Indiscretions of Archie - P. G. Wodehouse (essential books to read txt) 📗

“My influence? With your father? Well, I’m dashed. Sanguine sort of Johnny, if he does. Well, here’s what he says. Of course, I remember jolly old Parker now⁠—great pal of mine.”

Dear Sir⁠—It is some time since the undersigned had the honour of conversing with you, but I am respectfully trusting that you may recall me to mind when I mention that until recently I served Mr. Brewster, your father-in-law, in the capacity of valet. Owing to an unfortunate misunderstanding, I was dismissed from that position and am now temporarily out of a job. “How art thou fallen from Heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning!” (Isaiah 14:12)

“You know,” said Archie, admiringly, “this bird is hot stuff! I mean to say he writes dashed well.”

It is not, however, with my own affairs that I desire to trouble you, dear sir. I have little doubt that all will be well with me and that I shall not fall like a sparrow to the ground. “I have been young and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread” (Psalms 37:25). My object in writing to you is as follows. You may recall that I had the pleasure of meeting you one morning in Mr. Brewster’s suite, when we had an interesting talk on the subject of Mr. B.’s objets d’art. You may recall being particularly interested in a small china figure. To assist your memory, the figure to which I allude is the one which you whimsically referred to as Pongo. I informed you, if you remember, that, could the accompanying figure be secured, the pair would be extremely valuable.

I am glad to say, dear sir, that this has now transpired, and is on view at Beale’s Art Galleries on West Forty-Fifth Street, where it will be sold tomorrow at auction, the sale commencing at two-thirty sharp. If Mr. Brewster cares to attend, he will, I fancy, have little trouble in securing it at a reasonable price. I confess that I had thought of refraining from apprising my late employer of this matter, but more Christian feelings have prevailed. “If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head” (Romans 12:20). Nor, I must confess, am I altogether uninfluenced by the thought that my action in this matter may conceivably lead to Mr. B. consenting to forget the past and to reinstate me in my former position. However, I am confident that I can leave this to his good feeling.

I remain, respectfully yours,

Herbert Parker.

Lucille clapped her hands.

“How splendid! Father will be pleased!”

“Yes. Friend Parker has certainly found a way to make the old dad fond of him. Wish I could!”

“But you can, silly! He’ll be delighted when you show him that letter.”

“Yes, with Parker. Old Herb. Parker’s is the neck he’ll fall on⁠—not mine.”

Lucille reflected.

“I wish⁠—” she began. She stopped. Her eyes lit up. “Oh, Archie, darling, I’ve got an idea!”

“Decant it.”

“Why don’t you slip up to New York tomorrow and buy the thing, and give it to father as a surprise?”

Archie patted her hand kindly. He hated to spoil her girlish daydreams.

“Yes,” he said. “But reflect, queen of my heart! I have at the moment of going to press just two dollars fifty in specie, which I took off your father this afternoon. We were playing twenty-five cents a hole. He coughed it up without enthusiasm⁠—in fact, with a nasty hacking sound⁠—but I’ve got it. But that’s all I have got.”

“That’s all right. You can pawn that ring and that bracelet of mine.”

“Oh, I say, what! Pop the family jewels?”

“Only for a day or two. Of course, once you’ve got the thing, father will pay us back. He would give you all the money we asked him for, if he knew what it was for. But I want to surprise him. And if you were to go to him and ask him for a thousand dollars without telling him what it was for, he might refuse.”

“He might!” said Archie. “He might!”

“It all works out splendidly. Tomorrow’s the Invitation Handicap, and father’s been looking forward to it for weeks. He’d hate to have to go up to town himself and not play in it. But you can slip up and slip back without his knowing anything about it.”

Archie pondered.

“It sounds a ripe scheme. Yes, it has all the earmarks of a somewhat fruity wheeze! By Jove, it is a fruity wheeze! It’s an egg!”

“An egg?”

“Good egg, you know. Halloa, here’s a postscript. I didn’t see it.”

P.S.⁠—I should be glad if you would convey my most cordial respects to Mrs. Moffam. Will you also inform her that I chanced to meet Mr. William this morning on Broadway, just off the boat. He desired me to send his regards and to say that he would be joining you at Brookport in the course of a day or so. Mr. B. will be pleased to have him back. “A wise son maketh a glad father” (Proverbs 10:1).

“Who’s Mr. William?” asked Archie.

“My brother Bill, of course. I’ve told you all about him.”

“Oh yes, of course. Your brother Bill. Rummy to think I’ve got a brother-in-law I’ve never seen.”

“You see, we married so suddenly. When we married, Bill was in Yale.”

“Good God! What for?”

“Not jail, silly. Yale. The university.”

“Oh, ah, yes.”

“Then he went over to Europe for a trip to broaden his mind. You must look him up tomorrow when you get back to New York. He’s sure to be at his club.”

“I’ll make a point of it. Well, vote of thanks to good old Parker! This really does begin to look like the point in my career where I start to have your forbidding old parent eating out of my hand.”

“Yes, it’s an egg, isn’t it!”

“Queen of my soul,” said Archie enthusiastically, “it’s an omelette!”

The business negotiations in connection with the bracelet and the ring occupied Archie on his