THE ELOPEMENT OF FLIP.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXI, Issue 178, 22 November 1900, Page 6

THE ELOPEMENT OF FLIP.

By MABEL COLLINS. ■(Author of "The Mystery of Blythe waite Hall," etc.)

*a hey just two more nails to put in \ihis cross," said Flip—otherwise Philip—surveyjng it critically, with his head on one side and his eyebrows lifted, "and then I hey dione my work for to-day, and I think-r-I think I should like to—to elope. Should you like to elope, Mimi?" "Yes," said Mimi. "What do you do?" Flip stood with Ms hands in his pockets, his legs very wide apart, and his big- straw hat at the very back of his head, He drew his small pretty lips together and gave a reflective blink with his big blue-grey-hazel-brown eyes, before replying. "You take somebody," he said then, with grave deliberation, as if it were a recipe, "and ren away with them." He was a small London Philip, and his pronunciation tof his a's and v's was quaint and really pretty. "I heard my Uncle Bob talking abaout it to-day with mother. He said lie was very glad the Ceptarn got the better of that old hembeg. I expect the old hembeg is Mr Grimjaw, 'cos it's Mr Grirnjaw "thet my Aunt Lucy lives with, and it's my Aunt Lucy, thet the Ceptain lies ren away with." "Oh!" said Mimi with wide eyes. •'How nice! When shall we elope, ■Flip?" Flip took his hands out of his pockets.

"Jest es soon es I hey done my work," he said, moistening his pretty red under-lip with an air of decision. "Let's hey the hemmer, Mimi. Tnenk you. Naow, this makes the second cross I hey done for Grendma to - day. There's the other over there. It will make this will be perfeckly levely fer Grendma ■to look aouat at in the mornings. Hevn't I done a lot of work to-day?"

"But," said Mimi, stroking back her red curls with some anxiety, "if we run away we shall want a house, shan't we?"

Elip was busy hammering" in a nail. By and by, he gave his thumb a harder knock than usual, and turned a little red in the face. Keflecting, however, that it was the thumb's own fault for getting- in the way, he only looked at it with patient reproach for a second or so, and then fell to again. Mimi repeated her question with a touch of agitation. "A haouse?" said Flip then, lifting his faint eyebrows in some perplexity. "Yes, I s'pose so. I'll arrange it all presently. I hey to do th_is first. I ■lev.only, one nail to put in naow." Mimi was a small and, in spite of her red curls, a pretty little lady of Flip's own age, who had dropped in to tea, and was elaborately dressed in a .cream, party frock with a lace over-all .pinafore, tied with a broad blue sash. She had cream stockings and white shoes, and blue ribbon in her hair, and had' a vague feeling that she looked very nice. She wanted to be run away with, then and there.

"They will be coming for me presently, Flip!" she said, swingingl herself with a coy suggestion of impatience.

"Will they?" returned Flip, with a polite but untroubled' attentiveness to the remark. Then he went on hammering. He grew cot and flushed and, betweenwhiles, straightened his oehing back with a Spartan indifference to weariness and pain. There! The last nail was in. He stood back and gurgled with pride and delight. Another cross for Granny! He settled his hat on his head. Then his small hands went forth to hug his workto'his breast.

"Why," he said, his eyes wide with dismay, "Ive —I've hemmered it fest ito the —to the stool! I shall hey to ftake it off!"

Mimi could have cried,

, "We shall never get time to run away!" she said in perfect anguish. "The next ring, you'll see, will be for jne! I knew how it would be."

"Than you should hey said so," remarked Flip, setting to work with, his pincers. "It would bey saved me a lot of trouble."

"I—l think I'll go home," said Mimi ■with a pout. "I don't think this is Sun at all!"

"It isn't!" returned Flip, tugging away at the nail. "It's work! I do go much work every day, and then I play. I'm bound, to , get this cross right, 'cos I made up my mind I iwould." •

"You shouldn't have said you'would Spun, away with me," said Mimi, with jdignity, "if you don't want to!" "But I do want to!" answered Flip, v Only I hey to do this first! There! *Thet's aout! Naow I hey just got to hemmer it in again, and .we will ren away. See if we don't!" The, kitchen window was open to jfche sweet garden breeze. ."Did you hear that, Mary?" said email Sophia, with a delighted giggle. ■"Flip's going to run. away with Mimi! I wonder how far they'll get?" ■ "I wonder?" said Mary, who was of her sweetheart. ', So .it was just here that' Flip's telopement made its success, so far as "Sensation was concerned. ' Mimi stood silent and held the bar of the cross till the last nail was hammered in. She was determined not to speak till $11 .was done, lest she should hinder the work, and therefore the elopement. At last the cross was finished— $ beautiful lop-sided thing, with five nails in-the middle carefully bashed down at the back, so that nobody's hands should be hurt. Flip, followed by his small partner, lugged it acrossthe green plot and planted it next to the other, which had an intoxicated lurch to the left. They stood back and..surveyed it with grave delight. Even Mimi felt proud. Her two little hands had held it down.

Vltlooks lovely!" she said.

Flip wiped his brow and then his small nose with an air of quiet satisfaction.

"Yes, it looks jest like a beautiful churchyard," he said. "Grenny will be pleased when she looks aout of her window to-morrow. Naow!"

"Do you mean the 'lopement?" asked Mimi.

"Hush! Yes," said Flip. "But don't say it out loud. Nobody must know. Nobody knew abaout the ceptain's elopement and Aunt Lucy's till it was all over and they were married. Uncle Bob said it was the smartest thing! Let's go over to the bench there, and talk it over. Abaout a haouseT—l'm sure —I—don't know! I hey threepence in my purse, and gold —reel gold!—in the benk at Cambridge. We had better go to Cambridge^ 'cos I hey gold there. But I don't know how far you can get for threepence. A keb costs a shilling, but we needn't go by train, and then we shan't want a keb! We ken walk —and walk—and walk. Think if we got to end of the world!" "Yes —think!" said Mimi, awestricken. Flip gurgled. "They would never find us then!" he said. "Wouldn't you be sorry a little bit?" asked Mimi. "Think if we never saw our mothers again—and—our—fathers!"' Flip thought it over. "It would be smarter than what the Ceptain did, anyhow!" he said, with a grave mouth, but with an eager light in his eyes. " 'Cos they faound aout abaout the Ceptain, else haow did I get to knaow? And yet, Uncle Bob said it was a smart thing of the Coptain. Where would you. like to go, Mimi? I'll let you choose." . "I'll go where you go," said Mimi, docilety. "All right!" said Flip, "We'll go naow then. Shall you be cold? It'll be cold at nights, you know, wherever we go." "Oh, I'm all right!" responded Mimi, cheerfully. She was in a hurry.

"Well, don't blame me, if you cough," remarked Flip. "I've told you." They rose from their bench, and Flip took his small lady's hand protectingly in his. "Oh, I'll tell you what," began Mimi eagerly. "Hush!" whispered Flip, as they passed the kitchen window. "No one must know!" Mimi lowered her voice. "I'll tell you what we can do, 'cos we haven't got a house! You and me can sly into our house, and up the stairs, as quiet as quiet, and right up to the attic. It's a place they never use —they don't ever go in—and there's a bundle of old things there, and we might take some things out to carry away with us, and at night we might sleep on them in the fields, as if they were bolsters and things, like the Babes in the Woodl" "There arn't a'hy bolsters and things in the Babes in the Wood!" said Flip, with a rather disgusted superiority. ''Well, I know. But they would have rliked them!" returned Mimi. "And, anyhow, it would do instead of a house. 'Cos the grass is damp, and there might be snails and —and snakes."

"I shall take the pistol Uncle Bob gave'me," said Flip. "That'll frighten them."

"Oh, do!" implored Mimi. "They're frightful things, snails, if they get down your back. And you could kill a snail easy with your pistol." Hand in'hand they softly stole into into the dining-room, through the open French window, and then out into the hall.

"It seems awful impolite," whispered Flip, "for you to be going without saying 'good night' to mother and Grenny, but it's not any bedder than what the Ceptain did, is it?" So he.gave Mimi her hat, and himself helped the elastic over her chin. Then they opened the hall door softly, and with one swift look behind them at the empty window, sped through the gate and into the next house, which was Mimi's. Here, still, they crept along the hall and up the three flights of stairs that led to the attic. Mimi pushed open the door, and beckoned to Flip to enter. It was a wide, large, low-roofed room, beloved, one might fancy, of mice and evil goblins when the darkness came. Mimi looked round it. Then she stuck a disconsolate finger in her mouth. , "Why, the bundle's gone. Flip!" she said. "Everything's going contrarywise, isn't it?" "Well," retorted Flip, a little provoked, "I think it's w-hat my Uncle Bob would hey called a fool journey, coming up here for bundles and things. We might hey been away and away and away by this!" ' Just then they heard a light footstep running up the stairs, and a clear young voice singing:

"Dites, ma jeune belle, ou voulezvous al'ler? La voile ouvre son aile; la brise va souffler."

The song stopped on the landing outside the open attic door. "Yes,"' said the voice, "and the breeze does soufflay-ay-ay-ay-ay up here! It's that draughty attic!" and the next moment the attic door was pulled to and—locked. There was a sound then as. of some trunk being opened and shut on the landing, and then the song v/as taken up again, and the light footsteps pattered downstairs. Flip and Mimi stood petrified ■with dismayr-rshe with a finger in her mouth; he with his hands in his pockets* ,his legs wide apart, his brows lifted..' They .were locked in to the mice and the goblins! Flip! ( tried'the door. Yes, sure enough! Locked in! ■

(To be concluded To-morrow.)