Punch (99.1890)

November 8, 1890.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 217

MR. PUNCH'S PRIZE NOVELS.

No. V.—MIGNON'S MESS-ROOM.

{By Tom Etm Summer, Author of " Mignon's Ma," " Mignon's Hub,"
" Footle's Father," "Tootles TooUie," "Ugly Tom," " Yoxir Rich
Richard,'' "A Baby in Barracks," "Stuck," "Hoop-Lore," " Went
for that Pleeceman," &e., etc., <tc, &c, &c., <Sie., &c, tbc.)
[" This," writes the eminent Author, " is a real, true story of the life of
soldiers and children. Soldiers are grand, noble fellows. They are so
manly, and all smoke a great deal of tobacco. My drawl is the only genuine
one. I could do a lot more of the same sort, but I charge extra for pathos.
I'ma man.—T. K. S."]

Chapter I.

"Three blind mice—
See how they ran."—Old Sony.

The Officers of the Purple Dragoons were gathered together in
their ante-room. It was a way they had- They were all there.
Grand fellows, too, most of them—tall, broad-shouldered, and silky-
haired, and as good as gold. That gets tiresome after a time, but
everything can be set right with one downright rascally villain—a
villain, mind you, that poor, weak women, know nothing about.
Gavor was that kind of man. Of course that was why he was to
break his neck, and get smashed up generally. But I am anticipat-
ing, and a man should never anticipate. Emily, for instance, never

open it. As he broke the seal a little cry was heard, and suddenly,
before even Emily had had time to say " I nev-ah!" a charming
and beautifully dressed girl, of about fifteen summers, sprang lightly
from the packet on to the mess-room floor, and kissed her pretty
little hand to the astonished Dragoons.

" You're Tootles," she said, skipping up to the thunder-stricken
owner of the name. " I know you very well. I'm going to be
your daughter, and you 're going to maj-ry my mother. Oh, it's all
right," she continued, as she observed Footles press his right hand
convulsively to the precise spot on his gorgeous mess-waistcoat
under which he imagined his heart to be situated, "it's all right.
Pa's going to he comfortably killed, and put out of the way.and
then you'll marry darling Mamma. She'll be a thousand times
more beautiful at thirty-three than she was at twenty-two, and
ever so much more lovely at fifty-five than at thirty-three. So it's
a good bargain, isn't it, Em P" This to Emily, who appeared con-
fused. She trotted up to him, and laid her soft blooming ehe<-k
against his blooming hard one. "Never mind, Em." sbe lisped,
" everything is bound to come out right. I've sett ltd it all"—this
with a triumphant look on her baby-face—"with the author; such
a splendid writer, none of your twaddling women-scribblers, but a
real man, and a great friend of mine. I'm to marry you, Em.
You don't know it, because you once loved Naomi, who ' mawrwried
the Wrevewrend Solomon'"—at this point most of the Purple
Dragoons were rude enoush to yawn openly. She paid no attention

did. Emily-Captain Emily, of the Purple Dragoons—was the ! to them—" and now you love Oi.ive, but sbe loves Pahkack and he

bWgest fool in the Service. doesn't love her, so she has got

Everybody told him so; and to marry Parkoss, whom she

Emily, who had a trustful, loving I .. f Jf. . '' i, ', doesn't love. Their initials are

nature, always believed what he ' ' o Ika! . the same, and everybody knows

wastold. ^S^r^Vli'illii ! their caligraphy is exactly alike,"

"I nev-ah twry," he used to ," >.'' 'i||lihs^S!j^jn|L'ji I If 'I I 8^e wen* ?n w«*"lf> "80 that's

say—it was a difficult word to "\ »^5,. , , Jf^S ,\\ ' i^UfSlS iljl i ' i j 1; ill how the mistake arose. It's a bit

pronounce, but Emily always ^'lit^iii1 •'■ iiS// ' I' ill I'1 jfi far-fetched, but," and her arch

stuck to it as only a soldier can. ), ^Sjrajli' f| ljSi^ci 1 I Pi' I wiillilliPwl mm /S?V I H smile as she said this would have

and got it out somehow—"I . 1 ™ z&ljk. t}3pL ' J •■ melted a harder heart than

nev-ah twry to wremember things wl MAVm^y^Tm'j l<j| |P if''1!!'' C~~ r-4^S^J ill Captain Emily's, "we mustn't be

the wwrong way wround." _ /'{f .,ji|||,<7>i (j® I'ISIl/^Si ' A-' _r7^m''» top particular in a soldier's tale,

A roar of laughter greeted this £m\\\\ U5s4 l wLf' Ill^v^T^'MlTli;! /HiI[|Cl">7^§' ,!«| you know."

sally. They all knew he meant IP^i;^fMmjMLSMJ'lAMill ! l)\?WmW JtBMsm As she concluded her remarks

" anticipate," but they all loved W4 / ^^JMBMSIOtSBm UBUllff^fiAdrlMMB t1w door opened, and Colonel

their Emily far too well to set w .'V. V \?'( V5\|w WwQBm Pobser entered the room

hl"'Ponmy soul," he continued, iL^aWf ^liillSf V/MLI wRfrWl MjtM Chapter III.

" it's quite twrue. You fellows ™MMjM,||k" , V, ySKmmSS^^^S^! HUSH "Pat a cake, pat a cake, baker's man."

may wroawr wiv laughtewr if [§§plv jar? ''' IBSl^^^^S^^T^' '^B^MS^Ml Old Ballad.

you like, but it's twrue, and Braf?- '•Wmr^l^'^^lBBa^^' Colonel Purser was a stout,

you know it's twrue." bWShBHHPV^HB. Mil. fllRlfl^wllW' i '• plethoric man. He was five feet

There was another explosion \^m^Sm^^S^^^^^0^M^^^^^^^^^sU^^^SP W seveI1 inches high, forty-five

of what Emii.y would have iffepf^S^^j^' " ' : inches round the _ chest, filty

called " mewrwriment," at this, vISaSSmSKfKf^l^^'^ ^aloK^M^gl^^^P" // inches round the waist, and every

for it was well-known to be JfpwBg^gSS^- "^a^y*^ --^^^^g ' inch of him was a soldier. He

one of the gallant dragoon's ^BB-S^^gEnSS^1^—was> therefore, a host in himself,

most humorous efforts. A ^^^^^^^^^^^^^==^^^^^^^^=^^^^-° He. gasped, and turned red, but.

somewhat protracted silence fol- ^--==-—-■-' like a real soldier, at once grasped

lowed. Footles, however, took it in both hands, and broke it
with no greater emotion than he would have shown if he had been
called upon to charge a whole squadron of Leicestershire Bullfinches,
or to command a Lord Mayor's escort on the 9th of November.
Dear old Footles ! He wasn't clever, no Purple Dragoon could be,
hut he wasn't the bi?gest fool in the Service, like Emily, and all
the rest of them. Still he loved another's.

In fact, whenever a Purple Dragoon fell in love, the object of his
affections immediately pretended to love someone else. Hard, lines,
but soldiers were born to suffer. It is so easy, so true, so usual to
say, "there's another day to-morrow," but that never helped even
a Purple Dragoon to worry through to-day any the quicker. Poor,
brave, noble, drawling, manly, pipe-smoking fellows! On this
particular occasion Footles uttered only one word. It was short,
and began with the fourth letter_ of the alphabet. But he may be
pardoned, for some of the glowing embers from his magnificent
briar-wood pipe had dropped on to his regulation overalls. The
result was painful—to Footles. All the others laughed as well as
they could, with clays, meerschaums, briars, and asbestos pipes in
their mouths. And through the thick cloud of scented smoke the
mess- waiter came into the room, bearing in his hand a large registered
letter, and coughing violently.

Chapter II.
" The mouse ran up the clock."—Nursery Rhyme.

The waiter advanced slowly to Footles, and handed him the
letter. Footles took it meditatively, and turned it over in both
hands. The post-marks were illegible, and the envelope much
crumpled. " Never mind," thought Footles, to himself, " it will
dry straight-it will dry straight." He always thought this twice,
because it was one of his favourite phrases. At last he decided to

the situation. The Colonel was powerful, and the situation, in spite
of all my pains, was not a strong one. The struggle was short.

"PaTdon me," said the Colonel, when he bad recovered his wind,
" is your name Mignon ? "

" Yes," she replied, as the tears brimmed over in her lovely eyes,
"it is. I am a simple soldier's child, but, oh, I can run so beauti-
fully—through ever so many volumes, and lots of editions. In fact,"
she added, confidentially, " I don't see why I should stop at all, do
you P Emily must marry me. He can't marry Olive, because Dame
Nature put in her eyes with a dirty finger. Ugh! I've got
blue eyes."

"But," retorted the Colonel, quickly, " shall you never quarrel?"

"Oh yes," answered Mignon, "there will come a rift in the
hitherto "perfect lute of our friendship (the rift's name will be
Darkey), but we shall manage to bridge_ it over—at least Tom Rum
Summer says so." Here Emily broke in. He could stand it no
longer. " Dash it, you know, this is wewry extwraowidinawry,
wewry extwraowrdinawry indeed," he observed; "You'wre a
most wremawrkable young woman, you know."

A shout of laughter followed this remark, and in the fog of
tobacco-smoke Colonel Purser could be dimly seen draining a
magnum of champagne.

Chapter IV.

" Hey diddle, diddle."—Songs and Romances.

Everything fell out exactly as Mignon prophesied. But if you
think that you've come to the end of Mignon, I can only say you're
very much astray, or as Emily, with his smooth silky voice, and
his smoother silkier manners, would have said, " You 'wre wewry
much astwray." See my next dozen stories.

the end. {Pro tern.)

VOL, XCIx,

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