Could it be Ellen's shadow? Yes—and blowing a shadowy nose!
"Good evening!" murmured a passing shape. "If any evening's good!"
Its dreary voice and long face reminded Jane of the Fishmonger. And surely the jovial shadow beside it belonged to the Family Butcher! A shadowy knife was in his hand, a striped apron about his waist, and he led along an airy figure with horns upon its head.
"Michael!" said Jane in a loud whisper. "I think that's the Dancing Cow!"
But Michael was too absorbed to answer. He was chatting to a furry shape that was lazily trimming its whiskers.
"My other part," it said, miaowing, "is asleep on the mantelpiece. So, of course—this being Hallowe'en—I took the evening off!" It adjusted a shadowy wreath of flowers that was looped about its neck.
"The Cat that looked at the King!" exclaimed Jane. She put out a hand to stroke its head, but all she felt was the air.
"Well, don't let him come near me!" cried a voice. "I've quite enough troubles as it is, without having cats to deal with."
A plump, bird-like shape tripped past, nodding abstractedly at the children.
"Poor old Cock Robin—and his troubles!" The shadowy Cat gave a shadowy yawn. "He's never got over that funeral and all the fuss there was."
"Cock Robin? But he's a Nursery Rhyme. He doesn't exist!" said Jane.
"Doesn't exist? Then why am I here?" The phantom bird seemed quite annoyed. "You can have a substance without a shadow, but you can't have a shadow without a substance—anyone knows that! And what about them—don't they exist?"
It waved a dark transparent wing at a group of airy figures—a tall boy lifting a flute to his mouth, and a bulky shape, with a crown on its head, clasping a bowl and a pipe. Beside them stood three phantom fiddlers holding their bows aloft.
A peal of laughter burst from Michael. "That's the shadow of Old King Cole. It's exactly like the picture!"
"And Tom, the Piper's son, too!" Cock Robin glared at Jane. "If they're shadows, they must be shadows of something—deny it if you can!"
"Balloons and balloons, my deary ducks! No arguing tonight!" A cosy little feminine shape, with balloons bobbing about her bonnet, whizzed through the air above them.
"Have the goodness, please, to be more careful. You nearly went through my hat!"
A trumpeting voice that was somehow familiar sounded amid the laughter. The children peered through the weaving crowd. Could it be?—yes, it was—Miss Andrew! Or rather, Miss Andrew's shadow. The same beaked nose, the same small eyes, the grey veil over the felt hat and the coat of rabbit fur.
"I haven't come from the South Seas to have my head knocked off!"
Shaking its fist at the Balloon Woman, Miss Andrew's shadow protested loudly. "And who's that pulling my veil?" it cried, turning on two little dark shapes, who dashed away, screaming with terror.
Jane and Michael nudged each other. "Ours!" they whispered, giggling.
"Make way! Move on! The Prime Minister's comin'!" A shadow in a peaked cap waved the children aside.
"Oh, it's you, is it? Well, remember the Bye-laws! Don't get in anyone's way." The phantom face—moustache and all—was exactly like the Park Keeper's.
"I thought you'd have been too frightened to come. You said it was spooky!" Jane reminded him.
"Oh, I'm not frightened, Miss—it's 'im. My body, so to speak. A very nervous chap 'e is—afraid of 'is own shadow. Ha, ha! Excuse my little joke! Make room! Move on! Observe the rules!"
The Prime Minister's shadow floated by, bowing to right and left.
"Greeting, friends! What a wonderful night. Dear me!" He stared at Jane and Michael. "You're very thick and lumpish!"
"Hsssst!" The shadow of the Park Keeper muttered in his ear. "Invitation ... special occasion ... friends of ... whisper, whisper."
"Ah! If that's the case, you're very welcome. But do be careful where you tread. We don't like to be stepped on."
"One of them's stepping on me, I think!" A nervous voice seemed to come from the grass.
Michael carefully shifted his feet as the shadow of the Keeper of the Zoological Gardens came crawling past on all fours.
"Any luck?" cried the crowd excitedly.
"Hundreds!" came the happy reply. "Red Admirals. Blue Admirals. Spotted Bermudas. Pink Amazons. Chinese Yellows!"
He waved the shadow of his net. It was full of butterfly shadows.
"Well, I know one you haven't got—and that's an Admiral Boom!" A shadow in a cocked hat, with a spectral dachshund at its heels, elbowed its way through the throng. "Very rare specimen indeed. Largest butterfly in the world! All hail, my hearties!"
"Yo, ho, ho! And a bottle of rum!" The shadows yelled in reply.
The Admiral's shadow turned to the children.
"Welcome aboard!" it said, winking. '"Catch a leaf, a message brief—only an old wives' tale—hey? Ah, here she comes! Your servant, ma'am."
The cocked hat bowed to a broad shadow that was sailing through the see-saw. It was dressed in a shadowy swirl of skirts, and a swarm of little weightless shapes fluttered about its head.
"The Bird Woman!" whispered Jane to Michael.
"Who are you callin' an old wife? Feed the birds! Tuppence a bag!"
A cry of pleasure went up from the crowd as everyone greeted the new arrival. The children saw their own reflections running to kiss her cheeks, and as though—tonight—they were the shadows, they hurried after them.
The party was growing more and more lively. The whole Park was ringing with laughter. And above the voices, high and sweet, came the reedy note of the flute.
"Over the hills and far a way!" played Tom, the Piper's son.
And in Cherry Tree Lane the people lying in bed listened and huddled under the blankets.
"It's Hallowe'en!" each said to himself. "Of course I don't believe in ghosts—but listen to them shrieking!"
They would have been surprised, perhaps, had they dared to look out of the window.
Every second the crowd thickened. And it seemed to the children as they watched that everyone they had ever known had a shadow at the party. Was that Aunt Flossie's? They could not tell. She was there and gone again. And surely those were John's and Barbara's flitting among the leaves!
"Well, lovies?" murmured the Bird Woman's shadow, as it smiled at the four young faces—a girl with her airy shape beside her and a boy arm-in-arm with his double.
"Quack-quack!" said a voice at the same moment.
"Oh, Goosey Gander, wait for us!" And away went the airy children.
The Bird Woman's shadow gathered its skirts and made room on the bench for Jane and Michael.
"My!" she exclaimed, as her arms went round them. "You're solid and no mistake!"
"That's because we're real," said Jane.
"Bones and toe-nails and hair and blood," Michael kindly informed her.
"Ah!" The Bird Woman's shadow nodded. "I expect you 'ad a Special Ticket. It isn't everyone gets the chance. But you're not tellin' me—are you, lovies?—that shadders isn't real?"
"Well—they go through things. And they're made of nothing——" Jane tried to explain.
The Bird Woman shook her shadowy head.
"Nothin's made of nothin', lovey. And that's what they're for—to go through things. Through and out on the other side—it's the way they get to be wise. You take my word for it, my loves, when you know what your shadder knows—then you know a lot. Your shadder's the other part of you, the outside of your inside—if you understand what I mean."
"Don't explain! It's no use. They don't understand anything!"
The portly shadow of Cock Robin came tripping past the bench.
"They told me only a moment ago that Cock Robin never existed. Well, who was buried, I'd like to know! And why were the birds a-sighing and a-sobbing? Take care, Bo-peep! Do look where you're going. Those lambs of yours nearly knocked me over!"
A shadow carrying a crook was skimming through the crowd. And behind her a flock of curly
shapes gambolled on the lawn.
"But I thought Bo-peep had lost her sheep!" cried Michael in surprise.
"That's right!" The Bird Woman's shadow chuckled. "But 'er shadder always finds them."
"We've been looking for you everywhere!" a trio of voices grunted. Three furry shadows scattered the sheep and bore Bo-peep away.
"Oh!" exclaimed Jane. "They're the Three Bears. I hope they'll do nothing to hurt her."
"Hurt her? Bless you, why should they? A shadder never did anyone harm—at least, not as I know of. See! The four of 'em—dancin' together as friendly as can be!"
The Bird Woman's shadow surveyed the scene, beating time to the Piper's flute. Then suddenly the music changed and she started up with a cry. "'Ere they are at last, lovies! Get up on the bench and look!"
"Who are here?" demanded Michael. But even as he spoke, he knew.
The music of the concertina had changed to a stately march. The shadows were clearing a path in their midst. And down between the waving lines came a pair of familiar figures.
One of them was small and old, with elastic-sided boots on her feet and threepenny-bits on her coat.
And the other—oh, how well they knew it—was carrying a parrot-headed umbrella and wearing a tulip-trimmed hat.
Turn! Turn! Tee-um, turn, turn! the concertina boomed.
On they came, the two figures, graciously bowing to all spectators and followed by the bulky forms of Fannie and Annie Corry. Solid flesh and bone they were amid the transparent shapes, and the children saw that their four shadows were firmly attached to their heels.
A shout of rapture rose from the throng.
And the sleepers in Cherry Tree Lane shuddered and thrust their heads under their pillows.
"A Hallowe'en welcome, Mary Poppins! Three cheers for the Birthday Eve!"
"'Ip, 'Ip, 'Ooray!" yelled the Bird Woman's shadow.
"Whose birthday is it?" Jane enquired. She was standing on tip-toe on the bench, trembling with excitement.
"It's 'ers—Miss Mary Poppins'—tomorrer! 'Allowe'en falls on the day before, so of course we make a night of it. Feed the Birds! Tuppence a bag!" she shouted to Mary Poppins.
The rosy face beneath the tulip smiled at her in acknowledgment. Then it glanced up at the two children and the smile disappeared.
"Why aren't you wearing a dressing-gown, Michael? And, Jane, where are your slippers? A fine pair of scarecrows you are—to come to an evening party!"
"Aha! You were cleverer than I thought! Taking care of your shadows, I hope!" Mrs. Corry grinned.
But before the children had time to reply, the
The shadows were clearing a path in their midst
music changed from a solemn march to a reeling, romping dance.
"Choose your partners! Time's running out! We must all be back on the stroke of twelve!" The voice of the Policeman's shadow rose above the laughter.
"Pray give me the pleasure, dearest friend!" The shadow of the Father Bear bowed to Mrs. Corry.
"A-a-way, you rolling river!" The Admiral's shadow grasped Miss Andrew's and whirled it through a litter-basket.
The Fishmonger's shadow raised its hat to another that looked like Mrs. Brill; the shadow of the Mother Bear floated to Old King Cole. The Prime Minister's shadow and Aunt Flossie's jumped up and down in the fountain. And Cock Robin propelled a languid shape whose head hung down on its chest.
"Wake up, wake up, my good shadow! Who are you? Where do you live?"
The shadow gave a loud yawn and slumped against Cock Robin. "Mumble, mumble. Broom cupboard. Over across the Lane."
Jane and Michael glanced at each other.
"Robertson Ay!" they said.
Round and round went the swaying shapes, hand reaching out to hand. And the children's shadows were everywhere—darting after the Baby Bear or hugging the Dancing Cow.
"Really!" Mrs. Corry trilled. "I haven't had such an evening out since the days of Good Queen Bess!"
"How frivolous she is!" said her daughters, as they lumbered along together.
As for Mary Poppins, she was whirling like a spinning-top from one pair of arms to another. Now it would be the Admiral's shadow and next it would be Goosey Gander's turn. She danced a polka with Cock Robin's shadow and a waltz with the Park Keeper's. And when the transparent Butcher claimed her, they broke into a mad gallop, while her own shadow stuck to her shoes and capered after her.
Twining together and interlacing, the vaporous shapes went by. And Jane and Michael, watching the revels, began to feel quite giddy.
"I wonder why Mary Poppins' shadow isn't free—like the others? It's dancing beside her all the time. And so is Mrs. Corry's!" Jane turned with a frown to the Bird Woman's shadow.
"Ah, she's cunning—that Mrs. Corry! She's old and she's learnt a lot. Let 'er shadder escape—not she! Nor Fannies and Annie's either. And as for Mary Poppins' shadder——" A chuckle shook the broad shape. "It wouldn't leave 'er if you paid it—not for a thousand pound!"
"My turn!" cried the shadow of Old King Cole, as he plucked Mary Poppins from the Butcher's arms and bore her off in triumph.
"Mine, too! Mine, too!" cried a score of voices. "Haste, haste, no time to waste!"
Faster and faster, the music played as the fateful hour drew nearer. The merriment was at its peak—when suddenly, above the din, came a shrill cry of distress.
And there, at the edge of the group of dancers, stood a small white-clad figure. It was Mrs. Boom, in her dressing-gown, with a lighted candle in her hand, looking like an anxious hen as she gazed at the lively scene.
"Oh, please——" she pleaded. "Will somebody help me? The Admiral's in such a state. He's threatening to sink the ship because he's lost his shadow. Ah, there you are!" Her face brightened, as she spied the shape she sought. "He's ranting and roaring so dreadfully—won't you please come home?"
The Admiral's shadow heaved a sigh.
"I leave him for one night in the year—and he threatens to sink the ship! Now, that's a thing I'd never do. He's nothing but a spoiled child—no sense of responsibility. But I cannot disoblige you, ma'am——"
He waved his hand to his fellow-shadows and lightly blew a kiss each to Mary Poppins and Mrs. Corry.
"Farewell and Adieu to you, sweet Spanish ladies!" he sang as he turned away.
"So kind of you!" chirped Mrs. Boom, as she tripped beside him with her candle. "Who's that?" she called, as they came to the Gate. "Surely it can't be you, Miss Lark?"
A night-gowned figure was rushing through it, wrapped in a tartan shawl. And beside her, two excited dogs snatched at the trailing fringes.
"It can! It is!" Miss Lark replied, as she dashed across the lawn. "Oh, dear!" she moaned, as she came to the swings. "I dreamed that my shadow had run away—and when I woke up it was true. Alas, alas, what shall I do? I can't get along without it!"
She turned her tearful eyes to the dancers and her eyebrows went up with a jerk.
"Goodgraciousme, Lucinda Emily! What are you doing here? Dancing? With strangers? In the Park? I wouldn't have thought it of you."
"Friends—not strangers!" a voice replied, as a shadow decked in scarves and beads fluttered out of the crowd. "I'm gayer than you think, Lucinda. And so are you, if you but knew it. Why are you always fussing and fretting instead of enjoying yourself? If you stood on your head occasionally, I'd never run away!"
"Well——" Miss Lark said doubtfully. It seemed such a strange idea.
"Come home and let us try it together!" Her shadow took her by the hand.
"I will, I will!" Miss Lark declared. And her two dogs looked at each other in horror at the thought of such a thing. "We'll practise on the drawing-room hearthrug. Professor! What are you doing out at night? Think of your rheumatism!"
The Lane Gate opened with a creak and the Professor ambled over the grass with his hand clasped to his brow.
"Alack!" he cried. "I've lost something. But I can't remember what it is."
"L-look for L-lost P
-property in the 1-litter-b-basket!" a trembling voice advised him. The Park Keeper, dodging from bush to bush, was edging towards the dancers.
"I 'ad to come." His teeth chattered. "I must do my duty to the Park no matter what goes on!"
From behind the big magnolia tree he stared at the rollicking scene.
"Golly!" he muttered, reeling backwards. "It's enough to give you the shivers! Ow! Look out! There's one of 'em comin'!"
A shadow broke away from the rest and floated towards the Professor.
"Lost something, I heard you say. And can't think what it is? Now, that's a strange coincidence—I'm in the same plight!"
It peered short-sightedly at the Professor and a sudden smile of recognition spread across its face.
"My dear fellow—can it be? It is. We've lost each other!"
A pair of long, transparent arms enfolded the tweed jacket. The Professor gave a crow of delight.
"Lost and found!" He embraced his shadow. "How beautiful are those two words when one hears them both together! Oh, never let us part again! You will remember what I forget——"
"And vice versa!" his shadow cried. And the two old men wandered off with their arms round each other.
"But I tell you it's against the Rules!" The Park Keeper pulled himself together. "'Allowe'en ought to be forbidden. Get along off, you ghosts and shadows! No dancin' allowed in the Park!"
"You should talk!" jeered Mary Poppins, as she capered past with the Cat. She nodded her head towards the swings and the Park Keeper's face grew red with shame.
For there he beheld his own shadow dancing a Highland Fling!
Tee-um, turn. Tee-um, turn.
Tee-um, tee-um, tee-um.
"Stop! Whoa there! Have done!" he shouted. "You come along with me this minute. I'm ashamed of you—breakin' the rules like this. Lumme, what's 'appenin' to me legs?"
For his feet, as though they lived a life of their own, had begun to hop and skip. Off they went—tee-um, tee-um! And by the time he had reached his shadow he, too, was doing the Highland Fling.
"Now, you keep still!" he warned it sternly, as they both slowed down together. "Be'ave yourself like a 'uman bein'!"