Something New by P. G. Wodehouse


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Page 59

Ashe was intoxicated with his own oratory. The sensation of
bullyragging a genuine millionaire was new and exhilarating. He
expanded his chest and spread his feet like a colossus.

"That's all very well," he said, coldly disentangling himself
from the hand. "You can't get out of it like that. We have got to
come to an understanding. The point is that if I am to be
subjected to your--your senile malevolence every time you have a
twinge of indigestion, no amount of money could pay me to stop
on."

"My dear boy, it shall not occur again. I was hasty."

Mr. Peters, with agitated fingers, relit the stump of his cigar.

"Throw away that cigar!"

"My boy!"

"Throw it away! You say you were hasty. Of course you were hasty;
and as long as you abuse your digestion you will go on being
hasty. I want something better than apologies. If I am to stop
here we must get to the root of things. You must put yourself in
my hands as though I were your doctor. No more cigars. Every
morning regular exercises."

"No, no!"

"Very well!"

"No; stop! Stop! What sort of exercises?"

"I'll show you to-morrow morning. Brisk walks."

"I hate walking."

"Cold baths."

"No, no!"

"Very well!"

"No; stop! A cold bath would kill me at my age."

"It would put new life into you. Do you consent to the cold
baths? No? Very well!"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

"You promise?"

"Yes, yes!"

"All right, then."

The distant sound of the dinner gong floated in.

"We settled that just in time," said Ashe.

Mr. Peters regarded him fixedly.

"Young man," he said slowly, "if, after all this, you fail to
recover my Cheops for me I'll--I'll--By George, I'll skin you!"

"Don't talk like that," said Ashe. "That's another thing you have
got to remember. If my treatment is to be successful you must not
let yourself think in that way. You must exercise self-control
mentally. You must think beautiful thoughts."

"The idea of skinning you is a beautiful thought!" said Mr.
Peters wistfully.

* * *

In order that their gayety might not be diminished--and the food
turned to ashes in their mouths by the absence from the festive
board of Mr. Beach, it was the custom for the upper servants at
Blandings to postpone the start of their evening meal until
dinner was nearly over above-stairs. This enabled the butler to
take his place at the head of the table without fear of
interruption, except for the few moments when coffee was being
served.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Sat 20th Dec 2025, 13:19