Mary Poppins Opens the Door. P. Travers L.

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      “I’ll stay...” she said, after a little pause. “I’ll stay till the door opens.” And as she spoke she gazed thoughtfully at the door of the Nursery.

      Jane gave a little anxious cry. “Oh, don’t say that, Mary Poppins!” she wailed. “That door is always opening!”

      Mary Poppins glared.

      “I meant the Other Door,” she said, as she buttoned up her nightgown.

      “What can she mean?” Jane whispered to Michael.

      “I know what she means,” he answered cleverly. “There isn’t any other door. And a door that isn’t there, can’t open. So she’s going to stay for ever.” He hugged himself happily at the thought.

      Jane, however, was not so sure. I wonder, she thought to herself.

      But Michael went on cheerfully babbling.

      “I’m glad I shook hands with the Sweep,” he said. “It brought us wonderful luck. Perhaps he’ll do the Nursery next and shake hands with you, Mary Poppins!”

      “Pooh!” she replied, with a toss of her head. “I don’t need any luck, thank you!”

      “No,” he said thoughtfully, “I suppose you don’t. Anyone who can come out of a rocket – as you did tonight – must be born lucky. I mean – er – oh, don’t look at me!”

      He gave a little beseeching cry, for Mary Poppins was glaring at him in a way that made him shudder. Standing there in her flannel nightgown, she seemed to freeze him in his cosy bed.

      “I wonder if I heard you correctly?” she enquired in an icy voice. “Did I understand you to mention Me – in connection with a Rocket?” She said the word “Rocket” in such a way as to make it seem quite shocking.

      In terror, Michael glanced about him. But no help came from the other children. And he knew he would have to go through with it.

      “But you did, Mary Poppins!” he protested bravely. “The rocket went pop! and there you were, coming out of it down the sky!”

      She seemed to grow larger as she came towards him.

      “Pop?” she repeated furiously. “I popped – and came out of a rocket?”

      He shrank back feebly against the pillow. “Well – that’s what it looked like – didn’t it, Jane?”

      “Hush!” whispered Jane, with a shake of her head. She knew it was no good arguing.

      “I have to say it, Mary Poppins! We saw you!” Michael wailed. “And if you didn’t come out of the rocket, what did! There weren’t any stars!”

      “Pop!” said Mary Poppins again. “Out of a rocket with a pop! You have often insulted me, Michael Banks, but this is the Very Worst. If I hear any more about Pops – or Rockets...” She did not tell him what she would do but he knew it would be dreadful.

      “Wee-twee! Wee-twee!”

      A small voice sounded from the window-sill. An old Starling peered into the Nursery and flapped his wings excitedly.

      Mary Poppins bounded to the window.

      “Be off, you sparrer!” she said fiercely. And as the Starling darted away she switched out the light and pounced into bed. They heard her angrily muttering “Pop!” as she pulled the blankets up.

      Then silence settled over them like a soft comforting cloud. It had almost folded them to sleep when the faintest murmur came from Jane’s bed.

      “Michael!” she said in a careful whisper.

      He sat up cautiously and looked in the direction of her pointing finger.

      From the corner by the fireplace came a little glow of light. And they saw that the folds of the parrot umbrella were full of coloured stars – the kind of stars you expect to see when a rocket breaks in the sky.

      Their eyes grew wide with astonishment as the parrot’s head bent down. Then, one by one, its beak plucked the stars from the silken folds and threw them on the floor. They gleamed for a moment, gold and silver, then faded and went out. Then the parrot head straightened upon the handle, and Mary Poppins’ black umbrella stood stiff and still in its corner.

      The children looked at each other and smiled. But they said nothing. They could only wonder and be silent. They knew there were not enough words in the Dictionary for the things that happened to Mary Poppins.

      “Tick-tock!” said the clock on the mantelpiece. “Go to sleep, children! Tick, tock, tick!”

      Then they closed their eyes on the happy day and the clock kept time with their quiet breathing.

      Mr Banks sat and snored in his study with a newspaper over his face.

      Mrs Banks was sewing new black buttons on his old overcoat.

      “Are you still thinking what you might have done if you hadn’t got married?” she asked.

      “Eh, what?” said Mr Banks, waking up. “Well, no. It’s much too much trouble. And now that Mary Poppins is back, I shan’t have to think about anything.”

      “Good,” said Mrs Banks, sewing briskly. “And I’ll try and teach Robertson Ay.”

      “Teach him what?” Mr Banks said sleepily.

      “Not to give you one black and one brown, of course!”

      “You’ll do nothing of the kind,” Mr Banks insisted. “The mixture was much admired at the Office. I shall always wear them that way in future.”

      “Indeed?” said Mrs Banks, smiling happily. On the whole, she felt glad Mr Banks had married. And now that Mary Poppins was back, she would tell him so more often…

      Downstairs in the kitchen sat Mrs Brill. The Policeman had just brought Ellen home and was staying for a Cup of Tea.

      “That Mary Poppins!” he said, sipping. “She’s ’ere today and gone tomorrer, just like them Willy-the-Wisps!”

      “Ow! Don’t say that!” said Ellen, sniffing. “I thought she was come to stay.”

      The Policeman gave her his handkerchief.

      “Maybe she will!” he told her fondly. “You never can tell, you know.”

      “Well, I’m sure I hope so,” sighed Mrs Brill. “This ’ouse is a Model Residence whenever Mary Poppins is in it.”

      “I hope so too. I need a rest,” said Robertson Ay to the brooms. And he snuggled down under Mrs Banks’ shawl and went to sleep again.

      But what Mary Poppins hoped, none of them knew. For Mary Poppins, as everyone knows, never told anyone anything…

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