Short Fiction - P. G. Wodehouse (top ten ebook reader txt) 📗

grossly inadequate⁠—of medium height, pigeon-toed at the base, bulgy halfway up, and bald at the apex. His manner was restrained and dignified, his voice soft and grave.

But it was his eye that quelled Martin. That cold, blue, dukes-have-treated-me-as-an-elder-brother eye.

He fixed it upon him now, as he added, placing the can on the floor. “It is Frederick’s duty, but tonight I hundertook it.”

Martin had no answer. He was dazed. Keggs had spoken with the proud humility of an emperor compelled by misfortune to shine shoes.

“Might I have a word with you, sir?”

“Ye-e-ss, yes,” stammered Martin. “Won’t you take a⁠—I mean, yes, certainly.”

“It is perhaps a liberty,” began Keggs. He paused, and raked Martin with the eye that had rested on dining dukes.

“Not at all,” said Martin, hurriedly.

“I should like,” went on Keggs, bowing, “to speak to you on a somewhat intimate subject⁠—Miss Elsa.”

Martin’s eyes and mouth opened slowly.

“You are going the wrong way to work, if you will allow me to say so, sir.”

Martin’s jaw dropped another inch.

“Wha-a⁠—”

“Women, sir,” proceeded Keggs, “young ladies⁠—are peculiar. I have had, if I may say so, certain hopportunities of observing their ways. Miss Elsa reminds me in some respects of Lady Angelica Fendall, whom I had the honour of knowing when I was butler to her father, Lord Stockleigh. Her ladyship was hinclined to be romantic. She was fond of poetry, like Miss Elsa. She would sit by the hour, sir, listening to young Mr. Knox reading Tennyson, which was no part of his duties, he being employed by his lordship to teach Lord Bertie Latin and Greek and whatnot. You may have noticed, sir, that young ladies is often took by Tennyson, hespecially in the summertime. Mr. Barstowe was reading Tennyson to Miss Elsa in the ’all when I passed through just now. ‘The Princess,’ if I am not mistaken.”

“I don’t know what the thing was,” groaned Martin. “She seemed to be enjoying it.”

“Lady Angelica was greatly addicted to ‘The Princess.’ Young Mr. Knox was reading portions of that poem to her when his lordship come upon them. Most rashly his lordship made a public hexpose and packed Mr. Knox off next day. It was not my place to volunteer advice, but I could have told him what would happen. Two days later her ladyship slips away to London early in the morning, and they’re married at a registry-office. That is why I say that you are going the wrong way to work with Miss Elsa, sir. With certain types of ’igh spirited young lady hopposition is useless. Now, when Mr. Barstowe was reading to Miss Elsa on the occasion to which I ’ave alluded, you were sitting by, trying to engage her attention. It’s not the way, sir. You should leave them alone together. Let her see so much of him, and nobody else but him, that she will grow tired of him. Fondness for poetry, sir, is very much like the whisky ’abit. You can’t cure a man what has got that by hopposition. Now, if you will permit me to offer a word of advice, sir, I say, let Miss Elsa ’ave all the poetry she wants.”

Martin was conscious of one coherent feeling at the conclusion of this address, and that was one of amazed gratitude. A lesser man who had entered his room and begun to discuss his private affairs would have had reason to retire with some speed; but that Keggs should descend from his pedestal and interest himself in such lowly matters was a different thing altogether.

“I’m very much obliged⁠—” he was stammering, when the butler raised a deprecatory hand.

“My interest in the matter,” he said, smoothly, “is not entirely haltruistic. For some years back, in fact, since Miss Elsa came out, we have had a matrimonial sweepstake in the servants’ hall at each house-party. The names of the gentlemen in the party are placed in a hat and drawn in due course. Should Miss Elsa become engaged to any member of the party, the pool goes to the drawer of his name. Should no engagement occur, the money remains in my charge until the following year, when it is added to the new pool. Hitherto I have ’ad the misfortune to draw nothing but married gentlemen, but on this occasion I have secured you, sir. And I may tell you, sir,” he added, with stately courtesy, “that, in the opinion of the servants’ hall, your chances are ’ighly fancied⁠—very ’ighly. The pool has now reached considerable proportions, and, ’aving had certain losses on the Turf very recent, I am extremely anxious to win it. So I thought, if I might take the liberty, sir, I would place my knowledge of the sex at your disposal. You will find it sound in every respect. That is all. Thank you, sir.”

Martin’s feelings had undergone a complete revulsion. In the last few minutes the butler had shed his wings and grown horns, cloven feet, and a forked tail. His rage deprived him of words. He could only gurgle.

“Don’t thank me, sir,” said the butler, indulgently. “I ask no thanks. We are working together for a common hobject, and any little ’elp I can provide is given freely.”

“You old scoundrel!” shouted Martin, his wrath prevailing even against that blue eye. “You have the insolence to come to me and⁠—”

He stopped. The thought of these hounds, these demons, coolly gossiping and speculating below stairs about Elsa, making her the subject of little sporting flutters to relieve the monotony of country life, choked him.

“I shall tell Mr. Keith,” he said.

The butler shook his bald head gravely.

“I shouldn’t, sir. It is a ’ighly fantastic story, and I don’t think he would believe it.”

“Then I’ll⁠—Oh, get out!”

Keggs bowed deferentially.

“If you wish it, sir,” he said, “I will withdraw. If I may make the suggestion, sir, I think you should commence to dress. Dinner will be served in a few minutes. Thank you, sir.”

He passed softly out of the room.

It was more as a demonstration of defiance against Keggs than