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Updated: June 25, 2025
I turned about, and there was Gip quite preoccupied with the shopman, and thinking no evil. They were whispering together and looking at me. Gip was standing on a little stool, and the shopman was holding a sort of big drum in his hand. "Hide and seek, dadda!" cried Gip. "You're He!" And before I could do anything to prevent it, the shopman had clapped the big drum over him.
No scout in Oxford, no gip in Cambridge, ever matched him in speed and intelligence.
No doubt the thing was only an image of twisted indiarubber, but for the moment ! And his gesture was exactly that of a man who handles some petty biting bit of vermin. I glanced at Gip, but Gip was looking at a magic rocking-horse. I was glad he hadn't seen the thing.
If the dog slept too long of an afternoon, the boy would hunt him out, take hold of his tail with one hand, and an ear with the other, and lug him into the parlor, saying, "Gip, too much sleep is what is ruining the dogs in this country. Now, brace up and play horse with me." And then there was fun.
I was surprised at his knowing that, because, in the interests of discipline, we keep it rather a secret even at home; but Gip received it in unflinching silence, keeping a steadfast eye on him. "It's only the Right Sort of Boy gets through that doorway." And, as if by way of illustration, there came a rattling at the door, and a squeaking little voice could be faintly heard. "Nyar!
For a moment it seemed doubtful whether mammy or Gip would hold the ground, but Gip finally won out by clawing rapidly at the pebbly road and getting the advantage of the down grade. Neither Natalie nor Mrs. Leighton ever knew just where it was they lost mammy, but it couldn't have been far from the gate; for just as they were dipping into the wood half-way down the hill, Mrs.
First of all it was a short, blobby nose, and then suddenly he shot it out like a telescope, and then out it flew and became thinner and thinner until it was like a long, red, flexible whip. Like a thing in a nightmare it was! He flourished it about and flung it forth as a fly-fisher flings his line. My instant thought was that Gip mustn't see him.
I was in Regent Street, and I had collided with a decent-looking working man; and a yard away, perhaps, and looking a little perplexed with himself, was Gip. There was some sort of apology, and then Gip had turned and come to me with a bright little smile, as though for a moment he had missed me. And he was carrying four parcels in his arm! He secured immediate possession of my finger.
I was surprised at his knowing that, because, in the interests of discipline, we keep it rather a secret even at home; but Gip received it in unflinching silence, keeping a steadfast eye on him. "It's only the Right Sort of Boy gets through that doorway." And, as if by way of illustration, there came a rattling at the door, and a squeaking little voice could be faintly heard. "Nyar!
He drew a business card from his cheek and handed it to me. "Genuine," he said, with his finger on the word, and added, "There is absolutely no deception, sir." He seemed to be carrying out the joke pretty thoroughly, I thought. He turned to Gip with a smile of remarkable affability. "You, you know, are the Right Sort of Boy."
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