Мэри Поппинс
Mrs. Corry
Theyseemedfrightenedandillatease,andsomehowJaneandMichaelrealisedthatthetwohugesisterswerewishingthattheyweremuchsmallerandlessconspicuous.
"What’sallthisIhear?"criedthecurioushighlittlevoice,comingnearer.Andpresently,roundthecorneroftheglasscasetheownerofitappeared.Shewasassmallashervoiceandascrackly,andtothechildrensheseemedtobeolderthananythingintheworld,withherwispyhairandhersticklikelegsandherwizened,wrinkledlittleface.Butinspiteofthissherantowardsthemaslightlyandasgailyasthoughshewerestillayounggirl.
"Now,now,now—well,Idodeclare!Blessmeifitisn’tMaryPoppins,withJohnandBarbaraBanks.What—JaneandMichael,too?Well,isn’tthisanicesurpriseforme?IassureyouIhaven’tbeensosurprisedsinceChristopherColumbusdiscoveredAmerica—trulyIhaven’t!"
Shesmileddelightedlyasshecametogreetthem,andherfeetmadelittledancingmovementsinsidethetinyelastic-sidedboots.Sherantotheperambulatorandrockeditgently,crookingherthin,twisted,oldfingersatJohnandBarbarauntiltheystoppedcryingandbegantolaugh.
"That’sbetter!"shesaid,cacklinggaily.Thenshedidaveryoddthing.ShebrokeofftwoofherfingersandgaveoneeachtoJohnandBarbara.Andtheoddestpartofitwasthatinthespaceleftbythebroken-offfingerstwonewonesgrewatonce.JaneandMichaelclearlysawithappen.
"OnlyBarley-Sugar—can’tpossiblyhurt’em,"theoldladysaidtoMaryPoppins.
"Anythingyougivethem,Mrs.
