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

"Don't Often See Your Lordship In The Club," He Opened Chattily.

It Was Business To Know The Tastes And Dispositions Of All The

Five Thousand Or So Members Of The Senior Conservative Club And

To Suit His Demeanor To Them. To Some He Would Hand The Bill Of

Fare Swiftly,  Silently,  Almost Brusquely,  As One Who Realizes

That There Are Moments In Life Too Serious For Talk. Others,  He

Knew,  Liked Conversation; And To Those He Introduced The Subject

Of Food Almost As A Sub-Motive.

Lord Emsworth,  Having Examined The Bill Of Fare With A Mild

Curiosity,  Laid It Down And Became Conversational.

"No,  Adams; I Seldom Visit London Nowadays. London Does Not

Attract Me. The Country--The Fields--The Woods--The Birds----"

Something Across The Room Seemed To Attract His Attention And His

Voice Trailed Off. He Inspected This For Some Time With Bland

Interest,  Then Turned To Adams Once More.

"What Was I Saying,  Adams?"

"The Birds,  Your Lordship."

"Birds! What Birds? What About Birds?"

"You Were Speaking Of The Attractions Of Life In The Country,

Your Lordship. You Included The Birds In Your Remarks."

"Oh,  Yes,  Yes,  Yes! Oh,  Yes,  Yes! Oh,  Yes--To Be Sure. Do You

Ever Go To The Country,  Adams?"

"Generally To The Seashore,  Your Lordship--When I Take My Annual

Vacation."

Whatever Was The Attraction Across The Room Once More Exercised

Its Spell. His Lordship Concentrated Himself On It To The

Exclusion Of All Other Mundane Matters. Presently He Came Out Of

His Trance Again.

"What Were You Saying,  Adams?"

"I Said That I Generally Went To The Seashore,  Your Lordship."

"Eh? When?"

"For My Annual Vacation,  Your Lordship."

"Your What?"

"My Annual Vacation,  Your Lordship."

"What About It?"

Adams Never Smiled During Business Hours--Unless Professionally,

As It Were,  When A Member Made A Joke; But He Was Storing Up In

The Recesses Of His Highly Respectable Body A Large Laugh,  To Be

Shared With His Wife When He Reached Home That Night. Mrs. Adams

Never Wearied Of Hearing Of The Eccentricities Of The Members Of

The Club. It Occurred To Adams That He Was In Luck To-Day. He Was

Expecting A Little Party Of Friends To Supper That Night,  And He

Was A Man Who Loved An Audience.

You Would Never Have Thought It,  To Look At Him When Engaged In

His Professional Duties,  But Adams Had Built Up A Substantial

Reputation As A Humorist In His Circle By His Imitations Of

Certain Members Of The Club; And It Was A Matter Of Regret To Him

That He Got So Few Opportunities Nowadays Of Studying The

Absent-Minded Lord Emsworth. It Was Rare Luck--His Lordship

Coming In To-Day,  Evidently In His Best Form.

"Adams,  Who Is The Gentleman Over By The Window--The Gentleman In

The Brown Suit?"

"That Is Mr. Simmonds,  Your Lordship. He Joined Us Last Year."

"I Never Saw A Man Take Such Large Mouthfuls. Did You Ever See A

Man Take Such Large Mouthfuls,  Adams?"

Adams Refrained From Expressing An Opinion,  But Inwardly He Was

Thrilling With Artistic Fervor. Mr. Simmonds Eating,  Was One Of

His Best Imitations,  Though Mrs. Adams Was Inclined To Object To

It On The Score That It Was A Bad Example For The Children. To Be

Privileged To Witness Lord Emsworth Watching And Criticizing Mr.

Simmonds Was To Collect Material For A Double-Barreled Character

Study That Would Assuredly Make The Hit Of The Evening.

"That Man," Went On Lord Emsworth,  "Is Digging His Grave With His

Teeth. Digging His Grave With His Teeth,  Adams! Do You Take Large

Mouthfuls,  Adams?"

"No,  Your Lordship."

"Quite Right. Very Sensible Of You,  Adams--Very Sensible Of You.

Very Sen---- What Was I Saying,  Adams?"

"About My Not Taking Large Mouthfuls,  Your Lordship."

"Quite Right--Quite Right! Never Take Large Mouthfuls,  Adams.

Never Gobble. Have You Any Children,  Adams?"

"Two,  Your Lordship."

"I Hope You Teach Them Not To Gobble. They Pay For It In Later

Life. Americans Gobble When Young And Ruin Their Digestions. My

American Friend,  Mr. Peters,  Suffers Terribly From Indigestion."

Adams Lowered His Voice To A Confidential Murmur: "If You Will

Pardon The Liberty,  Your Lordship--I Saw It In The Paper--"

"About Mr. Peters' Indigestion?"

"About Miss Peters,  Your Lordship,  And The Honorable Frederick.

May I Be Permitted To Offer My Congratulations?"

"Eh,  Oh,  Yes--The Engagement. Yes,  Yes,  Yes! Yes--To Be Sure.

Yes; Very Satisfactory In Every Respect. High Time He Settled

Down And Got A Little Sense. I Put It To Him Straight. I Cut Off

His Allowance And Made Him Stay At Home. That Made Him

Think--Lazy Young Devil!"

Lord Emsworth Had His Lucid Moments; And In The One That Occurred

Now It Came Home To Him That He Was Not Talking To Himself,  As He

Had Imagined,  But Confiding Intimate Family Secrets To The Head

Steward Of His Club's Dining-Room. He Checked Himself Abruptly,

And With A Slight Decrease Of Amiability Fixed His Gaze On The

Bill Of Fare And Ordered Cold Beef. For An Instant He Felt

Resentful Against Adams For Luring Him On To Soliloquize; But The

Next Moment His Whole Mind Was Gripped By The Fascinating

Spectacle Of Mr. Simmonds Dealing With A Wedge Of Stilton Cheese,

And Adams Was Forgotten.

The Cold Beef Had The Effect Of Restoring His Lordship To

Complete Amiability,  And When Adams In The Course Of His

Wanderings Again Found Himself At The Table He Was Once More

Disposed For Light Conversation.

"So You Saw The News Of The Engagement In The Paper,  Did You,

Adams?"

"Yes,  Your Lordship,  In The Mail. It Had Quite A Long Piece About

It. And The Honorable Frederick's Photograph And The Young Lady's

Were In The Mirror. Mrs. Adams Clipped Them Out And Put Them In

An Album,  Knowing That Your Lordship Was A Member Of Ours. If I

May Say So,  Your Lordship--A Beautiful Young Lady."

"Devilish Attractive,  Adams--And Devilish Rich. Mr. Peters Is A

Millionaire,  Adams."

"So I Read In The Paper,  Your Lordship."

"Damme! They All Seem To Be Millionaires In America. Wish I Knew

How They Managed It. Honestly,  I Hope. Mr. Peters Is An Honest

Man,  But His Digestion Is Bad. He Used To Bolt His Food. You

Don't Bolt Your Food,  I Hope,  Adams?"

"No,  Your Lordship; I Am Most Careful."

"The Late Mr. Gladstone Used To Chew Each Mouthful Thirty-Three

Times. Deuced Good Notion If You Aren't In A Hurry. What Cheese

Would You Recommend,  Adams?"

"The Gentlemen Are Speaking Well Of The Gorgonzola."

"All Right,  Bring Me Some. You Know,  Adams,  What I Admire About

Americans Is Their Resource. Mr. Peters Tells Me That As A Boy Of

Eleven He Earned Twenty Dollars A Week Selling Mint To Saloon

Keepers,  As They Call Publicans Over There. Why They Wanted Mint

I Cannot Recollect. Mr. Peters Explained The Reason To Me And It

Seemed Highly Plausible At The Time; But I Have Forgotten It.

Possibly For Mint Sauce. It Impressed Me,  Adams. Twenty Dollars

Is Four Pounds. I Never Earned Four Pounds A Week When I Was A

Boy Of Eleven; In Fact,  I Don't Think I Ever Earned Four Pounds A

Week. His Story Impressed Me,  Adams. Every Man Ought To Have An

Earning Capacity. I Was So Struck With What He Told Me That I

Began To Paint."

"Landscapes,  Your Lordship?"

"Furniture. It Is Unlikely That I Shall Ever Be Compelled To

Paint Furniture For A Living,  But It Is A Consolation To Me To

Feel That I Could Do So If Called On. There Is A Fascination

About Painting Furniture,  Adams. I Have Painted The Whole Of My

Bedroom At Blandings And Am Now Engaged On The Museum. You Would

Be Surprised At The Fascination Of It. It Suddenly Came Back To

Me The Other Day That I Had Been Inwardly Longing To Mess About

With Paints And Things Since I Was A Boy. They Stopped Me When I

Was A Boy. I Recollect My Old Father Beating Me With A Walking

Stick--Tell Me,  Adams,  Have I Eaten My Cheese?"

"Not Yet,  Your Lordship. I Was About To Send The Waiter For It."

"Never Mind. Tell Him To Bring The Bill Instead. I Remember That

I Have An Appointment. I Must Not Be Late."

"Shall I Take The Fork,  Your Lordship?"

"The Fork?"

"Your Lordship Has Inadvertently Put A Fork In Your Coat Pocket."

Lord Emsworth Felt In The Pocket Indicated,  And With The Air Of

An Inexpert Conjurer Whose Trick Has Succeeded Contrary To His

Expectations Produced A Silver-Plated Fork. He Regarded It With

Surprise; Then He Looked Wonderingly At Adams.

"Adams,  I'm Getting Absent-Minded. Have You Ever Noticed Any

Traces Of Absent-Mindedness In Me Before?"

"Oh,  No,  Your Lordship."

"Well,  It's Deuced Peculiar! I Have No Recollection Whatsoever Of

Placing That Fork In My Pocket . . . Adams,  I Want A Taxicab." He

Glanced Round The Room,  As Though Expecting To Locate One By The

Fireplace.

"The Hall Porter Will Whistle One For You,  Your Lordship."

"So He Will,  By George!--So He Will! Good Day,  Adams."

"Good Day,  Your Lordship."

The Earl Of Emsworth Ambled Benevolently To The Door,  Leaving

Adams