Part 31 (2/2)

His expression changed slowly.

”'Ow the Juice is one to know?” he said, putting down the hat with some emphasis.

He rose up, went across the room to the sideboard, and, standing there, opened and began to read ”Manners and Rules.”

CHAPTER IV

THE BICYCLE MANUFACTURER

--1

So Kipps embarked upon his engagement, steeled himself to the high enterprise of marrying above his breeding. The next morning found him dressing with a certain quiet severity of movement, and it seemed to his landlady's housemaid that he was unusually dignified at breakfast. He meditated profoundly over his kipper and his kidney and bacon. He was going to New Romney to tell the old people what had happened and where he stood. And the love of Helen had also given him courage to do what Buggins had once suggested to him as a thing he would do were he in Kipps' place, and that was to hire a motor car for the afternoon. He had an early cold lunch, and then, with an air of quiet resolution, a.s.sumed a cap and coat he had purchased to this end, and thus equipped strolled around, blowing slightly, to the motor shop. The transaction was unexpectedly easy, and within the hour Kipps, spectacled and wrapped about, was tootling through Dymchurch.

They came to a stop smartly and neatly outside the little toy shop.

”Make that thing 'oot a bit, will you,” said Kipps. ”Yes, that's it.”

”Whup,” said the motor car. ”Whurrup!”

Both his Aunt and Uncle came out on the pavement. ”Why, it's Artie,”

cried his Aunt, and Kipps had a moment of triumph.

He descended to hand claspings, removed wraps and spectacles, and the motor driver retired to take ”an hour off.” Old Kipps surveyed the machinery and disconcerted Kipps for a moment by asking him in a knowing tone what they asked him for a thing like that. The two men stood inspecting the machine and impressing the neighbours for a time, and then they strolled through the shop into the little parlour for a drink.

”They ain't settled,” old Kipps had said to the neighbours. ”They ain't got no further than experiments. There's a bit of take-in about each.

You take my advice and wait, me boy, even if it's a year or two, before you buy one for your own use.”

(Though Kipps had said nothing of doing anything of the sort.)

”'Ow d'you like that whiskey I sent?” asked Kipps, dodging the old familiar bunch of children's pails.

Old Kipps became tactful. ”It's a very good whiskey, my boy,” said old Kipps. ”I 'aven't the slightest doubt it's a very good whiskey and cost you a tidy price. But--dashed if it soots me! They put this here Foozle Ile in it, my boy, and it ketches me jest 'ere.” He indicated his centre of figure. ”Gives me the heartburn,” he said, and shook his head rather sadly.

”It's a very good whiskey,” said Kipps. ”It's what the actor manager chaps drink in London, I 'appen to know.”

”I dessay they do, my boy,” said old Kipps, ”but then they've 'ad their livers burnt out, and I 'aven't. They ain't dellicat like me. My stummik always _'as_ been extrey dellicat. Sometimes it's almost been as though nothing would lay on it. But that's in pa.s.sing. I liked those segars.

You can send me some of them segars....”

You cannot lead a conversation straight from the gastric consequences of Foozle Ile to Love, and so Kipps, after a friendly inspection of a rare old engraving after Morland (perfect except for a hole kicked through the centre) that his Uncle had recently purchased by private haggle, came to the topic of the old people's removal.

At the outset of Kipps' great fortunes there had been much talk of some permanent provision for them. It had been conceded they were to be provided for comfortably, and the phrase ”retire from business” had been very much in the air. Kipps had pictured an ideal cottage, with a creeper always in exuberant flower about the door, where the sun shone forever and the wind never blew and a perpetual welcome hovered in the doorway. It was an agreeable dream, but when it came to the point of deciding upon this particular cottage or that, and on this particular house or that, Kipps was surprised by an unexpected clinging to the little home, which he had always understood to be the worst of all possible houses.

”We don't want to move in a 'urry,” said Mrs. Kipps.

”When we want to move, we want to move for life. I've had enough moving about in my time,” said old Kipps.

<script>