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Authors: Sir P G Wodehouse
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and I got out.'
This information diverted Jane momentarily from the matter in hand.
'Mrs Gedge? Are you sure?'
'Quite.'
'I wonder what she's doing over here. I must go and ask Father.'
She dismissed the subject of Mrs Gedge.
'Then you really mean you left it at that?'
'Your father's last words were that I should meet him at the boat-train at Waterloo to-morrow.'
'Well, that's fine,' said Packy. He turned to Jane, who seemed in need of a kindly word of encouragement. 'Don't you see how everything has worked for the best? You would like him to be at St Rocque with you, wouldn't you? Well, now he will be, and actually in the same house. You can snatch secret meetings with him and bill and coo across the Senator's Sunday pants while he's brushing them.'
'Why, of course! I never thought of that.'
Despite what he had been through, the haughty spirit of the Egglestons was still alive in Blair. He started incredulously and with not a little indignation.
'Are you under the impression that I really intend to come to St Rocque as your father's valet?'
Jane's eyes were shining. The chin which she inherited from the Opal side of the family was tilted and resolute.
'I am,' she said definitely. 'Why, Blair, it's wonderful. You'll be always with Father, making him get fond of you. So that, when we think the time is ripe and I go to him and say, "You know that valet of yours, Father? Well, that's the man I want to marry," he will say "Fine! I liked him from the start," and everything will be lovely.'
'But, really...'
'Blair,' said Jane Opal, 'I'm not arguing with you. I'm telling you.'
Packy rose. It seemed to him that the delicate thing would be to withdraw. Blair Eggleston was looking as like a younger English novelist who has just stopped a sandbag with the back of his head as any younger English novelist had ever looked since first young Englishmen began to write novels, and what he needed, in Packy's opinion, was the opportunity of threshing things out quietly with his loved one with no third party present.
'I congratulate you both,' he said, 'on the happy way in which everything has come out. You will let me know any further developments, won't you? You see, I naturally feel a paternal interest in you young folks. Devonshire House will find me.'
'Must you go?'
'I fear I must. I have got to get my hair cut. My fiancée says it is too long. Her last words to me as the train pulled out drew a rather poetic comparison between me and a chrysanthemum.'
'I think you look lovely.'
'I do look lovely. But you know what women are. I regard getting it cut as a sort of sacred trust.'
Blair Eggleston rose bubblingly to the surface of the Slough of Despond which had engulfed him.
'But I don't know how to be a valet!'
'It's quite easy,' Packy assured him. 'A fellow with a brain like yours will pick it up in a minute. Just fold and brush and brush and fold and remember to say "yes, sir" and "no, sir" and "indeed, sir?" and "very good, sir". Oh, and one thing. Be very careful how you remove spots from the clothing. I knew a man who was fired for removing a spot from his employer's clothing.'
'What a shame!' said Jane. 'Why?'
'It was a ten-spot,' explained Packy.
6
It was the opinion of Mr Gordon Carlisle – and Soup Slat-tery, it will be remembered, had agreed with him – that women are tough. Packy, returning to his rooms after visiting the barber, found himself forced to the same conclusion.
That edict of Beatrice's that he should remain in London was weighing on him heavily. He was aware of a disquieting restlessness. He had picked up his yachting magazine and was re-reading the advertisement of which he had spoken to her at Waterloo. It virtually amounted to a prose poem.
FOR CHARTER. – Auxiliary Yawl, Flying Cloud, 45 feet over all, 39 feet on water line, 13 foot beam, Marconi rig, powered with 40 h.p. Universal motor, speed under power 8 m.p.h. Sleeping accommodation for four, large cockpit, good head room, sails and
This information diverted Jane momentarily from the matter in hand.
'Mrs Gedge? Are you sure?'
'Quite.'
'I wonder what she's doing over here. I must go and ask Father.'
She dismissed the subject of Mrs Gedge.
'Then you really mean you left it at that?'
'Your father's last words were that I should meet him at the boat-train at Waterloo to-morrow.'
'Well, that's fine,' said Packy. He turned to Jane, who seemed in need of a kindly word of encouragement. 'Don't you see how everything has worked for the best? You would like him to be at St Rocque with you, wouldn't you? Well, now he will be, and actually in the same house. You can snatch secret meetings with him and bill and coo across the Senator's Sunday pants while he's brushing them.'
'Why, of course! I never thought of that.'
Despite what he had been through, the haughty spirit of the Egglestons was still alive in Blair. He started incredulously and with not a little indignation.
'Are you under the impression that I really intend to come to St Rocque as your father's valet?'
Jane's eyes were shining. The chin which she inherited from the Opal side of the family was tilted and resolute.
'I am,' she said definitely. 'Why, Blair, it's wonderful. You'll be always with Father, making him get fond of you. So that, when we think the time is ripe and I go to him and say, "You know that valet of yours, Father? Well, that's the man I want to marry," he will say "Fine! I liked him from the start," and everything will be lovely.'
'But, really...'
'Blair,' said Jane Opal, 'I'm not arguing with you. I'm telling you.'
Packy rose. It seemed to him that the delicate thing would be to withdraw. Blair Eggleston was looking as like a younger English novelist who has just stopped a sandbag with the back of his head as any younger English novelist had ever looked since first young Englishmen began to write novels, and what he needed, in Packy's opinion, was the opportunity of threshing things out quietly with his loved one with no third party present.
'I congratulate you both,' he said, 'on the happy way in which everything has come out. You will let me know any further developments, won't you? You see, I naturally feel a paternal interest in you young folks. Devonshire House will find me.'
'Must you go?'
'I fear I must. I have got to get my hair cut. My fiancée says it is too long. Her last words to me as the train pulled out drew a rather poetic comparison between me and a chrysanthemum.'
'I think you look lovely.'
'I do look lovely. But you know what women are. I regard getting it cut as a sort of sacred trust.'
Blair Eggleston rose bubblingly to the surface of the Slough of Despond which had engulfed him.
'But I don't know how to be a valet!'
'It's quite easy,' Packy assured him. 'A fellow with a brain like yours will pick it up in a minute. Just fold and brush and brush and fold and remember to say "yes, sir" and "no, sir" and "indeed, sir?" and "very good, sir". Oh, and one thing. Be very careful how you remove spots from the clothing. I knew a man who was fired for removing a spot from his employer's clothing.'
'What a shame!' said Jane. 'Why?'
'It was a ten-spot,' explained Packy.
6
It was the opinion of Mr Gordon Carlisle – and Soup Slat-tery, it will be remembered, had agreed with him – that women are tough. Packy, returning to his rooms after visiting the barber, found himself forced to the same conclusion.
That edict of Beatrice's that he should remain in London was weighing on him heavily. He was aware of a disquieting restlessness. He had picked up his yachting magazine and was re-reading the advertisement of which he had spoken to her at Waterloo. It virtually amounted to a prose poem.
FOR CHARTER. – Auxiliary Yawl, Flying Cloud, 45 feet over all, 39 feet on water line, 13 foot beam, Marconi rig, powered with 40 h.p. Universal motor, speed under power 8 m.p.h. Sleeping accommodation for four, large cockpit, good head room, sails and
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