Indiscretions of Archie

by P. G. Wodehouse

  CHAPTER XXI. THE GROWING BOY

  The lobby of the Cosmopolis Hotel was a favourite stamping-ground of Mr.Daniel Brewster, its proprietor. He liked to wander about there, keepinga paternal eye on things, rather in the manner of the Jolly Innkeeper(hereinafter to be referred to as Mine Host) of the old-fashioned novel.Customers who, hurrying in to dinner, tripped over Mr. Brewster, wereapt to mistake him for the hotel detective--for his eye was keen andhis aspect a trifle austere--but, nevertheless, he was being as jolly aninnkeeper as he knew how. His presence in the lobby supplied a personaltouch to the Cosmopolis which other New York hotels lacked, and itundeniably made the girl at the book-stall extraordinarily civil to herclients, which was all to the good.

  Most of the time Mr. Brewster stood in one spot and just lookedthoughtful; but now and again he would wander to the marble slab behindwhich he kept the desk-clerk and run his eye over the register, to seewho had booked rooms--like a child examining the stocking on Christmasmorning to ascertain what Santa Claus had brought him.

  As a rule, Mr. Brewster concluded this performance by shoving the bookback across the marble slab and resuming his meditations. But one nighta week or two after the Sausage Chappie's sudden restoration to thenormal, he varied this procedure by starting rather violently, turningpurple, and uttering an exclamation which was manifestly an exclamationof chagrin. He turned abruptly and cannoned into Archie, who, in companywith Lucille, happened to be crossing the lobby at the moment on his wayto dine in their suite.

  Mr. Brewster apologised gruffly; then, recognising his victim, seemed toregret having done so.

  "Oh, it's you! Why can't you look where you're going?" he demanded. Hehad suffered much from his son-in-law.

  "Frightfully sorry," said Archie, amiably. "Never thought you were goingto fox-trot backwards all over the fairway."

  "You mustn't bully Archie," said Lucille, severely, attaching herselfto her father's back hair and giving it a punitive tug, "because he's anangel, and I love him, and you must learn to love him, too."

  "Give you lessons at a reasonable rate," murmured Archie.

  Mr. Brewster regarded his young relative with a lowering eye.

  "What's the matter, father darling?" asked Lucille. "You seem upset"

  "I am upset!" Mr. Brewster snorted. "Some people have got a nerve!" Heglowered forbiddingly at an inoffensive young man in a light overcoatwho had just entered, and the young man, though his conscience was quiteclear and Mr. Brewster an entire stranger to him, stopped dead, blushed,and went out again--to dine elsewhere. "Some people have got the nerveof an army mule!"

  "Why, what's happened?"

  "Those darned McCalls have registered here!"

  "No!"

  "Bit beyond me, this," said Archie, insinuating himself into theconversation. "Deep waters and what not! Who are the McCalls?"

  "Some people father dislikes," said Lucille. "And they've chosen hishotel to stop at. But, father dear, you mustn't mind. It's really acompliment. They've come because they know it's the best hotel in NewYork."

  "Absolutely!" said Archie. "Good accommodation for man and beast! Allthe comforts of home! Look on the bright side, old bean. No good gettingthe wind up. Cherrio, old companion!"

  "Don't call me old companion!"

  "Eh, what? Oh, right-o!"

  Lucille steered her husband out of the danger zone, and they entered thelift.

  "Poor father!" she said, as they went to their suite, "it's a shame.They must have done it to annoy him. This man McCall has a place next tosome property father bought in Westchester, and he's bringing a law-suitagainst father about a bit of land which he claims belongs to him. Hemight have had the tact to go to another hotel. But, after all, I don'tsuppose it was the poor little fellow's fault. He does whatever his wifetells him to."

  "We all do that," said Archie the married man.

  Lucille eyed him fondly.

  "Isn't it a shame, precious, that all husbands haven't nice wives likeme?"

  "When I think of you, by Jove," said Archie, fervently, "I want tobabble, absolutely babble!"

  "Oh, I was telling you about the McCalls. Mr. McCall is one of thoselittle, meek men, and his wife's one of those big, bullying women. Itwas she who started all the trouble with father. Father and Mr. McCallwere very fond of each other till she made him begin the suit. I feelsure she made him come to this hotel just to annoy father. Still,they've probably taken the most expensive suite in the place, which issomething."

  Archie was at the telephone. His mood was now one of quiet peace. Ofall the happenings which went to make up existence in New York, he likedbest the cosy tete-a-tete dinners with Lucille in their suite, which,owing to their engagements--for Lucille was a popular girl, with manyfriends--occurred all too seldom.

  "Touching now the question of browsing and sluicing," he said. "I'll begetting them to send along a waiter."

  "Oh, good gracious!"

  "What's the matter?"

  "I've just remembered. I promised faithfully I would go and see JaneMurchison to-day. And I clean forgot. I must rush."

  "But light of my soul, we are about to eat. Pop around and see her afterdinner."

  "I can't. She's going to a theatre to-night."

  "Give her the jolly old miss-in-baulk, then, for the nonce, and springround to-morrow."

  "She's sailing for England to-morrow morning, early. No, I must go andsee her now. What a shame! She's sure to make me stop to dinner, I tellyou what. Order something for me, and, if I'm not back in half an hour,start."

  "Jane Murchison," said Archie, "is a bally nuisance."

  "Yes. But I've known her since she was eight."

  "If her parents had had any proper feeling," said Archie, "they wouldhave drowned her long before that."

  He unhooked the receiver, and asked despondently to be connectedwith Room Service. He thought bitterly of the exigent Jane, whom herecollected dimly as a tall female with teeth. He half thought of goingdown to the grill-room on the chance of finding a friend there, but thewaiter was on his way to the room. He decided that he might as well staywhere he was.

  The waiter arrived, booked the order, and departed. Archie had justcompleted his toilet after a shower-bath when a musical clinking withoutannounced the advent of the meal. He opened the door. The waiter wasthere with a table congested with things under covers, from whichescaped a savoury and appetising odour. In spite of his depression,Archie's soul perked up a trifle.

  Suddenly he became aware that he was not the only person present whowas deriving enjoyment from the scent of the meal. Standing beside thewaiter and gazing wistfully at the foodstuffs was a long, thin boy ofabout sixteen. He was one of those boys who seem all legs and knuckles.He had pale red hair, sandy eyelashes, and a long neck; and his eyes, ashe removed them from the-table and raised them to Archie's, had a hungrylook. He reminded Archie of a half-grown, half-starved hound.

  "That smells good!" said the long boy. He inhaled deeply. "Yes, sir," hecontinued, as one whose mind is definitely made up, "that smells good!"

  Before Archie could reply, the telephone bell rang. It was Lucille,confirming her prophecy that the pest Jane would insist on her stayingto dine.

  "Jane," said Archie, into the telephone, "is a pot of poison. The waiteris here now, setting out a rich banquet, and I shall have to eat two ofeverything by myself."

  He hung up the receiver, and, turning, met the pale eye of the long boy,who had propped himself up in the doorway.

  "Were you expecting somebody to dinner?" asked the boy.

  "Why, yes, old friend, I was."

  "I wish--"

  "Yes?"

  "Oh, nothing."

  The waiter left. The long boy hitched his back more firmly against thedoorpost, and returned to his original theme.

  "That surely does smell good!" He basked a moment in the aroma. "Yes,sir! I'll tell the world it does!"

  Archie was not an abnormally rapid thinker, but he began at this pointto get a clearly defined im
pression that this lad, if invited, wouldwaive the formalities and consent to join his meal. Indeed, the ideaArchie got was that, if he were not invited pretty soon, he would invitehimself.

  "Yes," he agreed. "It doesn't smell bad, what!"

  "It smells GOOD!" said the boy. "Oh, doesn't it! Wake me up in the nightand ask me if it doesn't!"

  "Poulet en casserole," said Archie.

  "Golly!" said the boy, reverently.

  There was a pause. The situation began to seem to Archie a trifledifficult. He wanted to start his meal, but it began to appear that hemust either do so under the penetrating gaze of his new friend or elseeject the latter forcibly. The boy showed no signs of ever wanting toleave the doorway.

  "You've dined, I suppose, what?" said Archie.

  "I never dine."

  "What!"

  "Not really dine, I mean. I only get vegetables and nuts and things."

  "Dieting?"

  "Mother is."

  "I don't absolutely catch the drift, old bean," said Archie. The boysniffed with half-closed eyes as a wave of perfume from the poulet encasserole floated past him. He seemed to be anxious to intercept as muchof it as possible before it got through the door.

  "Mother's a food-reformer," he vouchsafed. "She lectures on it. Shemakes Pop and me live on vegetables and nuts and things."

  Archie was shocked. It was like listening to a tale from the abyss.

  "My dear old chap, you must suffer agonies--absolute shooting pains!"He had no hesitation now. Common humanity pointed out his course. "Wouldyou care to join me in a bite now?"

  "Would I!" The boy smiled a wan smile. "Would I! Just stop me on thestreet and ask me!"

  "Come on in, then," said Archie, rightly taking this peculiar phrasefor a formal acceptance. "And close the door. The fatted calf is gettingcold."

  Archie was not a man with a wide visiting-list among people withfamilies, and it was so long since he had seen a growing boy in actionat the table that he had forgotten what sixteen is capable of doingwith a knife and fork, when it really squares its elbows, takes adeep breath, and gets going. The spectacle which he witnessed wasconsequently at first a little unnerving. The long boy's idea oftrifling with a meal appeared to be to swallow it whole and reach outfor more. He ate like a starving Eskimo. Archie, in the time he hadspent in the trenches making the world safe for the working-man tostrike in, had occasionally been quite peckish, but he sat dazed beforethis majestic hunger. This was real eating.

  There was little conversation. The growing boy evidently did not believein table-talk when he could use his mouth for more practical purposes.It was not until the final roll had been devoured to its last crumb thatthe guest found leisure to address his host. Then he leaned back with acontented sigh.

  "Mother," said the human python, "says you ought to chew every mouthfulthirty-three times...."

  "Yes, sir! Thirty-three times!" He sighed again, "I haven't ever hadmeal like that."

  "All right, was it, what?"

  "Was it! Was it! Call me up on the 'phone and ask me!-Yes, sir!-Mother'stipped off these darned waiters not to serve-me anything but vegetablesand nuts and things, darn it!"

  "The mater seems to have drastic ideas about the good old feed-bag,what!"

  "I'll say she has! Pop hates it as much as me, but he's scared to kick.Mother says vegetables contain all the proteins you want. Mother says,if you eat meat, your blood-pressure goes all blooey. Do you think itdoes?"

  "Mine seems pretty well in the pink."

  "She's great on talking," conceded the boy. "She's out to-nightsomewhere, giving a lecture on Rational Eating to some ginks. I'llhave to be slipping up to our suite before she gets back." He rose,sluggishly. "That isn't a bit of roll under that napkin, is it?" heasked, anxiously.

  Archie raised the napkin.

  "No. Nothing of that species."

  "Oh, well!" said the boy, resignedly. "Then I believe I'll be going.Thanks very much for the dinner."

  "Not a bit, old top. Come again if you're ever trickling round in thisdirection."

  The long boy removed himself slowly, loath to leave. At the door he castan affectionate glance back at the table.

  "Some meal!" he said, devoutly. "Considerable meal!"

  Archie lit a cigarette. He felt like a Boy Scout who has done his day'sAct of Kindness.

  On the following morning it chanced that Archie needed a fresh supplyof tobacco. It was his custom, when this happened, to repair to a smallshop on Sixth Avenue which he had discovered accidentally in the courseof his rambles about the great city. His relations with Jno. Blake, theproprietor, were friendly and intimate. The discovery that Mr. Blakewas English and had, indeed, until a few years back maintained anestablishment only a dozen doors or so from Archie's London club, hadserved as a bond.

  To-day he found Mr. Blake in a depressed mood. The tobacconist was ahearty, red-faced man, who looked like an English sporting publican--thekind of man who wears a fawn-coloured top-coat and drives to the Derbyin a dog-cart; and usually there seemed to be nothing on his mindexcept the vagaries of the weather, concerning which he was a greatconversationalist. But now moodiness had claimed him for its own.After a short and melancholy "Good morning," he turned to the task ofmeasuring out the tobacco in silence.

  Archie's sympathetic nature was perturbed.--"What's the matter, laddie?"he enquired. "You would seem to be feeling a bit of an onion this brightmorning, what, yes, no? I can see it with the naked eye."

  Mr. Blake grunted sorrowfully.

  "I've had a knock, Mr. Moffam."

  "Tell me all, friend of my youth."

  Mr. Blake, with a jerk of his thumb, indicated a poster which hung onthe wall behind the counter. Archie had noticed it as he came in, forit was designed to attract the eye. It was printed in black letters on ayellow ground, and ran as follows:

  CLOVER-LEAF SOCIAL AND OUTING CLUB

  GRAND CONTEST

  PIE-EATING CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE WEST SIDE

  SPIKE O'DOWD (Champion)

  v.

  BLAKE'S UNKNOWN

  FOR A PURSE OF $50 AND SIDE-BET

  Archie examined this document gravely. It conveyed nothing to himexcept--what he had long suspected--that his sporting-looking friend hadsporting blood as well as that kind of exterior. He expressed a kindlyhope that the other's Unknown would bring home the bacon.

  Mr. Blake laughed one of those hollow, mirthless laughs.

  "There ain't any blooming Unknown," he said, bitterly. This man hadplainly suffered. "Yesterday, yes, but not now."

  Archie sighed.

  "In the midst of life--Dead?" he enquired, delicately.

  "As good as," replied the stricken tobacconist. He cast aside hisartificial restraint and became voluble. Archie was one of thosesympathetic souls in whom even strangers readily confided their mostintimate troubles. He was to those in travail of spirit very much whatcatnip is to a cat. "It's 'ard, sir, it's blooming 'ard! I'd got theevent all sewed up in a parcel, and now this young feller-me-lad 'as togive me the knock. This lad of mine--sort of cousin 'e is; comes fromLondon, like you and me--'as always 'ad, ever since he landed in thiscountry, a most amazing knack of stowing away grub. 'E'd been a bitunderfed these last two or three years over in the old country, whatwith food restrictions and all, and 'e took to the food over 'ereamazing. I'd 'ave backed 'im against a ruddy orstridge! Orstridge! I'd'ave backed 'im against 'arff a dozen orstridges--take 'em on oneafter the other in the same ring on the same evening--and given 'em ahandicap, too! 'E was a jewel, that boy. I've seen him polish off fourpounds of steak and mealy potatoes and then look round kind of wolfish,as much as to ask when dinner was going to begin! That's the kind of alad 'e was till this very morning. 'E would have out-swallowed this 'ereO'Dowd without turning a hair, as a relish before 'is tea! I'd got acouple of 'undred dollars on 'im, and t
hought myself lucky to get theodds. And now--"

  Mr. Blake relapsed into a tortured silence.

  "But what's the matter with the blighter? Why can't he go over the top?Has he got indigestion?"

  "Indigestion?" Mr. Blaife laughed another of his hollow laughs. "Youcouldn't give that boy indigestion if you fed 'im in on safety-razorblades. Religion's more like what 'e's got."

  "Religion?"

  "Well, you can call it that. Seems last night, instead of goin' andresting 'is mind at a picture-palace like I told him to, 'e sneaked offto some sort of a lecture down on Eighth Avenue. 'E said 'e'd seen apiece about it in the papers, and it was about Rational Eating, and thatkind of attracted 'im. 'E sort of thought 'e might pick up a few hints,like. 'E didn't know what rational eating was, but it sounded to 'im asif it must be something to do with food, and 'e didn't want to miss it.'E came in here just now," said Mr. Blake, dully, "and 'e was a changedlad! Scared to death 'e was! Said the way 'e'd been goin' on in thepast, it was a wonder 'e'd got any stummick left! It was a lady thatgive the lecture, and this boy said it was amazing what she told 'emabout blood-pressure and things 'e didn't even know 'e 'ad. She showed'em pictures, coloured pictures, of what 'appens inside the injudiciouseater's stummick who doesn't chew his food, and it was like abattlefield! 'E said 'e would no more think of eatin' a lot of pie than'e would of shootin' 'imself, and anyhow eating pie would be a quickerdeath. I reasoned with 'im, Mr. Moffam, with tears in my eyes. I asked'im was he goin' to chuck away fame and wealth just because a womanwho didn't know what she was talking about had shown him a lot of fakedpictures. But there wasn't any doin' anything with him. 'E give me theknock and 'opped it down the street to buy nuts." Mr. Blake moaned. "Two'undred dollars and more gone pop, not to talk of the fifty dollars 'ewould have won and me to get twenty-five of!"

  Archie took his tobacco and walked pensively back to the hotel. He wasfond of Jno. Blake, and grieved for the trouble that had come upon him.It was odd, he felt, how things seemed to link themselves up together.The woman who had delivered the fateful lecture to injudicious eaterscould not be other than the mother of his young guest of last night. Anuncomfortable woman! Not content with starving her own family--Archiestopped in his tracks. A pedestrian, walking behind him, charged intohis back, but Archie paid no attention. He had had one of those sudden,luminous ideas, which help a man who does not do much thinking as a ruleto restore his average. He stood there for a moment, almost dizzy at thebrilliance of his thoughts; then hurried on. Napoleon, he mused as hewalked, must have felt rather like this after thinking up a hot one tospring on the enemy.

  As if Destiny were suiting her plans to his, one of the first persons hesaw as he entered the lobby of the Cosmopolis was the long boy. He wasstanding at the bookstall, reading as much of a morning paper as couldbe read free under the vigilant eyes of the presiding girl. Both he andshe were observing the unwritten rules which govern these affairs--towit, that you may read without interference as much as can be readwithout touching the paper. If you touch the paper, you lose, and haveto buy.

  "Well, well, well!" said Archie. "Here we are again, what!" He proddedthe boy amiably in the lower ribs. "You're just the chap I was lookingfor. Got anything on for the time being?"

  The boy said he had no engagements.

  "Then I want you to stagger round with me to a chappie I know on SixthAvenue. It's only a couple of blocks away. I think I can do you a bit ofgood. Put you on to something tolerably ripe, if you know what I mean.Trickle along, laddie. You don't need a hat."

  They found Mr. Blake brooding over his troubles in an empty shop.

  "Cheer up, old thing!" said Archie. "The relief expedition has arrived."He directed his companion's gaze to the poster. "Cast your eye overthat. How does that strike you?"

  The long boy scanned the poster. A gleam appeared in his rather dulleye.

  "Well?"

  "Some people have all the luck!" said the long boy, feelingly.

  "Would you like to compete, what?"

  The boy smiled a sad smile.

  "Would I! Would I! Say!..."

  "I know," interrupted Archie. "Wake you up in the night and ask you! Iknew I could rely on you, old thing." He turned to Mr. Blake. "Here'sthe fellow you've been wanting to meet. The finest left-and-right-handeater east of the Rockies! He'll fight the good fight for you."

  Mr. Blake's English training had not been wholly overcome by residencein New York. He still retained a nice eye for the distinctions of class.

  "But this is young gentleman's a young gentleman," he urged, doubtfully,yet with hope shining in his eye. "He wouldn't do it."

  "Of course, he would. Don't be ridic, old thing."

  "Wouldn't do what?" asked the boy.

  "Why save the old homestead by taking on the champion. Dashed sad case,between ourselves! This poor egg's nominee has given him the raspberryat the eleventh hour, and only you can save him. And you owe it to himto do something you know, because it was your jolly old mater's lecturelast night that made the nominee quit. You must charge in and take hisplace. Sort of poetic justice, don't you know, and what not!" He turnedto Mr. Blake. "When is the conflict supposed to start? Two-thirty? Youhaven't any important engagement for two-thirty, have you?"

  "No. Mother's lunching at some ladies' club, and giving a lectureafterwards. I can slip away."

  Archie patted his head.

  "Then leg it where glory waits you, old bean!"

  The long boy was gazing earnestly at the poster. It seemed to fascinatehim.

  "Pie!" he said in a hushed voice.

  The word was like a battle-cry.