Kipps · Book II · Chapter 2 4 (2/2)

“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.”

He waved his stout stick to his receding nephew. Then he turned to Sid. “Now, if you could make something like that, young Pornick, you might blow a bit!”

“I’ll make a doocid sight better than that before I done,” said Sid, hands deep in his pockets.

“Not you,” said old Kipps.

The motor set up a prolonged sobbing moan and vanished around the corner. Sid stood motionless for a space, unheeding some further remark from old Kipps. The young mechanic had just discovered that to have manufactured seventeen bicycles, including orders in hand, is not so big a thing as he had supposed, and such discoveries try one’s manhood.⁠ ⁠…

“Oh well!” said Sid at last, and turned his face towards his mother’s cottage.

She had got a hot teacake for him, and she was a little hurt that he was dark and preoccupied as he consumed it. He had always been such a boy for teacake, and then when one went out specially and got him one⁠—!

He did not tell her⁠—he did not tell anyone⁠—he had seen young Kipps. He did not want to talk about Kipps for a bit to anyone at all.