A Damsel in Distress P. G. Wodehouse (sad books to read txt) đ
- Author: P. G. Wodehouse
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And this after reading âDoctor Cupidâsâ invaluable tip about âSeeking her company on all occasionsâ and the dictum of âAunt Charlotteâ to the effect that âMany a wooer has won his lady by being persistentââ âAlbert spelled it âpersistuentâ but the effect is the sameâ ââand rendering himself indispensable by constant little attentions.â So far from rendering himself indispensable to Maud by constant little attentions, Reggie, to the disgust of his backer and supporter, seemed to spend most of his time with Alice Faraday. On three separate occasions had Albert been revolted by the sight of his protĂ©gĂ© in close association with the Faraday girlâ âonce in a boat on the lake and twice in his grey car. It was enough to break a boyâs heart; and it completely spoiled Albertâs appetiteâ âa phenomenon attributed, I am glad to say, in the Servantsâ Hall to reaction from recent excesses. The moment when Keggs, the butler, called him a greedy little pig and hoped it would be a lesson to him not to stuff himself at all hours with stolen cakes was a bitter moment for Albert.
It is a relief to turn from the contemplation of these tortured souls to the pleasanter picture presented by Lord Marshmoreton. Here, undeniably, we have a man without a secret sorrow, a man at peace with this best of all possible worlds. Since his visit to George a second youth seems to have come upon Lord Marshmoreton. He works in his rose-garden with a new vim, whistling or even singing to himself stray gay snatches of melodies popular in the âeighties.
Hear him now as he toils. He has a long garden-implement in his hand, and he is sending up the death-rate in slug circles with a devastating rapidity.
Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay
Ta-ra-ra boomâ â
And the boom is a death-knell. As it rings softly out on the pleasant spring air, another stout slug has made the Great Change.
It is peculiar, this gaiety. It gives one to think. Others have noticed it, his lordshipâs valet amongst them.
âI give you my honest word, Mr. Keggs,â says the valet, awed, âthis very morning I âeard the old devil a-singing in âis barth! Chirruping away like a blooming linnet!â
âLor!â says Keggs, properly impressed.
âAnd only last night âe gave me âarf a box of cigars and said I was a good, faithful feller! I tell you, thereâs somethinâ happened to the old busterâ âyou mark my words!â
XVIIIOver this complex situation the mind of Keggs, the butler, played like a searchlight. Keggs was a man of discernment and sagacity. He had instinct and reasoning power. Instinct told him that Maud, all unsuspecting the change that had taken place in Albertâs attitude toward her romance, would have continued to use the boy as a link between herself and George: and reason, added to an intimate knowledge of Albert, enabled him to see that the latter must inevitably have betrayed her trust. He was prepared to bet a hundred pounds that Albert had been given letters to deliver and had destroyed them. So much was clear to Keggs. It only remained to settle on some plan of action which would reestablish the broken connection. Keggs did not conceal a tender heart beneath a rugged exterior: he did not mourn over the picture of two loving fellow human beings separated by a misunderstanding; but he did want to win that sweepstake.
His position, of course, was delicate. He could not go to Maud and beg her to confide in him. Maud would not understand his motives, and might leap to the not unjustifiable conclusion that he had been at the sherry. No! Men were easier to handle than women. As soon as his duties would permitâ âand in the present crowded condition of the house they were arduousâ âhe set out for Georgeâs cottage.
âI trust I do not disturb or interrupt you, sir,â he said, beaming in the doorway like a benevolent high priest. He had doffed his professional manner of austere disapproval, as was his custom in moments of leisure.
âNot at all,â replied George, puzzled. âWas there anythingâ ââ âŠâ?â
âThere was, sir.â
âCome along in and sit down.â
âI would not take the liberty, if it is all the same to you, sir. I would prefer to remain standing.â
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Uncomfortable, that is to say, on the part of George, who was wondering if the butler remembered having engaged him as a waiter only a few nights back. Keggs himself was at his ease. Few things ruffled this man.
âFine day,â said George.
âExtremely, sir, but for the rain.â
âOh, is it raining?â
âSharp downpour, sir.â
âGood for the crops,â said George.
âSo one would be disposed to imagine, sir.â
Silence fell again. The rain dripped from the eaves.
âIf I might speak freely, sirâ ââ âŠâ?â said Keggs.
âSure. Shoot!â
âI beg your pardon, sir?â
âI mean, yes. Go ahead!â
The butler cleared his throat.
âMight I begin by remarking that your little affair of the âeart, if I may use the expression, is no secret in the Servantsâ âall? I âave no wish to seem to be taking a liberty or presuming, but I should like to intimate that the Servantsâ âall is aware of the facts.â
âYou donât have to tell me that,â said George coldly. âI know all about the sweepstake.â
A flicker of embarrassment passed over the butlerâs large, smooth faceâ âpassed, and was gone.
âI did not know that you âad been apprised of that little matter, sir. But you will doubtless understand and appreciate our point of view. A little sporting flutterâ ânothing moreâ âdesigned to halleviate the monotony of life in the country.â
âOh, donât apologize,â said George, and was reminded of a point which had exercised him a little from time to time since his vigil on the balcony. âBy the way, if it isnât giving away secrets, who drew Plummer?â
âSir?â
âWhich of you drew a man named Plummer in the sweep?â
âI rather fancy, sir,â Keggsâ brow wrinkled in thought, âI rather fancy it was one of the visiting gentlemenâs gentlemen. I gave the point but slight attention at
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