Bad Tuesday

           ItwasnotverylongafterwardsthatMichaelwokeuponemorningwithacuriousfeelinginsidehim.Heknew,themomentheopenedhiseyes,thatsomethingwaswrongbuthewasnotquitesurewhatitwas.

           "Whatistoday,MaryPoppins?"heenquired,pushingthebedclothesawayfromhim.

           "Tuesday,"saidMaryPoppins."Goandturnonyourbath.Hurry!"shesaid,ashemadenoefforttomove.Heturnedoverandpulledthebedclothesupoverhisheadandthecuriousfeelingincreased.

           "WhatdidIsay?"saidMaryPoppinsinthatcold,clearvoicethatwasalwaysaWarning.

           Michaelknewnowwhatwashappeningtohim.Heknewhewasgoingtobenaughty.

           "Iwon’t,"hesaidslowly,hisvoicemuffledbytheblanket.

           MaryPoppinstwitchedtheclothesfromhishandandlookeddownuponhim.

           "IWON’T."

           Hewaited,wonderingwhatshewoulddoandwassurprisedwhen,withoutaword,shewentintothebathroomandturnedonthetapherself.Hetookhistowelandwentslowlyinasshecameout.AndforthefirsttimeinhislifeMichaelentirelybathedhimself.Heknewbythisthathewasindisgrace,andhepurposelyneglectedtowashbehindhisears.

           "ShallIletoutthewater?"heenquiredintherudestvoicehehad.

           Therewasnoreply.

           "Pooh,Idon’tcare!"saidMichael,andthehotheavyweightthatwaswithinhimswelledandgrewlarger."Idon’tcare!"

           Hedressedhimselfthen,puttingonhisbestclothes,thatheknewwereonlyforSunday.Andafterthathewentdownstairs,kickingthebanisterswithhisfeet—athingheknewheshouldnotdoasitwakedupeverybodyelseinthehouse.