Money
A little hop and a skip, that shabby hat in hand.
"There's a nice little café around the corner." Bert stared hopefully at her. "I can take you there, if you like."
Mary did not dampen the smile that tugged at her lips, gripping her umbrella tighter than she realised. "That sounds wonderful, Bert."
His grin grew wider, if possible. Delving into his pockets, he brought out a handful of coins. His earnings from selling balloons that day. Bert counted them slowly, his smile disappearing as he began to realise there wasn't a suitable amount. He needn't say anything for Mary to know. She did not pity him; he didn't need it. Instead, she offered her own smile.
"That's quite alright," she assured him. "I think I can sort an outing for the both of us."
"No, no," he protested, shoving the coins back into his pocket. "That won't do. I can't have you paying."
She raised her nose into the air, almost offended at the insinuation.
"Who said anything about paying?" she sniffed. "Don't be so presumptuous." Before he could apologise, she continued. "I heard the National Gallery has some wonderful paintings there, if you wish to take a look."
His eyes widened, a knowing laugh bursting forth.
"Why, Mary! You might be right."
"Of course I am."
Bert held out his arm, placing his hat back onto his unruly hair as her hand came to rest in the crook of his elbow. They started down the pavement together, arm-in-arm. One didn't need money when they were in the presence of Mary Poppins.
He was sure whichever painting they'd choose, it would be perfect. Every second Tuesday was.