THE CALLERS
They regarded the windy waste of sea for a space.
"Wonder why it is 'e won't see me," said Kipps, returning to the problem of young Walshingham. "It's all lies about 'is being too busy."
Ann offered no solution.
"Rain again!" said Kipps, as the lash of the little drops stung the window.
"Oo, bother!" said Kipps, "you got to do something. Look 'ere, Ann! I'll go orf for a reg'lar tramp through the rain, up by Saltwood, round by Newington, over the camp, and so round and back, and see 'ow they're getting on about the 'ouse. See? And look 'ere! you get Gwendolen to go out a bit before I come back. If it's still rainy, she can easy go round and see 'er sister. Then we'll 'ave a bit of tea, with tea cake—all buttery, see? Toce it ourselves, p'raps. Eh?"
"I dessay I can find something to do in the 'ouse," said Ann, considering. "You'll take your mackintosh and leggin's, I s'pose. You'll get wet without your mackintosh over those roads."
"Right-O," said Kipps, and went to ask Gwendolen for his brown leggings and his other pair of boots.
§ 2
Things conspired to demoralise Kipps that afternoon.
When he got outside the house everything looked so wet under the drive of the southwester that he abandoned the prospect of the clay lanes towards Newington altogether, and turned east to Folkestone
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