“Look here,” said Raggett, getting up again.
“I mean from her point of view,” said Mr. Boom querulously; “you’re very ’asty, Raggett.”
“Well, I don’t care about it,” said Raggett slowly; “it seemed all right when we was talking about it; but s’pose I have all my trouble for nothing, and she don’t take Dick after all? What then?”
“Well, then there’s no harm done,” said his friend, “and it’ll be a bit o’ sport for both of us. You go up and start, an’ I’ll have another pint of beer and a clean pipe waiting for you against you come back.”
Sorely against his better sense Mr. Raggett rose and went off, grumbling. It was fatiguing work on a hot day, climbing the road up the cliff, but he took it quietly, and having gained the top, moved slowly towards the cottage.
“Morning, Mr. Raggett,” said Kate cheerily, as he entered the cottage. “Dear, dear, the idea of an old man like you climbing about! It’s wonderful.”
“I’m sixty-seven,” said Mr. Raggett viciously, “and I feel as young as ever I did.”
“To be sure,” said Kate soothingly; “and look as young as ever you did. Come in and sit down a bit.”
Mr. Raggett with some trepidation complied, and sitting in a very upright position, wondered how he should begin. “I am just sixty-seven,” he said slowly. “I’m not old and I’m not young, but I’m just old enough to begin to want somebody to look after me a bit.”
“I shouldn’t while I could get about if I were you,” said the innocent Kate. “Why not wait until you’re bed-ridden?”