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Updated: May 12, 2025
Tip's class in reading came first on the list, and never had his eyes been so bright or his face so eager. Tip had learned to read. Patiently, earnestly, he had plodded on through the long winter; now his sad blunderings in that line were over for ever; not a boy in school read more slowly, distinctly, and correctly than Tip Lewis.
Tip's bold, prompt manner did not forsake him now; he answered quickly, "Father, I don't believe any such thing. God doesn't say anything about it's being too late; and He says if we want anything very much, and pray for it, and it's good to have, He'll give it to us; and I'm bound to believe Him. Once I prayed for Kitty, and prayed and prayed, and it didn't do a bit of good, until at last Mr.
"Tip, here, put his foot through one of her lace flounces last Sunday. Tip's the worst boy we've got, anyhow." The boys all seemed to think this was very funny, for they laughed so loudly that the little girls at their right looked over to see what was the matter. Tip ran his fingers through his uncombed hair, and laughed with the rest.
"I got a call from Pierre Jarrett; Tip's staying at the Jarrett place tonight. I thought it would be a good idea to have him within reach for a while." The private outside phone rang shrilly. Ritter let it go for several rings, then picked it up. "This is the Fleming residence," he stated, putting on his character again. "Oh, yes indeed, sir.
Ellis and Howard had their slates in their hands, ready to start at the first sound, when Tip Lewis left his seat and made his way towards the stage. Mr. Burrows looked surprised; this was entirely out of order; but a look at Tip's face made him change his mind about sending him back to his seat, and bend his head to listen to the few words that were hurriedly whispered in his ear.
'Fer what? Uncle Eb enquired. 'Fer the 'sylum, I guess, he answered, with a faint smile. 'Ye don' need no more practice, Uncle Eb answered. 'Looks t' me as though ye was purty well prepared. To me there was a touch of pathos in this show of the deeper things in Tip's nature that had been kindled to eruption by my spouting.
He's just stopped his big car in front of Headquarters, and one of his men is lifting out a load of stuff, doubtless the plunder Tip cached in the woods up there. And the Chief has his hand on Tip's shoulder as they get out. I notice that Tip has lost his arrogant look, and seems badly scared, too!" "Let's step over and see how it happened, Hugh!"
He laid his hand gently on Tip's shoulder, as he said, "Speaking of Bible verses, Edward, I have one for you this evening, in the Saviour's own words: 'Whosoever shall confess Me before men, him will I also confess before My Father which is in heaven. Good-night." Tip understood him, and there was a bright look in his eyes. The two walked on in silence for a little.
The only thing to do was to muzzle him, and this was done by my boy's brother with a piece of heavy twine, in such a manner as to interfere with Tip's happiness as little as possible.
"We can't stay here and burn to death!" groaned Terry White. The heat and smoke were driving them out of the main room. Already flames were creeping down the walls, and the air was as hot as the breath of an oven. Their faces were blistered, their exposed hands cooked. Tip's coat was afire, as all five of them made a dash for the smaller room, taking the extra guns and ammunition with them.
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