More about Mary Poppins / И снова о Мэри Поппинз

“Oh, Michael,” said Jane, “she’ll never tell us if you talk like that. Mary Poppins, do say what Andrew was saying to you, please.”

“Ask him. He knows – Mr Know-All*!” said Mary Poppins, nodding her head scornfully at Michael.

“Oh no, I don’t. I promise I don’t, Mary Poppins. Do tell.”

“Half-past three. Tea-time,” said Mary Poppins, and she wheeled the perambulator round and shut her mouth tight again as though it were a trap-door. She did not say another word all the way home.

Jane dropped behind with Michael.

“It’s your fault!” she said. “Now we’ll never know.”

“I don’t care!*” said Michael, and he began to push his scooter very quickly. “I don’t want to know.”

But he did want to know very badly indeed. And, as it turned out, he and Jane and everybody else knew all about it before tea-time.

Just as they were about to cross the road to their own house, they heard loud cries coming from Next Door, and there they saw a curious sight. Miss Lark’s two maids were rushing wildly about the garden, looking under bushes and up into the trees as people do who have lost their most valuable possession. And there was Robertson Ay, from Number Seventeen, busily wasting his time by poking at the gravel on Miss Lark’s path with a broom as though he expected to find the missing treasure under a pebble. Miss Lark herself was running about in her garden, waving her arms and calling: “Andrew, Andrew! Oh, he’s lost. My darling boy is lost! We must send for the Police. I must see the Prime Minister. Andrew is lost! Oh dear! oh dear!”

“Oh, poor Miss Lark!” said Jane, hurrying across the road. She could not help feeling sorry because Miss Lark looked so upset.

But it was Michael who really comforted Miss Lark. Just as he was going in at the gate of Number Seventeen, he looked down the Lane and there he saw —

“Why, there’s Andrew, Miss Lark. See,* down there – just turning Admiral Boom’s corner!”

“Where, where? Show me!” said Miss Lark breathlessly, and she peered in the direction in which Michael was pointing.

And there, sure enough, was Andrew, walking as slowly and as casually as though nothing in the world was the matter; and beside him waltzed a huge dog that seemed to be half an Airedale and half a Retriever, and the worst half of both.

“Oh, what a relief!” said Miss Lark, sighing loudly. “What a load off my mind!”

Mary Poppins and the children waited in the Lane outside Miss Lark’s gate, Miss Lark herself and her two maids leant over the fence, Robertson Ay, resting from his labours, propped himself up with his broom-handle, and all of them watched in silence the return of Andrew.

He and his friend marched sedately up to the group, whisking their tails jauntily and keeping their ears well cocked, and you could tell by the look in Andrew’s eye that, whatever he meant, he meant business.

“That dreadful dog!” said Miss Lark, looking at Andrew’s companion.

“Shoo!* Shoo! Go home!” she cried.

But the dog just sat down on the pavement and scratched his right ear with his left leg and yawned.

“Go away! Go home! Shoo, I say!” said Miss Lark, waving her arms angrily at the dog.

“And you, Andrew,” she went on, “come indoors this minute! Going out like that – all alone and without your overcoat. I am very displeased with you!”

Andrew barked lazily, but did not move.

“What do you mean, Andrew? Come in at once!” said Miss Lark.

Andrew barked again.

“He says,” put in Mary Poppins, “that he’s not coming in.”

Miss Lark turned and regarded her haughtily. “How do you know what my dog says, may I ask? Of course he will come in.”

Andrew, however, merely shook his head and gave one or two low growls.

“He won’t,” said Mary Poppins. “Not unless his friend comes, too.”

“Stuff and nonsense,*” said Miss Lark crossly. “That can’t be what he says. As if I could have a great hulking mongrel like that inside my gate.”

Andrew yapped three or four times.

“He says he means it,” said Mary Poppins. “And what’s more, he’ll go and live with his friend unless his friend is allowed to come and live with him.”

“Oh, Andrew, you can’t – you can’t, really – after all I’ve done for you and everything!” Miss Lark was nearly weeping.

Andrew barked and turned away. The other dog got up.

“Oh, he does mean it!” cried Miss Lark. “I see he does. He is going away.” She sobbed a moment into her handkerchief, then she blew her nose and said,

“Very well, then, Andrew. I give in. This – this common dog can stay. On condition, of course, that he sleeps in the coal-cellar.”

Another yap from Andrew.

“He insists, ma’am, that that won’t do. His friend must have a silk cushion just like his and sleep in your room too. Otherwise he will go and sleep in the coal-cellar with his friend,” said Mary Poppins.

“Andrew, how could you?” moaned Miss Lark. “I shall never consent to such a thing.”

Andrew looked as though he were preparing to depart. So did the other dog.

“Oh, he’s leaving me!” shrieked Miss Lark. “Very well, then, Andrew. It will be as you wish. He shall sleep in my room. But I shall never be the same again, never, never. Such a common dog!”

She wiped her streaming eyes and went on,

“I should never have thought it of you, Andrew. But I’ll say no more, no matter what I think. And this – er – creature – I shall call Waif* or Stray or – ”

At that the other dog looked at Miss Lark very indignantly, and Andrew barked loudly.

“They say you must call him Willoughby* and nothing else,” said Mary Poppins. “Willoughby being his name.”

“Willoughby! What a name! Worse and worse!” said Miss Lark despairingly. “What is he saying now?” For Andrew was barking again.

“He says that if he comes back you are never to make him wear overcoats or go to the Hairdresser’s again – that’s his last word,” said Mary Poppins.

There was a pause.

“Very well,” said Miss Lark at last. “But I warn you, Andrew, if you catch your death of cold – don’t blame me!”

And with that she turned and walked haughtily up the steps, sniffing away the last of her tears.