'Because you're the eldest!'
There it was again! That hateful word. She kicked the leg of her chair under the table, hoping she was scratching off the varnish, and ate her porridge as slowly as she dared. She turned it round and round in her mouth swallowing as little as possible. It would serve everybody right if she starved to death. Then they'd be sorry!
'What is to-day?' enquired Michael cheerfully, scraping up the last of his Puffed Rice.
'Wednesday,' said Mary Poppins. 'Leave the pattern on the plate, please!'
'Then it's to-day we're going to tea with Miss Lark!'
'
But Michael was in a cheerful mood and took no notice.
'Wednesday!' he shouted, banging his spoon on the table. 'That's the day Jane was born. Wednesday's child is full of woe. That's why she has to have porridge instead of rice,' he said naughtily.
Jane frowned and kicked at him under the table. But he swung his legs aside and laughed.
'Monday's child is fair of face, Tuesday's child is full of grace!' He chanted. 'That's true, too. The Twins are full of grace and they were born on a Tuesday. And I'm Monday — fair of face.'
Jane laughed scornfully.
'I am,' he insisted. 'I heard Mrs. Brill say so. She told Ellen I was as handsome as half-a-crown.'
'Well, that's not very handsome,' said Jane. 'Besides, your nose turns up.'
Michael looked at her reproachfully. And again Jane felt surprised at herself. At any other time she would have agreed with him, for she thought Michael a very good-looking little boy. But now she said cruelly,
'Yes, and your toes turn in. Bandy-legs! Bandy-legs!'
Michael rushed at her.
'That will be enough from you!' said Mary Poppins, looking angrily at Jane. 'And if any body in this house is a beauty it's—' She paused and glanced with a satisfied smile at her own reflection in the mirror.
'Who?' demanded Michael and Jane together.
'Nobody of the name of Banks!' retorted Mary Poppins. 'So there!'
Michael looked across at Jane as he always did when Mary Poppins made one of her curious remarks. But though she felt his look she pretended not to notice. She turned away and took her paint-box from the toy- cupboard.
'Won't you play trains?' asked Michael, trying to be friendly.
'No, I won't. I want to be by myself.'
'Well, darlings, and how are you all this morning?'
Mrs. Banks came running into the room and kissed them hurriedly. She was always so busy that she never had time to walk.
'Michael,' she said, 'you must have some new slippers — your toes are coming out at the top. Mary Poppins, John's curls will
There they were again, breaking into her day! As soon as she began to do anything they made her stop and do something else.
'Oh, Mother, must I? Why can't Michael?'
Mrs. Banks looked surprised.
'But I thought you liked helping! And Michael always forgets the message. Besides, you're the eldest. Run along.'
She went downstairs as slowly as she could. She hoped she would be so late with the message that Mrs. Brill would have already iced the cake.
And all the time she felt astonished at the way she was behaving. It was as if there was another person inside her — somebody with a very bad temper and an ugly face — who was making her feel cross.
She gave the message to Mrs. Brill and was disappointed to find that she was in plenty of time.
'Well, that'll save a penn'orth of trouble anyway.' Mrs. Brill remarked.
'And, Dearie,' she went on, 'you might just slip out into the garden and tell that Robertson he hasn't done the knives. My legs are bad and they're my only pair.'
'I can't. I'm busy.'
It was Mrs. Brill's turn to look surprised.
'Ah, be a kind girl, then — it's all I can do to stand, let alone walk!'
Jane sighed. Why couldn't they leave her alone? She kicked the kitchen door shut and dawdled out into the garden.
Robertson Ay was asleep on the path with his head on the watering-can. His lank hair rose and fell as he snored. It was Robertson Ay's special gift that he could sleep anywhere and at any time. In fact, he preferred sleeping to waking. And, usually, whenever they could, Jane and Michael prevented him from being found out. But to-day was different. The bad-tempered person inside her didn't care a bit what happened to Robertson Ay.
'I hate everybody!' she said, and rapped sharply on the watering-can.
Robertson Ay sat up with a start.
'Help! Murder! Fire!' he cried, waving his arms wildly.
Then he rubbed his eyes and saw Jane.
'Oh, it's only you!' he said, in a disappointed voice as if he had hoped for something more exciting.
'You're to go and do the knives at once,' she ordered.
Robertson Ay got slowly to his feet and shook himself.
'Ah,' he said sadly, 'it's always something. If it's not one thing, it's another. I ought to be resting. I never get a moment's peace.'
'Yes, you do!' said Jane cruelly. 'You get nothing but peace. You're always asleep.'
A hurt, reproachful look came over Robertson Ay's face, and at any other time it would have made her feel ashamed. But to-day she wasn't a bit sorry.
'Saying such things!' said Robertson Ay sadly. 'And you the eldest and all. I wouldn't have thought it — not if I'd done nothing but think for the rest of my life.'
And he gave her a sorrowful glance and shuffled slowly away to the kitchen.
She wondered if he would ever forgive her. And, as if in reply, the sulky creature inside her said, 'I don't care if he doesn't!'
She tossed her head and went slowly back to the Nursery dragging her sticky hands along the fresh white wall because she had always been told not to.
Mary Poppins was flicking her feather duster round the furniture.
'Off to a funeral?' she enquired as Jane appeared.
Jane looked sulky and did not answer.
'I know somebody who's looking for Trouble. And he that seeks shall find!'
'I don't care!'
'Don't Care was made care! Don't Care was hung!' jeered Mary Poppins, putting the duster away.
'And now—' she looked warningly at Jane. 'I am going to have my dinner. You are to look after the little ones and if I hear One Word—' She did not finish the sentence but she gave a long threatening sniff as she went out of the room.
John and Barbara ran to Jane and caught her hands. But she uncurled their fingers and crossly pushed them away.
'I wish I were an only child,' she said bitterly.
'Why don't you run away,' suggested Michael. 'Somebody might adopt you.'
Jane looked up, startled and surprised.
'But you'd miss me!'
'No, I wouldn't,' he said stoutly. 'Not if you're always going to be cross. Besides, then I could have your paint-box.'
'No, you couldn't,' she said jealously. 'I'd take it with me.'
And, just to show him that the paint-box was hers and not his, she got out the brushes and the painting-book and spread them on the floor.