Read Online Ice in the Bedroom by P. G. Wodehouse - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: P. G. Wodehouse
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blew a bugle.'
This puzzled Soapy. Except when he was selling oil stock, his mind always moved rather slowly.
"Bugle?'
'Get on.'
'Why would I blow a bugle?'
'Skip it. Let it go.'
‘I didn't have a bugle. Where would I get a bugle?'
‘I said skip it. Do concentrate, honey. We left our hero ringing at the door. What happened then?’
‘'She opened it.'
‘She did?'
‘Yes.'
'Hasn't she a maid?'
'Didn't seem to have.'
'No help at all?'
'Not that I could see. Why?'
'Oh, nothing. I was just thinking.'
The thought that had floated into Dolly's mind was that if the garrison of Castlewood was so sparsely manned, it might be possible to drop in one evening with a sandbag and do something constructive. She had always been a woman who liked the direct approach. But Soapy's next words showed this to be but an idle dream.
'All she's got is a secretary and a shot-gun.'
'A shot-gun?’
'That's right. One of those sporting guns it looked like.'
Dolly did not often touch her hair when she had done it to her liking, but she clasped it now with both hands. She was finding her mate's story difficult to follow. The shot-gun motif perplexed her particularly.
'Tell me the whole thing right from the beginning,' she said, reckless of the fact that this might involve another description of how he rang the doorbell.
Soapy asked if there was a dividend. There was, and he drank it gratefully. Then, as if inspired, he plunged into his narrative without more delay.
'Well, like I say, she opened the door, and there we were. "Miss Leila Yorke?" I said. "That's me, brother," she said. "You'll forgive me for butting in like this, Miss Yorke," I said, "but I am one of your greatest admirers. Can I talk to you for a moment?" I said, and then I went into my spiel. It was a swell spiel. If I say it myself, I was good.'
'I'll bet you were.'
'The line I took was that I was one of these rugged millionaires who'd made my money in oil, and I sketched out for her the sort of conditions you live in when you're starting out after oil - the barren scenery, the wooden shacks, the companionship of rough and uneducated men, the absence of anything that gives a shot in the arm to a guy's cultural side. I gave all that a big build-up.'
'I can just hear you.'
' "For years," I said, "I went along like that, starved for intellectual sustenance, and it was getting so that my soul was withering like a faded leaf in the Fall, when one day I happened on a tattered copy of one of her books."'
'Did she ask you which one?'
'Sure she did, and having looked her up in Who's Who, I was able to tell her. It was one of the early ones. I said it kind of seemed to open a new world to me, and as soon as I was able to raise the money from my meagre earnings I bought the whole lot and read them over and over, each time learning something fresh from them. I said I owed her more than I could ever repay.'
'That must have tickled her.'
'You'd have thought so, but it was just then that I noticed she was looking at me in that odd, Soup Slattery kind of way, sort of narrowing her eyes as if there was something about my face she didn't like.'
'If she didn't like your face, she must be cuckoo. It's a swell face.'
'Well, I've always got by with it, but that was the way she was looking. "So you feel you owe me a lot, do you?" she said, and I said, "I do indeed," and she said, "That's just how I feel."'
'Kind of conceited,' said Dolly disapprovingly.
'That's how it struck me. These authors, I said to myself. Still, I didn't hold it against her, because I knew they were all that way. I went into my sales talk. I said money was no object to me, and I wanted to buy this house of hers, no matter what it cost, and keep it as a sort of shrine. I wasn't sure, I said, if I wouldn't have it taken down and shipped over to America and set up on my big estate in Virginia. Like William Randolph Hearst used to do.'
'But Castlewood doesn't belong to her. She's only renting it, same as we
This puzzled Soapy. Except when he was selling oil stock, his mind always moved rather slowly.
"Bugle?'
'Get on.'
'Why would I blow a bugle?'
'Skip it. Let it go.'
‘I didn't have a bugle. Where would I get a bugle?'
‘I said skip it. Do concentrate, honey. We left our hero ringing at the door. What happened then?’
‘'She opened it.'
‘She did?'
‘Yes.'
'Hasn't she a maid?'
'Didn't seem to have.'
'No help at all?'
'Not that I could see. Why?'
'Oh, nothing. I was just thinking.'
The thought that had floated into Dolly's mind was that if the garrison of Castlewood was so sparsely manned, it might be possible to drop in one evening with a sandbag and do something constructive. She had always been a woman who liked the direct approach. But Soapy's next words showed this to be but an idle dream.
'All she's got is a secretary and a shot-gun.'
'A shot-gun?’
'That's right. One of those sporting guns it looked like.'
Dolly did not often touch her hair when she had done it to her liking, but she clasped it now with both hands. She was finding her mate's story difficult to follow. The shot-gun motif perplexed her particularly.
'Tell me the whole thing right from the beginning,' she said, reckless of the fact that this might involve another description of how he rang the doorbell.
Soapy asked if there was a dividend. There was, and he drank it gratefully. Then, as if inspired, he plunged into his narrative without more delay.
'Well, like I say, she opened the door, and there we were. "Miss Leila Yorke?" I said. "That's me, brother," she said. "You'll forgive me for butting in like this, Miss Yorke," I said, "but I am one of your greatest admirers. Can I talk to you for a moment?" I said, and then I went into my spiel. It was a swell spiel. If I say it myself, I was good.'
'I'll bet you were.'
'The line I took was that I was one of these rugged millionaires who'd made my money in oil, and I sketched out for her the sort of conditions you live in when you're starting out after oil - the barren scenery, the wooden shacks, the companionship of rough and uneducated men, the absence of anything that gives a shot in the arm to a guy's cultural side. I gave all that a big build-up.'
'I can just hear you.'
' "For years," I said, "I went along like that, starved for intellectual sustenance, and it was getting so that my soul was withering like a faded leaf in the Fall, when one day I happened on a tattered copy of one of her books."'
'Did she ask you which one?'
'Sure she did, and having looked her up in Who's Who, I was able to tell her. It was one of the early ones. I said it kind of seemed to open a new world to me, and as soon as I was able to raise the money from my meagre earnings I bought the whole lot and read them over and over, each time learning something fresh from them. I said I owed her more than I could ever repay.'
'That must have tickled her.'
'You'd have thought so, but it was just then that I noticed she was looking at me in that odd, Soup Slattery kind of way, sort of narrowing her eyes as if there was something about my face she didn't like.'
'If she didn't like your face, she must be cuckoo. It's a swell face.'
'Well, I've always got by with it, but that was the way she was looking. "So you feel you owe me a lot, do you?" she said, and I said, "I do indeed," and she said, "That's just how I feel."'
'Kind of conceited,' said Dolly disapprovingly.
'That's how it struck me. These authors, I said to myself. Still, I didn't hold it against her, because I knew they were all that way. I went into my sales talk. I said money was no object to me, and I wanted to buy this house of hers, no matter what it cost, and keep it as a sort of shrine. I wasn't sure, I said, if I wouldn't have it taken down and shipped over to America and set up on my big estate in Virginia. Like William Randolph Hearst used to do.'
'But Castlewood doesn't belong to her. She's only renting it, same as we
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