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I think I have told you before about young Tuppy Glossop. He was thefellow, if you remember, who, callously ignoring the fact that we hadbeen friends since boyhood, betted me one night at the Drones that Icould swing myself across the swimming bath by the rings--a childish featfor one of my lissomeness--and then, having seen me well on the way,looped back the last ring, thus rendering it necessary for me to dropinto the deep end in formal evening costume.
To say that I had not resented this foul deed, which seemed to medeserving of the title of the crime of the century, would be palteringwith the truth. I had resented it profoundly, chafing not a little at thetime and continuing to chafe for some weeks.
But you know how it is with these things. The wound heals. The agonyabates.
I am not saying, mind you, that had the opportunity presented itself ofdropping a wet sponge on Tuppy from some high spot or of putting an eelin his bed or finding some other form of self-expression of a likenature, I would not have embraced it eagerly; but that let me out. I meanto say, grievously injured though I had been, it gave me no pleasure tofeel that the fellow's bally life was being ruined by the loss of a girlwhom, despite all that had passed, I was convinced he still loved likethe dickens.
On the contrary, I was heart and soul in favour of healing the breach andrendering everything hotsy-totsy once more between these two youngsundered blighters. You will have gleaned that from my remarks to AuntDahlia, and if you had been present at this moment and had seen thekindly commiserating look I gave Tuppy, you would have gleaned it stillmore.
It was one of those searching, melting looks, and was accompanied by thehearty clasp of the right hand and the gentle laying of the left on thecollar-bone.
"Well, Tuppy, old man," I said. "How are you, old man?"
My commiseration deepened as I spoke the words, for there had been nolighting up of the eye, no answering pressure of the palm, no signwhatever, in short, of any disposition on his part to do Spring dances atthe sight of an old friend. The man seemed sandbagged. Melancholy, as Iremember Jeeves saying once about Pongo Twistleton when he was trying toknock off smoking, had marked him for her own. Not that I was surprised,of course. In the circs., no doubt, a certain moodiness was only natural.
I released the hand, ceased to knead the shoulder, and, producing the oldcase, offered him a cigarette.
He took it dully.
"Are you here, Bertie?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm here."
"Just passing through, or come to stay?"
I thought for a moment. I might have told him that I had arrived atBrinkley Court with the express intention of bringing Angela and himselftogether once more, of knitting up the severed threads, and so on and soforth; and for perhaps half the time required for the lighting of agasper I had almost decided to do so. Then, I reflected, better, on thewhole, perhaps not. To broadcast the fact that I proposed to take him andAngela and play on them as on a couple of stringed instruments might havebeen injudicious. Chaps don't always like being played on as on astringed instrument.
"It all depends," I said. "I may remain. I may push on. My plans areuncertain."
He nodded listlessly, rather in the manner of a man who did not give adamn what I did, and stood gazing out over the sunlit garden. In buildand appearance, Tuppy somewhat resembles a bulldog, and his aspect nowwas that of one of these fine animals who has just been refused a sliceof cake. It was not difficult for a man of my discernment to read whatwas in his mind, and it occasioned me no surprise, therefore, when hisnext words had to do with the subject marked with a cross on the agendapaper.
"You've heard of this business of mine, I suppose? Me and Angela?"
"I have, indeed, Tuppy, old man."
"We've bust up."
"I know. Some little friction, I gather, _in re_ Angela's shark."
"Yes. I said it must have been a flatfish."
"So my informant told me."
"Who did you hear it from?"
"Aunt Dahlia."
"I suppose she cursed me properly?"
"Oh, no."
"Beyond referring to you in one passage as 'this blasted Glossop', shewas, I thought, singularly temperate in her language for a woman who atone time hunted regularly with the Quorn. All the same, I could see, ifyou don't mind me saying so, old man, that she felt you might havebehaved with a little more tact."
"Tact!"
"And I must admit I rather agreed with her. Was it nice, Tuppy, was itquite kind to take the bloom off Angela's shark like that? You mustremember that Angela's shark is very dear to her. Could you not see whata sock on the jaw it would be for the poor child to hear it described bythe man to whom she had given her heart as a flatfish?"
I saw that he was struggling with some powerful emotion.
"And what about my side of the thing?" he demanded, in a voice chokedwith feeling.
"Your side?"
"You don't suppose," said Tuppy, with rising vehemence, "that I wouldhave exposed this dashed synthetic shark for the flatfish it undoubtedlywas if there had not been causes that led up to it. What induced me tospeak as I did was the fact that Angela, the little squirt, had just beenmost offensive, and I seized the opportunity to get a bit of my ownback."
"Offensive?"
"Exceedingly offensive. Purely on the strength of my having let fall somecasual remark--simply by way of saying something and keeping theconversation going--to the effect that I wondered what Anatole was goingto give us for dinner, she said that I was too material and ought notalways to be thinking of food. Material, my elbow! As a matter of fact,I'm particularly spiritual."
"Quite."
"I don't see any harm in wondering what Anatole was going to give us fordinner. Do you?"
"Of course not. A mere ordinary tribute of respect to a great artist."
"Exactly."
"All the same----"
"Well?"
"I was only going to say that it seems a pity that the frail craft oflove should come a stinker like this when a few manly words ofcontrition----"
He stared at me.
"You aren't suggesting that I should climb down?"
"It would be the fine, big thing, old egg."
"I wouldn't dream of climbing down."
"But, Tuppy----"
"No. I wouldn't do it."
"But you love her, don't you?"
This touched the spot. He quivered noticeably, and his mouth twisted.Quite the tortured soul.
"I'm not saying I don't love the little blighter," he said, obviouslymoved. "I love her passionately. But that doesn't alter the fact that Iconsider that what she needs most in this world is a swift kick in thepants."
A Wooster could scarcely pass this. "Tuppy, old man!"
"It's no good saying 'Tuppy, old man'."
"Well, I do say 'Tuppy, old man'. Your tone shocks me. One raises theeyebrows. Where is the fine, old, chivalrous spirit of the Glossops."
"That's all right about the fine, old, chivalrous spirit of the Glossops.Where is the sweet, gentle, womanly spirit of the Angelas? Telling afellow he was getting a double chin!"
"Did she do that?"
"She did."
"Oh, well, girls will be girls. Forget it, Tuppy. Go to her and make itup."
He shook his head.
"No. It is too late. Remarks have been passed about my tummy which it isimpossible to overlook."
"But, Tummy--Tuppy, I mean--be fair. You once told her her new hat madeher look like a Pekingese."
"It did make her look like a Pekingese. That was not vulgar abuse. It wassound, constructive criticism, with no motive behind it but the kindlydesire to keep her from making an exhibition of herself in public.Wantonly to accuse a man of puffing when he goes up a flight of stairsis something very different."
I began to see that the situation would require all my address andingenuity. If the wedding bells were ever to ring out in the littlechurch of Market Snodsbury, Bertram had plainly got to put in someshrewdish work. I
had gathered, during my conversation with Aunt Dahlia,that there had been a certain amount of frank speech between the twocontracting parties, but I had not realized till now that matters hadgone so far.
The pathos of the thing gave me the pip. Tuppy had admitted in so manywords that love still animated the Glossop bosom, and I was convincedthat, even after all that occurred, Angela had not ceased to love him. Atthe moment, no doubt, she might be wishing that she could hit him with abottle, but deep down in her I was prepared to bet that there stilllingered all the old affection and tenderness. Only injured pride waskeeping these two apart, and I felt that if Tuppy would make the firstmove, all would be well.
I had another whack at it.
"She's broken-hearted about this rift, Tuppy."
"How do you know? Have you seen her?"
"No, but I'll bet she is."
"She doesn't look it."
"Wearing the mask, no doubt. Jeeves does that when I assert myauthority."
"She wrinkles her nose at me as if I were a drain that had got out oforder."
"Merely the mask. I feel convinced she loves you still, and that a kindlyword from you is all that is required."
I could see that this had moved him. He plainly wavered. He did a sort oftwiddly on the turf with his foot. And, when he spoke, one spotted thetremolo in the voice:
"You really think that?"
"Absolutely."
"H'm."
"If you were to go to her----"
He shook his head.
"I can't do that. It would be fatal. Bing, instantly, would go myprestige. I know girls. Grovel, and the best of them get uppish." Hemused. "The only way to work the thing would be by tipping her off insome indirect way that I am prepared to open negotiations. Should I sigha bit when we meet, do you think?"
"She would think you were puffing."
"That's true."
I lit another cigarette and gave my mind to the matter. And first crackout of the box, as is so often the way with the Woosters, I got an idea.I remembered the counsel I had given Gussie in the matter of the sausagesand ham.
"I've got it, Tuppy. There is one infallible method of indicating to agirl that you love her, and it works just as well when you've had a rowand want to make it up. Don't eat any dinner tonight. You can see howimpressive that would be. She knows how devoted you are to food."
He started violently.
"I am not devoted to food!"
"No, no."
"I am not devoted to food at all."
"Quite. All I meant----"
"This rot about me being devoted to food," said Tuppy warmly, "has got tostop. I am young and healthy and have a good appetite, but that's not thesame as being devoted to food. I admire Anatole as a master of his craft,and am always willing to consider anything he may put before me, but whenyou say I am devoted to food----"
"Quite, quite. All I meant was that if she sees you push away your dinneruntasted, she will realize that your heart is aching, and will probablybe the first to suggest blowing the all clear."
Tuppy was frowning thoughtfully.
"Push my dinner away, eh?"
"Yes."
"Push away a dinner cooked by Anatole?"
"Yes."
"Push it away untasted?"
"Yes."
"Let us get this straight. Tonight, at dinner, when the butler offers mea _ris de veau a la financiere_, or whatever it may be, hot fromAnatole's hands, you wish me to push it away untasted?"
"Yes."
He chewed his lip. One could sense the struggle going on within. And thensuddenly a sort of glow came into his face. The old martyrs probably usedto look like that.
"All right."
"You'll do it?"
"I will."
"Fine."
"Of course, it will be agony."
I pointed out the silver lining.
"Only for the moment. You could slip down tonight, after everyone is inbed, and raid the larder."
He brightened.
"That's right. I could, couldn't I?"
"I expect there would be something cold there."
"There is something cold there," said Tuppy, with growing cheerfulness. "Asteak-and-kidney pie. We had it for lunch today. One of Anatole's ripest.The thing I admire about that man," said Tuppy reverently, "the thingthat I admire so enormously about Anatole is that, though a Frenchman, hedoes not, like so many of these _chefs_, confine himself exclusively toFrench dishes, but is always willing and ready to weigh in with some goodold simple English fare such as this steak-and-kidney pie to which I havealluded. A masterly pie, Bertie, and it wasn't more than half finished.It will do me nicely."
"And at dinner you will push, as arranged?"
"Absolutely as arranged."
"Fine."
"It's an excellent idea. One of Jeeves's best. You can tell him from me,when you see him, that I'm much obliged."
The cigarette fell from my fingers. It was as though somebody had slappedBertram Wooster across the face with a wet dish-rag.
"You aren't suggesting that you think this scheme I have been sketchingout is Jeeves's?"
"Of course it is. It's no good trying to kid me, Bertie. You wouldn'thave thought of a wheeze like that in a million years."
There was a pause. I drew myself up to my full height; then, seeing thathe wasn't looking at me, lowered myself again.
"Come, Glossop," I said coldly, "we had better be going. It is time wewere dressing for dinner."
Right Ho, Jeeves Page 8