"Look at the cleanin'. Free servants'll be lost in that 'ouse, Artie."
"We must _'ave_ servants," said Kipps.
Ann looked despondently at her future residence.
"We got to keep up our position, any'ow," said Kipps, turning towards her. "It stands to reason, Ann, we got a position. Very well! I can't 'ave you scrubbin' floors. You got to 'ave a servant and you got to manage a 'ouse. You wouldn't 'ave me ashamed----"
Ann opened her lips and did not speak.
"What?" asked Kipps.
"Nothing," said Ann, "only I did want it to be a _little_ 'ouse, Artie.
I wanted it to be a 'andy little 'ouse, jest for us."
Kipps' face was suddenly flushed and mulish. He took up the curiously smelling tracings again. "I'm not a-going to be looked down upon," he said. "It's not only Uncle I'm thinking of!"
Ann stared at him.
Kipps went on. "I won't 'ave that young Walshingham f'r instance, sneering and sniffling at me. Making out as if we was all wrong. I see 'im yesterday.... Nor Coote neether. I'm as good--we're as good.
Whatever's 'appened."
Silence and the rustle of plans.
He looked up and saw Ann's eyes bright with tears. For a moment the two stared at one another.
"We'll 'ave the big 'ouse," said Ann, with a gulp. "I didn't think of that, Artie."
Her aspect was fierce and resolute, and she struggled with emotion.
"We'll 'ave the big 'ouse," she repeated. "They shan't say I dragged you down wiv' me--none of them shan't say that. I've thought--I've always been afraid of that."
Kipps looked again at the plan, and suddenly the grand house had become very grand indeed. He blew.
"No, Artie, none of them shan't say that," and with something blind in her motions Ann tried to turn the plan round to her....
After all, Kipps thought there might be something to say for the milder project.... But he had gone so far that now he did not know how to say it.
And so the plans went out to the builders, and in a little while Kipps was committed to two thousand five hundred pounds worth of building. But then, you know, he had an income of twelve hundred a year.
--8
It is extraordinary what minor difficulties cluster about house building.
"I say, Ann," remarked Kipps one day, "we shall 'ave to call this little 'ouse by a name. I was thinking of 'Ome Cottage. But I dunno whether 'Ome Cottage is quite the thing like. All these little fishermen's places are called Cottages."
"I like cottage," said Ann.
"It's got eleven bedrooms, d'see," said Kipps. "I don't see 'ow you can call it a cottage with more bedrooms than four. Prop'ly speaking, it's a Large Villa. Prop'ly, it's almost a Big 'Ouse. Leastways a 'Ouse."
"Well," said Ann, "if you must call it Villa--Home Villa.... I wish it wasn't."
Kipps meditated.
"'Ow about Eureka Villa?" he said, raising his voice.
"What's Eureka?"
"It's a name," he said. "There used to be Eureka Dress Fasteners.
There's lots of names, come to think of it, to be got out of a shop.
There's Pyjama Villa. I remember that in the hosiery. No, come to think, that wouldn't do. But Maraposa--sort of oatmeal cloth, that was.... No!
Eureka's better."
Ann meditated. "It seems silly like to 'ave a name that don't mean much."
"Perhaps it does," said Kipps. "Though it's what people 'ave to do."
He became meditative. "I got it!" he cried.
"Not Oreeka!" said Ann.
"No! There used to be a 'ouse at Hastings opposite our school--quite a big 'ouse it was--St. Ann's. Now _that_----"
"No," said Mrs. Kipps with decision. "Thanking you kindly, but I don't have no butcher boys making game of me."...
They consulted Carshot, who suggested after some days of reflection, Waddycombe, as a graceful reminder of Kipps' grandfather; Old Kipps, who was for "Upton Manor House," where he had once been second footman; Buggins, who favoured either a stern simple number, "Number One"--if there were no other houses there, or something patriotic, as "Empire Villa," and Pierce, who inclined to "Sandringham"; but in spite of all this help they were still undecided when, amidst violent perturbations of the soul, and after the most complex and difficult hagglings, wranglings, fears, muddles and goings to and fro, Kipps became the joyless owner of a freehold plot of three-eighths of an acre, and saw the turf being wheeled away from the site that should one day be his home.
CHAPTER II
THE CALLERS
--1
The Kippses sat at their midday dinner-table and amidst the vestiges of rhubarb pie, and discussed two postcards the one o'clock post had brought. It was a rare bright moment of sunshine in a wet and windy day in the March that followed their marriage. Kipps was attired in a suit of brown, with a tie of fashionable green, while Ann wore one of those picturesque loose robes that are usually associated with sandals and advanced ideas. But there weren't any sandals on Ann or any advanced ideas, and the robe had come quite recently through the counsels of Mrs.
Sid Pornick. "It's Artlike," said Kipps, giving way. "It's more comfortable," said Ann. The room looked out by French windows upon a little patch of green and the Hythe parade. The parade was all shiny wet with rain, and the green-grey sea tumbled and tumbled between parade and sky.
The Kipps' furniture, except for certain chromo lithographs of Kipps'
incidental choice that struck a quiet note amidst the wall paper, had been tactfully forced by an expert salesman, and it was in a style of mediocre elegance. There was a sideboard of carved oak that had only one fault, it reminded Kipps at times of wood-carving, and its panel of bevelled glass now reflected the back of his head. On its shelf were two books from Parsons' Library, each with a "place" marked by a slip of paper; neither of the Kippses could have told you the title of either book they read, much less the author's name. There was an ebonised overmantel set with phials and pots of brilliant colour, each duplicated by looking-glass, and bearing also a pair of Chinese jars made in Birmingham, a wedding present from Mr. and Mrs. Sidney Pornick, and several sumptuous Japanese fans. And there was a Turkey carpet of great richness. In addition to these modern exploits of Messrs. Bunt and Bubble, there were two inactive tall clocks, whose extreme dilapidation appealed to the connoisseur; a terrestrial and a celestial globe, the latter deeply indented; a number of good old iron moulded and dusty books, and a stuffed owl wanting one (easily replaceable) glass eye, obtained by the exertions of Uncle Kipps. The table equipage was as much as possible like Mrs. Bindon Botting's, only more costly, and in addition there were green and crimson wine glasses--though the Kippses never drank wine.
Kipps turned to the more legible of his two postcards again.
"'Unavoidably prevented from seein' me to-day,' 'e says. I like 'is cheek. After I give 'im 'is start and everything."
He blew.
"'E certainly treats you a bit orf'and," said Ann.