|
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 60
Mr Bickersdyke sat up. The hands of the clock had moved again, and he
was back in what Psmith had called the live, vivid present.
'What have you got there?' he demanded.
'It is a record,' said Psmith, 'of the meeting of an institution called
the Tulse Hill Parliament. A bright, chatty little institution, too, if
one may judge by these reports. You in particular, if I may say so,
appear to have let yourself go with refreshing vim. Your political
views have changed a great deal since those days, have they not? It is
extremely interesting. A most fascinating study for political students.
When I send these speeches of yours to the _Clarion_--'
Mr Bickersdyke bounded on his sofa.
'What!' he cried.
'I was saying,' said Psmith, 'that the _Clarion_ will probably
make a most interesting comparison between these speeches and those you
have been making at Kenningford.'
'I--I--I forbid you to make any mention of these speeches.'
Psmith hesitated.
'It would be great fun seeing what the papers said,' he protested.
'Great fun!'
'It is true,' mused Psmith, 'that in a measure, it would dish you at
the election. From what I saw of those light-hearted lads at
Kenningford the other night, I should say they would be so amused that
they would only just have enough strength left to stagger to the poll
and vote for your opponent.'
Mr Bickersdyke broke out into a cold perspiration.
'I forbid you to send those speeches to the papers,' he cried.
Psmith reflected.
'You see,' he said at last, 'it is like this. The departure of Comrade
Jackson, my confidential secretary and adviser, is certain to plunge me
into a state of the deepest gloom. The only way I can see at present by
which I can ensure even a momentary lightening of the inky cloud is the
sending of these speeches to some bright paper like the _Clarion._
I feel certain that their comments would wring, at any rate, a sad,
sweet smile from me. Possibly even a hearty laugh. I must, therefore,
look on these very able speeches of yours in something of the light of
an antidote. They will stand between me and black depression. Without
them I am in the cart. With them I may possibly buoy myself up.'
Mr Bickersdyke shifted uneasily on his sofa. He glared at the floor.
Then he eyed the ceiling as if it were a personal enemy of his. Finally
he looked at Psmith. Psmith's eyes were closed in peaceful meditation.
'Very well,' said he at last. 'Jackson shall stop.'
Psmith came out of his thoughts with a start. 'You were observing--?'
he said.
'I shall not dismiss Jackson,' said Mr Bickersdyke.
Psmith smiled winningly.
'Just as I had hoped,' he said. 'Your very justifiable anger melts
before reflection. The storm subsides, and you are at leisure to
examine the matter dispassionately. Doubts begin to creep in. Possibly,
you say to yourself, I have been too hasty, too harsh. Justice must be
tempered with mercy. I have caught Comrade Jackson bending, you add
(still to yourself), but shall I press home my advantage too
ruthlessly? No, you cry, I will abstain. And I applaud your action. I
like to see this spirit of gentle toleration. It is bracing and
comforting. As for these excellent speeches,' he added, 'I shall, of
course, no longer have any need of their consolation. I can lay them
aside. The sunlight can now enter and illumine my life through more
ordinary channels. The cry goes round, "Psmith is himself again."'
Mr Bickersdyke said nothing. Unless a snort of fury may be counted as
anything.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|