Part 20 (2/2)
”Ah!” said Mr. Coote. ”I haven't yet had an opportunity of congratulating you on your good fortune.”
Kipps held out his hand. ”It was the cleanest surprise that ever was,”
he said. ”When Mr. Bean told me of it--you could have knocked me down with a feather.”
”It must mean a tremendous change for you.”
”Oo. Rather. Change. Why, I'm like the chap in the song they sing, I don't 'ardly know where I are. _You_ know.”
”An extraordinary change,” said Mr. Coote. ”I can quite believe it. Are you stopping in Folkestone?”
”For a bit. I got a 'ouse, you know. What my gran'father 'ad. I'm stopping there. His housekeeper was kep' on. Fancy--being in the same town and everything!”
”Precisely,” said Mr. Coote. ”That's it!” and coughed like a sheep behind four straight fingers.
”Mr. Bean got me to come back to see to things. Else I was out in New Romney, where my Uncle and Aunt live. But it's a Lark coming back. In a way....”
The conversation hung for a moment.
”Are you getting a book?” asked Coote.
”Well, I 'aven't got a ticket yet. But I shall get one all right, and have a go in at reading. I've often wanted to. Rather. I was just 'aving a look at this Indicator. First-cla.s.s idea. Tells you all you want to know.”
”It's simple,” said Coote, and coughed again, keeping his eyes fixed on Kipps. For a moment they hung, evidently disinclined to part. Then Kipps jumped at an idea he had cherished for a day or more,--not particularly in relation to Coote, but in relation to anyone.
”You doing anything?” he asked.
”Just called with a papah about the cla.s.ses.”
”Because----. Would you care to come up and look at my 'ouse and 'ave a smoke and a chat. Eh?” He made indicative back jerks of the head, and was smitten with a horrible doubt whether possibly this invitation might not be some hideous breach of etiquette. Was it, for example, the correct hour? ”I'd be awfully glad if you would,” he added.
Mr. Coote begged for a moment while he handed the official-looking envelope to the librarian and then declared himself quite at Kipps'
service. They muddled a moment over precedence at each door they went through and so emerged to the street.
”It feels awful rum to me at first, all this,” said Kipps ”'Aving a 'ouse of my own and all that. It's strange, you know. 'Aving all day.
Reely I don't 'ardly know what to do with my time.
”D'ju smoke?” he said suddenly, proffering a magnificent gold decorated pigskin cigarette case, which he produced from nothing, almost as though it was some sort of trick. Coote hesitated and declined, and then, with great liberality, ”Don't let me hinder you....”
They walked a little way in silence, Kipps being chiefly concerned to affect ease in his new clothes and keeping a wary eye on Coote. ”It's rather a big windfall,” said Coote presently. ”It yields you an income----?”
”Twelve 'undred a year,” said Kipps. ”Bit over--if anything.”
”Do you think of living in Folkestone?”
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