Something New by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (rom com books to read .TXT) 📖
- Author: Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
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"Eh? Oh! Oh, No Only Since Last Wednesday."
"Indeed! Might I Inquire Whom You Assisted Before That?"
For A Moment Ashe Did What He Would Not Have Believed Himself
Capable Of Doing--Regretted That The Topic Of Feet Was No Longer
Under Discussion. The Question Placed Him In An Awkward Position.
If He Lied And Credited Himself With A Lengthy Experience As A
Valet, He Risked Exposing Himself. If He Told The Truth And
Confessed That This Was His Maiden Effort In The Capacity Of
Gentleman's Gentleman, What Would The Butler Think? There Were
Objections To Each Course, But To Tell The Truth Was The Easier
Of The Two; So He Told It.
"Your First Situation?" Said Mr. Beach. "Indeed!"
"I Was--Er--Doing Something Else Before I Met Mr. Peters," Said
Ashe.
Mr. Beach Was Too Well-Bred To Be Inquisitive, But His Eyebrows
Were Not.
"Ah!" He Said. "?" Cried His Eyebrows. "?--?--?"
Ashe Ignored The Eyebrows.
"Something Different," He Said.
There Was An Awkward Silence. Ashe Appreciated Its Awkwardness.
He Was Conscious Of A Grievance Against Mr. Peters. Why Could Not
Mr. Peters Have Brought Him Down Here As His Secretary? To Be
Sure, He Had Advanced Some Objection To That Course In Their
Conversation At The Offices Of Mainprice, Mainprice & Boole; But
Merely A Silly, Far-Fetched Objection. He Wished He Had Had The
Sense To Fight The Point While There Was Time; But At The Moment
When They Were Arranging Plans He Had Been Rather Tickled By The
Thought Of Becoming A Valet. The Notion Had A Pleasing
Musical-Comedy Touch About It. Why Had He Not Foreseen The
Chapter 5 Pg 83Complications That Must Ensue? He Could Tell By The Look On His
Face That This Confounded Butler Was Waiting For Him To Give A
Full Explanation. What Would He Think If He Withheld It? He Would
Probably Suppose That Ashe Had Been In Prison.
Well, There Was Nothing To Be Done About It. If Beach Was
Suspicious, He Must Remain Suspicious. Fortunately The Suspicions
Of A Butler Do Not Matter Much.
Mr. Beach's Eyebrows Were Still Mutely Urging Him To Reveal All,
But Ashe Directed His Gaze At That Portion Of The Room Which Mr.
Beach Did Not Fill. He Would Be Hanged If He Was Going To Let
Himself Be Hypnotized By A Pair Of Eyebrows Into Incriminating
Himself! He Glared Stolidly At The Pattern Of The Wallpaper,
Which Represented A Number Of Birds Of An Unknown Species Seated
On A Corresponding Number Of Exotic Shrubs.
The Silence Was Growing Oppressive. Somebody Had To Break It
Soon. And As Mr. Beach Was Still Confining Himself To The
Language Of The Eyebrow And Apparently Intended To Fight It Out
On That Line If It Took All Summer, Ashe Himself Broke It.
It Seemed To Him As He Reconstructed The Scene In Bed That Night
That Providence Must Have Suggested The Subject To Mr. Peters'
Indigestion; For The Mere Mention Of His Employer's Sufferings
Acted Like Magic On The Butler.
"I Might Have Had Better Luck While I Was Looking For A Place,"
Said Ashe. "I Dare Say You Know How Bad-Tempered Mr. Peters Is.
He Is Dyspeptic."
"So," Responded Mr. Beach, "I Have Been Informed." He Brooded For
A Space. "I, Too," He Proceeded, "Suffer From My Stomach. I Have
A Weak Stomach. The Lining Of My Stomach Is Not What I Could Wish
The Lining Of My Stomach To Be."
"Tell Me," Said Ashe Gratefully, Leaning Forward In An Attitude
Of Attention, "All About The Lining Of Your Stomach."
It Was A Quarter Of An Hour Later When Mr. Beach Was Checked In
His Discourse By The Chiming Of The Little Clock On The
Mantelpiece. He Turned Round And Gazed At It With Surprise Not
Unmixed With Displeasure.
"So Late?" He Said. "I Shall Have To Be Going About My Duties.
And You, Also, Mr. Marson, If I May Make The Suggestion. No Doubt
Mr. Peters Will Be Wishing To Have Your Assistance In Preparing
For Dinner. If You Go Along The Passage Outside You Will Come To
The Door That Separates Our Portion Of The House From The Other.
I Must Beg You To Excuse Me. I Have To Go To The Cellar."
Following His Directions Ashe Came After A Walk Of A Few Yards To
A Green-Baize Door, Which, Swinging At His Push, Gave Him A View
Of What He Correctly Took To Be The Main Hall Of The Castle--A
Chapter 5 Pg 84Wide, Comfortable Space, Ringed With Settees And Warmed By A Log
Fire Burning In A Mammoth Fireplace. On The Right A Broad
Staircase Led To The Upper Regions.
It Was At This Point That Ashe Realized The Incompleteness Of Mr.
Beach's Directions. Doubtless, The Broad Staircase Would Take Him
To The Floor On Which Were The Bedrooms; But How Was He To
Ascertain, Without The Tedious Process Of Knocking And Inquiring
At Each Door, Which Was The One Assigned To Mr. Peters? It Was
Too Late To Go Back And Ask The Butler For Further Guidance;
Already He Was On His Way To The Cellar In Quest Of The Evening's
Wine.
As He Stood Irresolute A Door Across The Hall Opened And A Man Of
His Own Age Came Out. Through The Doorway, Which The Young Man
Held Open For An Instant While He Answered A Question From
Somebody Within, Ashe Had A Glimpse Of Glass-Topped Cases.
Could This Be The Museum--His Goal? The Next Moment The Door,
Opening A Few Inches More, Revealed The Outlying Portions Of An
Egyptian Mummy And Brought Certainty. It Flashed Across Ashe's
Mind That The Sooner He Explored The Museum And Located Mr.
Peters' Scarab, The Better. He Decided To Ask Beach To Take Him
There As Soon As He Had Leisure.
Meantime The Young Man Had Closed The Museum Door And Was
Crossing The Hall. He Was A Wiry-Haired, Severe-Looking Young
Man, With A Sharp Nose And Eyes That Gleamed Through Rimless
Spectacles--None Other, In Fact Than Lord Emsworth's Private
Secretary, The Efficient Baxter. Ashe Hailed Him:
"I Say, Old Man, Would You Mind Telling Me How I Get To Mr.
Peters' Room? I've Lost My Bearings."
He Did Not Reflect That This Was Hardly The Way In Which Valets
In The Best Society Addressed Their Superiors. That Is The Worst
Of Adopting What Might Be Called A Character Part. One Can Manage
The Business Well Enough; It Is The Dialogue That Provides The
Pitfalls.
Mr. Baxter Would Have Accorded A Hearty Agreement To The
Statement That This Was Not The Way In Which A Valet Should Have
Spoken To Him; But At The Moment He Was Not Aware That Ashe Was A
Valet. From His Easy Mode Of Address He Assumed That He Was One
Of The Numerous Guests Who Had Been Arriving At The Castle All
Day. As He Had Asked For Mr. Peters, He Fancied That Ashe Must Be
The Honorable Freddie's American Friend, George Emerson, Whom He
Had Not Yet Met. Consequently He Replied With Much Cordiality
That Mr. Peters' Room Was The Second At The Left On The Second
Floor.
He Said Ashe Could Not Miss It. Ashe Said He Was Much Obliged.
"Awfully Good Of You," Said Ashe.
Chapter 5 Pg 86
"Not At All," Said Mr. Baxter.
"You Lose Your Way In A Place Like This," Said Ashe.
"You Certainly Do," Said Mr. Baxter.
Ashe Went On His Upward Path And In A Few Moments Was Knocking At
The Door Indicated. And Sure Enough It Was Mr. Peters' Voice That
Invited Him To Enter.
Mr. Peters, Partially Arrayed In The Correct Garb For Gentlemen
About To Dine, Was Standing In Front Of The Mirror, Wrestling
With His Evening Tie. As Ashe Entered He Removed His Fingers And
Anxiously Examined His Handiwork. It Proved Unsatisfactory. With
A Yelp And An Oath, He Tore The Offending Linen From His Neck.
"Damn The Thing!"
It Was Plain To Ashe That His Employer Was In No Sunny Mood.
There Are Few Things Less Calculated To Engender Sunniness In A
Naturally Bad-Tempered Man Than A Dress Tie That Will Not Let
Itself Be Pulled And Twisted Into The Right Shape. Even When
Things Went Well, Mr. Peters Hated Dressing For Dinner. Words
Cannot Describe His Feelings When They Went Wrong.
There Is Something To Be Said In Excuse For This Impatience: It
Is A Hollow Mockery To Be Obliged To Deck One's Person As For A
Feast When That Feast Is To Consist Of A Little Asparagus And A
Few Nuts.
Mr. Peters' Eye Met Ashe's In The Mirror.
"Oh, It's You, Is It? Come In, Then. Don't Stand Staring. Close
That Door Quick! Hustle! Don't Scrape Your Feet On The Floor.
Try To Look Intelligent. Don't Gape. Where Have You Been All This
While? Why Didn't You Come Before? Can You Tie A Tie? All Right,
Then--Do It!"
Somewhat Calmed By The Snow-White Butterfly-Shaped Creation That
Grew Under Ashe's Fingers, He Permitted Himself To Be Helped Into
His Coat. He Picked Up The Remnant Of A Black Cigar From The
Dressing-Table And Relit It.
"I've Been Thinking About You," He Said.
"Yes?" Said Ashe.
"Have You Located The Scarab Yet?"
"No."
"What The Devil Have You Been Doing With Yourself Then? You've
Had Time To Collar It A Dozen Times."
Chapter 5 Pg 87
"I Have Been Talking To The Butler."
"What The Devil Do You Waste Time Talking To Butlers For? I
Suppose You Haven't Even Located The Museum Yet?"
"Yes; I've Done That."
"Oh, You Have, Have You? Well, That's Something. And How Do You
Propose Setting About The Job?"
"The Best Plan Would Be To Go There Very Late At Night."
"Well, You Didn't Propose To Stroll In In The Afternoon, Did You?
How Are You Going To Find The Scarab When You Do Get In?"
Ashe Had Not Thought Of That. The Deeper He Went Into This
Business The More Things
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