So this is my first attempt at writing a cocky accent, so it's most likely to be terrible. But I'm rewriting and updating my stories.
I don't own Mary Poppins.
One Who's Never Cross
John had discovered how hard it was to be living without his beloved Sarah. Not just with missing his late wife, but also, it was hard with a five-year-old and a full-time job. Not that John was unthankful for his job, but who was to watch little Mary while he was at work? It was nearly impossible.
So John found a babysitter. Her name was Mrs. Alfred. She was a petite young woman with dark curls and artic blue eyes. She had four daughters who were all older than her and a son, who was Mary's age. John hoped that they would get along. But knowing Mary it might never happen.
On the first day, John dressed Mary in a pale yellow dress with white ribbons on the selves. He took her hand and walked her to the door of the Alfred's residence. John knocked on the door. A few seconds later a girl, who looked to be about eight answered it.
"Who are you?" she question.
"Mr. Poppins. This is my daughter Mary. Mrs. Alfred had taken the job to be her nanny," John replied, "Are you…?"
"I'se Alice Alf'red. I'm eight years old. I'm turnin' nine this Spring," said the girl. She called over her shoulder, "Mo'er! The Poppinses are `ere!"
Mrs. Alfred came out of a door, which Mary guessed led to the kitchen. She looked the Poppinses over. Then she came to the door and let them inside.
"`Ello, Mary, I'm Mrs. Alfred, `ut you can `all me Miss Martha `stead," she said.
"Thank you, Miss Martha," Mary replied.
"`Ow, Alice `ake Miss Mary to you `oom. `Troduce `er to yer sisters," Miss Martha ordered Alice.
Alice nodded. "Yes, Mo'er."
She took Mary's hand. They ran up the stairs and into a small room. There were four small beds close to the wall that filled up most of the small space. But somehow they had managed to squeeze in a small dresser, too. Mary noticed that on each of the beds there was a quilt that had different names on them. Alice, Anne, Amy, and Alma. Probably the names of the girls. Alice noticed Mary looking at them.
"Anne's the ol'est. She's twelve. Next is Amy: she's ten. Den me. Last es Alma. Alma's seven. Oh, and ders me bru'er, Bert. He sleeps in the other room with me father an' step-mother. Bert's tech'cly our half bru'er. Three years ago, Anne, Amy, me, an' Alma's mo'er died. Fa'er found Martha an' now she's our mo'er. She gave birth ta Bert," Alice explained.
"Do you ever miss your mother?" Mary asked timidly.
Alice shrugged. "She was 'kay. Not da best mo'er. We's was all closer to fo'er den she."
"My mama died. She died a few months ago. I miss her," Mary whispered.
"`Ey. It's 'kay. You's got me an' my mo'er now."
A slender little boy with a pink nose showed up at the door. He glanced Mary over with a frown. Mary looked at his eyes, noticing that they looked just like Miss Martha's.
"`O you?" the boy questioned.
"Mary Poppins. Who are you?"
"Bert."
"`Is full name's Albert. Dats wha' we all `em," explained Alice.
"Alice! I need `ou!" Miss Martha shouted from downstairs.
"Commin' Mo'er!" Alice yelled back.
Alice ran down the stairs. Mary and Bert faced each other again. Bert began circling around Mary which Mary did not like at all.
"I see dat you're a bit chubby, Molly," said Bert.
Mary gasped. "How rude! And don't call me Molly! My name is Mary. Mary Poppins!"
"You look like your five. `Ike me," Bert observed.
She felt her mouth open. "How rude! You never discuss a woman's age! It's only proper"
"Stuck up, ain't ya?"
This drew the line for Mary.
"I hate you, Albert," she hissed.
Bert flashed a grin at Mary.
"Good. `Cause I hate ya too, Mary Poppins."
For the rest of the day, Mary ignored Bert. She played with his sisters instead. Alice, Anne, Amy, and Alma were much more fun (and more polite) than Bert. But at the end of the day, they found each other in the same room alone again.
Mary lounged to know why Bert's nose was pink. Not from the cold because it was Spring. Not from a burn, for it wasn't red enough. But what could it be? Because Bert had been so rude to her before, Mary thought it only proper that she should be able to ask an offensive question.
"Why is your nose pink?"
"Me fa'er pinches it ev'ry time I don't speak. I'm too 'fraid ta speak. So I always get pinched. I don't even know what ta say," answered Bert.
"Well, you could try saying, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious next time," said Mary.
Bert only looked confused. "What?"
Mary sighed. "Super-cal-i-fra-gi-lis-tic-expi-ali-docious. If you say it loud enough you'll sound quite precocious."
"All `ight. I'll try it next time."
Mary smiled.
A friendship was just beginning.
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