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But the spirit of make-believe has of necessity animated all their public exercise, if I except the 13th of April, 1879, when a fire broke out in the back premises of Mr. Tippett, carpenter. These houses stood, one at the extremity of North Street, beside the Ferry Slip, the other at the south end of the Fore Street, where it turns the corner by the Ship Inn and mounts Lostwithiel Hill.
I like the open-air existence, the freedom from care and responsibility, and the hours. I am much alone, and genius, you know, grows corpulent in solitude. "My name is Tippett Livingstone Tippett. Age, of no special moment. You know," he said pleasantly, "there are two things all of us lie about our ages and our incomes. As this is a true story I will drop the age question. It is better so.
The social ambitions of the Tippetts were so definitely quenched that the indignant millionaire threatened to return to Chicago. But Mrs. Tippett moved him firmly to Brighton, where, in the course of time, she toned him down. They made their way slowly into society of a sort, and attracted the attention of the public.
It was long after midnight when Tippett concluded his story and the gathering broke up; not, however, before sleeping-quarters had been found for the unfortunate man, and a promise given by Senator Bull to put him on his feet again in the far West an offer gladly accepted in all sincerity, and a venture which proved highly successful, as most of the long-headed Senator's usually did.
A visit to the marshman's cottage some days after my wife's death revealed a ruinous mouldering habitation, in the midst of a wilderness of weeds and vines. A mournful, desolate spot, shunned and avoided by all for the past twenty years, and yet had I not seen " Tippett paused abruptly, with bowed head and eyes tear-dimmed.
"Here, old chap, take this," said Colonel Manysnifters, hastily pouring out and handing him a stiff drink. Tippett, obeying, was somewhat revived, and continued. "I returned to Brooklyn with the body of my wife. My mother followed her to the grave a few months later. All in the world that was dear to me was now lost.
Altogether her success was what it always must be when brains and ambition, money and a cold heart are allied; but it was small wonder if the head of the daughter of the House of Tippett was a trifle turned and certain of her perceptions were blunted.
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