Copyright Story. The Elopement of Flip.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXV, Issue XX, 17 November 1900, Page 910

Copyright Story. The Elopement of Flip.

Ry

MABEL COLLINS.

“I hev just two more nails to put in this cross,” said Flip—otherwise Philip—surveying it critically, with his head on one side and his eyebrows lifted, “and then I hev done my- work for to-day, and I think —I think I should like to —to elope. Should you like to elope, Mimi?” “Yes,” said Mimi. “What do you do?” Flip stood with his 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-grley-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 Of his a’s and u’s was quaint and really- pretty. “1 heard my Uncle Bob talking abaout it to-day with mother. He said he was very glad the Ceptain got the better of that old hembeg. I expect the old hembeg is Mr Grimjaw, ’cos it’s Mr Grimjaw thet. my Aunt Lucy lives with, and it’s my Aunt Lucy thet the Ceptain hes 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 hev done my work.” he said, moistening his pretty red under-lip with an air of decision. "Let’s hev the heminer, Mimi. Thenk you. Naow, this makes the second cross I hev 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 T 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?” Flip 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. Reflecting, 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 hev to do this first. I hev 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, swinging herself with a eoy suggestion of impatience. “Will they?” returned Flip, with a polite but untroubled attentiveness to the remark. Then he went on hammering. He grew hot and flushed and, betweenwhiles, straightened his aching 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 work to his breast. “Why.” he said, his eyes wide with dismay, “I’ve—l’ve hemtnered it fest tn the—to the stool! I shall hev to take it otf!” 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 me! I knew how it would be.”

(Author of “The Mystery of Blythe waite Hall,” etc.)

“Then you should hev said so,” remarked Flip, setting to work with his pincers. “It would hev saved me a lot of trouble.” “I—l think I’ll go home,” said Mimi with a pout. “I don’t think this is fun at all!” “It isn’t!” returned Flip, tugging away at the nail. “It’s work! I do so much work every day, and then I play. I’m bound to get this cross right, ’cos I 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 to!” “But I do want to!” answered Flip, “Only I hev to do this first! 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 you hear that, Mary?” said small Sophia, with a delighted giggle. “Flip's going to run away with Mimi! 1 wonder how far they’ll get?” “I wonder?” said Mary, who was thinking of her sweetheart. So it was just here that Flip’s elopement 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 all was done, lest she should hinder the work, and therefore the elopement. At last the cross was finished—a 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 across the 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. “It looks 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. Unde Bob said it was the smartest thing! Let’s go over to the bench there, and talk it over. Abaout a haouse—l’m sure —I —don’t know! I hev threepence in my purse, and gold —reel gold!—in the benk at Cambridge. We had better go to Cambridge, 'cos I hev gold there. But 1 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 Ceptain. Where would you like to go, Mimi? I'll let you choose.” “I’ll go where you go," said Mimi, docilely. “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 eough,” 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 Wood!” “There arn’t any bolsters and things in the Babes in the Wood!” said Flip, with a rather disgusted superiority. “Well, I know. But they would have liked them!” returned Mimi. “And, anyhow, it would do instead of a house. ’Cos the grass is damp, and there might be snai'ls and—and snakes.” “I shall take the pistol Uncle Bob gave me,” said Flip. “ThatTl 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, aud 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, tip-toeing still, they crept along the ha'll 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 what my Uncle Bob would hev called a fool journey, coming up here for bundles and things. We might hev 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 soufilay-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 was taken up again, and the light footsteps pattered downstairs. Flip and Mimi stood petrified with dismay— she with a finger in her mouth; he with his hands in his poekets, 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! If only,” said Flip, “we had a chair or something to sit daown on. This is awful bare! Why, there isn’t anything! We could hev done without bundles and things in the fields, but —here! And —and nothing to eat! Let’s—shout!” Aon shout!” said Mimi. It seemed a boy’s duty., “Owl’ yelled Flip. But the yell was only mocked by evil things hidden amongst the beams and rafters, and far away sounded the lifting refrain of a waltz song. 1 hat s my big sister Alice singing,” said Mimi. “We might die up here and nobody cares! Oh, Ido feel mis’ ableh Don’t you, Flip?” “If I had a chair, I wouldn’t,” said Flip. “But this is awful bare!” “Shout again!” said Mimi.

“Ow! Owl” yelled Flip. Still no answer, save from btani and rafter. Then Mimi broke suddenly into tears. “Don’t ery, Mimi!” said Flip, growing a little white in the face. See, roll up your frock raound your waist and sit down, and you won’t feel so tired. It’ll comfort you a little, not to feel tired, aud 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 I hev my pistol, you knaow.” Mimi sat down and sobbed. She knew there were mice and hobgoblins und ghosts in this room when nighttime came. Else where did hobgoblins live, if not in places like this, that nobody else wanted? “Well!” remarked Flip after a long silence, “we hev got the haouse, anyhaow!” But his small underlip quivered, and there was a shine of tears in his eyes as he made his brave little joke. “We hev got the haouse!” And now began commotion next door. For the ring had eome for Mimi, and Mimi was nowhere to be found! — nor Master Philip! After an excited search through the whole house and grounds, Sophia, very pale and agitated, volunteered the information that they had —eloped! “Eloped, Sophia!” cried Flip’s mother. “Yes,” said Sophia. “Run away! I heard Flip say they were going to. But I thought it was just—baby talk.” “You should know by this time,” said Flip’s mother, severely, “that Philip 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 she enlarged 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 butchers’ 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 are you giving us?” “Poor bairns!” and “There’s gipsies tin 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 to the gipsies, sent the mothers raving 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 of her tears had frightened Mimi’s mother into hysterics—sister Alice was ’out on the 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 Flip 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 Bob, meanwhile, had gone out to fetch a policeman and get the crowd dispersed. (Granny, happily, was blissfully asleep.) From the policeman he learnt that the young nipper had bolted with the little Miss from next door, and that both families were in an awful state about it. Then the policeman sauntered up leisurely, and waved a hand majestically to the crowd, while Uncle Bob rushed into the house to find out what Flip’s father meant to do. “This comes of talking before children!” said Flip’s mother. “The idea of talking about Lucy and Captain Gregers before Philip!” "Why, it was you who asked me to tell you all about it there and then!” Uncle Bob could not help retorting in self-defence. "Oh, be quiet,” said Flip’s mother, distractedly. “Look at poor Mrs Stainesby there! You’ve made her ill! Have you got that awful crowd away? Where’s Sophia? - Where’s Mary? Oh, - my poor head! Get M'"» Stainesby some wine or .something, Tom— somebody! Oh dear! I’m sure 1 don’t know what I’m doing! Don’t take on so, dear! We shall find them all right. Oh, my head! That Philip! He’s his father all over. Granny —” At this point, Mimi’s big sister Alice came in, looking very flushed and very

anxious and very pretty. Now Flip’s Uncle Bob had only just come down from London, and from the first—which was precisely two days ago had east eyes of admiration on Mimi's big sister Alice, and for the life of him, he could not concentrate the whole of his attention on Flip, while if Mimi's sister Alice was only thinking about Mimi, why should she blush so very shyly and prettily? Depend on it, Fate, as well as Flip, meant to make a big thing out of this elopement! Meanwhile, up in the attic, the hobgoblins had begun to creep out. for the twilight shadows were gathering fast, and from the lumber closet came the sounds of busy gnawing. “That’s mice!” whispered Mimi. “Are they white mice, like Tommie Patten’s?” inquired Flip with some interest. He had now seated himself on the floor, after one last futile attempt to open- the door with his small nails. “I don’t know. Listen! That’s a—ghost!” whispered Mimi. “This place is full of ghosteses! Oh, 1 ish I hadn’t run away!” “Why, your’e in your own house!” said Flip. “Well. I know! But if everyone thinks I’ve run away!” whispered Mimi. “Don’t cry, there’s a pet!” said Flip, getting up to put a comforting arm about her. “Let’s think about bread and butter and strawberries. Or —or ice-cream. No, let’s have —let’s have—■” “I want my mother and sister Alice!” sobbed Mimi. “I shall never see them again. Y’ou’re a nasty boy for—for making me—run away with y-ouL Boohoo — bo-—oo—hoo! Go away! Leave me alone! Ah. ha, ha. ha, ha!” It was a whole chromatic scale of whimpers, and Flip for some moments sat spellbound, looking at the small, serewed-up face. The distortion seemed quite a clever piece of work. “I could slap you, I could! Boo — hoo —hoo!” said Mimi. “Well, slap me then,” said Flip, patiently. “I never locked us in!” But relief was coming. “Do you think they can have got into your house, Miss Stainesby?” asked Uncle Bob, and his gruff voice had grown so mellow his own mother would not have known it. “Oh, I thought of that,” said Alice, “and I’ve looked all over. I’ve searched the whole house from the cellar to the—to the—” A sudden click in, her heart finished the sentence for her, with a note of interrogation after it. and to Uncle Bob’s surprise and discomfiture, sister Alice vanished like a will o' the wisp. She went round to the back to escape the eyes of the crowd. “Somebody’s coming now, Mimi!” said Flip, patting her soothingly. “Don’t cry, Mimi!” The key turned. The door opened. An angel rushed in and clapped each little mortal on a strong young shoulder. “Oh, you naughty, wicked, darling little desperado!” cried the angel, smacking one kiss on Flip’s cheek. “Oh, you shocking, muggy, frightened little baby lamb!” smacking another on Mimi’s. And she came rushing in with them so, and a very sweet, merry sister Alice she looked. “Rejoice with me for I have found the pieces of mischief that were lost!” she laughed, for Uncle Bob had, somehow, set her heart in the happiest glow. He was a fine, strapping young soldier, and there is such a thing as love at first sight, believe me. “I hev made Mimi cry,” said Flip, in a still, small voice. “I never meant to make her cry. Did Aunt Lucy cry. Uncle Bob, when the Ceptain reu away with her? But—but we only got to —to the ettic! P’reps thet's why!” Everybody had now begun to laugh, and at this they laughed the more. Uncle Bob stole a glance at Mimi's big sister Alice, and Alice stole one at him. Then they both blushed, and Uncle Bob called down benedictions on the “Ceptain" for having eloped with Lucy, and so brought about this very pleasant and exciting situation, which was suggestive of romantic thoughts, and likely to lead to —oh. many things! Sophia thought it was time to get the murmuring crowd away. That big baby policeman was no use, she informed Mary. She went out on the doorstep and looked at the gapers critically.

“Well, I said I could fool any crowd to the door, if 1 liked!” she said. “And I’ve done it. The children have been safe in the house all the time. So there!" With that. Sophia shut the front door upon them, with something of a twinkle in her sharp, bright eyes. • “Well!” said the crowd.