Indiscretions of Archie P. G. Wodehouse (the beach read .txt) 📖

that he considers that you let down the proud old name of Brewster a bit when you brought me in and laid me on the mat.”

“Anyone would be lucky to get you for a son-in-law, precious.”

“I fear me, light of my life, the dad doesn’t see eye to eye with you on that point. No, every time I get hold of a daisy, I give him another chance, but it always works out at ‘He loves me not!’ ”

“You must make allowances for him, darling.”

“Right-o! But I hope devoutly that he doesn’t catch me at it. I’ve a sort of idea that if the old dad discovered that I was making allowances for him, he would have from ten to fifteen fits.”

“He’s worried just now, you know.”

“I didn’t know. He doesn’t confide in me much.”

“He’s worried about that waiter.”

“What waiter, queen of my soul?”

“A man called Salvatore. Father dismissed him some time ago.”

“Salvatore!”

“Probably you don’t remember him. He used to wait on this table.”

“Why⁠—”

“And father dismissed him, apparently, and now there’s all sorts of trouble. You see, father wants to build this new hotel of his, and he thought he’d got the site and everything and could start building right away: and now he finds that this man Salvatore’s mother owns a little newspaper and tobacco shop right in the middle of the site, and there’s no way of getting him out without buying the shop, and he won’t sell. At least, he’s made his mother promise that she won’t sell.”

“A boy’s best friend is his mother,” said Archie approvingly. “I had a sort of idea all along⁠—”

“So father’s in despair.”

Archie drew at his cigarette meditatively.

“I remember a chappie⁠—a policeman he was, as a matter of fact, and incidentally a fairly pronounced blighter⁠—remarking to me some time ago that you could trample on the poor man’s face but you mustn’t be surprised if he bit you in the leg while you were doing it. Apparently this is what has happened to the old dad. I had a sort of idea all along that old friend Salvatore would come out strong in the end if you only gave him time. Brainy sort of feller! Great pal of mine.”⁠—Lucille’s small face lightened. She gazed at Archie with proud affection. She felt that she ought to have known that he was the one to solve this difficulty.

“You’re wonderful, darling! Is he really a friend of yours?”

“Absolutely. Many’s the time he and I have chatted in this very grillroom.”

“Then it’s all right. If you went to him and argued with him, he would agree to sell the shop, and father would be happy. Think how grateful father would be to you! It would make all the difference.”

Archie turned this over in his mind.

“Something in that,” he agreed.

“It would make him see what a pet lambkin you really are!”

“Well,” said Archie, “I’m bound to say that any scheme which what you might call culminates in your father regarding me as a pet lambkin ought to receive one’s best attention. How much did he offer Salvatore for his shop?”

“I don’t know. There is father. Call him over and ask him.”

Archie glanced over to where Mr. Brewster had sunk moodily into a chair at a neighbouring table. It was plain even at that distance that Daniel Brewster had his troubles and was bearing them with an ill grace. He was scowling absently at the tablecloth.

“You call him,” said Archie, having inspected his formidable relative. “You know him better.”

“Let’s go over to him.”

They crossed the room. Lucille sat down opposite her father. Archie draped himself over a chair in the background.

“Father, dear,” said Lucille. “Archie has got an idea.”

“Archie?” said Mr. Brewster incredulously.

“This is me,” said Archie, indicating himself with a spoon. “The tall, distinguished-looking bird.”

“What new fool-thing is he up to now?”

“It’s a splendid idea, father. He wants to help you over your new hotel.”

“Wants to run it for me, I suppose?”

“By Jove!” said Archie, reflectively. “That’s not a bad scheme! I never thought of running an hotel. I shouldn’t mind taking a stab at it.”

“He has thought of a way of getting rid of Salvatore and his shop.”

For the first time Mr. Brewster’s interest in the conversation seemed to stir. He looked sharply at his son-in-law.

“He has, has he?” he said.

Archie balanced a roll on a fork and inserted a plate underneath. The roll bounded away into a corner.

“Sorry!” said Archie. “My fault, absolutely! I owe you a roll. I’ll sign a bill for it. Oh, about this sportsman Salvatore, Well, it’s like this, you know. He and I are great pals. I’ve known him for years and years. At least, it seems like years and years. Lu was suggesting that I seek him out in his lair and ensnare him with my diplomatic manner and superior brain power and whatnot.”

“It was your idea, precious,” said Lucille.

Mr. Brewster was silent. Much as it went against the grain to have to admit it, there seemed to be something in this.

“What do you propose to do?”

“Become a jolly old ambassador. How much did you offer the chappie?”

“Three thousand dollars. Twice as much as the place is worth. He’s holding out on me for revenge.”

“Ah, but how did you offer it to him, what? I mean to say, I bet you got your lawyer to write him a letter full of whereases, peradventures, and parties of the first part, and so forth. No good, old companion!”

“Don’t call me old companion!”

“All wrong, laddie! Nothing like it, dear heart! No good at all, friend of my youth! Take it from your Uncle Archibald! I’m a student of human nature, and I know a thing or two.”

“That’s not much,” growled Mr. Brewster, who was finding his son-in-law’s superior manner a little trying.

“Now, don’t interrupt, father,” said Lucille, severely. “Can’t you see that Archie is going to be tremendously clever in a minute?”

“He’s got to show me!”

“What you ought to do,” said Archie, “is to let me go and see him, taking the stuff in crackling bills. I’ll roll