Mary Poppins Opens the Door. P. Travers L.

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      All day long the children watched him and argued over who should hand him the brushes. Now and again Mrs Banks came in, to complain of the noise and hurry the Sweep.

      And all day long, beyond the windows, the mist crept through the Lane. Every sound was muffled. The birds were gone. Except for an old and moulting Starling who kept on peering through the cracks in the blinds as if he were looking for someone.

      At last the Sweep crept out of the chimney and smiled at his handiwork.

      “So kind of you!” said Mrs Banks hurriedly. “Now, I’m sure you must want to pack up and go home...”

      “I’m in no ’Urry,” remarked the Sweep. “Me Tea isn’t ready till six o’clock and I’ve got an hour to fill in—”

      “Well, you can’t fill it in here!” Mrs Banks shrieked. “I have to tidy up this room before my husband comes home!”

      “I tell you what,” the Sweep said calmly. “If you’ve got a rocket or two about you, I could take the children into the Park and show ’em a few fireworks. It’d give you a rest and meself a Treat. I’ve always been very partial to rockets ever since a boy – and before!”

      A yell of delight went up from the children. Michael ran to a window and lifted the blind. “Oh, look what’s happened!” he cried in triumph.

      For a change had come to Cherry Tree Lane. The chill grey mist had cleared away. The houses were lit with warm soft lights. And away in the West shone a glimmer of sunset, rosy and clear and bright.

      “Remember your coats!” cried Mrs Banks, as the children darted away. Then she ran to the cupboard under the staircase and brought out a knobbly parcel. “Here you are!” she said breathlessly to the Sweep. “And mind, be careful of sparks!”

      “Sparks?” said the Sweep. “Why, sparks is my ’Obby. Them and the soot wot comes after!”

      The children leapt like puppies about him as he went down the garden path. Mrs Banks sat down for two minutes’ rest on one of the sheet-covered chairs. The Starling looked in at her for a moment. Then he shook his head disappointedly and flew away again…

      Daylight was fading as they crossed the road. By the Park railings Bert, the Match Man, was spreading out his tray. He lit a candle with one of his matches and began to draw pictures on the pavement. He nodded gaily to the children as they hurried through the Gates.

      “Now, all we need,” the Sweep said fussily, “is a clear patch of grass—”

      “Which you won’t get!” said a voice behind them. “The Park is closed at 5.30.”

      Out from the shadows came the Park Keeper, looking very belligerent.

      “But it’s Guy Fawkes’ Day – the Fifth of November!” the children answered quickly.

      “Orders is orders!” he retorted, “and all days are alike to me.”

      “Well, where can we let off the fireworks?” Michael demanded impatiently.

      A greedy look leapt to the Keeper’s eyes.

      “You got some fireworks?” he said hungrily. “Well, why not say so before!” And he snatched the parcel from the Sweep and began to untie the string. “Matches – that’s what we need!” he went on, panting with excitement.

      “Here,” said the Match Man’s quiet voice. He had followed the children into the Park and was standing behind them with his lighted candle.

      The Park Keeper opened a bundle of Squibs.

      “They’re ours, you know!” Michael reminded him.

      “Ah, let me help you – do!” said the Keeper. “I’ve never ’ad fun on Guy Fawkes’ Day – never since I was a boy!”

      And without waiting for permission, he lit the Squibs at the Match Man’s candle. The hissing streams of fire poured out, and pop, pop, pop went the crackers. The Park Keeper seized a Catherine Wheel and stuck it on a branch. The rings of light began to turn and sparkled on the air. And after that he was so excited that nothing could stop him. He went on lighting fuse after fuse as though he had gone mad.

      Flower Pots streamed from the dewy grass and Golden Rain flowed down through the darkness. Top Hats burned for a bright short moment; Balloons went floating up to the branches; and Firesnakes writhed in the shadows. The children jumped and squeaked and shouted. The Park Keeper ran about among them like a large frenzied dog. And amid the noise and the sparkling lights the Match Man waited quietly. The flame of his candle never wavered as they lit their fuses from it.

      “Now!” cried the Keeper, who was hoarse with shouting. “Now we come to the rockets!”

      All the other fireworks had gone. Nothing remained in the knobbly parcel except three long black sticks.

      “No you don’t!” said the Sweep, as the Keeper snatched them. “Share and share. That’s fair!” He gave the Keeper one rocket and kept the others for himself and the children.

      “Make way, make way!” said the Keeper importantly, as he lit the fuse at the candle flame and stuck the stick in a hole in the ground.

      Hissing and guttering, the spark ran along like a little golden thread. Then – whoop! went the rocket as it shot away. Up in the sky the children heard a small far-away bang. And a swirl of red-and-blue stars broke out and rained upon the Park.

      “Oh!” cried the children. And “Oh!” cried the Sweep. For that is the only word anyone can say when a rocket’s stars break out.

      Then it was the Sweep’s turn. The candle-light gleamed on his black face as he lit the fuse of his rocket. Then came a whoop and another bang and white-and-green stars spread over the sky like the ribs of a bright umbrella. And again the watchers all cried “Oh!” and sighed for sheer joy.

      “It’s our turn now!” cried Jane and Michael. And their fingers trembled as they lit the fuse. They pressed the stick down into the earth and stepped back to watch. The golden fire ran up the fuse. Whe-e-e-ew! Up went the rocket with a singing sound, up to the very top of the sky.

      And Jane and Michael held their breath as they waited for it to burst.

      At last, far away and very faint, they heard the little bang.

      Now for the stars, they thought to themselves.

      But – alas! – nothing happened.

      “Oh!” said everyone again – not for joy this time, but for disappointment. For no stars broke from the third rocket. There was nothing but darkness and the empty sky.

      “Tricksy – that’s what they are!” said the Sweep. “There are some as just doesn’t go off! Well, come on ’Ome, all. There’s no good staring. Nothing will come down now!”

      “Closing Time! Everyone out of the Park!” cried the Park Keeper importantly.

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