THE HOUSING PROBLEM
"There's eleven bedrooms in that 'ouse," said Ann. "It's a bit of a lot, ain't it, Uncle?"
"You'll want 'em, my girl. As you get on, you'll be 'aving visitors. Friends of your 'usband's, p'raps, from the School of Musketry, what you want 'im to get on with. You can't never tell."
"If we 'ave a great s'rubbery," Ann ventured, "we shall 'ave to keep a gardener."
"If you don't 'ave a s'rubbery," said old Kipps, with a note of patient reasoning, "'ow are you to prevent every jackanapes that goes by, starin' into your drorin'-room winder—p'raps when you get someone a bit special to entertain?"
"We ain't used to a s'rubbery," said Ann, mulishly; "we get on very well 'ere."
"It isn't what you're used to," said old Kipps, "it's what you ought to 'ave now." And with that Ann dropped out of the discussion.
"Study and lib'ry," old Kipps read. "That's right. I see a Tantalus the other day over Brookland, the very thing for a gentleman's study. I'll try and get over and bid for it.". . .
By 'bus time old Kipps was quite enthusiastic about the house building, and it seemed to be definitely settled that the largest plan was the one decided upon.
But Ann had said nothing further in the matter.
§ 7
When Kipps returned from seeing his Uncle into the 'bus—there always seemed a certain doubt
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