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Updated: May 12, 2025
Ellis turned a quick, indignant glance on him; then spoke to Tip in a kind and interested tone: "What were you going to say, Tip." "That, if I were the minister's son, I wouldn't make fun of the Bible." Ellis's face was crimson in an instant. "What do you mean by that?" he asked haughtily. "Just what I say," was Tip's cool reply. "Do you pretend to say that I make fun of the Bible?" "Humph!
Mr. Holbrook sat down again. "Can you tell me about it, Edward?" "He said I threw paper balls, and Mr. Burrows whipped me; and I didn't." "Are you sure you didn't?" "Yes, sir." "Did you say so at the time?" "Over and over again, but he said he saw me." "Edward, have you always spoken the truth? Is your word to be believed?" Tip's eyes fell and his lip quivered.
The same readers will recall the part played in this plot by Tip Scammon, worthless son of the honest old High School janitor, and how Tip's evil work resulted in his going to the penitentiary for the better part of a year.
"The shilling over and above the tip's for finding me the waterman and boat," he stipulated. "Right-o. You'll mind the 'orse a minute, sir?" Kirkwood nodded. The man touched his hat and disappeared inexplicably.
She cried, with her clasped hands lifted above her head, that it would kill their father if he ever knew it; and fell down at Tip's graceless feet. It was easier for Tip to bring her to her senses than for her to bring him to understand that the Father of the Marshalsea would be beside himself if he knew the truth. The thing was incomprehensible to Tip, and altogether a fanciful notion.
Then Tip fell back with my boy and let the elder brother go ahead, for he always had a right to the first shot; and while he dodged down behind the bank, and crept along to the place where the ducks usually were, my boy kept a hold on Tip's collar, and took in the beautiful mystery of the early morning.
The place so familiar by day was estranged to his eyes in that pale light, and he was glad of old Tip's company, for it seemed a time when there might very well be ghosts about. The water stretched a sheet of smooth, gray silver, with little tufts of mist on its surface, and through these at last he could see the ducks softly gliding to and fro, and he could catch some dreamy sound from them.
The watchmaker's dog, Tip, was Bob's respected sire, and Tip's brother, Charlie, dwelt at a house in "The Square." Bob, scenting the Sunday dinners, went at once to call for Charlie, and in his company adjourned to the lane behind the village gardens, till the watchmaker and the lawyer, with Tip, were ready for their customary walk.
"Very well," he said at last; "you may take the first page in addition to-morrow morning, and we'll see if you can be made to know anything about that." Tip's hopes fell; his heart was as heavy as lead.
Then she said suddenly, "She must be a lovely woman." "Who?" I asked. "Tip's wife." "Who told you?" I demanded. "Tip." This was strange in a fugitive husband, one who had fled across the mountains to escape a perpetual yammering. "Tip!" I said. "Yes, Tip," she answered. "Him and me was settin' there in the kitchen last night, and you was sleepin' away in here, and he told me all about Black Log.
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