THE BICYCLE MANUFACTURER
"We can do here a bit more, now we done here so long," said Mrs. Kipps.
"You lemme look about a bit fust," said old Kipps.
And in looking about old Kipps found perhaps a finer joy than any mere possession could have given. He would shut his shop more or less effectually against the intrusion of customers, and toddle abroad seeking new matter for his dream; no house was too small and none too large for his knowing inquiries. Occupied houses took his fancy more than vacant ones, and he would remark, "You won't be a-livin' 'ere for ever, even if you think you will," when irate householders protested against the unsolicited examination of their more intimate premises. . . .
Remarkable difficulties arose of a totally unexpected sort.
"If we 'ave a larger 'ouse," said Mrs. Kipps with sudden bitterness, "we shall want a servant, and I don't want no gells in the place larfin' at me, sniggerin' and larfin' and prancin' and trapesin', lardy da!
"If we 'ave a smaller 'ouse," said Mrs. Kipps, "there won't be room to swing a cat."
Room to swing a cat it seemed was absolutely essential. It was an infrequent but indispensable operation.
"When we do move," said old Kipps, "if we could get a bit of shootin'———"
"I don't want to sell off all this here stock for nothin'," said old Kipps. "It's took years to 'cumulate. I put a ticket in the winder sayin' 'sellin' orf,' but it 'asn't brought nothing like a roosh. One of these 'ere dratted visitors pretendin' to want an air
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