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. "It's 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."
"It's not his fault, Daddy!" cried Jane, from the stairs. "He couldn't see because of the fog. Besides, he's not strong."
"He's strong enough to make my life a misery!" said Mr. Banks angrily.
"He needs rest, Daddy!" Michael reminded him, hurrying down after Jane.
"He'll get it!" promised Mr. Banks, as he snatched up his bag. "When I think of the things I could have done if I hadn't gone and got married! Lived alone in a Cave, perhaps. Or I might have gone Round the World."
"And what would we have done, then?" asked Michael.
"You would have had to fend for yourselves. And serve you right! Where's my overcoat?"
"You have it on, George," said Mrs. Banks, meekly.
"Yes!" he retorted. "And only one button! But anything's good enough for me! I'm only the man who Pays the Bills. I shall not be home for dinner."
A wail of protest went up from the children.
"But it's Guy Fawkes' Day," wheedled Mrs. Banks. "And you so good at letting off rockets."
"No rockets for me!" cried Mr. Banks. "Nothing but trouble from morning till night!" He shook Mrs. Banks' hand from his arm and dashed out of the house.
"Shake, sir!" said the Sweep in a friendly voice as Mr. Banks knocked into him, "It's lucky, you know, to shake hands with a Sweep."
"Away, away!" said Mr. Banks wildly. "This is not my lucky day!"
The Sweep looked after him for a moment. Then he smiled to himself and rang the door-bell.
"He doesn't mean it, does he, Mother? He will come home for the fireworks!" Jane and Michael rushed at Mrs. Banks and tugged at her skirt.
"Oh, I can't promise anything, children!" she sighed, as she looked at her face in the front hall mirror.
And she thought to herself Yes, I'm getting thinner. One of my dimples has gone already and soon I shall lose the second. No one will look at me any more. And it's all her fault!
By her, Mrs. Banks meant Mary Poppins, who had been the children's nurse. As long as Mary Poppins was in the house, everything had gone smoothly. But since that day when she had left them so suddenly and without a Word of Warning the family had gone from Bad to Worse.
Here am I, thought Mrs. Banks miserably, with five wild children and no one to help me. I've advertised. I've asked my friends. But nothing seems to happen. And George is getting crosser and crosser; and Annabel's teething; and Jane and Michael and the Twins are so naughty, not to mention that awful Income Tax
She watched a tear run over the spot where the dimple had once been.
"It's no good," she said, with sudden decision. "I shall have to send for Miss Andrew."
A cry went up from all four children. Away in the Nursery, Annabel screamed. For Miss Andrew had once been their Father's governess and they knew how frightful she was.
"I won't speak to her!" shouted Jane, in a rage.
"I'll spit on her shoes if she comes!" threatened Michael.
"No, no!" wailed John and Barbara miserably.
Mrs. Banks clapped her hands to her ears. "Children, have mercy!" she cried in despair.
"Beg pardon, ma'am," said Ellen the housemaid, as she tapped Mrs. Banks on the shoulder. "The Sweep is 'ere for the Drawing-room Chimbley. But I warn you, ma'am, it's my Day Out! And I can't clean up after 'im. So there!" She blew her nose with a trumpeting sound.
"Excuse me!" said the Sweep cheerfully, as he dragged in his bags and brushes.
"'Oo's that?" came the voice of Mrs. Brill as she hurried up from the kitchen. "The Sweep? On Baking Day? No, you don't! I'm sorry to give you notice, ma'am. But if that Hottentot goes into the chimney, I shall go out of the door."
Mrs. Banks glanced round desperately.
"I didn't ask him to come!" she declared. "I don't even know if the chimney wants sweeping!"
"A chimbley's always glad of a brush." The Sweep stepped calmly into the Drawing-room and began to spread out his sheet.
Mrs. Banks looked nervously at Mrs. Brill. "Perhaps Robertson Ay could help" she began.
"Robertson is asleep in the pantry, wrapped in your best lace shawl. And nothing will wake him," said Mrs. Brill, "but the sound of the Last TYombone. So, if you please, I'll be packing my bag. 'Ow! Let me go, you Hindoo!"
For the Sweep had seized Mrs. Brill's hand and was shaking it vigorously. A reluctant smile spread over her face.
"Well just this once!" she remarked cheerfully. And she went down the kitchen stairs.
The Sweep turned to Ellen with a grin.
"Don't touch me, you black heathen!" she screamed in a terrified voice. But he took her hand in a firm grip and she, too, began to smile. "Well, no messing up the carpet!" she warned him, and hurried off to her work.