The Flamp, The Ameliorator, and The Schoolboy's Apprentice Part 4

As they came nearer and nearer, the children saw that the object was a woman. For a moment she stood upright, looking all ways at once as though panic-stricken, and then she suddenly unfurled a green umbrella and sank behind it.

'Why, it's Alison,' cried Tobene. 'Hurrah!'

'Stop, stop!' cried Tilsa to the Flamp. 'Please don't frighten dear old Alison. Let us go down and run to her.'

The Flamp at once stopped and lay on his side, and the children slipped to the ground and scampered as fast as they could towards their nurse.

The umbrella did not move. As they drew close they heard the old lady's voice in beseeching tones: 'Please, Mr. Flamp, they're the sweetest children in the world, and if you've swallowed them, you mountaineous wretch you, you may as well swallow me too, for all there's left for me to live for! Besides, I'm their nurse, and I might be useful to them down inside. Ooh! Ooh! Please, Mr. Flamp, they're the sweetest children in the world, and if you've swallowed them, you mountaineous wretch you, you----'

'Alison, dear, it's all right,' Tilsa interrupted, skipping up and pushing the umbrella aside. 'We're as safe and happy as ever we were.'

Alison stared first at one and then at the other of her truant charges.

Then--'Well?' she almost screamed, 'is it really you, my dearies?'

'Really!' exclaimed both children at once, and there was such hugging as the plain of Ule had never before seen.

Soon Alison furled her umbrella and pointed to the Flamp, who was smiling and chuckling and soliloquising in the distance.

('It's as good as smush to see this,' he was saying.)

'Is that him?' Alison inquired.

'Yes,' said Tilsa, 'and he's such a dear, you can't think.'

'Yes, come along and be introduced,' said Tobene, and without a word Alison went, being quite a.s.sured that if the creature had not harmed her two pets it would not harm her.

'Mr. Flamp,' said Tobene, 'I want to introduce you to this lady, our nurse Alison. She's the best nurse in the world. You ought to get her to tuck you up at night.'

'Tuck _me_ up?' cried the Flamp, and--'Tuck _that_ up?' cried Alison, both together, and they all laughed, and at once Alison was at home and comfortable.

They went forward to the city, chatting gaily, but when the wall was reached, the gates were found to be barricaded. No sound of life was audible, no moving thing to be seen.

'As I expected,' said the Flamp sadly. 'They heard me coming, and as usual have locked themselves in. What's to be done?'

'The best course,' remarked old Alison, who was always a wonderful manager, whether with the cold mutton or a child in a temper, 'the best course is to wait. You lie down here, Mr. Flamp, and make as little noise breathing as you can; and you, Tilsa, darling, take this pencil and paper and write a note to your grandfather, to be slipped under the gate. They'll venture out soon and find it.'

The Flamp and Tilsa did as they were bid. This was Tilsa's note to the Liglid:--

'MY DEAR GRANDPAPA--There is no need to be frightened. Alison and Toby and me are just outside the gates all safe with the Flamp, who is really and truly the sweetest creature you ever saw. He doesn't want to hurt this city at all, he only wants simpithy like I said he did. If you open the gate and tell the people this you can see for yourself how kind and gentle he is, and that there isn't any need of sirc.u.mventing him. So please open the gate quickly. Your affectionate grandchild,

TILSA.

The paper was folded and addressed to 'His Excellency the Liglid of Ule,' and Tobene slipped it under the gate. Then the little party sat down to wait. Old Alison took out her knitting, and as she worked, told the others of her adventures in search of them. 'I had to come alone,'

she said: 'every one else was frightened.'

X

One hour pa.s.sed, two hours, three hours, and then a flag of truce appeared above the ramparts.

'Here, Mr. Flamp,' said Alison, 'get up and wave this in reply'; and she gave her handkerchief to the Flamp.

He mounted slowly on his hind feet, and, stepping to the wall, waved the handkerchief over it. A few minutes went by, and then the Liglid's scared face appeared at a loophole. Seeing Tilsa, Tobene, and Alison sitting comfortably in the shade cast by the Flamp's huge body, he seemed to be rea.s.sured.

'Alison,' he called out, 'are those really the children?'

'No doubt of it, sir,' said Alison.

'Then wait a little longer,' said the Liglid as he vanished.

He went at once to the Council Chamber and summoned a meeting of the wise men of Ule. 'Apparently,' he said, 'we have misjudged this creature for many years; but our duty now is simple: to draw up as quickly as may be an address of welcome to our eccentric visitor.'

An hour later, a procession of the men of eminence of the city, followed by the inhabitants, marched along the streets to the northern gate. At the Liglid's word of command, the barricades were removed and the gate flung open.

Tilsa and Tobene at once ran to their grandfather and kissed him, while Alison dropped a curtsey. The Flamp stood up and bowed as gracefully as he could, and the Liglid returned the salute, not without some shaking in the knees.

In faltering tones, which afterwards grew more steady, he begged of the Flamp the 'honour of his attention for a few moments,' and forthwith read the address of welcome. It was flowery and extravagant in style, and contained not a few statements which sent a spasm across the Flamp's wide expanse of face, such as might be caused by an attempt to suppress laughter.

At the end, the Flamp bowed again and laid a ma.s.sive paw upon his heart.

Then he replied. He began by thanking the Liglid for his kind welcome, continued with the expression of his determination to do in the future all that he could for the good of the city, and ended with a eulogy of Tilsa and Tobene.

'They are, if I may use the word,' he said feelingly, 'kids which any city should be proud of. And to be the grandfather of such bricks ought to be as good as smush and a perpetual delight. And their nurse, ma'am Alison here, is an old lady as is worthy of them.'

The crowd cheered these remarks again and again, and Tilsa and Tobene, who were not accustomed to such publicity, hardly knew where to look. As for old Alison, she curtseyed and went on with her knitting. 'Children,'

she said to herself, 'that travel in search of Flamps wear out their stockings. Flattery or no flattery, new stockings must be made.'

Other speeches followed, for Ule was famous for its oratory, the best being from a young statesman who made the admirable suggestion that in commemoration of this auspicious day, a new order of merit should be established, called the Order of the Friends of the Flamp, membership to be conferred upon all persons conspicuous for spontaneous acts of kindness. Further, he proposed that the first persons to add the letters F.F., signifying Friend of the Flamp, to their names, should be Tilsa, Tobene, and old Alison. The project was received with the wildest enthusiasm, and the order was then and there founded. And to the end of the history of Ule, no honour was esteemed more highly by the citizens than the simple affix F.F.

The formal part of the proceedings being finished, the Liglid proclaimed the day a general holiday and in the name of the city invited the Flamp to a grand banquet. Afterwards came sports of all kinds on the plain, in which the Flamp took part, carrying enormous loads of children up and down at a hand gallop, until the Commissioner of Works begged him to move more slowly, owing to the danger caused to the public buildings of Ule by the tremor of the earth. Never in the memory of the oldest inhabitant had such a day of jollification and excitement been spent.

Of course the Flamp was the chief attraction, but Tilsa and Tobene and old Alison were very considerable lions too, and a hundred times they told the story of their adventures. Presuming on his relationship to the explorers, the Liglid, it must be confessed, endeavoured to take to himself some credit for the proceedings, but it is doubtful if he was believed.

One worthy deed, however, he did perform: he publicly burned the Bill for the Circ.u.mvention of the Flamp, amid deafening applause.

At last, late in the evening, the Flamp said good-bye, promising to come again soon, and swung off across the plain, the people waving farewell to him from the city wall. And as he moved along, he chanted to himself a new song, which, although not much better in rhyme and metre, was vastly more cheerful than his old dirge. This was the first line of it:

'_O life, I think, is a jolly good thing._'

XI

There is no s.p.a.ce to tell a thousandth part of the benefits conferred by the Flamp upon the city which once had used him so ill. Suffice it to say, that henceforward the Flamp became the guardian of Ule.