Part 20 (1/2)
he said. There was no answer, not even the defensive snore. No room, no Buggins, nothing!
Then he remembered better. He sat on the edge of his bed for some time.
Could anyone have seen his face they would have seen it white and drawn with staring eyes. Then he groaned weakly. ”Twenty-six thousand pounds?”
he whispered.
Just then it presented itself in an almost horribly overwhelming ma.s.s.
He remade his bed and returned to it. He was still dreadfully wakeful.
It was suddenly clear to him that he need never trouble to get up punctually at seven again. That fact shone out upon him like a star through clouds. He was free to lie in bed as long as he liked, get up when he liked, go where he liked, have eggs every morning for breakfast or rashers or bloater paste or.... Also he was going to astonish Miss Wals.h.i.+ngham....
Astonish her and astonish her....
He was awakened by a thrush singing in the fresh dawn. The whole room was flooded with warm, golden suns.h.i.+ne. ”I say!” said the thrush. ”I say! I say! Twelve 'undred a year! Twelve 'Undred a Year. Twelve 'UNDRED a Year! I say! I say! I say!”
He sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his knuckles.
Then he jumped out of bed and began dressing very eagerly. He did not want to lose any time in beginning the new life.
END OF BOOK I
BOOK II
MR. COOTE, THE CHAPERON
CHAPTER I
THE NEW CONDITIONS
--1
There comes a gentlemanly figure into these events and for a s.p.a.ce takes a leading part therein, a Good Influence, a refined and amiable figure, Mr. Chester Coote. You must figure him as about to enter our story, walking with a curious rect.i.tude of bearing through the evening dusk towards the Public Library, erect, large-headed--he had a great, big head full of the suggestion of a powerful mind, well under control--with a large, official-looking envelope in his white and knuckly hand. In the other he carries a gold-handled cane. He wears a silken grey jacket suit, b.u.t.toned up, and anon he coughs behind the official envelope. He has a prominent nose, slatey grey eyes and a certain heaviness about the mouth. His mouth hangs breathing open, with a slight protrusion of the lower jaw. His straw hat is pulled down a little in front, and he looks each person he pa.s.ses in the eye, and directly his look is answered looks away.
Thus Mr. Chester Coote, as he was on the evening when he came upon Kipps. He was a local house agent and a most active and gentlemanly person, a conscious gentleman, equally aware of society and the serious side of life. From amateur theatricals of a nice, refined sort to science cla.s.ses, few things were able to get along without him. He supplied a fine, full ba.s.s, a little flat and quavery perhaps, but very abundant, to the St. Stylites' choir....
He pa.s.ses on towards the Public Library, lifts the envelope in salutation to a pa.s.sing curate, smiles and enters....
It was in the Public Library that he came upon Kipps.
By that time Kipps had been rich a week or more, and the change in his circ.u.mstances was visible upon his person. He was wearing a new suit of drab flannels, a Panama hat and a red tie for the first time, and he carried a silver-mounted stick with a tortoise sh.e.l.l handle. He felt extraordinarily different, perhaps more different than he really was, from the meek Improver of a week ago. He felt as he felt Dukes must feel, yet at bottom he was still modest. He was leaning on his stick and regarding the indicator with a respect that never palled. He faced round to meet Mr. Coote's overflowing smile.
”What are you doang hea?” said Mr. Chester Coote.
Kipps was momentarily abashed. ”Oh,” he said slowly, and then, ”Mooching round a bit.”
That Coote should address him with this easy familiarity was a fresh reminder of his enhanced social position. ”Jes' mooching round,” he said. ”I been back in Folkestone free days now. At my 'ouse, you know.”