P G Wodehouse, page 3
a clash between these two. Ann had red hair and the nature which
generally goes with red hair. She was impulsive and quick of tongue,
and – as he remembered her father had always been – a little too
ready for combat. She was usually as quickly remorseful as she was
quickly pugnacious, like most persons of her colour. Her off er to
type the story which now lay on her desk had been the amende hon-
ourable following on just such a scene with her aunt as this promised
to be. Mr. Pett had no wish to see the truce thus consummated bro-
ken almost before it had had time to operate.
“I could give the boy a job in my offi
ce,” he suggested.
Giving young men jobs in his offi
ce was what Mr. Pett liked
doing best. Th
ere were six brilliant youths living in his house and
bursting with his food at that very moment whom he would have
been delighted to start addressing envelopes down-town.
Notably his wife’s nephew, Willie Partridge, whom he looked
on as a specious loafer. He had a stubborn disbelief in the explosive
that was to revolutionise war. He knew, as all the world did, that
Willie’s late father had been a great inventor, but he did not ac-
17
P. G. WODEHOUSE
cept the fact that Willie had inherited the dead man’s genius. He
regarded the experiments on Partridgite, as it was to be called, with
the profoundest scepticism, and considered that the only thing Wil-
lie had ever invented or was likely to invent was a series of ingenious
schemes for living in fatted idleness on other people’s money.
“Exactly,” said Mrs. Pett, delighted at the suggestion. “Th
e very
thing.”
“Will you write and suggest it?” said Mr. Pett, basking in the
sunshine of unwonted commendation.
“What would be the use of writing? Eugenia would pay no at-
tention. Besides, I could not say all I wished to in a letter. No, the
only thing is to go over to England and see her. I shall speak very
plainly to her. I shall point out what an advantage it will be to the
boy to be in your offi
ce and to live here. . . .”
Ann started.
“You don’t mean live here – in this house?”
“Of course. Th
ere would be no sense in bringing the boy all the
way over from England if he was to be allowed to run loose when
he got here.”
Mr. Pett coughed deprecatingly.
“I don’t think that would be very pleasant for Ann, dear.”
“Why in the name of goodness should Ann object?”
Ann moved towards the door.
“Th
ank you for thinking of it, uncle Peter. You’re always a dear.
But don’t worry about me. Do just as you want to. In any case I’m
quite certain that you won’t be able to get him to come over here.
You can see by the paper he’s having far too good a time in Lon-
don. You can call Jimmy Crockers from the vasty deep, but will they
come when you call for them?”
Mrs. Pett looked at the door as it closed behind her, then at her
husband.
“What do you mean, Peter, about Ann? Why wouldn’t it be
pleasant for her if this Crocker boy came to live with us?”
Mr. Pett hesitated.
“Well, it’s like this, Nesta. I hope you won’t tell her I told you.
She’s sensitive about it, poor girl. It all happened before you and I
were married. Ann was much younger then. You know what school-
girls are, kind of foolish and sentimental. It was my fault really, I
ought to have . . .”
18
PICADILLY JIM
“Good Heavens, Peter! What are you trying to tell me?”
“She was only a child.”
Mrs. Pett rose in slow horror.
“Peter! Tell me! Don’t try to break it gently.”
“Ann wrote a book of poetry and I had it published for her.”
Mrs. Pett sank back in her chair.
“Oh!” she said – it would have been hard to say whether with
relief or disappointment. “Whatever did you make such a fuss for?
Why did you want to be so mysterious?”
“It was all my fault, really,” proceeded Mr. Pett. “I ought to have
known better. All I thought of at the time was that it would please
the child to see the poems in print and be able to give the book to
her friends. She did give it to her friends,” he went on ruefully, “and
ever since she’s been trying to live it down. I’ve seen her bite a young
fellow’s head off when he tried to make a grand-stand play with her
by quoting her poems which he’d found in his sister’s book-shelf.”
“But, in the name of goodness, what has all this to do with
young Crocker?”
“Why, it was this way. Most of the papers just gave Ann’s book
a mention among ‘Volumes Received,’ or a couple of lines that didn’t
amount to anything, but the Chronicle saw a Sunday feature in it, as
Ann was going about a lot then and was a well-known society girl.
Th
ey sent this Crocker boy to get an interview from her, all about
her methods of work and inspirations and what not. We never sus-
pected it wasn’t the straight goods. Why, that very evening I mailed
an order for a hundred copies to be sent to me when the thing ap-
peared. And—” pinkness came upon Mr. Pett at the recollection “it
was just a josh from start to fi nish. Th
e young hound made a joke
of the poems and what Ann had told him about her inspirations
and quoted bits of the poems just to kid the life out of them. . . . I
thought Ann would never get over it. Well, it doesn’t worry her any
more – she’s grown out of the school-girl stage – but you can bet she
isn’t going to get up and give three cheers and a tiger if you bring
young Crocker to live in the same house.”
“Utterly ridiculous!” said Mrs. Pett. “I certainly do not intend to
alter my plans because of a trivial incident that happened years ago.
We will sail on Wednesday.”
“Very well, my dear,” said Mr. Pett resignedly.
“Just as you say. Er – just you and I?”
19
P. G. WODEHOUSE
“And Ogden, of course.”
Mr. Pett controlled a facial spasm with a powerful eff ort of the
will. He had feared this.
“I wouldn’t dream of leaving him here while I went away, after
what happened when poor dear Elmer sent him to school in Eng-
land that time.” Th
e late Mr. Ford had spent most of his married life
either quarrelling with or separated from his wife, but since death
he had been canonised as ‘poor dear Elmer.’ “Besides, the sea voyage
will do the poor darling good. He has not been looking at all well
lately.”
“If Ogden’s coming, I’d like to take Ann.”
“Why?”
“She can—” he sought for a euphemism.
“Keep in order” was the expression he wished to avoid. To his
mind Ann was the only known antidote for Ogden, but he felt it
would be impolitic to say so.” – look after him on the boat,” he con-
cluded. “You know you are a bad sailor.”
“Very well. Bring Ann – Oh, Peter, that reminds me of what
I wanted to say to you, which this dreadful thing in the paper
drove completely out of my mind. Lord Wisbeach has asked Ann
to marry him!”
Mr. Pett looked a little hurt. “She didn’t tell me.” Ann usually
confi ded in him.
“She didn’t tell me, either. Lord Wisbeach told me. He said
Ann had promised to think it over, and give him his answer later.
Meanwhile, he had come to me to assure himself that I approved. I
thought that so charming of him.”
Mr. Pett was frowning.
“She hasn’t accepted him?”
“Not defi nitely.”
“I hope she doesn’t.”
“Don’t be foolish, Peter. It would be an excellent match.”
Mr. Pett shuffl
ed his feet.
“I don’t like him. Th
ere’s something too darned smooth about
that fellow.”
“If you mean that his manners are perfect, I agree with you. I
shall do all in my power to induce Ann to accept him.”
“I shouldn’t,” said Mr. Pett, with more decision than was his
wont. “You know what Ann is if you try to force her to do anything.
20
PICADILLY JIM
She gets her ears back and won’t budge. Her father is just the same.
When we were boys together, sometimes—”
“Don’t be absurd, Peter. As if I should dream of trying to force
Ann to do anything.”
“We don’t know anything of this fellow. Two weeks ago we
didn’t know he was on the earth.”
“What do we need to know beyond his name?”
Mr. Pett said nothing, but he was not convinced. Th
e Lord
Wisbeach under discussion was a pleasant-spoken and presentable
young man who had called at Mr. Pett’s offi
ce a short while before
to consult him about investing some money. He had brought a letter
of introduction from Hammond Chester, Ann’s father, whom he
had met in Canada, where the latter was at present engaged in the
comparatively mild occupation of bass-fi shing. With their business
talk the acquaintance would have begun and fi nished, if Mr. Pett
had been able to please himself, for he had not taken a fancy to Lord
Wisbeach. But he was an American, with an American’s sense of
hospitality, and, the young man being a friend of Hammond Ches-
ter, he had felt bound to invite him to Riverside Drive – with mis-
givings which were now, he felt, completely justifi ed.
“Ann ought to marry,” said Mrs. Pett. “She gets her own way too
much now. However, it is entirely her own aff air, and there is noth-
ing that we can do.” She rose. “I only hope she will be sensible.”
She went out, leaving Mr. Pett gloomier than she had found
him. He hated the idea of Ann marrying Lord Wisbeach, who, even
if he had had no faults at all, would be objectionable in that he would
probably take her to live three thousand miles away in his own coun-
try. Th
e thought of losing Ann oppressed Mr. Pett sorely.
Ann, meanwhile, had made her way down the passage to the
gymnasium which Mr. Pett, in the interests of his health, had caused
to be constructed in a large room at the end of the house – a room
designed by the original owner, who had had artistic leanings, for
a studio. Th
e tap-tap-tap of the leather bag had ceased, but voices
from within told her that Jerry Mitchell, Mr. Pett’s private physical
instructor, was still there. She wondered who was his companion,
and found on opening the door that it was Ogden. Th
e boy was lean-
ing against the wall and regarding Jerry with a dull and supercilious
gaze which the latter was plainly fi nding it hard to bear.
21
P. G. WODEHOUSE
“Yes, sir!” Ogden was saying, as Ann entered. “I heard Biggs
asking her to come for a joyride.”
“I bet she turned him down,” said Jerry Mitchell sullenly.
“I bet she didn’t. Why should she? Biggs is an awful good-look-
ing fellow.”
“What are you talking about, Ogden?” said Ann.
“I was telling him that Biggs asked Celestine to go for a ride in
the car with him.”
“I’ll knock his block off ,” muttered the incensed Jerry.
Ogden laughed derisively.
“Yes, you will! Mother would fi re you if you touched him. She
wouldn’t stand for having her chauff eur beaten up.”
Jerry Mitchell turned an appealing face to Ann. Ogden’s revela-
tions and especially his eulogy of Biggs’ personal appearance had
tormented him. He knew that, in his wooing of Mrs. Pett’s maid,
Celestine, he was handicapped by his looks, concerning which he
had no illusions. No Adonis to begin with, he had been so edited
and re-edited during a long and prosperous ring career by the gloved
fi sts of a hundred foes that in aff airs of the heart he was obliged to
rely exclusively on moral worth and charm of manner. He belonged
to the old school of fi ghters who looked the part, and in these days
of pugilists who resemble matinee idols he had the appearance of an
anachronism. He was a stocky man with a round, solid head, small
eyes, an undershot jaw, and a nose which ill-treatment had reduced
to a mere scenario. A narrow strip of forehead acted as a kind of
buff er-state, separating his front hair from his eyebrows, and he bore
beyond hope of concealment the badge of his late employment, the
caulifl ower ear. Yet was he a man of worth and a good citizen, and
Ann had liked him from their fi rst meeting. As for Jerry, he wor-
shipped Ann and would have done anything she asked him. Ever
since he had discovered that Ann was willing to listen to and sym-
pathise with his outpourings on the subject of his troubled wooing,
he had been her slave.
Ann came to the rescue in characteristically direct fashion.
“Get out, Ogden,” she said.
Ogden tried to meet her eye mutinously, but failed. Why he
should be afraid of Ann he had never been able to understand, but it
was a fact that she was the only person of his acquaintance whom he
22
PICADILLY JIM
respected. She had a bright eye and a calm, imperious stare which
never failed to tame him.
“Why?” he muttered. “You’re not my boss.”
“Be quick, Ogden.”
“What’s the big idea – ordering a fellow—”
“And close the door gently behind you,” said Ann. She turned to
Jerry, as the order was obeyed.
“Has he been bothering you, Jerry?”
Jerry Mitchell wiped his forehead.
“Say, if that kid don’t quit butting in when I’m working in the
gym – You heard what he was saying about Maggie, Miss Ann?”
Celestine had been born Maggie O’Toole, a name which Mrs.
Pett stoutly refused to countenance in any maid of hers.
“Why on earth do you pay any attention to him, Jerry? You must
have seen that he was making it all up. He spends his whole time
wandering about till he fi nds some one he can torment, and then he
enjoys himself. Maggie would never dream of going out in the car
with Biggs.”
Jerry Mitchell sighed a sigh of relief.
“It’s great for a fellow to have you in his corner, Miss Ann.”
Ann went to the door and opened it. She looked down the pas-
sage, then, satisfi ed as to its emptiness, returned to her seat.
“Jerry, I want to talk to you. I have an idea. Something I want
you to do for me.”
“Yes, Miss Ann?”
“We’ve got to do something about that child, Ogden. He’s been
worrying uncle Peter again, and I’m not going to have it. I warned
him once that, if he did it again, awful things would happen to him,
but he didn’t believe me. I suppose, Jerry – what sort of a man is your
friend, Mr. Smethurst?”
“Do you mean Smithers, Miss Ann?”
“I knew it was either Smithers or Smethurst. Th
e dog man, I
mean. Is he a man you can trust?”
“With my last buck. I’ve known him since we were kids.”
“I don’t mean as regards money. I am going to send Ogden to him
for treatment, and I want to know if I can rely on him to help me.”
“For the love of Mike.”
Jerry Mitchell, after an instant of stunned bewilderment, was
looking at her with worshipping admiration. He had always known
23
P. G. WODEHOUSE
that Miss Ann possessed a mind of no common order, but this, he
felt, was genius. For a moment the magnifi cence of the idea took his
breath away.
“Do you mean that you’re going to kidnap him, Miss Ann?”
“Yes. Th
at is to say, you are – if I can persuade you to do it
for me.”
“Sneak him away and send him to Bud Smithers’ dog-
hospital?”
“For treatment. I like Mr. Smithers’ methods. I think they would
do Ogden all the good in the world.”
Jerry was enthusiastic.
“Why, Bud would make him part-human. But, say, isn’t it tak-
ing big chances? Kidnapping’s a penitentiary off ence.”
“Th
is isn’t that sort of kidnapping.”
“Well, it’s mighty like it.”
“I don’t think you need be afraid of the penitentiary. I can’t see
aunt Nesta prosecuting, when it would mean that she would have
to charge us with having sent Ogden to a dogs’ hospital. She likes
