Psmith in the City by P. G. Wodehouse


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Page 66

Mr Gregory, who was ruling a line in a ledger--most of the work in the
Fixed Deposits Department consisted of ruling lines in ledgers,
sometimes in black ink, sometimes in red--started as if he had been
stung, and made a complete mess of the ruled line. He lifted a fiery,
bearded face, and met Psmith's eye, which shone with kindly sympathy.

He found words.

'What the dickens are you standing there for, mooing like a blanked
cow?' he inquired.

'I was groaning,' explained Psmith with quiet dignity. 'And why was I
groaning?' he continued. 'Because a shadow has fallen on the Fixed
Deposits Department. Comrade Jackson, the Pride of the Office, has
gone.'

Mr Gregory rose from his seat.

'I don't know who the dickens you are--' he began.

'I am Psmith,' said the old Etonian,

'Oh, you're Smith, are you?'

'With a preliminary P. Which, however, is not sounded.'

'And what's all this dashed nonsense about Jackson?'

'He is gone. Gone like the dew from the petal of a rose.'

'Gone! Where's he gone to?'

'Lord's.'

'What lord's?'

Psmith waved his hand gently.

'You misunderstand me. Comrade Jackson has not gone to mix with any
member of our gay and thoughtless aristocracy. He has gone to Lord's
cricket ground.'

Mr Gregory's beard bristled even more than was its wont.

'What!' he roared. 'Gone to watch a cricket match! Gone--!'

'Not to watch. To play. An urgent summons I need not say. Nothing but
an urgent summons could have wrenched him from your very delightful
society, I am sure.'

Mr Gregory glared.

'I don't want any of your impudence,' he said.

Psmith nodded gravely.

'We all have these curious likes and dislikes,' he said tolerantly.
'You do not like my impudence. Well, well, some people don't. And now,
having broken the sad news, I will return to my own department.'

'Half a minute. You come with me and tell this yarn of yours to Mr
Bickersdyke.'

'You think it would interest, amuse him? Perhaps you are right. Let us
buttonhole Comrade Bickersdyke.'

Mr Bickersdyke was disengaged. The head of the Fixed Deposits
Department stumped into the room. Psmith followed at a more leisurely
pace.

'Allow me,' he said with a winning smile, as Mr Gregory opened his
mouth to speak, 'to take this opportunity of congratulating you on your
success at the election. A narrow but well-deserved victory.'

There was nothing cordial in the manager's manner.

'What do you want?' he said.

'Myself, nothing,' said Psmith. 'But I understand that Mr Gregory has
some communication to make.'

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Tue 2nd Dec 2025, 23:39