in their minds the Laughing Gas went out of them.

      Jane and Michael sighed as they watched Mary Poppins come slowly down the air, carrying Jane’s coat and hat.

      Mr Wigg sighed, too. A great, long, heavy sigh.

      “Well, isn’t that a pity?” he said soberly. “It’s very sad that you’ve got to go home. I never enjoyed an afternoon so much – did you?”

      “Never,” said Michael sadly, feeling how dull it was to be down on the earth again with no Laughing Gas inside him.