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Page 6
He broke off. Mr Jackson did not seem to be attending. There was a
silence. Then Mr Jackson spoke with an obvious effort.
'Look here, Mike, we've always understood one another, haven't we?'
'Of course we have.'
'You know I wouldn't do anything to prevent you having a good time, if
I could help it. I took you away from Wrykyn, I know, but that was a
special case. It was necessary. But I understand perfectly how keen you
are to go to Cambridge, and I wouldn't stand in the way for a minute,
if I could help it.'
Mike looked at him blankly. This could only mean one thing. He was not
to go to the 'Varsity. But why? What had happened? When he had left for
the Smith's cricket week, his name had been down for King's, and the
whole thing settled. What could have happened since then?
'But I can't help it,' continued Mr Jackson.
'Aren't I going up to Cambridge, father?' stammered Mike.
'I'm afraid not, Mike. I'd manage it if I possibly could. I'm just as
anxious to see you get your Blue as you are to get it. But it's kinder
to be quite frank. I can't afford to send you to Cambridge. I won't go
into details which you would not understand; but I've lost a very large
sum of money since I saw you last. So large that we shall have to
economize in every way. I shall let this house and take a much smaller
one. And you and Bob, I'm afraid, will have to start earning your
living. I know it's a terrible disappointment to you, old chap.'
'Oh, that's all right,' said Mike thickly. There seemed to be something
sticking in his throat, preventing him from speaking.
'If there was any possible way--'
'No, it's all right, father, really. I don't mind a bit. It's awfully
rough luck on you losing all that.'
There was another silence. The clock ticked away energetically on the
mantelpiece, as if glad to make itself heard at last. Outside, a
plaintive snuffle made itself heard. John, the bull-dog, Mike's
inseparable companion, who had followed him to the study, was getting
tired of waiting on the mat. Mike got up and opened the door. John
lumbered in.
The movement broke the tension.
'Thanks, Mike,' said Mr Jackson, as Mike started to leave the room,
'you're a sportsman.'
3. The New Era Begins
Details of what were in store for him were given to Mike next morning.
During his absence at Ilsworth a vacancy had been got for him in that
flourishing institution, the New Asiatic Bank; and he was to enter upon
his duties, whatever they might be, on the Tuesday of the following
week. It was short notice, but banks have a habit of swallowing their
victims rather abruptly. Mike remembered the case of Wyatt, who had had
just about the same amount of time in which to get used to the prospect
of Commerce.
On the Monday morning a letter arrived from Psmith. Psmith was still
perturbed. 'Commerce,' he wrote, 'continues to boom. My pater referred
to Comrade Bickersdyke last night as a Merchant Prince. Comrade B. and
I do not get on well together. Purely for his own good, I drew him
aside yesterday and explained to him at great length the frightfulness
of walking across the bowling-screen. He seemed restive, but I was
firm. We parted rather with the Distant Stare than the Friendly Smile.
But I shall persevere. In many ways the casual observer would say that
he was hopeless. He is a poor performer at Bridge, as I was compelled
to hint to him on Saturday night. His eyes have no animated sparkle of
intelligence. And the cut of his clothes jars my sensitive soul to its
foundations. I don't wish to speak ill of a man behind his back, but I
must confide in you, as my Boyhood's Friend, that he wore a made-up tie
at dinner. But no more of a painful subject. I am working away at him
with a brave smile. Sometimes I think that I am succeeding. Then he
seems to slip back again. However,' concluded the letter, ending on an
optimistic note, 'I think that I shall make a man of him yet--some
day.'
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