his box sprang Mr. Twigley and ran to the golden palace. With a cry of delight he picked it up and gazed at the scene within.
"Very clever! I really must congratulate myself. All it needs now is a penny-in-the-slot and then it will do for Brighton Pier. One Penny, Only One Penny, folks! To see the Fat Woman Eating the Pie! Roll up! Roll up! Only one Penny!"
Waving the palace, Mr. Twigley went gaily capering round the room. Jane and Michael, leaping down from their boxes, ran after him and caught his coat-tails. They peered through the windows at Mrs. Clump. There was a look of horror on her mechanical face as she cut her mechanical pie.
"That was your sixth wish!" Michael reminded him.
"It was indeed!" Mr. Twigley agreed. "A Really useful idea, for once! Where there's a wish, there's a way, you see! Especially if
she's
around!" He nodded at Mary Poppins, who was stepping off her musical box in the most majestic manner.
"Get your hats, please!" she commanded sharply. "I want to get home for a Cup of Tea. I am not a Desert Camel."
"Oh, just one moment, please, Mary Poppins! Mr. Twigley's got one more wish!"
Jane and Michael, both talking at once, were tugging at her hands.
"Why, so I have! I'd quite forgotten. Now, what shall I——?"
"Cherry-Tree Lane, remember, Fred!" Mary Poppins' voice had a warning note.
"Oh, I'm glad you reminded me. Just a second!" Mr. Twigley put his hand to his brow and a scale of music sounded.
"What did you wish?" asked Jane and Michael.
But Mr. Twigley seemed suddenly to have become deaf, for he took no notice of the question. He shook hands hurriedly as though, having wished all his wishes, he was now anxious to be alone.
"You have to be going, you said? How sad! Is this your hat? Well, delighted you came! I hope—are these your gloves, dear Mary?—I hope you'll pay me another visit when my wishes come round again!"
"When will that be?" demanded Michael.
"Oh, in about ninety years or so." Mr. Twigley answered airily.
"But we'll be quite old by then!" said Jane.
"Maybe," he replied, with a little shrug. "But at least not as old as I am!"
And with that he kissed Mary Poppins on both cheeks and hustled them out of the room.
The last thing they saw was his jubilant smile as he began to fix a Penny-in-the-Slot to Mrs. Clump's palace....
Later, when they came to think about it, Jane and Michael could never remember how they got out of Mr. Twigley's house and into Cherry-Tree Lane. It seemed as though at one moment they were on the dusty stairs and the next were following Mary Poppins through the pearly evening light.
Jane glanced back for one last look at the little house.
"Michael!" she said in a startled whisper. "It's gone. Everything's gone!"
He looked round. Yes! Jane was right. The little street and the old-fashioned houses were nowhere to be seen. There was only the shadowy Park before them and the well-known curve of Cherry-Tree Lane.
"Well, where have we been all the afternoon?" said Michael, staring about him.
But it needed someone wiser than Jane to answer that question truly.
"We must have been somewhere," she said sensibly.
But that was not enough for Michael. He rushed away to Mary Poppins and pulled at her best blue skirt.
"Mary Poppins, where have we been today? What's happened to Mr. Twigley?"
"How should I know?" snapped Mary Poppins. "I'm not an Encyclopaedia."
"But he's gone! And the street's gone! And I suppose the musical box has gone, too—the one he went round on this afternoon!"
Mary Poppins stood still on the kerb, and stared.
"A cousin of mine on a musical box? What nonsense you do talk, Michael Banks!"
"But he did!" cried Jane and Michael together. "We
all
went round on musical boxes. Each of us to our own true music. And yours was 'Pop Goes the Weasel.'"
Her eyes blazed sternly through the darkness. She seemed to grow larger as she glared.
"Each to our—weasel? Round and round?" Really, she was so angry she could hardly get the words
"Very clever! I really must congratulate myself. All it needs now is a penny-in-the-slot and then it will do for Brighton Pier. One Penny, Only One Penny, folks! To see the Fat Woman Eating the Pie! Roll up! Roll up! Only one Penny!"
Waving the palace, Mr. Twigley went gaily capering round the room. Jane and Michael, leaping down from their boxes, ran after him and caught his coat-tails. They peered through the windows at Mrs. Clump. There was a look of horror on her mechanical face as she cut her mechanical pie.
"That was your sixth wish!" Michael reminded him.
"It was indeed!" Mr. Twigley agreed. "A Really useful idea, for once! Where there's a wish, there's a way, you see! Especially if
she's
around!" He nodded at Mary Poppins, who was stepping off her musical box in the most majestic manner.
"Get your hats, please!" she commanded sharply. "I want to get home for a Cup of Tea. I am not a Desert Camel."
"Oh, just one moment, please, Mary Poppins! Mr. Twigley's got one more wish!"
Jane and Michael, both talking at once, were tugging at her hands.
"Why, so I have! I'd quite forgotten. Now, what shall I——?"
"Cherry-Tree Lane, remember, Fred!" Mary Poppins' voice had a warning note.
"Oh, I'm glad you reminded me. Just a second!" Mr. Twigley put his hand to his brow and a scale of music sounded.
"What did you wish?" asked Jane and Michael.
But Mr. Twigley seemed suddenly to have become deaf, for he took no notice of the question. He shook hands hurriedly as though, having wished all his wishes, he was now anxious to be alone.
"You have to be going, you said? How sad! Is this your hat? Well, delighted you came! I hope—are these your gloves, dear Mary?—I hope you'll pay me another visit when my wishes come round again!"
"When will that be?" demanded Michael.
"Oh, in about ninety years or so." Mr. Twigley answered airily.
"But we'll be quite old by then!" said Jane.
"Maybe," he replied, with a little shrug. "But at least not as old as I am!"
And with that he kissed Mary Poppins on both cheeks and hustled them out of the room.
The last thing they saw was his jubilant smile as he began to fix a Penny-in-the-Slot to Mrs. Clump's palace....
Later, when they came to think about it, Jane and Michael could never remember how they got out of Mr. Twigley's house and into Cherry-Tree Lane. It seemed as though at one moment they were on the dusty stairs and the next were following Mary Poppins through the pearly evening light.
Jane glanced back for one last look at the little house.
"Michael!" she said in a startled whisper. "It's gone. Everything's gone!"
He looked round. Yes! Jane was right. The little street and the old-fashioned houses were nowhere to be seen. There was only the shadowy Park before them and the well-known curve of Cherry-Tree Lane.
"Well, where have we been all the afternoon?" said Michael, staring about him.
But it needed someone wiser than Jane to answer that question truly.
"We must have been somewhere," she said sensibly.
But that was not enough for Michael. He rushed away to Mary Poppins and pulled at her best blue skirt.
"Mary Poppins, where have we been today? What's happened to Mr. Twigley?"
"How should I know?" snapped Mary Poppins. "I'm not an Encyclopaedia."
"But he's gone! And the street's gone! And I suppose the musical box has gone, too—the one he went round on this afternoon!"
Mary Poppins stood still on the kerb, and stared.
"A cousin of mine on a musical box? What nonsense you do talk, Michael Banks!"
"But he did!" cried Jane and Michael together. "We
all
went round on musical boxes. Each of us to our own true music. And yours was 'Pop Goes the Weasel.'"
Her eyes blazed sternly through the darkness. She seemed to grow larger as she glared.
"Each to our—weasel? Round and round?" Really, she was so angry she could hardly get the words
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