"An extraordinary change," said Mr. Coote. "I can quite believe it. Are you stopping in Folkestone?"
"For a bit. I got a 'ouse, you know. What my gran'father 'ad. I'm stopping there. His housekeeper was kep' on. Fancy—being in the same town and everything!"
"Precisely," said Mr. Coote. "That's it!" and coughed like a sheep behind four straight fingers.
"Mr. Bean got me to come back to see to things. Else I was out in New Romney, where my Uncle and Aunt live. But it's a Lark coming back. In a way...."
The conversation hung for a moment.
"Are you getting a book?" asked Coote.
"Well, I 'aven't got a ticket yet. But I shall get one all right, and have a go in at reading. I've often wanted to. Rather. I was just 'aving a look at this Indicator. First-class idea. Tells you all you want to know."
"It's simple," said Coote, and coughed again, keeping his eyes fixed on Kipps. For a moment they hung, evidently disinclined to part. Then Kipps jumped at an idea he had cherished for a day or more,—not particularly in relation to Coote, but in relation to anyone.
"You doing anything?" he asked.
"Just called with a papah about the classes."