|
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 28
'Have you been scrapping?' asked Mike. 'What happened? Was there a
row?'
'There was,' said Psmith, 'in a measure what might be described as a
row. At least, when you find a perfect stranger attaching himself to
your collar and pulling, you begin to suspect that something of that
kind is on the bill.'
'Did they do that?'
Psmith nodded.
'A merchant in a moth-eaten bowler started warbling to a certain extent
with me. It was all very trying for a man of culture. He was a man who
had, I should say, discovered that alcohol was a food long before the
doctors found it out. A good chap, possibly, but a little boisterous in
his manner. Well, well.'
Psmith shook his head sadly.
'He got you one on the forehead,' said Mike, 'or somebody did. Tell us
what happened. I wish the dickens I'd come with you. I'd no notion
there would be a rag of any sort. What did happen?'
'Comrade Jackson,' said Psmith sorrowfully, 'how sad it is in this life
of ours to be consistently misunderstood. You know, of course, how
wrapped up I am in Comrade Bickersdyke's welfare. You know that all my
efforts are directed towards making a decent man of him; that, in
short, I am his truest friend. Does he show by so much as a word that
he appreciates my labours? Not he. I believe that man is beginning to
dislike me, Comrade Jackson.'
'What happened, anyhow? Never mind about Bickersdyke.'
'Perhaps it was mistaken zeal on my part.... Well, I will tell you all.
Make a long arm for the shovel, Comrade Jackson, and pile on a few more
coals. I thank you. Well, all went quite smoothly for a while. Comrade
B. in quite good form. Got his second wind, and was going strong for the
tape, when a regrettable incident occurred. He informed the meeting,
that while up in the Lake country, fishing, he went to an inn and saw
a remarkably large stuffed trout in a glass case. He made inquiries,
and found that five separate and distinct people had caught--'
'Why, dash it all,' said Mike, 'that's a frightful chestnut.'
Psmith nodded.
'It certainly has appeared in print,' he said. 'In fact I should have
said it was rather a well-known story. I was so interested in Comrade
Bickersdyke's statement that the thing had happened to himself that,
purely out of good-will towards him, I got up and told him that I
thought it was my duty, as a friend, to let him know that a man named
Jerome had pinched his story, put it in a book, and got money by it.
Money, mark you, that should by rights have been Comrade Bickersdyke's.
He didn't appear to care much about sifting the matter thoroughly. In
fact, he seemed anxious to get on with his speech, and slur the matter
over. But, tactlessly perhaps, I continued rather to harp on the thing.
I said that the book in which the story had appeared was published in
1889. I asked him how long ago it was that he had been on his fishing
tour, because it was important to know in order to bring the charge
home against Jerome. Well, after a bit, I was amazed, and pained, too,
to hear Comrade Bickersdyke urging certain bravoes in the audience to
turn me out. If ever there was a case of biting the hand that fed
him.... Well, well.... By this time the meeting had begun to take sides
to some extent. What I might call my party, the Earnest Investigators,
were whistling between their fingers, stamping on the floor, and
shouting, "Chestnuts!" while the opposing party, the bravoes, seemed to
be trying, as I say, to do jiu-jitsu tricks with me. It was a painful
situation. I know the cultivated man of affairs should have passed the
thing off with a short, careless laugh; but, owing to the
above-mentioned alcohol-expert having got both hands under my collar,
short, careless laughs were off. I was compelled, very reluctantly, to
conclude the interview by tapping the bright boy on the jaw. He took
the hint, and sat down on the floor. I thought no more of the matter,
and was making my way thoughtfully to the exit, when a second man of
wrath put the above on my forehead. You can't ignore a thing like that.
I collected some of his waistcoat and one of his legs, and hove him
with some vim into the middle distance. By this time a good many of the
Earnest Investigators were beginning to join in; and it was just there
that the affair began to have certain points of resemblance to a
pantomime rally. Everybody seemed to be shouting a good deal and
hitting everybody else. It was no place for a man of delicate culture,
so I edged towards the door, and drifted out. There was a cab in the
offing. I boarded it. And, having kicked a vigorous politician in the
stomach, as he was endeavouring to climb in too, I drove off home.'
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|