"I'm sure we all congratulate him," said Miss Mergle.
"Great Scott!" said the new young lady in the glove department. "Twelve hundred a year! Great Scott! You aren't thinking of marrying anyone, are you, Mr. Kipps?"
"Three pounds, five and ninepence a day," said Mr. Booch, working in his head almost miraculously.…
Everyone, it seemed, was saying how glad they were it was Kipps, except the junior apprentice, upon whom—he being the only son of a widow and used to having the best of everything as a right—an intolerable envy, a sense of unbearable wrong, had cast its gloomy shade. All the rest were quite honestly and simply glad—gladder perhaps at that time than Kipps because they were not so overpowered.…
Kipps went downstairs to dinner, emitting fragmentary, disconnected statements. "Never expected anything of the sort.… When this here old Bean told me, you could have knocked me down with a feather.… He says, 'You b'en lef money.' Even then I didn't expect it'd be mor'n a hundred pounds perhaps. Something like that."
With the sitting down to dinner and the handing of plates the excitement assumed a more orderly quality. The housekeeper emitted congratulations as she carved and the maidservant became dangerous to clothes with the plates—she held them anyhow, one expected to see one upside down even—she found
