Read Online Uncle Dynamite by P.G. Wodehouse - Free Book Online Page A

five Christian names and a
coronet hanging on a peg in the hats and coats cupboard under the stairs, and
they forget that I started at the bottom of the ladder. For years I was a
younger son, a mere Honourable!’
    ‘Why
have you never told me this?’
    ‘I
hadn’t the heart to. A worm of an Hon. In Debrett, yes, but only in
small print.’
    ‘You’re
making me cry.’
    ‘I
can’t help that. Do you know how they treat Hons, Sally? Like dogs. They have
to go into dinner behind the Vice-Chancellor of the County Palatinate of Lancaster .’
    ‘Well,
it’s all over now, darling.’
    ‘The
only bit of sunshine in their lives is the privilege of being allowed to stand
at the bar of the House of Lords during debates. And I couldn’t even do that,
my time being ear-marked for the cows I was punching in Arizona .’
    ‘I
didn’t know you had ever punched cows.’
    ‘As a
young man, hundreds. I had a beautiful punch in those days, straight and true,
like the kick of a mule, and never travelling more than six inches. I also
jerked soda, did a bit of newspaper work, which was when I met your father, and
had a shot at prospecting in the Mojave Desert . But was I happy? No. Because always at the back of my mind, like
some corroding acid, was the thought that I had to go into dinner behind the
Vice-Chancellor of the County Palatinate of Lancaster . In the end, by pluck and perseverance, I raised myself from the
depths and became what I am today. I’d like to see any Vice-Chancellor of the County Palatinate of Lancaster try to
squash in ahead of me now.’
    ‘It’s
like something out of Horatio Alger.’
    ‘Very
like. But I’m boring you. I’m afraid we fellows who have made good have a
tendency to go rambling on about our early struggles. Tell me of yourself. How
are you doing these days, Sally?’
    ‘Well,
I still go into dinner behind fashion editresses, but aside from that I’m
making out pretty satisfactorily.’
    ‘Trade
good?’
    ‘Not so
bad.’
    The cab
drew up at the ornate portal of Barribault’s Hotel, and they made their way to
the grill-room. As they took their seats, Sally was sniffing luxuriously.
    ‘Heaven!’
she said.
    ‘Hungry?’
    ‘I’m
always hungry.’
    Lord
Ickenham looked at her a little anxiously.
    ‘You’re
sure you’re not hard up, Sally?’
    ‘Not a
bit. Busts are quite brisk. It’s odd, when you think how hideous most people
are, that so many of them should want to hand their faces down to posterity.’
    ‘You
wouldn’t deceive me?’
    ‘No,
honestly. I’m opulent.’
    ‘Then
why did you send me that SOS? What is the very urgent matter you wanted to see
me about, with the “very” underlined?’
    Sally
was silent for a moment, but only because she was eating caviare. It did not
often come her way.
    ‘Oh,
that? It’s about Otis.’
    ‘My
God!’
    ‘Well,
it is. I’m sorry.’
    ‘Otis
again! A thing I’ve noticed all my life is that the nicest girls always have
the ghastliest brothers. It seems to be a law of nature. Well, what’s the
trouble this time, and what do you want me to do?’
    ‘I’ll
explain about the trouble later. What I want you to do is to ask Pongo to do
something for me.’
    ‘Pongo?’
    ‘I
can’t very well approach him direct,’ said Sally.
    There
was a sudden flatness in her voice which did not escape Lord Ickenham‘s quick
ear. He leaned across and petted her hand.
    ‘A
shame about you and Pongo, Sally.’
    ‘Yes.’
    There
was a silence. Lord Ickenham stole a glance across the table. Sally was gazing
into the middle distance, her eyes, or so it seemed to him, suspiciously bright
and with a disposition to moisture which disquieted him. It is rarely that an
uncle is able to understand how a nephew of his can possibly cast a fatal spell
and, fond as he was of Pongo, Lord Ickenham could not see him as a breaker of
hearts. Yet it appeared plain that his loss had left a large gap in this girl’s
life. Her air was the air of one who was