Part 15 (2/2)
”You have helped him to twelve months' hard labor,” said Mr. Budge.
But the old man did not understand what it all meant, till one day they took him to Kensal Green, and showed him a handsome tombstone. The inscription ran:
”IN MEMORY OF JAMES PIPPITT.”
The old man read and laughed.
”To think of that!” he said. ”It beats everything!”
He read on with a chuckle:
”Erected by his sorrowing son, Joseph Pippitt. Born 13th December, 1821. Died 5th February, 1891. 'I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.'”
This prophecy might or might not be true of the person interred beneath the tombstone. On its unfortunate inapplicability to his father, and on the tainting of the fountain of Louisiana justice, young Mr. Pippitt enjoyed twelve months' quiet reflection.
HOW THEY STOPPED THE ”RUN.”
There was a run on the Sandhill and District Bank. It had lasted the whole of one day, and had shown no signs of abating in the evening. If it lasted another day! Old Mr. Bradshaw wiped his brow. It had come just at the awkwardest time--just after the farmers had got their usual loans, just when securities were hard to realize; in fact, just at the moment when the bank, though in reality solvent, was emphatically not in a position in answer a long-continued demand for payment on the spot.
Mr. Bradshaw groaned out all these distressing facts to his son d.i.c.k.
It was, indeed, no use talking to d.i.c.k, for he took no interest in business, and had spent the day in a boat with the Flirtington girls; still, Mr. Bradshaw was bound to talk to someone.
”We shall have to put the shutters up. One day's grace would save us, I believe; we could get the money then. But if they're at us again to-morrow morning, we can't last two hours.”
d.i.c.k sympathized, but had nothing to suggest, except that it would not make matters worse if he carried out his engagement to go to the circus with the Flirtington girls.
”Oh, go to h--ll with the Flirtington girls, if you like,” groaned Mr.
Bradshaw.
So d.i.c.k went--to the circus (the other expedition, as he observed, would keep), and enjoyed the performance very much, especially the lion-taming, which was magnificent, and so impressed d.i.c.k that he deserted his companions, went behind the scenes, and insisted on standing Signor Philippini several gla.s.ses.
”Is that big chap quite safe?” he asked admiringly.
”_I_ can do anythink with 'im,” said the signor (whose English was naturally defective); ”but with anyone helse 'e's a roarer, 'e is, and no mistake.”
After the performance d.i.c.k took the Flirtington girls home; then, with a thoughtful look on his face, he went and had some talk with his father, and came away, carefully placing a roll of notes in his breast pocket.
Then he sought Signor Philippini's society once more. And that's all that is really known about it--if, that is, we discard the obviously fanciful statement of f.a.n.n.y Flirtington that, as she was gazing at the moon about 2 A. M., she saw a heavy wagon, drawn by two horses and driven by Signor Philippini, pa.s.s along the street in the direction of the bank. She must have been wrong; for Philippini, by the evidence of his signora (whose name, notwithstanding that Philippini's morals were perfectly correct, was Mrs. Buggins), went to bed at 11.30, and snored like a pig all night.
However these things may be, this is what happened next morning. When the first of the depositors arrived at 7 A. M., they found one of the windows of the bank smashed to pieces and the shutter hanging loose. A cry went up that there had been a robbery, and one or two men began to climb in. They did not get far before a fearful roar proceeded from the neighborhood of the counter. They looked at one another, and said it would be more regular to wait for the officials. The roars continued.
They sent for Mr. Bradshaw. Hardly had he arrived (accompanied by d.i.c.k, breathless and in s.h.i.+rt-sleeves) before the backmost rows of the now considerable crowd became agitated with a new sensation. The news spread rapidly. Frantic men ran to and fro; several ladies fainted; the circus-proprietor was sent for. A lion had escaped from the menagerie, and was supposed to be at large in the town!
”Send for Philippini!” cried the proprietor. They did so. Philippini had started early for a picnic in the country, and would not return till just before the performance in the evening. The proprietor was in despair.
”Where's the beast gone to?” he cried.
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