The Treasure of Mr Tipp (3 page)

“I love your scarobot, Mr Tipp,” said Sara, staggering into the garden with a long plank of wood.

“Have you invented lots of things?” gasped Surinder, clutching a box full of half-empty paint tins.

“Quite a few,” smiled Mr Tipp. “I'm a bit busy right now, but come back on Saturday and I'll show you some of my inventions.”

“Great,” we agreed, and said goodbye.

When I got home, Mum and Ellie were out, Noggin, our cat, was curled up on the sofa and Dad was hopping about on his crutches, trying to plug in a new toaster.

“What have you done with the old one?” I asked.

“It's in the bin,” said Dad.

I went outside and rescued it. “I know someone who would like this,” I said, and told Dad all about Mr Tipp.

“I've seen him around town,” smiled Dad. “You can't miss him, on that bike.”

“We're going to visit him on Saturday. I'll take the toaster with me.”

“Fine,” said Dad. “But right now, you need to take Brutus for his walk.”

I got Brutus's lead. “Come on,” I said. “I'll take you up Weird Street and show you what a scarobot looks like.”

But I couldn't.

When I got there, Bob had disappeared. Mr Tipp's roof garden was empty.

“That's funny,” I said. “Bob was working perfectly an hour ago. Mr Tipp wouldn't have taken him down for no reason. Something must have happened.”

Something certainly had.

“Health and safety. That's what's happened,” said Mr Tipp gloomily, when Sara, Surinder and I went over on Saturday. “Shortly after you left the other day, a silver car pulled up and Mr Gripe from the council knocked on my door. ‘That figure on your roof is dangerous', he said. ‘It might fall and hurt someone. It must be removed'.”

“Didn't you tell him about the wet sand in the wellies?” I asked.

Mr Tipp nodded. “I offered to replace it with concrete, but it was no use. Bob still had to come down. I'll have to find another use for him. Perhaps I'll put him at the gate to wave at passers-by… But I promised to
show you some of my inventions, didn't I. Would you like to come inside?”

“Yes, please,” we chorused.

The four of us headed for the house and stopped outside.

“I'll just ring for the butler,” smiled Mr Tipp. “This door used to belong to a ruined castle before I rescued it. The door, that is. Couldn't get the castle into the trailer.”

He yanked on the iron bell and this time there was a loud clank, followed by some slow, scraping metal noises. Then the door creaked open and Charlie stood there, wearing his red rubber glove.

“You were right, Jonny,” grinned Mr Tipp. “Charlie
is
left-handed.”

We went into the gloomy hall and Sara and Surinder's mouths fell open when they saw the robots.

“What do they all do?” asked Surinder. “Well,” said Mr Tipp, “my old legs and arms are getting a bit creaky, so they help me lift and carry things mostly. Though some of them have special jobs. Charlie's in charge of opening and closing the front door, Ben sweeps the floor, and Alice, the one with the mop head, switches on the kettle for tea.”

“What's that over there?” asked Sara. She pointed to an old oil drum with a metal
arm sticking out of it. Attached to the metal arm was a bone.

“Ah,” smiled Mr Tipp. “That's my cure for overweight dogs. “Watch.” He flicked a switch on the drum and the metal arm started going round and round. “The idea is that the dog chases the bone,” he grinned. “The bone will go round faster and faster till the dog's had enough exercise. Then it stops and he gets his reward. Simple.”

“I wonder if it works with chubby little sisters,” I joked.

“Now, come into my workshop,” said Mr Tipp. “I'll show you my latest invention. I think you'll like it.”

We followed Mr Tipp through a small door at the far end of the hall and found ourselves in a very different kind of room. This one was brightly lit, with mirrors covering most of the walls. There were hall mirrors, dressing-table mirrors, even old wing mirrors.

Mr Tipp smiled as we pulled faces in them. “It's amazing the treasure people
throw out,” he said. “The mirrors help to reflect the light. Now, have a look at this.”

He led us to a big table, which was covered with test tubes and scientific instruments. Some coloured liquids bubbled and burped away quietly. I wondered what they were, and wished I'd listened more carefully in our science lessons.

Mr Tipp uncovered a large white bowl. Inside was a spongy blue mixture smelling of peppermint.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Boomerang chewing gum,” beamed Mr Tipp. “Taste it.” And he pulled bits off and handed them to us. “It's made mainly from the juice of the Sapodilla tree which grows in tropical America. It's perfectly safe.”

We popped the gum into our mouths. It tasted delicious.

“Why do you call it Boomerang chewing gum?” I mumbled.

Mr Tipp beamed even more. “Take it out of your mouth and throw it on the floor.”

“What?”

“Go on,” he instructed.

I took out the chewing gum and dropped it at my feet. Immediately, it bounced back into my hand.

“What did I tell you!” Mr Tipp jumped up
and down in delight. “Boomerang chewing gum. Throw it away and it comes right back.”

Sara and Surinder tried it out, too.

“When you've finished chewing, you can play with it,” they giggled.

Just then some white smoke starting curling up from the purple liquid in one of the test tubes.

“What's that?” I asked.

“The answer to smelly socks, I hope,” said Mr Tipp. “But it's not quite right yet. When I sprayed it inside my socks, the local cats followed me for miles.”

We grinned and followed Mr Tipp into the kitchen for tea. It was quite a normal kitchen, if you didn't count the fact that when Mr Tipp pressed his remote control, Alice came in and switched on the kettle.

We sat round the table with big mugs of tea and lots of chocolate biscuits, and talked about Mr Tipp's amazing inventions. Then Mr Tipp had to get back to his cure for smelly socks, so he and Charlie waved us off from the big oak door.