The Fifth of November It was one of those bleak and chilly mornings that remind you winter is coming. Cherry-Tree Lane was quiet and still. The mist hung over the Park like a shadow. All the houses looked exactly alike as the grey fog wrapped them round. Admiral Booms flagstaff, with the telescope at the top of it, had entirely disappeared. The Milkman, as he turned into the Lane, could hardly see his way. Milk Be-l-o-o-ow! he called, outside the Admirals door. And his voice sounded so queer and hollow that it gave him quite a fright. Ill go ome till the fog lifts, he said to himself. Ere! Look where you're goin! he went on, as a shape loomed suddenly out of the mist and bumped against his shoulder. Bumble, bumble, bum-bur-um-bumble, said a gentle, muffled voice. Oh, its you! said the Milkman, with a sigh of relief. Bumble, remarked the Sweep again. He was holding his brushes in front of his face to keep his mustache dry. Out early, aren't you? the Milkman said. The Sweep gave a jerk of his black thumb towards Miss Larks house. Had to do the chimney before the dogs had breakfast. In case the soot gave them a cough, he explained. The Milkman laughed rudely. For that was what everybody did when Miss Larks two dogs were mentioned. The mist went wreathing through the air. There was not a sound in the Lane. Ugh! said the Milkman, shivering. This quiet gives me the Orrors! And as he said that, the Lane woke up. A sudden roar came from one of the houses and the sound of stamping feet. That's Number Seventeen! said the Sweep. Excuse me, old chap. I think I'm needed. He cautiously felt his way to the gate and went up the garden path. . . . Inside the house, Mr. Banks was marching up and down, kicking the hall furniture. Ive had about all I can stand! he shouted, waving his arms wildly. You keep on saying that, Mrs. Banks cried. But you wont tell me whats the matter. She looked at Mr. Banks anxiously. Everything's the matter! he roared. Look at this! He waggled his right foot at her. And this! he went on, as he waggled his left. Mrs. Banks peered closely at the feet. She was rather short-sighted and the hall was misty. I er don't see anything wrong, she began timidly. Of course you don't! he said, sarcastically. Its only imagination, of course, that makes me think Robertson Ay has given me one black shoe and one brown! And again he waggled his feet. Oh! said Mrs. Banks hurriedly. For now she saw clearly what the trouble was. You may well say Oh! So will Robertson Ay when I give him the sack tonight. Its not his fault, Daddy! cried Jane, from the stairs. He couldn't see because of the fog. Besides, hes not strong. Hes strong enough to make my life a misery! said Mr. Banks angrily. He needs rest, Daddy! Michael reminded him, hurrying down after Jane. Hell get it! promised Mr. Banks, as he snatched up his bag. When I think of the thing Excerpted from Mary Poppins Opens the Door by Pamela L. Travers, P. L. Travers All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
