Something New by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (rom com books to read .TXT) 📖
- Author: Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
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Not Every Girl That Would Have Him."
There Was A Murmur Of Assent To This Truth.
"Now Your Miss Peters," Said Judson Tolerantly--"She Seems A Nice
Little Thing."
"She Would Be Pleased To Hear You Say So," Said Joan.
"Joan Valentine!" Cried Judson, Bringing His Hands Down On The
Tablecloth With A Bang. "I've Just Remembered It. That Was The
Name Of The Girl Freddie Used To Write The Letters And Poems To;
And That's Who It Is I've Been Trying All Along To Think You
Reminded Me Of, Miss Simpson. You're The Living Image Of
Freddie's Miss Joan Valentine."
Chapter 5 Pg 100
Ashe Was Not Normally A Young Man Of Particularly Ready Wit; But
On This Occasion It May Have Been That The Shock Of This
Revelation, Added To The Fact That Something Must Be Done
Speedily If Joan's Discomposure Was Not To Become Obvious To All
Present, Quickened His Intelligence. Joan, Usually So Sure Of
Herself, So Ready Of Resource, Had Gone Temporarily To Pieces.
She Was Quite White, And Her Eyes Met Ashe's With Almost A Hunted
Expression.
If The Attention Of The Company Was To Be Diverted, Something
Drastic Must Be Done. A Mere Verbal Attempt To Change The
Conversation Would Be Useless. Inspiration Descended On Ashe.
In The Days Of His Childhood In Hayling, Massachusetts, He Had
Played Truant From Sunday School Again And Again In Order To
Frequent The Society Of One Eddie Waffles, The Official Bad Boy
Of The Locality. It Was Not So Much Eddie's Charm Of Conversation
Which Had Attracted Him--Though That Had Been Great--As The Fact
That Eddie, Among His Other Accomplishments, Could Give A
Lifelike Imitation Of Two Cats Fighting In A Back Yard; And Ashe
Felt That He Could Never Be Happy Until He Had Acquired This Gift
From The Master.
In Course Of Time He Had Done So. It Might Be That His Absences
From Sunday School In The Cause Of Art Had Left Him In Later
Years A Trifle Shaky On The Subject Of The Kings Of Judah, But
His Hard-Won Accomplishment Had Made Him In Request At Every
Smoking Concert At Oxford; And It Saved The Situation Now.
"Have You Ever Heard Two Cats Fighting In A Back Yard?" He
Inquired Casually Of His Neighbor, Miss Willoughby.
The Next Moment The Performance Was In Full Swing. Young Master
Waffles, Who Had Devoted Considerable Study To His Subject, Had
Conceived The Combat Of His Imaginary Cats In A Broad, Almost
Homeric, Vein. The Unpleasantness Opened With A Low Gurgling
Sound, Answered By Another A Shade Louder And Possibly More
Querulous. A Momentary Silence Was Followed By A Long-Drawn Note,
Like Rising Wind, Cut Off Abruptly And Succeeded By A Grumbling
Mutter. The Response To This Was A Couple Of Sharp Howls. Both
Parties To The Contest Then Indulged In A Discontented Whining,
Growing Louder And Louder Until The Air Was Full Of Electric
Menace. And Then, After Another Sharp Silence, Came War, Noisy
And Overwhelming.
Standing At Master Waffles' Side, You Could Follow Almost Every
Movement Of That Intricate Fray, And Mark How Now One And Now The
Other Of The Battlers Gained A Short-Lived Advantage. It Was A
Great Fight. Shrewd Blows Were Taken And Given, And In The Eye Of
The Imagination You Could See The Air Thick With Flying Fur.
Louder And Louder Grew The Din; And Then, At Its Height, It
Ceased In One Crescendo Of Tumult, And All Was Still, Save For A
Faint, Angry Moaning.
Chapter 5 Pg 101
Such Was The Cat Fight Of Master Eddie Waffles; And Ashe, Though
Falling Short Of The Master, As A Pupil Must, Rendered It
Faithfully And With Energy.
To Say That The Attention Of The Company Was Diverted From Mr.
Judson And His Remarks By The Extraordinary Noises Which
Proceeded From Ashe's Lips Would Be To Offer A Mere Shadowy
Suggestion Of The Sensation Caused By His Efforts. At First,
Stunned Surprise, Then Consternation, Greeted Him. Beach, The
Butler, Was Staring As One Watching A Miracle, Nearer Apparently
To Apoplexy Than Ever. On The Faces Of The Others Every Shade Of
Emotion Was To Be Seen.
That This Should Be Happening In The Steward's Room At Blandings
Castle Was Scarcely Less Amazing Than If It Had Taken Place In A
Cathedral. The Upper Servants, Rigid In Their Seats, Looked At
Each Other, Like Cortes' Soldiers--"With A Wild Surmise."
The Last Faint Moan Of Feline Defiance Died Away And Silence Fell
On The Room. Ashe Turned To Miss Willoughby.
"Just Like That!" He Said. "I Was Telling Miss Willoughby," He
Added Apologetically To Mrs. Twemlow, "About The Cats In London.
They Were A Great Trial."
For Perhaps Three Seconds His Social Reputation Swayed To And Fro
In The Balance, While The Company Pondered On What He Had Done.
It Was New; But It Was Humorous--Or Was It Vulgar? There Is
Nothing The English Upper Servant So Abhors As Vulgarity. That
Was What The Steward's Room Was Trying To Make Up Its Mind About.
Then Miss Willoughby Threw Her Shapely Head Back And The Squeal
Of Her Laughter Smote The Ceiling. And At That The Company Made
Its Decision. Everybody Laughed. Everybody Urged Ashe To Give An
Encore. Everybody Was His Friend And Admirer---Everybody But
Beach, The Butler. Beach, The Butler, Was Shocked To His Very
Core. His Heavy-Lidded Eyes Rested On Ashe With Disapproval. It
Seemed To Beach, The Butler, That This Young Man Marson Had Got
Above Himself.
* * *
Ashe Found Joan At His Side. Dinner Was Over And The Diners Were
Making For The Housekeeper's Room.
"Thank You, Mr. Marson. That Was Very Good Of You And Very
Clever." Her Eyes Twinkled. "But What A Terrible Chance You Took!
You Have Made Yourself A Popular Success, But You Might Just As
Easily Have Become A Social Outcast. As It Is, I Am Afraid Mr.
Beach Did Not Approve."
"I'm Afraid He Didn't. In A Minute Or So I'm Going To Fawn On Him
And Make All Well."
Chapter 5 Pg 102
Joan Lowered Her Voice.
"It Was Quite True, What That Odious Little Man Said. Freddie
Threepwood Did Write Me Letters. Of Course I Destroyed Them Long
Ago."
"But Weren't You Running The Risk In Coming Here That He Might
Recognize You? Wouldn't That Make It Rather Unpleasant For You?"
"I Never Met Him, You See. He Only Wrote To Me. When He Came To
The Station To Meet Us This Evening He Looked Startled To See Me;
So I Suppose He Remembers My Appearance. But Aline Will Have Told
Him That My Name Is Simpson."
"That Fellow Judson Said He Was Brooding. I Think You Ought To
Put Him Out Of His Misery."
"Mr. Judson Must Have Been Letting His Imagination Run Away With
Him. He Is Out Of His Misery. He Sent A Horrid Fat Man Named
Jones To See Me In London About The Letters, And I Told Him I Had
Destroyed Them. He Must Have Let Him Know That By This Time."
"I See."
They Went Into The Housekeeper's Room. Mr. Beach Was Standing
Before The Fire. Ashe Went Up To Him. It Was Not An Easy Matter
To Mollify Mr. Beach. Ashe Tried The Most Tempting Topics. He
Mentioned Swollen Feet--He Dangled The Lining Of Mr. Beach's
Stomach Temptingly Before His Eyes; But The Butler Was Not To Be
Softened. Only When Ashe Turned The Conversation To The Subject
Of The Museum Did A Flicker Of Animation Stir Him.
Mr. Beach Was Fond And Proud Of The Blandings Castle Museum. It
Had Been The Means Of Getting Him Into Print For The First And
Only Time In His Life. A Year Before, A Representative Of The
Intelligencer And Echo, From The Neighboring Town Of Blatchford,
Had Come To Visit The Castle On Behalf Of His Paper; And He Had
Begun One Section Of His Article With The Words: "Under The
Auspices Of Mr. Beach, My Genial Cicerone, I Then Visited His
Lordship's Museum--" Mr. Beach Treasured The Clipping In A
Special Writing-Desk.
He Responded Almost Amiably To Ashe's Questions. Yes; He Had Seen
The Scarab--He Pronounced It Scayrub--Which Mr. Peters Had
Presented To His Lordship. He Understood That His Lordship
Thought Very Highly Of Mr. Peters' Scayrub. He Had Overheard Mr.
Baxter Telling His Lordship That It Was Extremely Valuable.
"Mr. Beach," Said Ashe, "I Wonder Whether You Would Take Me To
See Lord Emsworth's Museum?"
Mr. Beach Regarded Him Heavily.
Chapter 5 Pg 103
I Shall Be Pleased To Take You To See His Lordship's Museum," He
Replied.
* * *
One Can Attribute Only To The Nervous Mental Condition Following
The Interview He Had Had With Ashe In His Bedroom The Rash Act
Mr. Peters Attempted Shortly After Dinner.
Mr. Peters, Shortly After Dinner, Was In A Dangerous And Reckless
Mood. He Had Had A Wretched Time All Through The Meal. The
Blandings Chef Had Extended Himself In Honor Of The House Party,
And Had Produced A Succession Of Dishes, Which In Happier Days
Mr. Peters Would Have Devoured Eagerly. To Be Compelled By
Considerations Of Health To Pass These By Was Enough To Damp The
Liveliest Optimist. Mr. Peters Had Suffered Terribly. Occasions
Of Feasting And Revelry Like The Present Were For Him So Many
Battlefields, On Which Greed Fought With Prudence.
All Through Dinner He Brooded On Ashe's Defiance And The Horrors
Which Were To Result From That Defiance. One Of Mr. Peters' Most
Painful Memories Was Of A Two Weeks' Visit He Had Once Paid To
Mr. Muldoon In His Celebrated Establishment At White Plains. He
Had Been Persuaded To Go There By A Brother Millionaire Whom,
Until Then, He Had Always Regarded As A Friend. The Memory Of Mr.
Muldoon's Cold Shower Baths And Brisk System Of Physical Exercise
Still Lingered.
The Thought That Under Ashe's Rule He Was To Go Through Privately
Very Much What He Had Gone Through In
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