Kipps · Book II · Chapter 2 6 (3/3)

He rose late, but this terrible discovery was still there, undispelled by cockcrow or the day. He rose in a shattered condition, and he cut himself while shaving, but at last he got into his dining-room and could pull the bell for the hot constituents of his multifarious breakfast. And then he turned to his letters. There were two real letters in addition to the customary electric belt advertisement, continental lottery circular and betting tout’s card. One was in a slight mourning envelope and addressed in an unfamiliar hand. This he opened first and discovered a note:

Mrs. Raymond Wace
Requests the pleasure of
Mr. Kipps’
Company at Dinner
on Tuesday, September 21st, at 8 o’clock

With a hasty movement Kipps turned his mind to the second letter. It was an unusually long one from his Uncle, and ran as follows:

“My Dear Nephew

“We are considerably startled by your letter though expecting something of the sort and disposed to hope for the best. If the young lady is a relation to the Earl of Beauprés well and good but take care you are not being imposed upon for there are many who will be glad enough to snap you up now your circumstances are altered⁠—I waited on the old Earl once while in service and he was remarkably close with his tips and suffered from corns. A hasty old gent and hard to please⁠—I daresay he has forgotten me altogether⁠—and anyhow there is no need to rake up bygones. Tomorrow is bus day and as you say the young lady is living near by we shall shut up shop for there is really nothing doing now what with all the visitors bringing everything with them down to their very children’s pails and say how de do to her and give her a bit of a kiss and encouragement if we think her suitable⁠—she will be pleased to see your old uncle⁠—We wish we could have had a look at her first but still there is not much mischief done and hoping that all will turn out well yet I am

“My heartburn still very bad. I shall bring over a few bits of rhubub I picked up, a sort you won’t get in Folkestone and if possible a good bunch of flowers for the young lady.”

“Comin’ over today,” said Kipps, standing helplessly with the letter in his hand.

“ ’Ow, the Juice⁠—?

“I carn’t.

“Kiss ’er!”

“I carn’t even face ’er⁠—!”

A terrible anticipation of that gathering framed itself in his mind⁠—a hideous, impossible disaster.

His voice went up to a note of despair, “And it’s too late to telegrarf and stop ’em!”

About twenty minutes after this, an outporter in Castle Hill Avenue was accosted by a young man, with a pale, desperate face, an exquisitely rolled umbrella and a heavy Gladstone bag.

“Carry this to the station, will you?” said the young man. “I want to ketch the nex’ train to London.⁠ ⁠… You’ll ’ave to look sharp⁠—I ’aven’t very much time.”