THE HOUSING PROBLEM
of these 'ere trashy cheap ones when you do get it, my boy. Get one as'll last a lifetime. . . . I'm surprised you don't 'ire a bit more."
"Ann don't seem to fency a moty-car," said Kipps.
"Ah!" said old Kipps, "I expect not," and glanced a comment at the door. "She ain't used to going out," he said. "More at 'ome indoors."
"Fact is," said Kipps, hastily, "we're thinking of building a 'ouse."
"I wouldn't do that, my boy," began old Kipps, but his nephew was routing in the chiffonier drawer amidst the plans. He got them in time to check some further comment on Ann. "Um," said the old gentleman, a little impressed by the extraordinary odour and the unusual transparency of the tracing paper Kipps put into his hands. "Thinking of building a 'ouse, are you?"
Kipps began with the most modest of the three projects.
Old Kipps read slowly through his silver-rimmed spectacles: "Plan of a 'ouse for Arthur Kipps, Esquire—Um."
He didn't warm to the project all at once, and Ann drifted into the room to find him still scrutinising the architect's proposals a little doubtfully.
"We couldn't find a decent 'ouse anywhere," said Kipps, leaning against the table and assuming an off-hand note. "I didn't see why we shouldn't run up one for ourselves." Old Kipps could not help liking the tone of that.
"We thought we might see—" said Ann.
"It's a spekerlation, of course," said old Kipps,
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