P. Travers: Mary Poppins Opens the Door

"I think he will be round and fat, like Mr. Wigg," said Jane.

"I never knew such a pair for thinking!" said Mary Poppins. "You'll wear your brains out. Turn here, please!"

They hurried along and turned a corner and found themselves standing in a narrow street lined with small, old-fashioned houses.

"Why, what street is this? I never saw it before! And I've been here lots of times!" cried Jane.

"Well, don't blame me! " Mary Poppins snapped. "You don't suppose I put it there!"

"I shouldn't wonder if you did!" said Michael, as he gazed at the strange little houses. Then he added, with a flattering smile, "You're so very clever, you know!"

"Humph!" she said tartly, though her mouth took on a conceited look. "Clever is as clever does. And it's more than you are, anyway!" And, sniffing, she led them down the street and rang the bell of one of the houses.

"Pang!" said the bell loudly. And at the same moment an upstairs window swung open. A large head, with a knob of hair at the back, popped out like a Jack-in-the-Box.

"Well, what's the matter now?" a harsh voice cried. Then the woman looked down and spied Mary Poppins. "Oh, it's you, is it?" she said angrily. "Well, you can just turn round and go back to wherever you came from. He isn't in!" The window swung to and the head disappeared.

The children felt very disappointed.

"Perhaps we can come again tomorrow," said Jane anxiously.

"Today — or Never. That's my motto!" snapped Mary Poppins. And she rang the bell again.

This time it was the front door that burst open. The owner of the head stood before them glowering. She wore large black boots, a blue-and-white checked apron and a black shawl round her shoulders. Jane and Michael thought she was the ugliest person they had ever seen. And they felt very sorry for Mr. Twigley.

"What — you again!" the huge woman shouted. "I told you he wasn't in. And in he is not, or my name's not Sarah Clump!"

"Then you aren't Mrs. Twigley!" exclaimed Michael, with relief.

"Not yet, " she remarked, with an ominous smile. "Here! Down you come, all of you!" she added. For Mary Poppins, with the speed of a serpent, had slipped through the doorway and was dragging the children up the stairs. "Do you hear me? I'll have the Law on you, bursting into a decent woman's house like a set of Vampires!"

"Decent!" said Mary Poppins, snorting. "If you're decent I'm a Dromedary!" And she rapped three times on a door at her right.

"Who's there?" called an anxious voice from within. Jane and Michael trembled with excitement. Perhaps Mr. Twigley was at home, after all!

"It's me, Cousin Fred. Unlock the door, please!"

There was a moment's silence. Then the sound of a key being turned in the lock. The door opened and Mary Poppins, pulling the children after her, shut it and locked it again.

"Let me in — you Pirate!" roared Mrs. Clump, angrily rattling the handle.

Mary Poppins laughed quietly. The children glanced about them. They were in a large attic littered with scraps of wood, tins of paint and bottles of glue. Every available space in the room was filled with musical instruments. A harp stood in one corner and in another was a pile of drums. Ttumpets and violins hung from the rafters; flutes and tin-whistles were stacked on the shelves. A dusty table by the window was littered with carpenter's tools. And on the edge of the bench was a small polished box with a tiny screw-driver tossed beside it.

In the middle of the floor stood five half-finished musical boxes. Brightly they shone in their fresh new colours and round them, chalked on the boards in large white letters, were the words

WET PAINT

The whole attic smelt deliciously of wood-shavings, paint and glue. There was only one thing missing from it. And that was Mr. Twigley.

"Will you let me in or shall I go for the Police?" shouted Mrs. Clump, banging again. Mary Poppins took no notice. And presently they heard her thumping downstairs, muttering furiously as she went.

"Has she gone?" a thin voice cackled anxiously.

"She's gone downstairs and I've locked the door! Now, what have you done with yourself, please, Fred?" Mary Poppins gave an impatient sniff.

"I've wished, Mary!" chirped the voice again.

Jane and Michael stared round the dusty attic. Where could Mr. Twigley be?

"Oh, Fred! Don't tell me it's the—! Well, wish again, please, wherever you are! I haven't all day to waste."

"All right! I'm coming! No need for excitement!"

The violins played a stave of music. Then, out of the air — as it seemed to the children — came two short legs clad in baggy trousers. They were followed by a body in an old frock-coat. And last of all came a long white beard, a wrinkled face with glasses on its nose and a bald head in a smoking cap.

"Really, Cousin Fred!" said Mary Poppins crossly. "You're old enough to know better!"

"Nonsense, Mary!" said Mr. Twigley, beaming. "Nobody's ever old enough to know better! I'm sure you agree with me, young man!" He looked at Michael with his twinkly eyes. And Michael couldn't help twinkling back.

"But where were you hiding?" he demanded. "You couldn't have just come out of the air."

"Oh, yes, I could!" said Mr. Twigley. "If I wished," he added, as he skipped round the room.

"You mean, you just wished — and you disappeared?"

With a glance at the door, Mr. Twigley nodded.

"I had to — to get away from her! "

"Why? What would she do to you?" asked Jane.

"Why? Because she wants to marry me! She wants to get my wishes."

"Do you get everything you wish for?" asked Michael enviously.

"Oh, everything. That is, if I wish on the first New Moon, after the Second Wet Sunday, after the Third of May. And she—" Mr. Twigley waved at the door. " She wants me to wish for a Golden Palace and Peacock Pie every day for dinner. What would I do with a golden palace? All that I want is—"

"Be careful, Fred!" warned Mary Poppins.

Mr. Twigley clapped his hand to his mouth. "Tut, tut! I really must remember! I've used up two wishes already!"

"How many do you get?" asked Jane.

"Seven," said Mr. Twigley, sighing. "My Godmother thought that a suitable number. I know the old lady meant it kindly. But I'd rather have had a Silver Mug. More useful. And much less trouble."

"I'd rather have wishes," said Michael, stoutly.

"Oh, no, you wouldn't!" cried Mr. Twigley. "They're tricky. And hard to handle. You think out the loveliest things to ask for — then Supper Time comes and you're feeling hungry and you find yourself wishing for Sausage and Mashed!"

"What about the two you've already had? Were they any good?" demanded Michael.

"Well, not so bad, now I come to think of it. I was working on my Birdie there—" Mr. Twigley nodded towards his bench—" when I heard her coming up the stairs. 'Oh, Goodness!' I thought, 'I wish I could vanish!' And — when I looked round, I wasn't there! It gave me quite a turn for a moment. No wonder she told you I was out!"

Mr. Twigley gave a happy cackle as he beamed at the children and swung his coat-tails. They had never seen such a twinkly person. He seemed to them more like a star than a man.

"Then, of course," Mr. Twigley went on blandly, "I had to wish myself back again in order to see Mary Poppins! Now, Mary, what can I do for you?"

"Mrs. Banks would like her piano tuned, please, Fred. Number Seventeen, Cherry-Tree Lane, Opposite the Park," Mary Poppins said primly.