Something New by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (best memoirs of all time TXT) 📕

The Opinion She Formed Of Mr. Peters Was Of His Being An

Eccentric Old Gentleman,  Making A Great To-Do About Nothing At

All. Losses Had To Have A Concrete Value Before They Could

Impress Joan. It Was Beyond Her To Grasp That Mr. Peters Would

Sooner Have Lost A Diamond Necklace,  If He Had Happened To

Possess One,  Than His Cheops Of The Fourth Dynasty.

It Was Not Until Aline,  Having Concluded Her Tale,  Added One More

Strand To It That She Found Herself Treating The Matter

Seriously.

"Father Says He Would Give Five Thousand Dollars To Anyone Who

Would Get It Back For Him."

"What!"

The Whole Story Took On A Different Complexion For Joan. Money

Talks. Mr. Peters' Words Might Have Been Merely The Rhetorical

Outburst Of A Heated Moment; But,  Even Discounting Them,  There

Seemed To Remain A Certain Exciting Substratum. A Man Who Shouts

That He Will Give Five Thousand Dollars For A Thing May Very Well

Mean He Will Give Five Hundred,  And Joan's Finances Were

Perpetually In A Condition Which Makes Five Hundred Dollars A Sum

To Be Gasped At.

"He Wasn't Serious,  Surely!"

"I Think He Was," Said Aline.

"But Five Thousand Dollars!"

"It Isn't Really Very Much To Father,  You Know. He Gave Away A

Hundred Thousand A Year Ago To A University."

"But For A Grubby Little Scarab!"

"You Don't Understand How Father Loves His Scarabs. Since He

Retired From Business,  He Has Been Simply Wrapped Up In Them. You

Know Collectors Are Like That. You Read In The Papers About Men

Giving All Sorts Of Money For Funny Things."

Outside The Door R. Jones,  His Ear Close To The Panel,  Drank In

All These Things Greedily. He Would Have Been Willing To Remain

In That Attitude Indefinitely In Return For This Kind Of Special

Information; But Just As Aline Said These Words A Door Opened On

The Floor Above,  And Somebody Came Out,  Whistling,  And Began To

Descend The Stairs.

R. Jones Stood Not On The Order Of His Going. He Was Down In The

Hall And Fumbling With The Handle Of The Front Door With An

Agility Of Which Few Casual Observers Of His Dimensions Would

Have Deemed Him Capable. The Next Moment He Was Out In The

Street,  Walking Calmly Toward Leicester Square,  Pondering Over

What He Had Heard.

Much Of R. Jones' Substantial Annual Income Was Derived From

Pondering Over What He Had Heard.

In The Room Joan Was Looking At Aline With The Distended Eyes Of

One Who Sees Visions Or Has Inspirations. She Got Up. There Are

Occasions When One Must Speak Standing.

"Then You Mean To Say That Your Father Would Really Give Five

Thousand Dollars To Anyone Who Got This Thing Back For Him?"

"I Am Sure He Would. But Who Could Do It?"

"I Could," Said Joan. "And What Is More,  I'm Going To!"

Aline Stared At Her Helplessly. In Their Schooldays,  Joan Had

Always Swept Her Off Her Feet. Then,  She Had Always Had The

Feeling That With Joan Nothing Was Impossible. Heroine Worship,

Like Hero Worship,  Dies Hard. She Looked At Joan Now With The

Stricken Sensation Of One Who Has Inadvertently Set Powerful

Machinery In Motion.

"But,  Joan!" It Was All She Could Say.

"My Dear Child,  It's Perfectly Simple. This Earl Of Yours Has

Taken The Thing Off To His Castle,  Like A Brigand. You Say You

Are Going Down There On Friday For A Visit. All You Have To Do Is

To Take Me Along With You,  And Sit Back And Watch Me Get Busy."

"But,  Joan!"

"Where's The Difficulty?"

"I Don't See How I Could Take You Down Very Well."

"Why Not?"

"Oh,  I Don't Know."

"But What Is Your Objection?"

"Well--Don't You See?--If You Went Down There As A Friend Of Mine

And Were Caught Stealing The Scarab,  There Would Be Just The

Trouble Father Wants To Avoid--About My Engagement,  You See,  And

So On."

It Was An Aspect Of The Matter That Had Escaped Joan. She Frowned

Thoughtfully.

"I See. Yes,  There Is That; But There Must Be A Way."

"You Mustn't,  Joan--Really! Don't Think Any More About It."

"Not Think Any More About It! My Child,  Do You Even Faintly

Realize What Five Thousand Dollars--Or A Quarter Of Five Thousand

Dollars--Means To Me? I Would Do Anything For It--Anything! And

There's The Fun Of It. I Don't Suppose You Can Realize That,

Either. I Want A Change. I've Been Grubbing Away Here On Nothing

A Week For Years,  And It's Time I Had A Vacation. There Must Be A

Way By Which You Could Get Me Down--Why,  Of Course! Why Didn't I

Think Of It Before! You Shall Take Me On Friday As Your Lady's

Maid!"

"But,  Joan,  I Couldn't!"

"Why Not?"

"I--I Couldn't."

"Why Not?"

"Oh,  Well!"

Joan Advanced On Her Where She Sat And Grasped Her Firmly By The

Shoulders. Her Face Was Inflexible.

"Aline,  My Pet,  It's No Good Arguing. You Might Just As Well

Argue With A Wolf On The Trail Of A Fat Russian Peasant. I Need

That Money. I Need It In My Business. I Need It Worse Than

Anybody Has Ever Needed Anything. And I'm Going To Have It! From

Now On,  Until Further Notice,  I Am Your Lady's Maid. You Can Give

Your Present One A Holiday."

Aline Met Her Eyes Waveringly. The Spirit Of The Old Schooldays,

When Nothing Was Impossible Where Joan Was Concerned,  Had Her In

Its Grip. Moreover,  The Excitement Of The Scheme Began To Attract

Her.

"But,  Joan," She Said,  "You Know It's Simply Ridiculous. You

Could Never Pass As A Lady's Maid. The Other Servants Would Find

You Out. I Expect There Are All Sorts Of Things A Lady's Maid Has

Got To Do And Not Do."

"My Dear Aline,  I Know Them All. You Can't Stump Me On

Below-Stairs Etiquette. I've Been A Lady's Maid!"

"Joan!"

"It's Quite True--Three Years Ago,  When I Was More Than Usually

Impecunious. The Wolf Was Glued To The Door Like A Postage Stamp;

So I Answered An Advertisement And Became A Lady's Maid."

"You Seem To Have Done Everything."

"I Have--Pretty Nearly. It's All Right For You Idle Rich,

Aline--You Can Sit Still And Contemplate Life; But We Poor

Working Girls Have Got To Hustle."

Aline Laughed.

"You Know,  You Always Could Make Me Do Anything You Wanted In The

Old Days,  Joan. I Suppose I Have Got To Look On This As Quite

Settled Now?"

"Absolutely Settled! Oh,  Aline,  There's One Thing You Must

Remember: Don't Call Me Joan When I'm Down At The Castle. You

Must Call Me Valentine."

She Paused. The Recollection Of The Honorable Freddie Had Come To

Her. No; Valentine Would Not Do!

"No; Not Valentine," She Went On--"It's Too Jaunty. I Used It

Once Years Ago,  But It Never Sounded Just Right. I Want Something

More Respectable,  More Suited To My Position. Can't You Suggest

Something?"

Aline Pondered.

"Simpson?"

"Simpson! It's Exactly Right. You Must Practice It. Simpson! Say

It Kindly And Yet Distantly,  As Though I Were A Worm,  But A Worm

For Whom You Felt A Mild Liking. Roll It Round Your Tongue."

"Simpson."

"Splendid! Now Once Again--A Little More Haughtily."

"Simpson--Simpson--Simpson."

Joan Regarded Her With Affectionate Approval.

"It's Wonderful!" She Said. "You Might Have Been Doing It All

Your Life."

"What Are You Laughing At?" Asked Aline.

"Nothing," Said Joan. "I Was Just Thinking Of Something. There's

A Young Man Who Lives On The Floor Above This,  And I Was

Lecturing Him Yesterday On Enterprise. I Told Him To Go And Find

Something Exciting To Do. I Wonder What He Would Say If He Knew

How Thoroughly I Am Going To Practice What I Preach!"

In The Morning Following Aline's Visit To Joan Valentine,  Ashe

Sat In His Room,  The Morning Post On The Table Before Him. The

Heady Influence Of Joan Had Not Yet Ceased To Work Within Him;

And He Proposed,  In Pursuance Of His Promise To Her,  To Go

Carefully Through The Columns Of Advertisements,  However

Pessimistic He Might Feel Concerning The Utility Of That Action.

His First Glance Assured Him That The Vast Fortunes Of The

Philanthropists,  Whose Acquaintance He Had Already Made In Print,

Were Not Yet Exhausted. Brian Macneill Still Dangled His Gold

Before The Public; So Did Angus Bruce; So Did Duncan Macfarlane

And Wallace Mackintosh And Donald Macnab. They Still Had The

Money And They Still Wanted To Give It Away.

Ashe Was Reading Listlessly Down The Column When,  From The Mass

Of Advertisements,  One Of An Unusual Sort Detached Itself.

   Wanted: Young Man Of Good Appearance,  Who Is Poor And

   Reckless,  To Undertake A Delicate And Dangerous Enterprise.

   Good Pay For The Right Man. Apply Between The Hours Of Ten

   And Twelve At Offices Of Mainprice,  Mainprice & Boole,

   3,  Denvers Street,  Strand.

And As He Read It,  Half Past Ten Struck On The Little Clock On

His Mantelpiece. It Was Probably This Fact That Decided Ashe. If

He Had Been Compelled To Postpone His Visit