And he and Jane and Michael were off again, rolling about the air, clutching their sides and gasping with laughter at the thought of how funny Miss Persimmon had looked.
"Oh dear!" said Michael. "Don't make me laugh any more. I can't stand it! I shall break!"
"Oh, oh, oh!" cried Jane, as she gasped for breath, with her hand over her heart.
"Oh, my Gracious, Glorious, Galumphing Goodness!" roared Mr. Wigg, dabbing his eyes with the tail of his coat because he couldn't find his handkerchief.
"IT IS TIME TO GO HOME." Mary Poppins's voice sounded above the roars of laughter like a trumpet.
And suddenly, with a rush, Jane and Michael and Mr. Wigg came down. They landed on the floor with a huge bump, all together. The thought that they would have to go home was the first sad thought of the afternoon, and the moment it was in their minds the Laughing Gas went out of them.
Jane and Michael sighed as they watched Mary Poppins come slowly down the air, carrying Jane's coat and hat.
Mr. Wigg sighed, too. A great, long, heavy sigh.
"Well, isn't that a pity?" he said soberly. "It's very sad that you've got to go home. I never enjoyed an afternoon so much — did you?"
"Never," said Michael sadly, feeling how dull it was to be down on the earth again with no Laughing Gas inside him.
"Never, never," said Jane, as she stood on tip-toe and kissed Mr. Wigg's withered-apple cheeks. "Never, never, never, never…!"
They sat on either side of Mary Poppins going home in the Bus. They were both very quiet, thinking over the lovely afternoon. Presently Michael said sleepily to Mary Poppins:
"How often does your Uncle get like that?"
"Like what?" said Mary Poppins sharply, as though Michael had deliberately said something to offend her.
"Well — all bouncy and boundy and laughing and going up in the air."
"Up in the air?" Mary Poppins's voice was high and angry. "What do you mean, pray, up in the air?"
Jane tried to explain.
"Michael means — is your Uncle often full of Laughing Gas, and does he often go rolling and bobbing about on the ceiling when—"
"Rolling and bobbing! What an idea! Rolling and
Crept closer to her and fell asleep
bobbing on the ceiling! You'll be telling me next he's a balloon!" Mary Poppins gave an offended sniff.
"But he did!" said Michael. "We saw him."
"What, roll and bob? How dare you! I'll have you know that my uncle is a sober, honest, hard-working man, and you'll be kind enough to speak of him respectfully. And don't bite your Bus ticket! Roll and bob, indeed — the idea!"
Michael and Jane looked across Mary Poppins at each other. They said nothing, for they had learnt that it was better not to argue with Mary Poppins, no matter how odd anything seemed.
But the look that passed between them said: "Is it true or isn't it? About Mr. Wigg. Is Mary Poppins right or are we?"
But there was nobody to give them the right answer.
The Bus roared on, wildly lurching and bounding.
Mary Poppins sat between them, offended and silent, and presently, because they were very tired, they crept closer to her and leant up against her sides and fell asleep, still wondering….
CHAPTER 4
MISS LARK'S ANDREW
MISS LARK LIVED Next Door.
But before we go any further I must tell you what Next Door looked like. It was a very grand house, by far the grandest in Cherry-Tree Lane. Even Admiral Boom had been known to envy Miss Lark her wonderful house, though his own had ship's funnels instead of chimneys and a flagstaff in the front garden. Over and over again the inhabitants of the Lane heard him say, as he rolled past Miss Lark's mansion: "Blast my gizzard! What does she want with a house like that?"
And the reason of Admiral Boom's jealousy was that Miss Lark had two gates. One was for Miss Lark's friends and relations, and the other for the Butcher and the Baker and the Milkman.
Once the Baker made a mistake and came in through the gate reserved for the friends and relations, and Miss Lark was so angry that she said she wouldn't have any more bread ever.
But in the end she had to forgive the Baker because he was the only one in the neighbourhood who made those little flat rolls with the curly twists of crust on the top. She never really liked him very much after that, however, and when he came he pulled his hat far down over his eyes so that Miss Lark might think he was somebody else. But she never did.
Jane and Michael always knew when Miss Lark was in the garden or coming along the Lane, because she wore so many brooches and necklaces and earrings that she jingled and jangled just like a brass band. And, whenever she met them, she always said the same thing:
"Good-morning!" (or "Good-afternoon!" if it happened to be after luncheon), "and how are we today?"
And Jane and Michael were never quite sure whether Miss Lark was asking how they were, or how she and Andrew were.
So they just replied: "Good-afternoon!" (or, of course, "Good-morning!" if it was before luncheon).
All day long, no matter where the children were, they could hear Miss Lark calling, in a very loud voice, things like:
"Andrew, where are you?" or
"Andrew, you mustn't go out without your overcoat!" or
"Andrew, come to Mother!"
And, if you didn't know, you would think that Andrew must be a little boy. Indeed, Jane thought that Miss Lark thought that Andrew was a little boy. But Andrew wasn't. He was a dog — one of those small, silky, fluffy dogs that look like a fur necklet, until they begin to bark. But, of course, when they do that you know that they're dogs. No fur necklet ever made a noise like that.
Now, Andrew led such a luxurious life that you might have thought he was the Shah of Persia in disguise. He slept on a silk pillow in Miss Lark's room; he went by car to the Hairdresser's twice a week to be shampooed; he had cream for every meal and sometimes oysters, and he possessed four overcoats with checks and stripes in different colours. Andrew's ordinary days were filled with the kind of things most people have only on birthdays. And when Andrew himself had a birthday he had two candles on his cake for every year, instead of only one.
The effect of all this was to make Andrew very much disliked in the neighbourhood. People used to laugh heartily when they saw Andrew sitting up in the back seat of Miss Lark's car on the way to the Hairdresser's, with the fur rug over his knees and his best coat on. And on the day when Miss Lark bought him two pairs of small leather boots so that he could go out in the Park wet or fine, everybody in the Lane came down to their front gates to watch him go by and to smile secretly behind their hands.
"Pooh!" said Michael, as they were watching Andrew one day through the fence that separated Number Seventeen from Next Door. "Pooh, he's a ninkypoop!"
"How do you know?" asked Jane, very interested.
"I know because I heard Daddy call him one this morning!" said Michael, and he laughed at Andrew very rudely.
"He is not a nincompoop," said Mary Poppins. "And that is that."
And Mary Poppins was right. Andrew wasn't a nincompoop, as you will very soon see.
You must not think he did not respect Miss Lark. He did. He was even fond of her in a mild sort of way. He couldn't help having a kindly feeling for somebody who had been so good to him ever since he was a puppy, even if she did kiss him rather too often. But there was no doubt about it that the life Andrew led bored him to distraction. He would have given half his fortune, if he had one, for a nice piece of raw, red meat, instead of the usual breast of chicken or scrambled eggs with asparagus.