§5
Any lingering doubt in that matter was dispelled when it came to plans.
The architect drew three sets of plans on a transparent bluish sort of paper that smelt abominably. He painted them very nicely; brick red and ginger, and arsenic green and a leaden sort of blue, and brought them over to show our young people. The first set were very simple, with practically no External Features—"a plain style," he said it was—but it looked a big sort of house nevertheless; the second had such extras as a conservatory, bow windows of various sorts, one rough–cast gable and one half–timbered ditto in plaster, and a sort of overhung verandah, and was much more imposing; and the third was quite fungoid with External Features, and honeycombed with Internal ones; it was, he said, "practically a mansion," and altogether a very noble fruit of the creative mind of man. It was, he admitted, perhaps almost too good for Hythe; his art had run away with him and produced a modern mansion in the "best Folkestone style"; it had a central hall with a staircase, a Moorish gallery, and Tudor stained glass window, crenelated battlements to the leading over the portico, an octagonal bulge with octagonal bay windows, surmounted by an oriental dome of metal, lines of yellow bricks to break up the red and many other richnesses and attractions. It was the sort of house, ornate and in its dignified way voluptuous, that a city magnate might build, but it seemed excessive to the Kippses. The first plan had seven bedrooms, the second eight, the third eleven; that had, the architect explained, "worked in" as if they were pebbles in a mountaineer's boat.
"They're big 'ouses," said Ann directly the elevations were unrolled.
Kipps listened to the architect with round eyes and an exuberant caution in his manner, anxious not to commit himself further than he had done to the enterprise, and the architect pointed out the Features and other objects of interest with the scalpel belonging to a pocket manicure set that he carried. Ann watched Kipps' face and communicated with him furtively over the architect's head. "Not so big," said Ann's lips.
"It's a bit big for what I meant," said Kipps, with a reassuring eye on Ann.
"You won't think it big when you see it up," said the architect; "you take my word for that."
"We don't want no more than six bedrooms," said Kipps.
"Make this one a box–room, then," said the architect.
A feeling of impotence silenced Kipps for a time.
"Now which," said the architect, spreading them out, "is it to be?"
He flattened down the plans of the most ornate mansion to show it to better effect.
Kipps wanted to know how much each would cost "at the outside," which led to much alarmed signalling from Ann. But the architect could estimate only in the most general way.
They were not really committed to anything when the architect went away; Kipps had promised to think it over, that was all.
"We can't 'ave that 'ouse," said Ann.
"They're miles too big—all of them," agreed Kipps.
"You'd want―. Four servants wouldn't be 'ardly enough," said Ann.
Kipps went to the hearthrug and spread himself. His tone was almost offhand. "Nex' time 'e comes," said Kipps, "I'll 'splain to him. It isn't at all the sort of thing we want. It's—it's a misunderstanding. You got no occasion to be anxious 'bout it, Ann."
"I don't see much good reely in building an 'ouse at all," said Ann.
"Oo, we got to build a 'ouse now we begun," said Kipps. "But, now, supposin' we 'ad―."
He spread out the most modest of the three plans and scratched his cheek.