FICTION.

New Zealand Mail, 29 November 1900, Page 6

FICTION.

BY MABEL COLLINS.

THE ELOPEMENT OF FLIP.

(Author of “The Mystery-cs Biythewaite Hall ” etc.)

(ALL BIGHTS RESERVED)

(Copyright in the United States of America by D. T. Pierce.)

‘‘l hev just two more nails to put ir this cross,.” said Flip—otherwise Phillip —surveying it critically, with his head on one side and his eyebrows lifted, “and then I hev dene my work fpir to-day and I think—l think I should like to elope. Should you like to elope Mim.i ?” “Yes,” said Mimi. “What do yov«, do:'-” Flip stood with his hands in his «octets, his legs very wide apart, and hir big straw hat at tire very back of hi; head. He drew his small, pretty lips hob gether and gave a. reflective blink' with iris big biue-grcy-hazel-brown eyes, before replying. “You take somebody,” he said, then with grave deliberation, as if it were a recipe, “and yen away with them."’. He was a- small Lopd-ori Phillip, and his pro puneiation. of Ins a’s and its was quaint

apd really pretty. "1 heard may Uncle Bob talking aba'out it to-day with mother. lie ~-aic: he was very glad the Contain got tire- better or that old hembeg. 1 expect trie old hernbeg is kit Qrimjr.w, ’cos it’s Mr (Irinnaw thet my Aunt Lucy lives with, ana it's my AnnLucy that the Ceptain he- ren away with.”

“Oh!” said Mimi with wide eyes, “julow nice! When shall we elope, Flip?” Flip took his hands out of his pockets.

“Jest es soon es 1 hev none my work he said, moistening ms pretty red underlip with an. air of decisijOin-. ‘Let’s hev the hemmer, Mimi. Tnenkyou. Naow, this makes the second cross I hev done for Grendma to-day. There's the > (.her over there. It will make this garden look like a churchyard. It will be perfeckly lovely for Grendma to Icok aouat at in the mornings. ELevrit I done a lot of work to-day ?” “But,” said Mimi, stroking back Lei red curls with some anxiety, “if wc ran away we shall want a house, shaut w<-?” Flip was busy hammering m a nail. By and by, he gave his thumb a hinder kirobk than usual, and turned a little red in the face. tic dec ting 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 questioln with a. touch or agitation. “A haouse?” said Flip then, lifting kit faint- eyebrows in some perplexity. “Yesn I s’pose so. I’ll arrange it all presently I hev to do this first. 1 hev only one nail to put in naow.” Mimi was a. small and, in spite of her - red curls, a pretty little lady otf 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 feelinr that she (coked very nice. She wanted to be run awav with, then and there. “They will be coming for me presently, Flipl” she said, swinging 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, lie grew hot and flushed and, betweenwhiles, straightened his , aching > back v with, a Spartan indifference to wearinesr 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. Ther his small hands went forth to hug his work to his breast.

“'Why,” he said, his eyes wide with dismay. “I’ve—l’ve hemmered it fest to the —to the stool! J.I shell hev to take it off!” . Mimi could have cried. “We shall never get time to run away!” she said iri perfect anguish. “The next ring, you’ll see, will be for me l I knew how if. would be.”

“Then you should hev said so,” remarked Flip, setting to work with his pincers. “It would hev saved me a lot of trouble.”

“I —I think Til go home,” said Mimi with a pout'. “I don’t think this is fun at air!’-’ . *

“It isn’t!” returned Flip, tugging away at a nail'- “It’s w.o&'k! Ido sc much work every day, and then I play I’m bound to get this cross right, ’cos X made up my mind I would.” “You shouldn’t have said you would run away with me,” said Mimi, with dignity, “if you don’t want toi!” “But I do want to!” answeri 1 Flip. “Only I hev to do- this firsci There! Thet’s aout! Naow I hev just got to hemmer it in again, and we will ren away. See if we don’t!” The kitchen window was open to the sweet garden breeze. “Did yon hear that, Mary ?” said small Sophia, with a delighted giggle. “Flip - ' going to run away with Muni! I wonder how far they’ll get?”

“I wonder?” said Marv. who was thinking of her sweetheart. So it was just hero that Flip’s elopement made its success,' qobfar as sensation was concerned. Mimi sto-pd silent and held the bar of the cross till the last nail was hammered in. She was determined not to speak till all was done lest she should hinder the work, and therefore the eicbement. At last the cross was finished—a beautiful lop-sided thing, with five nails in the middle care fully bashed down at the back, so that nobody’s hands should oe hurt. Flip followed by his small partner, lugged if acrofes the green plot and planted it nex< to the other, which had an intoxicated lurch to the left. They stood back and - surveyed it with grave uelight'. Ever Mimi felt proud. Her two Utile hand; had held i* down. “It looks lovely,” she, said. Flip wiped his brow aha then his srnrd' ncse with an air of quiet- satisfaction. “Yes, it- looks jest like a beautifu 1 churchyard,” lie said. “Granny will be pleased when she looks aout of her window tici-morrow. Naow!" “Do- you mean the ’lopement?” asked Mimi. “Hush! Yes!” said Flip. “But don’t say it aloud. Nobody must know. Nobody knew abaout the Ceptain’s elopement and Aunt Lucy’s till it was all ovei and they were married. Uncle Bob said it was the smartest- tiling! Let’s go ove: to the bench there, and' talk it, over Abaout a haouse—l’m sure—l—don’* know! I hev threepence in my purse and gold—reel gold!—in the benk at Cambridge. AYe bed better go to Cam bridge, ’cos I hev gold there. But I don’t know how far yciu can get- for threepence. A keb costs a shilling, bu] we needn’t go by train, and then wc shan't want a keb! V.’e hen walk and . walk—and walk. Think if we got to the end of the world :” “Yes—-think!” sr.-id Mira!, awe itrick en. Flip gurgled. “They would never find us then!” he said. “Wouldn’t you be s^jjry-a- little bit?” asked mimi. “Think if we never saw oui 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 a-baput the Ceptain, else haow did I get to knaow? And yet. Uncle Bob said it was a smart thing of the Ceptain. Where would you like to go, mV I’ll let you choose.”

“I’ll go where you go,” said Mimi, docilely.

“All right!” said Flip. “We’ll gc 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 qctagh,” remarked Flip. “I’ve told you.” .They rose from their bench, and FIB took his small lady’s hand protecting! >' in his. ’'

“Oh, I’ll tell you what,” began Mimi eagerly. “Hush!” whispered Flip, as they passed the kitchen window. “No nine must know! ’ - ■ - ,-

-Mimi lowered her voice. “I’ll tell you what we can do, ’cos wc haven’t got- a house! You and me can ely into our house, and up the stairs as quiet as quiet, and right up tjdi the attic. It’s a place they never use—they don’t ever go in—and there's a bundle o r old things there, and we might- take some tilings 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 Wood!” “

“There aren’t any bolsters and things m the Babes in the Wood!” said Flip with a rather disgusted superidritv. “Well, I know. But thqy would have liked them!” returned Mimi. “And anyhow, it would do instead of a house <Jos the grass is damp,..and theremighf be snails and—and snakes. >J “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.”

Halid in hand they stole softly info, the dining-room, through the open Trench window, and then came into-the hall.

“It seems awful impolite,” whispered Flip, “for you to be going without saying ‘good-night’ to Mother and-G-renny. 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 sqftly, 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, tip-toeing still, they crept along the hall and up the three flights of stairs that led to the attic. Mimi pushed open the dooa-, 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 contrary-wise isn’t it?” “Well,” retorted Flip, a little provoked. “I think it’s what my Uncle 80l-

would hev called a fopl journey, coming up hero for bundles ana things. We might liev been away and away and “away by this;!” Just then they heard a light footster running up .’the stairs, and a clear young yoiee singing:

“Bites, my jeune belle, ou voulez-vous a Her? La voile- ouvre son pile; la brise va souffler.”

The song stopped on the landing out side 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 or the landing, and then the song was takeD up again, and the light footsteps patter ed downstairs again. Flip and Mimi stood petrified with dismay—she with a fingc-r in her mouth; he with his hands in his pockets, his legs wide apart, his brows lifted. They were locked ip> tc the mice and the goblns!

Flp tried the door. Yes, sure enough Locked in!

“If only,” said Flip, “we bed a chair or something to sit daown on. This is awful bare ! Why, there isn’t anything! 'We could hev done without bundles ant 1 things in the fields', but—here! Anc 1 —and nothing to eat! Let’s—shout!” “Yp'u shout!” said Mimi. It seemed a boy’s duty.

“Ow'!” yelled Flip. But the yell was only mocked, .by evil things bidder amongst the beams and rafters, and fas away sounded the lilting refrain of a waltz song.

“That’s'my big sister Alice singing,'’ said Mimi. “\<e might die up hero, anc nobody cares! Oh, I do feel mis’able! Don’t you. Flip?” “If I heel a chair, I wouldn’t,” said

Flip. “But ujis is awful bare.” “Shout again!” said Mimi. “Ow! Ow!” yelled Flip. Still nc answer, -save from beam and rafter. Ther Mimi broke suddenly into tears. “Don’t cry, Mimi!” said l Flip, growing a little whiter in the face. “See, roll up your frock raund your waist and sB down, and you wpki’t feel so tired. It’ll comfort- you a little, not to feel tired, and I’ll make a nice little pillow with my jacket, so’s you can sleep if you want to. And I’ll tell you a lovely fairy tale. And 1 hev my pistol, you knaow.” Mimi sat down and soboed. She knew tnere were mice and hobgoblins and ghosts in> this room when night-time came. Else where did hobgoblins live if not- in places like this, that rcibody else wanted ?

“Well!” remarked Flip after a lonr silence, “we hev got the haous, any-’ ha.qw!” But Iris small underlip quivered and there was a- shine of tears in hir eyes as he made his brave little joke. “We have got the haous !”

And now began commotion next do,or. For the ring had come for Mimi, and Mimi was nowhere 'to be found!—nor Master Phillip! After an excited search through, the whole hohise and grounds Sophia, very pale and agitated, volunteered the information that thev badeloped!

“Eloped, Sophia-!’-’ cried Flip's mother. "res," said Sophia. “Run away! I heard Flip, say they were going to. But - J,- thought it was just—baby talk.” “You should know by this time,” said Flip’s mother, severely, ‘that Philkp never talks just baby talk! There is always some kind of plan behind it. You had better put on your hat and see if You can find them. Mary can go, too. in some other direction. The idea!” But, of course, they did not find them. Mary, instead, found an interesting young policeman, to whom sheenlarged tearfully—he was a nice pink and white policeman—upon the awful state they were in. , :

“The young imp!” said the policeman, rather fascinated by the idea of Flip’s elopement.

Sophia, meanwhile, had interviewed greengrocers and butcher s-boys, but had gathered no information. • What she did gather was a small crowd outside the front door. -'-There was a murmur of “Have they found them?”. “Get away’ Them two little kids eloped! What arc ■You giving .us?” “Poor bairns!” and There s gipsies on Friars’ Green!” By the time Flip’s father and Uncle Bob came home, the crowd had. killed Flip and Mimi with a cab, given them over toi the gipsies, sent tne mother raw mg mad and, in fact, disposed of the whole of both families, save and except the astonished father and uncle who now . appeared upon, the scene.

The sight of the growing crowd had frightened Flip’s mother into tears, and the sight o-f her tears had frightened Mimi s mother into hysterics—sister Alice was out on tile hunt with Sophia and Mary,—and the sight- of two women. one in tears and the other in hysterics and a crowd outside the door, completely bowled Flip’s father over. He supposed blip to be killed and mutilated beyond all recognition, and it was fully ten minutes before he could make head or tail of the broken and interrupted narrative. Uncle Bqb, meanwhile, had gone out to fetch a policeman and get the crwocl dispersed. (Granny, happily was blissfully asleep.) From tliei police* mail he learnt- that the young nipper had bolted with the little Miss from next door, and that both fariftlies were n an awful state about it. Then the

»•*?• 'Vink &****&sss& of talking about Lucy “The S before Phillip $ Ca Ptai?|| by there. You’ve in Staked you got that awful crow l ter 1111 Hah bophia ? Where’s head: Get Mrs StainesW - Oy roo! something Jciu-sorncbod'' !,“?' llo ' s Wo >'“hr lu o'S.

At this point, Mimi’s bia shW P came m, ! coring very flushed Xi% anxious and very prettv v Uncle Bob had only % * va 3 precisely two days eyes or admiration on“ Mimi’, bjg-kf Alice, ana ror tho lif« of ,’ g 6!s{ f n,oit concentrate the whole of t-ion on Flip, wMlo if Mimi’s w i f s l °, n ’y thinking about ;jg* %

Depend on if, Fate, as.well asSri elopement aWg thia « #^|

robbV ni 'S-i !e ’ P lip ‘ n thc “tt’-C) the hobj •?. .u ; V-V A c j r Sullto cree ? out; iorBM ...nadows were gathering an-u iron ino lumber closet eamhAihvf ion lids of j-. (v-y gnawing. j “That’s mice ” whispered Min>i.w| p. -'H S$. eo ' hhe -ToEicio; Pa-ten inquired Flip with some.in-! ri “ i? at ‘ now ieated himself on -.e -oor, nicer one last futile attempt' to open the door with his small nails “I don’t know. Listen! That’s a~ gho.rt!’ whispered Mimi. “This place is full or ghostses! Oh, I wish I hadn’t run away!” -

“Why, you’re in your own house!” said Flic. ’

“Well, I know! But if .- everyone’ thinks I’ve run away” whimpered Mimi. : “Don’t cry, there’s a pet! ’ said Flip,! '• getting up to put a. comforting .arm: about her. “Lot’s think about bread and butter and strawberries. Or—or. : ice-cream. j.\o, let’s have—let’s have—” “1 want my mother and sister Alice!”: sobbed Mimi. “I shall never see them again. You’re a nasty boy for—for making rno: run—run away with you. Boohoc —boo—oo —hoo! Go away! Leave me alone! Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”

It was a- whole chromatic scale of whimpers, and Flip for some moments sat spellbound, looking at the small, screwed-up Lee. The distortion seemed quite a clever piece of work. “I could slap you, I could! Boo—hoo—hoc-!” said Mimi.

“Well, slap mo teen,” said Flip, patiently. “I never locked us in!”

But relief was coming. ; w “Do you think they can have gotiuto j your houjse. Miss Stainesby ?'’ . asked Unc-'e F;ob,- and his gruff voice— had j grown so mellow his own mother would j not have known it. j “Oh, I thought of that,” said Ahce, j “and I’ve looked all over. ■ I’ve-searched j the whole house from, the cellar to the— | to the—” c --"-Lii A sudden click in her heart finished the sentence for her, with a note o. ;interrogation after it, and to Uncle Fpbs surprise and! discomfiture, sister 1 vanished like a will o’ the wispwent round to the back to escape d j eyes of the crowd. »■* “Somebody’s coming now,_ .MfumLpi | Flin, patting her sootlnngiy. _ | cry ? Mimi!” ' : wi f The key turned. The doo r v { An angel rushed in and AHj. | little mortal on a strong young-Aflgg; | “Oh,-you naughty, wicked, tie. desperado!” cried tlve Mg r , ing one kiss on Flip s cheek. • . f shocking, muggy, frightenedJdUA. lamb!” smacking another on And she came rushing m /Jjce ? and a very sweet, merry. , ( j she looked. r immd tho 5 “Rejoice with mo for Iha j’j'jhe ' pieces of mischief that we - , lauzhed. for Uncle Bob , set'her heart in the ha PP iasfc Jwe- hud ' was a fine, strapping y° un f _ .irstr i there is such a thing « love-at sight, believe me. ™: D “I hev made Minn meant in a still, email voice. cry» to make her cry. Did Aunt- fer? when the Ceptain ren a- J ettic! But —but we only got to .ton . I”reps thet’s why!” . langk. Everybody had now Uncle and at this they laiighedtii E jjter Bob stole a glance at Munis wg Alice, and Alice stole O n ® , jj o {j cab they both blushed, and v(Wain” led down benedictions on tne i for having eloped with , and brought about this very P Fua -n-estivO exciting situation, which * lead of romantic thoughts, and to—oh, so many things- 2C ttho Sophia thought it was t Baby murmuring crowd away. informed policeman was no use, s

rn-icnib - _ ,jj I COUM too. a.!i C’.v.iVa ■feW liked r sho said. “Ann childreii nave been R> so f iall the time. So there!” EMpib «^. fc . tfi ° fron jj . d ?r Pwith ’(something or a hwmkle pMi, In-ight ey« s - iaid the crowd.