Something New - Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (books to read for self improvement TXT) 📗
- Author: Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
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Come. It Was The Spirit In Which She Herself Had Gone Into The
Affair And She Was Pleased To Find That It Animated Ashe
Also--Though, To Be Sure, It Had Its Drawbacks. It Made His
Rivalry The More Dangerous. This Reflection Injected A Touch Of
The Old Hostility Into Her Manner.
"I Wonder Whether You Will Continue To Feel So Brave."
"What Do You Mean?"
Joan Perceived That She Was In Danger Of Going Too Far. She Had
No Wish To Unmask Ashe At The Expense Of Revealing Her Own
Secret. She Must Resist The Temptation To Hint That She Had
Discovered His.
"I Meant," She Said Quickly, "That From What I Have Seen Of Him
Mr. Peters Seems Likely To Be A Rather Trying Man To Work For."
Ashe's Face Cleared. For A Moment He Had Almost Suspected That
She Had Guessed His Errand.
"Yes. I Imagine He Will Be. He Is What You Might Call
Quick-Tempered. He Has Dyspepsia, You Know."
"I Know."
"What He Wants Is Plenty Of Fresh Air And No Cigars, And A
Regular Course Of Those Larsen Exercises That Amused You So
Much."
Joan Laughed.
"Are You Going To Try And Persuade Mr. Peters To Twist Himself
About Like That? Do Let Me See It If You Do."
"I Wish I Could."
"Do Suggest It To Him."
Chapter 5 Pg 71
"Don't You Think He Would Resent It From A Valet?"
"I Keep Forgetting That You Are A Valet. You Look So Unlike One."
"Old Peters Didn't Think So. He Rather Complimented Me On My
Appearance. He Said I Was Ordinary-Looking."
"I Shouldn't Have Called You That. You Look So Very Strong And
Fit."
"Surely There Are Muscular Valets?"
"Well, Yes; I Suppose There Are."
Ashe Looked At Her. He Was Thinking That Never In His Life Had He
Seen A Girl So Amazingly Pretty. What It Was That She Had Done To
Herself Was Beyond Him; But Something, Some Trick Of Dress, Had
Given Her A Touch Of The Demure That Made Her Irresistible. She
Was Dressed In Sober Black, The Ideal Background For Her
Fairness.
"While On The Subject," He Said, "I Suppose You Know You Don't
Look In The Least Like A Lady's Maid? You Look Like A Disguised
Princess."
She Laughed.
"That's Very Nice Of You, Mr. Marson, But You're Quite Wrong.
Anyone Could Tell I Was A Lady's Maid, A Mile Away. You Aren't
Criticizing The Dress, Surely?"
"The Dress Is All Right. It's The General Effect. I Don't Think
Your Expression Is Right. It's--It's--There's Too Much Attack In
It. You Aren't Meek Enough."
Joan's Eyes Opened Wide.
"Meek! Have You Ever Seen An English Lady's Maid, Mr. Marson?"
"Why, No; Now That I Come To Think Of It, I Don't Believe I
Have."
"Well, Let Me Tell You That Meekness Is Her Last Quality. Why
Should She Be Meek? Doesn't She Go In After The Groom Of The
Chambers?"
"Go In? Go In Where?"
"In To Dinner." She Smiled At The Sight Of His Bewildered Face.
"I'm Afraid You Don't Know Much About The Etiquette Of The New
World You Have Entered So Rashly. Didn't You Know That The Rules
Of Precedence Among The Servants Of A Big House In England Are
More Rigid And Complicated Than In English Society?"
Chapter 5 Pg 72
"You're Joking!"
"I'm Not Joking. You Try Going In To Dinner Out Of Your Proper
Place When We Get To Blandings And See What Happens. A Public
Rebuke From The Butler Is The Least You Could Expect."
A Bead Of Perspiration Appeared On Ashe's Forehead.
"Heavens!" He Whispered. "If A Butler Publicly Rebuked Me I Think
I Should Commit Suicide. I Couldn't Survive It."
He Stared, With Fallen Jaw, Into The Abyss Of Horror Into Which
He Had Leaped So Light-Heartedly. The Servant Problem, On This
Large Scale, Had Been Nonexistent For Him Until Now. In The Days
Of His Youth, At Mayling, Massachusetts, His Needs Had Been
Ministered To By A Muscular Swede. Later, At Oxford, There Had
Been His "Scout" And His Bed Maker, Harmless Persons Both,
Provided You Locked Up Your Whisky. And In London, His Last
Phase, A Succession Of Servitors Of The Type Of The Disheveled
Maid At Number Seven Had Tended Him.
That, Dotted About The Land Of His Adoption, There Were Houses In
Which Larger Staffs Of Domestics Were Maintained, He Had Been
Vaguely Aware. Indeed, In "Gridley Quayle, Investigator; The
Adventure Of The Missing Marquis"--Number Four Of The Series--He
Had Drawn A Picture Of The Home Life Of A Duke, In Which A Butler
And Two Powdered Footmen Had Played Their Parts; But He Had Had
No Idea That Rigid And Complicated Rules Of Etiquette Swayed The
Private Lives Of These Individuals. If He Had Given The Matter A
Thought He Had Supposed That When The Dinner Hour Arrived The
Butler And The Two Footmen Would Troop Into The Kitchen And
Squash In At The Table Wherever They Found Room.
"Tell Me," He Said. "Tell Me All You Know. I Feel As Though I Had
Escaped A Frightful Disaster."
"You Probably Have. I Don't Suppose There Is Anything So Terrible
As A Snub From A Butler."
"If There Is I Can't Think Of It. When I Was At Oxford I Used To
Go And Stay With A Friend Of Mine Who Had A Butler That Looked
Like A Roman Emperor In Swallowtails. He Terrified Me. I Used To
Grovel To The Man. Please Give Me All The Pointers You Can."
"Well, As Mr. Peters' Valet, I Suppose You Will Be Rather A Big
Man."
"I Shan't Feel It."
"However Large The House Party Is, Mr. Peters Is Sure To Be The
Principal Guest; So Your Standing Will Be Correspondingly
Magnificent. You Come After The Butler, The Housekeeper, The
Groom Of The Chambers, Lord Emsworth's Valet, Lady Ann
Chapter 5 Pg 73Warblington's Lady's Maid--"
"Who Is She?"
"Lady Ann? Lord Emsworth's Sister. She Has Lived With Him Since
His Wife Died. What Was I Saying? Oh, Yes! After Them Come The
Honorable Frederick Threepwood's Valet And Myself--And Then You."
"I'm Not So High Up Then, After All?"
"Yes, You Are. There's A Whole Crowd Who Come After You. It All
Depends On How Many Other Guests There Are Besides Mr. Peters."
"I Suppose I Charge In At The Head Of A Drove Of Housemaids And
Scullery Maids?"
"My Dear Mr. Marson, If A Housemaid Or A Scullery Maid Tried To
Get Into The Steward's Room And Have Her Meals With Us, She Would
Be--"
"Rebuked By The Butler?"
"Lynched, I Should Think. Kitchen Maids And Scullery Maids Eat In
The Kitchen. Chauffeurs, Footmen, Under-Butler, Pantry Boys, Hall
Boy, Odd Man And Steward's-Room Footman Take Their Meals In The
Servants' Hall, Waited On By The Hall Boy. The Stillroom Maids
Have Breakfast And Tea In The Stillroom, And Dinner And Supper In
The Hall. The Housemaids And Nursery Maids Have Breakfast And Tea
In The Housemaid's Sitting-Room, And Dinner And Supper In The
Hall. The Head Housemaid Ranks Next To The Head Stillroom Maid.
The Laundry Maids Have A Place Of Their Own Near The Laundry, And
The Head Laundry Maid Ranks Above The Head Housemaid. The Chef
Has His Meals In A Room Of His Own Near The Kitchen. Is There
Anything Else I Can Tell You, Mr. Marson?"
Ashe Was Staring At Her With Vacant Eyes. He Shook His Head
Dumbly.
"We Stop At Swindon In Half An Hour," Said Joan Softly. "Don't
You Think You Would Be Wise To Get Out There And Go Straight Back
To London, Mr. Marson? Think Of All You Would Avoid!"
Ashe Found Speech.
"It's A Nightmare!"
"You Would Be Far Happier In Arundell Street. Why Don't You Get
Out At Swindon And Go Back?"
Ashe Shook His Head.
"I Can't. There's--There's A Reason."
Joan Picked Up Her Magazine Again. Hostility Had Come Out From
Chapter 5 Pg 74The Corner Into Which She Had Tucked It Away And Was Once More
Filling Her Mind. She Knew It Was Illogical, But She Could Not
Help It. For A Moment, During Her Revelations Of Servants'
Etiquette, She Had Allowed Herself To Hope That She Had
Frightened Her Rival Out Of The Field, And The Disappointment
Made Her Feel Irritable. She Buried Herself In A Short Story, And
Countered Ashe's Attempts At Renewing The Conversation With Cold
Monosyllables, Until He Ceased His Efforts And Fell Into A Moody
Silence.
He Was Feeling Hurt And Angry. Her Sudden Coldness, Following On
The Friendliness With Which She Had Talked So Long, Puzzled And
Infuriated Him. He Felt As Though He Had Been Snubbed, And For No
Reason.
He Resented The Defensive Magazine, Though He Had Bought It For
Her Himself. He Resented Her Attitude Of Having Ceased To
Recognize His Existence. A Sadness, A Filmy Melancholy, Crept
Over Him. He Brooded On The Unutterable Silliness Of Humanity,
Especially The Female Portion Of It, In Erecting Artificial
Barriers To Friendship. It Was So Unreasonable.
At Their First Meeting, When She Might Have Been Excused For
Showing Defensiveness, She Had Treated Him With Unaffected Ease.
When That Meeting Had Ended There Was A Tacit Understanding
Between Them That All The Preliminary Awkwardnesses Of The First
Stages Of Acquaintanceship Were To Be Considered As Having Been
Passed; And That When They Met Again, If They Ever Did, It Would
Be As Friends. And Here She Was, Luring Him On With Apparent
Friendliness, And Then Withdrawing Into Herself As Though He Had
Presumed.
A Rebellious Spirit Took Possession Of Him. He Didn't Care! Let
Her Be Cold And Distant. He Would Show Her That She Had No
Monopoly Of Those Qualities. He Would Not Speak To Her Until She
Spoke To Him; And When She Spoke To Him He Would Freeze Her With
His Courteous But Bleakly Aloof Indifference.
The Train Rattled On. Joan Read Her Magazine. Silence Reigned In
The Second-Class Compartment. Swindon Was Reached And Passed.
Darkness Fell On The Land.
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