umbrellas in the Elephant's Leg that stood in the front hall.
"What is it now, George?" called Mrs. Banks, from the foot of the kitchen stairs.
"Somebody's taken my walking sticks!" Mr. Banks sounded like a wounded tiger.
"Here they are, Sir!" said Mary Poppins, as she tripped down from the Nursery. In one hand she carried a silver-headed ebony cane. From the other swung a grey ash stick with a curved nobbly handle. Without another word, and looking very superior, she handed the sticks to Mr. Banks.
"Oh!" he said, rather taken aback. "Why did you want them, Mary Poppins? I hope you haven't got a bad leg!"
"No, thank you, Sir!" she said with a sniff. And you knew by the haughty tone of her voice that Mr. Banks had insulted her. A bad leg, indeed! As if her legs, as well as every other part of her, were not in perfect condition!
"It was us!" said Jane and Michael together, peering out at their Father from behind Mary Poppins.
"You! What's the matter with
your
fat legs? Are they lame, or crippled or what?"
"Nothing's the matter," said Michael plaintively. "We wanted the sticks for horses."
"What! My Great-uncle Herbert's ebony cane and the stick I won in the Church Bazaar!" Mr. Banks could hardly believe his ears.
"Well, we've nothing to ride on!" grumbled Jane.
"Why not the rocking-horse—dear old Dobbin?" called Mrs. Banks from the kitchen.
"I hate old Dobbin. He creaks!" said Michael, and he stamped his foot at his Mother.
"But Dobbin doesn't
go
anywhere. We want real horses!" protested Jane.
"And I'm to provide them, I suppose!" Mr. Banks strode, fuming, down the hall. "Three meals a day are not enough! Warm clothes and shoes are merely trifles! Now you want horses! Horses, indeed! Are you sure you wouldn't prefer a camel?"
Michael looked at his Father with a pained expression. Really, he thought, what shocking behaviour! But aloud he said patiently——
"No, thank you. Just horses!"
"Well, you'll get them when the moon turns blue! That's all I can say!" snapped Mr. Banks.
"How often does that happen?" Jane enquired.
Mr. Banks looked at her angrily. What stupid children I've got, he thought. Can't understand a figure of speech!
"Oh—every thousand years or so. Once in a lifetime—if you're lucky!" he said crossly. And, stuffing the cane into the Elephant's Leg, he hooked the ash stick over his arm and started for the City.
Mary Poppins smiled as she watched him go. A curious, secret smile it was, and the children wondered what it meant.
Mrs. Banks came bustling up the kitchen stairs. "Oh dear! Mary Poppins, what do you think! Miss Lark's dog Willoughby has just been in and eaten a tyre off the perambulator!"
"Yes, ma'am," replied Mary Poppins calmly, as though nothing that Willoughby ever did could possibly surprise her.
"But what shall we do about the shopping?" Mrs. Banks was almost in tears.
"I really couldn't say, I'm sure." Mary Poppins gave her head a toss, as though neither dogs nor perambulators were any concern of hers.
"Oh, must we go shopping?" grumbled Jane.
"I'm sick of walking," said Michael crossly. "I'm sure it's bad for my health."
Mrs. Banks took no notice of them. "Perhaps, Mary Poppins," she suggested nervously, "you could leave Annabel at home today and take Robertson Ay to carry the parcels."
"He's asleep in the wheelbarrow," Jane informed them. She had looked through the window, just after breakfast, and seen him taking his morning rest.
"Well, he won't be there long," said Mary Poppins. And she stalked out into the garden.
She was quite right. He wasn't there long. She must have said something Really Awful, for as they trailed after her down the path Robertson Ay was waiting at the garden gate.
"Keep up and don't straggle, if you please! This is not a Tortoise Parade." Mary Poppins took a Twin by each hand and hurried them along beside her.
"Day in and day out, it's always the same. I never get a moment's peace." Robertson Ay gave a stifled yawn as he handed Jane
"What is it now, George?" called Mrs. Banks, from the foot of the kitchen stairs.
"Somebody's taken my walking sticks!" Mr. Banks sounded like a wounded tiger.
"Here they are, Sir!" said Mary Poppins, as she tripped down from the Nursery. In one hand she carried a silver-headed ebony cane. From the other swung a grey ash stick with a curved nobbly handle. Without another word, and looking very superior, she handed the sticks to Mr. Banks.
"Oh!" he said, rather taken aback. "Why did you want them, Mary Poppins? I hope you haven't got a bad leg!"
"No, thank you, Sir!" she said with a sniff. And you knew by the haughty tone of her voice that Mr. Banks had insulted her. A bad leg, indeed! As if her legs, as well as every other part of her, were not in perfect condition!
"It was us!" said Jane and Michael together, peering out at their Father from behind Mary Poppins.
"You! What's the matter with
your
fat legs? Are they lame, or crippled or what?"
"Nothing's the matter," said Michael plaintively. "We wanted the sticks for horses."
"What! My Great-uncle Herbert's ebony cane and the stick I won in the Church Bazaar!" Mr. Banks could hardly believe his ears.
"Well, we've nothing to ride on!" grumbled Jane.
"Why not the rocking-horse—dear old Dobbin?" called Mrs. Banks from the kitchen.
"I hate old Dobbin. He creaks!" said Michael, and he stamped his foot at his Mother.
"But Dobbin doesn't
go
anywhere. We want real horses!" protested Jane.
"And I'm to provide them, I suppose!" Mr. Banks strode, fuming, down the hall. "Three meals a day are not enough! Warm clothes and shoes are merely trifles! Now you want horses! Horses, indeed! Are you sure you wouldn't prefer a camel?"
Michael looked at his Father with a pained expression. Really, he thought, what shocking behaviour! But aloud he said patiently——
"No, thank you. Just horses!"
"Well, you'll get them when the moon turns blue! That's all I can say!" snapped Mr. Banks.
"How often does that happen?" Jane enquired.
Mr. Banks looked at her angrily. What stupid children I've got, he thought. Can't understand a figure of speech!
"Oh—every thousand years or so. Once in a lifetime—if you're lucky!" he said crossly. And, stuffing the cane into the Elephant's Leg, he hooked the ash stick over his arm and started for the City.
Mary Poppins smiled as she watched him go. A curious, secret smile it was, and the children wondered what it meant.
Mrs. Banks came bustling up the kitchen stairs. "Oh dear! Mary Poppins, what do you think! Miss Lark's dog Willoughby has just been in and eaten a tyre off the perambulator!"
"Yes, ma'am," replied Mary Poppins calmly, as though nothing that Willoughby ever did could possibly surprise her.
"But what shall we do about the shopping?" Mrs. Banks was almost in tears.
"I really couldn't say, I'm sure." Mary Poppins gave her head a toss, as though neither dogs nor perambulators were any concern of hers.
"Oh, must we go shopping?" grumbled Jane.
"I'm sick of walking," said Michael crossly. "I'm sure it's bad for my health."
Mrs. Banks took no notice of them. "Perhaps, Mary Poppins," she suggested nervously, "you could leave Annabel at home today and take Robertson Ay to carry the parcels."
"He's asleep in the wheelbarrow," Jane informed them. She had looked through the window, just after breakfast, and seen him taking his morning rest.
"Well, he won't be there long," said Mary Poppins. And she stalked out into the garden.
She was quite right. He wasn't there long. She must have said something Really Awful, for as they trailed after her down the path Robertson Ay was waiting at the garden gate.
"Keep up and don't straggle, if you please! This is not a Tortoise Parade." Mary Poppins took a Twin by each hand and hurried them along beside her.
"Day in and day out, it's always the same. I never get a moment's peace." Robertson Ay gave a stifled yawn as he handed Jane
Similar Books
