|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 23
"Take a look at this, Lord Emsworth."
As one who, brooding on love or running over business projects in
his mind, walks briskly into a lamppost and comes back to the
realities of life with a sense of jarring shock, Lord Emsworth
started, blinked and returned to consciousness. Far away his mind
had been--seventy miles away--in the pleasant hothouses and shady
garden walks of Blandings Castle. He came back to London to find
that his host, with a mingled air of pride and reverence, was
extending toward him a small, dingy-looking something.
He took it and looked at it. That, apparently, was what he was
meant to do. So far, all was well.
"Ah!" he said--that blessed word; covering everything! He
repeated it, pleased at his ready resource.
"A Cheops of the Fourth Dynasty," said Mr. Peters fervently.
"I beg your pardon?"
"A Cheops--of the Fourth Dynasty."
Lord Emsworth began to feel like a hunted stag. He could not go
on saying "Ah!" indefinitely; yet what else was there to say to
this curious little beastly sort of a beetle kind of thing?
"Dear me! A Cheops!"
"Of the Fourth Dynasty!"
"Bless my soul! The Fourth Dynasty!"
"What do you think of that--eh?"
Strictly speaking, Lord Emsworth thought nothing of it; and he
was wondering how to veil this opinion in diplomatic words, when
the providence that looks after all good men saved him by causing
a knock at the door to occur. In response to Mr. Peters'
irritated cry a maid entered.
"If you please, sir, Mr. Threepwood wishes to speak with you on
the telephone."
Mr. Peters turned to his guest. "Excuse me for one moment."
"Certainly," said Lord Emsworth gratefully. "Certainly,
certainly, certainly! By all means."
The door closed behind Mr. Peters. Lord Emsworth was alone. For
some moments he stood where he had been left, a figure with small
signs of alertness about it. But Mr. Peters did not return
immediately. The booming of his voice came faintly from some
distant region. Lord Emsworth strolled to the window and looked
out.
The sun still shone brightly on the quiet street. Across the road
were trees. Lord Emsworth was fond of trees; he looked at these
approvingly. Then round the corner came a vagrom man, wheeling
flowers in a barrow.
Flowers! Lord Emsworth's mind shot back to Blandings like a
homing pigeon. Flowers! Had he or had he not given Head Gardener
Thorne adequate instructions as to what to do with those
hydrangeas? Assuming that he had not, was Thorne to be depended
on to do the right thing by them by the light of his own
intelligence? Lord Emsworth began to brood on Head Gardener
Thorne.
He was aware of some curious little object in his hand. He
accorded it a momentary inspection. It had no message for him.
It was probably something; but he could not remember what. He put
it in his pocket and returned to his meditations.
* * *
At about the hour when the Earl of Emsworth was driving to keep
his appointment with Mr. Peters, a party of two sat at a corner
table at Simpson's Restaurant, in the Strand. One of the two was
a small, pretty, good-natured-looking girl of about twenty; the
other, a thick-set young man, with a wiry crop of red-brown hair
and an expression of mingled devotion and determination. The girl
was Aline Peters; the young man's name was George Emerson. He,
also, was an American, a rising member in a New York law firm. He
had a strong, square face, with a dogged and persevering chin.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|