"Shake!" said the Sweep, as he turned to the children. "It's sure to bring you luck!" He left a black mark on each of their palms and they all felt suddenly better.
Then he put out his hand to Mrs. Banks. And as she took his warm black fingers her courage came flowing back.
"We must make the best of things, darlings," she said. "I shall advertise for another nurse. And perhaps something good will happen."
Jane and Michael sighed with relief. At least she was not going to send for Miss Andrew.
"What do you do when yon need luck?" asked Jane, as she followed the Sweep to the Drawing-room.
"Oh, I just shake 'ands with meself," he said, cheerfully, pushing his brush up the chimney.
All day long the children watched him and argued over who should hand him the brushes. Now and again Mrs. Banks came in, to complain of the noise and hurry the Sweep.
And all day long, beyond the windows, the mist crept through the Lane. Every sound was muffled. The birds were gone. Except for an old and moulting Starling who kept on peering through the cracks in the blinds as if he were looking for someone.
At last the Sweep crept out of the chimney and smiled at his handiwork.
"So kind of you!" said Mrs. Banks hurriedly. "Now, I'm sure you must want to pack up and go home"
"I'm in no 'Urry," remarked the Sweep. "Me Tea isn't ready till six o'clock and I've got an hour to fill in"
"Well, you can't fill it in here!" Mrs. Banks shrieked. "I have to tidy up this room before my husband comes home!"
"I tell you what" the Sweep said calmly. "If you've got a rocket or two about you, I could take them children into the Park and show 'em a few fireworks. It'd give you a rest and meself a TVeat. I've always been very partial to rockets, ever since a boyand before!"
A yell of delight went up from the children. Michael ran to a window and lifted the blind.
"Oh, look what's happened!" he cried in triumph.
For a change had come to Cherry-Tree Lane. The chill grey mist had cleared away. The houses were lit with warm soft lights. And away in the West shone a glimmer of sunset, rosy and clear and bright.
"Remember your coats!" cried Mrs. Banks, as the children darted away. Then she ran to the cupboard under the staircase and brought out a nobbly parcel.
"Here you are!" she said breathlessly to the Sweep. "And, mind, be careful of sparks!"
"Sparks?" said the Sweep. "Why, sparks is my 'Obby. Them and the soot wot comes after!"
The children leapt like puppies about him as he went down the garden path. Mrs. Banks sat down for two minutes' rest on one of the sheet-covered chairs. The Starling looked in at her for a moment. Then he shook his head disappointedly and flew away again.
Daylight was fading as they crossed the road. By the Park railings Bert, the Matchman, was spreading out his tray. He lit a candle with one of his matches and began to draw pictures on the pavement. He nodded gaily to the children as they hurried through the Gates.
"Now, all we need," the Sweep said fussily, "is a clear patch of grass"
"Which you won't get!" said a voice behind them. "The Park is closed at 5:30."
Out from the shadows came the Park Keeper, looking very belligerent.
"But it's Guy Fawkes' Day the Fifth of November!" the children answered quickly.
"Orders is orders!" he retorted, "and all days are alike to me."
"Well, where can we let off the fireworks?" Michael demanded impatiently.
A greedy look leapt to the Keeper's eyes.
"You got some fireworks?" he said hungrily. "Well, why not say so before!" And he snatched the parcel from the Sweep and began to untie the string. "Matches that's what we need!" he went on, panting with excitement.
"Here," said the Matchman's quiet voice. He had followed the children into the Park and was standing behind them with his lighted candle.
The Park Keeper opened a bundle of Squibs.
The Park Keeper opened a bundle of Squibs.
"They're ours, you know!" Michael reminded him.
"Ah, let me help you do!" said the Keeper. "I've never 'ad fun on Guy Fawkes' Day never since I was a boy!"
And without waiting for permission, he lit the Squibs at the Matchman's candle. The hissing streams of fire poured out, and pop, pop, pop, went the crackers. The Park Keeper seized a Catherine Wheel and stuck it on a branch. The rings of light began to turn and sparkled on the air. And after that he was so excited that nothing could stop him. He went on lighting fuse after fuse as though he had gone mad.
Flower Pots streamed from the dewy grass and Golden Rain flowed down through the darkness. Top Hats burned for a bright short moment; Balloons went floating up to the branches; and Firesnakes writhed in the shadows. The children jumped and squeaked and shouted. The Park Keeper ran about among them like a large frenzied dog. And amid the noise and the sparkling lights the Matchman waited quietly. The flame of his candle never wavered as they lit their fuses from it.
"Now!" cried the Keeper, who was hoarse with shouting. "Now we come to the rockets!"
All the other fireworks had gone. Nothing remained in the nobbly parcel except three long black sticks.