Chapter 13 Chapter 12 West Wind

This is the first day of spring. Jane and Michael knew it right away, because they heard Papa singing in the bath, which was the only day of the year he did it.They always remembered this morning.First, it was the first time they had come downstairs for breakfast; second, Dad had lost his black leather bag.So the day began with two rare events. "Where's my purse?" Dad yelled, circling the hall. The others followed suit--Ellen, Mrs. Brill, and the children.Even Robertson Ai worked very hard and turned twice.Finally Dad found the bag in his study and ran into the hall with it in his hand. "I say," he said in a preaching voice, "that my purse has always been in one place. It's here on the umbrella stand. Who put it in the study?" He growled. "It's you, honey, you took the income tax form out of your purse last night," said Mom.Papa gave her a sad look, which made her wish to be tactful and say that she put it in the study herself. "Ooh!" he said, blowing his nose vigorously, took his coat from the hook, and went to the front door.

"Haha," he said rather cheerfully, "the tulips are in bud!" He went into the garden and smelled the air. "Well, I think it's a westerly wind." He looked over there at Admiral Boom's house, where the weathervane of the telescope was spinning. "I think well," said he. "It's a westerly wind. It's a fine day. I needn't take my overcoat." And he picked up his leather bag and brass hat, and hurried off to work. "Did you hear Dad?" Michael grabbed Jane's arm. Jane nodded. "The wind is blowing from the west," she said slowly.

The two of them didn't say anything more, but they both had something to do. But they soon forgot about it, for everything was the same, and the spring sun lit up the house so beautifully that no one thought it needed painting and new paper.On the contrary, they all agreed that it was the nicest house in Cherry Lane.But after lunch, the troubles started. Jane went down to the garden to dig with Robertson Eyre.She had just planted a row of carrot seeds when she heard a commotion in the nursery upstairs, followed by footsteps hurrying downstairs.Michael appeared in a blink of an eye, flushed and panting loudly. "Look, sister, look!" he cried, holding out his hand.Aunt Mary's compass in his hand, the pointer on the dial was spinning wildly as his hand trembled. "Compass?" Jane said, looking at him puzzled.

Michael burst into tears suddenly. "She gave me this," he cried, "and she says it's mine now. Oh, something must be wrong! What is it going to be? She never gave me anything before." "Maybe it's just kindness .” Jane comforted him, but her heart was as chaotic as Michael’s.She knew very well that Aunt Mary wasted no time in being kind.Besides, it was strange that Aunt Mary hadn't said a single angry word that afternoon.To tell the truth, she rarely said a word.She seemed to be immersed in her own thoughts, and if she asked her anything, she always answered in a voice that sounded far away.At last Michael could bear it no longer. "Oh, lose your temper, Aunt Mary! Lose your temper again! It's not like you. Oh, I'm dying." Indeed, as if something was going to happen at No. 17, Cherry Tree Lane—he couldn't say what— —his heart sank. "Trouble, trouble, trouble yourself!" Aunt Mary retorted angrily, in her usual voice.Michael immediately felt better.

"Maybe it's just a feeling," he said to Jane, "maybe it's all right, I'm just imagining... don't you think so, Jane?" "Perhaps it is," said Jane slowly.But as she was thinking desperately, her heart tightened. Towards evening, the wind picked up, blowing the house in bursts.It whistled up the chimney, into the chinks under the windows, and lifted the edge of the rug in the corner of the nursery.Aunt Mary gave them supper and cleaned up and folded them neatly.Then she cleaned the nursery and put the teapot on the hob. "Okay!" She said, looking around the room to see if everything was arranged.She was silent for a while.Then she placed one hand lightly on Michael's head and the other on Jane's shoulder. "Now," she said, "I'll take my shoes down for Robertson A. to clean them. Please wait till I come back." She went out, closing the door softly.As soon as she was gone, the two of them suddenly felt compelled to run out and follow her, but something seemed to stop them.They stayed quietly, leaning their elbows on the table to wait for her return, saying nothing, trying to reassure each other. "What fools we are," Jane said at last, "everything is all right." But she knew that she said it more to console Michael than to believe it to be true.The clock on the mantelpiece was ticking loudly.The fire flickered, crackled, and slowly died out.They still sat at the table and waited.Finally Michael said worriedly: "She's been away for a long time, hasn't she?"

The wind whistled around the house as if in answer to his words.The clock continued to tick monotonously. The front door slammed shut suddenly, breaking the silence. "Michael!" Jane said in surprise. "Sister!" Michael replied, his face turning blue with anxiety. They listen.Then they hurried to the window and looked out. Below, just at the door, stood Aunt Mary, in her coat and hat, with her blanket bag in one hand and her umbrella in the other.The wind blew around her, ruffling her skirts and knocking her hat violently aside.But Jane and Michael felt that she didn't care at all, because she smiled and seemed to have a tacit understanding with the trend.She paused for a moment on the steps, looking back at the front door.Then she opened the umbrella (though it wasn't raining) in a jiffy and propped it on top of her head.The wind howled and lifted the umbrella from below and pushed it up, as if trying to blow it away from Aunt Mary's hand.But she held on to the umbrella tightly, the wind obviously wanted her to sit like this, every time the umbrella blew up a little bit every time Aunt Mary's feet were off the ground.It carried her gently, her toes just brushing the garden path.Then the wind blew her out of the yard gate, and lifted her up, into the tops of the beautiful cherry trees in the alley. "She's gone, Jane, she's gone!" Michael cried.

"Quick!" cried Jane. "Let's get the twins here. They must have one last look at her." She had no doubts, and neither had Michael, that Aunt Mary was gone because the wind had changed.Each of them picked up one of the twins and rushed to the window. Aunt Mary was mid-air by now, flying over the cherry trees and over the roofs, her umbrella clutched in one hand and her blanket bag in the other.The twins began to cry softly. Jane and Michael opened the window with their free hand in a last attempt to keep Aunt Mary. "Aunt Mary!" they cried, "Aunt Mary, come back!"

But she either didn't hear it or ignored it.She flew on and on, through the clouds, and finally over the hills, and the children could see nothing but the trees bending and whining in the fierce westerly wind..." She kept her word. She stayed until the wind changed " Jane sighed as she spoke, and turned back from the window sadly.She put John back in the crib.Michael said nothing, but sniffed uncomfortably as he put Barbara back in the crib. "I don't know if I'll ever see her again," said Jane. Suddenly they heard a cry on the stairs. "Kids, kids!" cried Mom, opening the door, "Kids... I'm so mad. Aunt Mary's gone..." They shook their heads, and then Mom said, "It's unbearable. This minute Still, she left in the next minute. She didn't say hello. Just said 'I'm leaving' and she left. What could be more absurd, more casual, less polite... what the hell , Michael?" She paused unhappily as Michael grabbed her skirt and shook her. "What's up, kid?" "She said she'd come back?" he yelled, nearly pushing his mother down. "Tell me... did she say so?" "Don't you be like a little Indian Human, Michael," she said, letting go of his hand.

"I don't remember what she said, just that she said she was leaving. If she wanted to come back, I would never want her to come back. I was helpless, no one to help, no first say hello." "Oh, mother!" Jane said reproachfully. "You're cruel," Michael said, clenching his fists, as if ready to fight at any moment. "Children! I'm so ashamed of you! Really! You want your mother back after being treated so badly. I'm astonished." Jane wailed. "I want Aunt Mary in the world!" Michael burst into tears and fell to the ground. "Seriously, boys, seriously! I don't understand you. Be good, I beg you. There's no one to take care of you tonight. I've got to go out to dinner, and Ellen's off again. I ask Brill Ma'am, come up." She said, kissing them anxiously, and when she went out, there was a thin line of wrinkles on her forehead... "Oh, I really can't do such a thing! She just left, leaving Don't mind you poor babes," said Mrs. Brill, when she came to attend to them a moment later. "That girl must have a heart of stone, that's for sure, or I wouldn't be called Clara Brill. And she never gave anyone anything of hers, not even a lace handkerchief or a hatpin, to be missed." She. Please get up, Michael!" gasped Mrs. Brill. "Her look, her manner, I don't know how we bear it. You have so many buttons, Jane! Stand up, and let me undress you, and it may be even worse when she's gone. Well. Jane, where's your pajamas... Well, what's under your pillow?..." Mrs. Brill produced a dainty little bag.

"What's that? Give me...give it to me." Jane said, trembling with excitement, and quickly took the packet from Mrs. Brill.Michael came and stood beside her, watching her untie the string and open the brown paper.Mrs. Brill went over to the twins without waiting to see what was in the bag.When the last piece of wrapping paper fell to the ground, the contents of the bag were in Jane's hands. "It's her portrait." She said softly, and moved the painting to her eyes. It's her picture! In a small wavy frame was a portrait of Aunt Mary, with a line below it saying: "Mary Poppins. Painted by Burt." "It was drawn by the matchman...," said Michael. , take it over and look carefully.

Jane suddenly found a letter under the painting.She opened the letter carefully.The letter read: "Dear Jane: Michael has a compass and this painting is for you. Aurevoir Mary Poppins" She read the letter aloud, and did not understand the last word. "Mrs. Brill!" she cried. "What does 'Aurevoir' mean?" "Aurevoir, dear?" Mrs. Brill called from the next room. "Isn't it ... let me see, I'm not very good at this foreign language ... is it 'God bless'? No, no, I'm mistaken. Dear Jane, I think it's 'Goodbye' '." Jane and Michael looked at each other.Their eyes gleamed with joy and understanding.They knew what Miss Mary meant.Michael breathed a long sigh of relief. "Very well," he said uncertainly, "she always keeps her word." He turned away. "Michael, are you crying?" Jane asked him. He shook his head, trying to smile at her. "No, I didn't cry," he said, "it's just my eyes..." She pushed him gently to his bed, and when he was in bed she put the portrait of Miss Mary into his hand--put it down before she regretted it. "Take it tonight, my good brother." Jane whispered, tucking him in the quilt like Aunt Mary always did...