Part 33 (2/2)

”The fact is,” he said, ”we don't get on very well together. _I_ don't hold with service. We're common people, I suppose, but I don't like it.

I don't see why a sister of mine should wait at other people's tables.

No. Not even if they got Twelve 'Undred a Year.”

Kipps tried to change the point of application. ”Remember 'ow you came out once when we were racing here?... She didn't run bad for a girl.”

And his own words raised an image brighter than he could have supposed, so bright it seemed to breathe before him and did not fade altogether, even when he was back in Folkestone an hour or so later.

But Sid was not to be deflected from that other rankling theme by any reminiscences of Ann.

”I wonder what you will do with all that money,” he speculated. ”I wonder if you will do any good at all. I wonder what you _could_ do. You should hear Masterman. He'd tell you things. Suppose it came to me, what should I do? It's no good giving it back to the state as things are.

Start an Owenite profit-sharing factory perhaps. Or a new Socialist paper. We want a new Socialist paper.”

He tried to drown his personal chagrin in elaborate exemplary suggestions....

--3

”I must be gettin' on to my motor,” said Kipps at last, having to a large extent heard him out.

”What! Got a motor?”

”No!” said Kipps apologetically. ”Only jobbed for the day.”

”'Ow much?”

”Five pounds.”

”Keep five families for a week! Good Lord!” That seemed to crown Sid's disgust.

Yet drawn by a sort of fascination he came with Kipps and a.s.sisted at the mounting of the motor. He was pleased to note it was not the most modern of motors, but that was the only grain of comfort. Kipps mounted at once, after one violent agitation of the little shop-door to set the bell a-jingle and warn his Uncle and Aunt. Sid a.s.sisted with the great furlined overcoat and examined the spectacles.

”Good-bye, o' chap!” said Kipps.

”Good-bye, o' chap!” said Sid.

The old people came out to say good-bye.

Old Kipps was radiant with triumph. ”'Pon my Sammy, Artie! I'm a goo'

mind to come with you,” he shouted, and then, ”I got something you might take with you!”

He dodged back into the shop and returned with the perforated engraving after Morland.

”You stick to this, my boy,” he said. ”You get it repaired by someone who knows. It's the most vallyble thing I got you so far, you take my word.”

”Warrup!” said the motor, and tuff, tuff, tuff, and backed and snorted while old Kipps danced about on the pavement as if foreseeing complex catastrophes, and told the driver, ”That's all right.”

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