Mary Poppins

Mary Poppins by P. L. Travers Page A

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Authors: P. L. Travers
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the whole story and asked her advice.
    "Good gracious, my dear!" my Mother said to her. "You don't suppose that only one star ever fell out of the sky! Billions fall every night, I'm told. But they fall in different places, of course. You can't expect two stars to drop in the same field in one lifetime."
    "Then, you think — if I moved about a bit—?" the Red Cow began, a happy eager look coming into her eyes.
    "If it were me," said my Mother, "I'd go and look for one."
    "I will," said the Red Cow joyously, "I will indeed."

    Mary Poppins paused.
    "And that, I suppose, is why she was walking down Cherry-Tree Lane," Jane prompted gently.
    "Yes," whispered Michael, "she was looking for her star."
    Mary Poppins sat up with a little start. The intent look had gone from her eyes and the stillness from her body.
    "Come down from that window at once, sir!" she said crossly. "I am going to turn on the lights." And she hurried across the landing to the electric light switch.
    "Michael!" said Jane in a careful whisper. "Just have one look and see if the cow's still there."
    Hurriedly Michael peered out through the gathering dusk.
    "Quickly!" said Jane. "Mary Poppins will be back in one minute. Can you see her?"
    "No-o-o," said Michael, staring out. "Not a sign of her. She's gone."
    "I do hope she finds it!" said Jane, thinking of the Red Cow roaming through the world looking for a star to stick on her horn.
    "So do I," said Michael as, at the sound of Mary Poppins's returning footsteps, he hurriedly pulled down the blind….

CHAPTER 6
    BAD TUESDAY (Revised version)
    IT WAS NOT very long afterwards that Michael woke up one morning with a curious feeling inside him. He knew, the moment he opened his eyes, that something was wrong but he was not quite sure what it was.
    "What is today, Mary Poppins?" he enquired, pushing the bedclothes away from him.
    "Tuesday," said Mary Poppins. "Go and turn on your bath. Hurry!" she said, as he made no effort to move. He turned over and pulled the bedclothes up over his head and the curious feeling increased.
    "What did I say?" said Mary Poppins in that cold, clear voice that was always a Warning.
    Michael knew now what was happening to him. He knew he was going to be naughty.
    "I won't," he said slowly, his voice muffled by the blanket.
    Mary Poppins twitched the clothes from his hand and looked down upon him.
    "I WON'T."
    He waited, wondering what she would do and was surprised when, without a word, she went into the bathroom and turned on the tap herself. He took his towel and went slowly in as she came out. And for the first time in his life Michael entirely bathed himself. He knew by this that he was in disgrace, and he purposely neglected to wash behind his ears.
    "Shall I let out the water?" he enquired in the rudest voice he had.
    There was no reply.
    "Pooh, I don't care!" said Michael, and the hot heavy weight that was within him swelled and grew larger. "I
don't
care!"
    He dressed himself then, putting on his best clothes, that he knew were only for Sunday. And after that he went downstairs, kicking the banisters with his feet — a thing he knew he should not do as it waked up everybody else in the house. On the stairs he met Ellen, the housemaid, and as he passed her he knocked the hot-water jug out of her hand.
    "Well, you
are
a clumsy," said Ellen, as she bent down to mop up the water. "That was for your father's shaving."
    "I meant to," said Michael calmly.
    Ellen's red face went quite white with surprise.
    "
Meant
to? You
meant
—well, then, you're a very bad heathen boy, and I'll tell your Ma, so I will—"
    "Do," said Michael, and he went on down the stairs.
    Well, that was the beginning of it. Throughout the rest of the day nothing went right with him. The hot, heavy feeling inside him made him do the most awful things, and as soon as he'd done them he felt extraordinarily pleased and glad and thought out some more at once.
    In the kitchen Mrs. Brill, the cook, was making

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