Psmith in the City

by P. G. Wodehouse

  6. Psmith Explains

  For the space of about twenty-five minutes Psmith sat in silence,concentrated on his ledger, the picture of the model bank-clerk. Thenhe flung down his pen, slid from his stool with a satisfied sigh, anddusted his waistcoat. 'A commercial crisis,' he said, 'has passed. Thejob of work which Comrade Rossiter indicated for me has been completedwith masterly skill. The period of anxiety is over. The bank ceases tototter. Are you busy, Comrade Jackson, or shall we chat awhile?'

  Mike was not busy. He had worked off the last batch of letters, andthere was nothing to do but to wait for the next, or--happy thought--totake the present batch down to the post, and so get out into thesunshine and fresh air for a short time. 'I rather think I'll nip downto the post-office,' said he, 'You couldn't come too, I suppose?'

  'On the contrary,' said Psmith, 'I could, and will. A stroll will justrestore those tissues which the gruelling work of the last half-hourhas wasted away. It is a fearful strain, this commercial toil. Let ustrickle towards the post office. I will leave my hat and gloves as aguarantee of good faith. The cry will go round, "Psmith has gone! Somerival institution has kidnapped him!" Then they will see my hat,'--hebuilt up a foundation of ledgers, planted a long ruler in the middle,and hung his hat on it--'my gloves,'--he stuck two pens into the deskand hung a lavender glove on each--'and they will sink back swooningwith relief. The awful suspense will be over. They will say, "No, hehas not gone permanently. Psmith will return. When the fields are whitewith daisies he'll return." And now, Comrade Jackson, lead me to thispicturesque little post-office of yours of which I have heard so much.'

  Mike picked up the long basket into which he had thrown the lettersafter entering the addresses in his ledger, and they moved off down theaisle. No movement came from Mr Rossiter's lair. Its energetic occupantwas hard at work. They could just see part of his hunched-up back.

  'I wish Comrade Downing could see us now,' said Psmith. 'He always setus down as mere idlers. Triflers. Butterflies. It would be a wholesomecorrective for him to watch us perspiring like this in the cause ofCommerce.'

  'You haven't told me yet what on earth you're doing here,' said Mike.'I thought you were going to the 'Varsity. Why the dickens are you in abank? Your pater hasn't lost his money, has he?'

  'No. There is still a tolerable supply of doubloons in the old oakchest. Mine is a painful story.'

  'It always is,' said Mike.

  'You are very right, Comrade Jackson. I am the victim of Fate. Ah, soyou put the little chaps in there, do you?' he said, as Mike, reachingthe post-office, began to bundle the letters into the box. 'You seem tohave grasped your duties with admirable promptitude. It is the samewith me. I fancy we are both born men of Commerce. In a few years weshall be pinching Comrade Bickersdyke's job. And talking of Comrade B.brings me back to my painful story. But I shall never have time to tellit to you during our walk back. Let us drift aside into this tea-shop.We can order a buckwheat cake or a butter-nut, or something equallysucculent, and carefully refraining from consuming these dainties, Iwill tell you all.'

  'Right O!' said Mike.

  'When last I saw you,' resumed Psmith, hanging Mike's basket on thehat-stand and ordering two portions of porridge, 'you may remember thata serious crisis in my affairs had arrived. My father inflamed with theidea of Commerce had invited Comrade Bickersdyke--'

  'When did you know he was a manager here?' asked Mike.

  'At an early date. I have my spies everywhere. However, my paterinvited Comrade Bickersdyke to our house for the weekend. Things turnedout rather unfortunately. Comrade B. resented my purely altruisticefforts to improve him mentally and morally. Indeed, on one occasion hewent so far as to call me an impudent young cub, and to add that hewished he had me under him in his bank, where, he asserted, he wouldknock some of the nonsense out of me. All very painful. I tell you,Comrade Jackson, for the moment it reduced my delicately vibratingganglions to a mere frazzle. Recovering myself, I made a few blitheremarks, and we then parted. I cannot say that we parted friends, butat any rate I bore him no ill-will. I was still determined to make hima credit to me. My feelings towards him were those of some kindlyfather to his prodigal son. But he, if I may say so, was fairly on thehop. And when my pater, after dinner the same night, played into hishands by mentioning that he thought I ought to plunge into a career ofcommerce, Comrade B. was, I gather, all over him. Offered to make avacancy for me in the bank, and to take me on at once. My pater,feeling that this was the real hustle which he admired so much, had mein, stated his case, and said, in effect, "How do we go?" I intimatedthat Comrade Bickersdyke was my greatest chum on earth. So the thingwas fixed up and here I am. But you are not getting on with yourporridge, Comrade Jackson. Perhaps you don't care for porridge? Wouldyou like a finnan haddock, instead? Or a piece of shortbread? You haveonly to say the word.'

  'It seems to me,' said Mike gloomily, 'that we are in for a prettyrotten time of it in this bally bank. If Bickersdyke's got his knifeinto us, he can make it jolly warm for us. He's got his knife into meall right about that walking-across-the-screen business.'

  'True,' said Psmith, 'to a certain extent. It is an undoubted fact thatComrade Bickersdyke will have a jolly good try at making life anuisance to us; but, on the other hand, I propose, so far as in melies, to make things moderately unrestful for him, here and there.'

  'But you can't,' objected Mike. 'What I mean to say is, it isn't like aschool. If you wanted to score off a master at school, you could alwaysrag and so on. But here you can't. How can you rag a man who's sittingall day in a room of his own while you're sweating away at a desk atthe other end of the building?'

  'You put the case with admirable clearness, Comrade Jackson,' saidPsmith approvingly. 'At the hard-headed, common-sense business yousneak the biscuit every time with ridiculous ease. But you do not knowall. I do not propose to do a thing in the bank except work. I shall bea model as far as work goes. I shall be flawless. I shall bound to doComrade Rossiter's bidding like a highly trained performing dog. It isoutside the bank, when I have staggered away dazed with toil, that Ishall resume my attention to the education of Comrade Bickersdyke.'

  'But, dash it all, how can you? You won't see him. He'll go off home,or to his club, or--'

  Psmith tapped him earnestly on the chest.

  'There, Comrade Jackson,' he said, 'you have hit the bull's-eye, rungthe bell, and gathered in the cigar or cocoanut according to choice. He_will_ go off to his club. And I shall do precisely the same.'

  'How do you mean?'

  'It is this way. My father, as you may have noticed during your stay atour stately home of England, is a man of a warm, impulsive character.He does not always do things as other people would do them. He has hisown methods. Thus, he has sent me into the City to do the hard-working,bank-clerk act, but at the same time he is allowing me just as large anallowance as he would have given me if I had gone to the 'Varsity.Moreover, while I was still at Eton he put my name up for his clubs,the Senior Conservative among others. My pater belongs to fourclubs altogether, and in course of time, when my name comes up forelection, I shall do the same. Meanwhile, I belong to one, the SeniorConservative. It is a bigger club than the others, and your name comesup for election sooner. About the middle of last month a great yell ofjoy made the West End of London shake like a jelly. The three thousandmembers of the Senior Conservative had just learned that I had beenelected.'

  Psmith paused, and ate some porridge.

  'I wonder why they call this porridge,' he observed with mild interest.'It would be far more manly and straightforward of them to give it itsreal name. To resume. I have gleaned, from casual chit-chat with myfather, that Comrade Bickersdyke also infests the Senior Conservative.You might think that that would make me, seeing how particular I amabout whom I mix with, avoid the club. Error. I shall go there everyday. If Comrade Bickersdyke wishes to emend any little traits in mycharacter of which he may disapprove, he shall never say that I did notgive him the opportunity. I shall mix freely
with Comrade Bickersdykeat the Senior Conservative Club. I shall be his constant companion. Ishall, in short, haunt the man. By these strenuous means I shall, as itwere, get a bit of my own back. And now,' said Psmith, rising, 'itmight be as well, perhaps, to return to the bank and resume ourcommercial duties. I don't know how long you are supposed to be allowedfor your little trips to and from the post-office, but, seeing that thedistance is about thirty yards, I should say at a venture not more thanhalf an hour. Which is exactly the space of time which has flitted bysince we started out on this important expedition. Your devotion toporridge, Comrade Jackson, has led to our spending about twenty-fiveminutes in this hostelry.'

  'Great Scott,' said Mike, 'there'll be a row.'

  'Some slight temporary breeze, perhaps,' said Psmith. 'Annoying to menof culture and refinement, but not lasting. My only fear is lest we mayhave worried Comrade Rossiter at all. I regard Comrade Rossiter as anelder brother, and would not cause him a moment's heart-burning forworlds. However, we shall soon know,' he added, as they passed into thebank and walked up the aisle, 'for there is Comrade Rossiter waiting toreceive us in person.'

  The little head of the Postage Department was moving restlessly aboutin the neighbourhood of Psmith's and Mike's desk.

  'Am I mistaken,' said Psmith to Mike, 'or is there the merest suspicionof a worried look on our chief's face? It seems to me that there is theslightest soupcon of shadow about that broad, calm brow.'