Piccadilly Jim by P. G. Wodehouse (most motivational books TXT) 📕

“Thank you.”

“This is your cousin, Ogden.”

Jimmy perceived a fat boy lying on a settee. He had not risen on Jimmy’s entrance, and he did not rise now. He did not even lower the book he was reading.

“Hello,” he said.

Jimmy crossed over to the settee, and looked down on him. He had got over his momentary embarrassment, and, as usual with him, the reaction led to a fatal breeziness. He prodded Ogden in his well-covered ribs, producing a yelp of protest from that astounded youth.

“So this is Ogden! Well, well, well! You don’t grow up, Ogden, but you do grow out. What are you⁠—a perfect sixty-six?”

The favourable impression which Mrs. Pett had formed of her nephew waned. She was shocked by this disrespectful attitude towards the child she worshipped.

“Please do not disturb Ogden, James,” she said stiffly. “He is not feeling very well today. His stomach is weak.”

“Been eating too much?” said Jimmy cheerfully.

“I was just the same at his age. What he wants is half rations and plenty of exercise.”

“Say!” protested Ogden.

“Just look at this,” proceeded Jimmy, grasping a handful of superfluous tissue around the boy’s ribs. “All that ought to come off. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll buy a pair of flannel trousers and a sweater and some sneakers, and I’ll take him for a run up Riverside Drive this evening. Do him no end of good. And a good skipping-rope, too. Nothing like it. In a couple of weeks I’ll have him as fit as a⁠—”

“Ogden’s case,” said Mrs. Pett coldly, “which is very complicated, is in the hands of Doctor Briginshaw, in whom we have every confidence.”

There was a silence, the paralysing effects of which Mr. Pett vainly tried to mitigate by shuffling his feet and coughing. Mrs. Pett spoke.

“I hope that, now that you are here, James, you intend to settle down and work hard.”

“Indubitably. Like a beaver,” said Jimmy, mindful of Mr. Pett’s recent warning. “The only trouble is that there seems to be a little uncertainty as to what I am best fitted for. We talked it over in uncle Pete’s office and arrived at no conclusion.”

“Can’t you think of anything?” said Mr. Pett.

“I looked right through the telephone classified directory the other day⁠—”

“The other day? But you only landed this morning.”

“I mean this morning. When I was looking up your address so that I could go and see you,” said Jimmy glibly. “It seems a long time ago. I think the sight of all those fellows in your office has aged me. I think the best plan would be for me to settle down here and learn how to be an electrical engineer or something by mail. I was reading an advertisement in a magazine as we came up on the subway. I see they guarantee to teach you anything from sheet metal working to poultry raising. The thing began ‘You are standing still because you lack training.’ It seemed to me to apply to my case exactly. I had better drop them a line tonight asking for a few simple facts about chickens.”

Whatever comment Mrs. Pett might have made on this suggestion was checked by the entrance of Ann. From the window of her room Ann had observed the arrival of Jimmy and her uncle, and now, having allowed sufficient time to elapse for the former to make Mrs. Pett’s acquaintance, she came down to see how things were going.

She was well satisfied with what she saw. A slight strain which she perceived in the atmosphere she attributed to embarrassment natural to the situation.

She looked at Jimmy enquiringly. Mrs. Pett had not informed her of Mr. Pett’s telephone call, so Jimmy, she realised, had to be explained to her. She waited for someone to say something.

Mr. Pett undertook the introduction.

“Jimmy, this is my niece, Ann Chester. This is Jimmy Crocker, Ann.”

Jimmy could not admire sufficiently the start of surprise which she gave. It was artistic and convincing.

“Jimmy Crocker!”

Mr. Pett was on the point of mentioning that this was not the first time Ann had met Jimmy, but refrained. After all, that interview had happened five years ago. Jimmy had almost certainly forgotten all about it. There was no use in making him feel unnecessarily awkward. It was up to Ann. If she wanted to disinter the ancient grievance, let her. It was no business of his.

“I thought you weren’t coming over!” said Ann.

“I changed my mind.”

Mr. Pett, who had been gazing attentively at them, uttered an exclamation.

“I’ve got it! I’ve been trying all this while to think where it was that I saw you before. It was on the Atlantic!”

Ann caught Jimmy’s eye. She was relieved to see that he was not disturbed by this sudden development.

“Did you come over on the Atlantic, Mr. Crocker?” she said. “Surely not? We crossed on her ourselves. We should have met.”

“Don’t call me Mr. Crocker,” said Jimmy. “Call me Jimmy. Your mother’s brother’s wife’s sister’s second husband is my father. Blood is thicker than water. No, I came over on the Caronia. We docked this morning.”

“Well, there was a fellow just like you on the Atlantic,” persisted Mr. Pett.

Mrs. Pett said nothing. She was watching Jimmy with a keen and suspicious eye.

“I suppose I’m a common type,” said Jimmy.

“You remember the man I mean,” said Mr. Pett, innocently unconscious of the unfriendly thoughts he was encouraging in two of his hearers. “He sat two tables away from us at meals. You remember him, Nesta?”

“As I was too unwell to come to meals, I do not.”

“Why, I thought I saw you once talking to him on deck, Ann.”

“Really?” said Ann. “I don’t remember anyone who looked at all like Jimmy.”

“Well,” said Mr. Pett, puzzled. “It’s very strange. I guess I’m wrong.” He looked at his watch. “Well, I’ll have to be getting back to the office.”

“I’ll come with you part of the way, uncle Pete,” said Jimmy. “I have to go and arrange for my things to be expressed here.”

“Why not phone to the hotel?” said Mr. Pett. It seemed to Jimmy