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Most chaps in my position, I imagine, would have pondered all the rest ofthe evening without getting a bite, but we Woosters have an uncanny knackof going straight to the heart of things, and I don't suppose it was muchmore than ten minutes after I had started pondering before I saw what hadto be done.
What was needed to straighten matters out, I perceived, was a heart-to-heart talk with Angela. She had caused all the trouble by her mutton-headed behaviour in saying "Yes" instead of "No" when Gussie, in thegrip of mixed drinks and cerebral excitement, had suggested teaming up.She must obviously be properly ticked off and made to return him to store.A quarter of an hour later, I had tracked her down to the summer-house inwhich she was taking a cooler and was seating myself by her side.
"Angela," I said, and if my voice was stern, well, whose wouldn't havebeen, "this is all perfect drivel."
She seemed to come out of a reverie. She looked at me inquiringly.
"I'm sorry, Bertie, I didn't hear. What were you talking drivel about?"
"I was not talking drivel."
"Oh, sorry, I thought you said you were."
"Is it likely that I would come out here in order to talk drivel?"
"Very likely."
I thought it best to haul off and approach the matter from another angle.
"I've just been seeing Tuppy."
"Oh?"
"And Gussie Fink-Nottle."
"Oh, yes?"
"It appears that you have gone and got engaged to the latter."
"Quite right."
"Well, that's what I meant when I said it was all perfect drivel. Youcan't possibly love a chap like Gussie."
"Why not?"
"You simply can't."
Well, I mean to say, of course she couldn't. Nobody could love a freaklike Gussie except a similar freak like the Bassett. The shot wasn't onthe board. A splendid chap, of course, in many ways--courteous, amiable,and just the fellow to tell you what to do till the doctor came, if youhad a sick newt on your hands--but quite obviously not of Mendelssohn'sMarch timber. I have no doubt that you could have flung bricks by thehour in England's most densely populated districts without endangeringthe safety of a single girl capable of becoming Mrs. Augustus Fink-Nottlewithout an anaesthetic.
I put this to her, and she was forced to admit the justice of it.
"All right, then. Perhaps I don't."
"Then what," I said keenly, "did you want to go and get engaged to himfor, you unreasonable young fathead?"
"I thought it would be fun."
"Fun!"
"And so it has been. I've had a lot of fun out of it. You should haveseen Tuppy's face when I told him."
A sudden bright light shone upon me.
"Ha! A gesture!"
"What?"
"You got engaged to Gussie just to score off Tuppy?"
"I did."
"Well, then, that was what I was saying. It was a gesture."
"Yes, I suppose you could call it that."
"And I'll tell you something else I'll call it--viz. a dashed low trick.I'm surprised at you, young Angela."
"I don't see why."
I curled the lip about half an inch. "Being a female, you wouldn't. Yougentler sexes are like that. You pull off the rawest stuff without apang. You pride yourselves on it. Look at Jael, the wife of Heber."
"Where did you ever hear of Jael, the wife of Heber?"
"Possibly you are not aware that I once won a Scripture-knowledge prizeat school?"
"Oh, yes. I remember Augustus mentioning it in his speech."
"Quite," I said, a little hurriedly. I had no wish to be reminded ofAugustus's speech. "Well, as I say, look at Jael, the wife of Heber. Dugspikes into the guest's coconut while he was asleep, and then wentswanking about the place like a Girl Guide. No wonder they say, 'Oh,woman, woman!'"
"Who?"
"The chaps who do. Coo, what a sex! But you aren't proposing to keep thisup, of course?"
"Keep what up?"
"This rot of being engaged to Gussie."
"I certainly am."
"Just to make Tuppy look silly."
"Do you think he looks silly?"
"I do."
"So he ought to."
I began to get the idea that I wasn't making real headway. I rememberwhen I won that Scripture-knowledge prize, having to go into the factsabout Balaam's ass. I can't quite recall what they were, but I stillretain a sort of general impression of something digging its feet in andputting its ears back and refusing to co-operate; and it seemed to methat this was what Angela was doing now. She and Balaam's ass were, so tospeak, sisters under the skin. There's a word beginning with r----"re"something----"recal" something--No, it's gone. But what I am driving at isthat is what this Angela was showing herself.
"Silly young geezer," I said.
She pinkened.
"I'm not a silly young geezer."
"You are a silly young geezer. And, what's more, you know it."
"I don't know anything of the kind."
"Here you are, wrecking Tuppy's life, wrecking Gussie's life, all for thesake of a cheap score."
"Well, it's no business of yours."
I sat on this promptly:
"No business of mine when I see two lives I used to go to school withwrecked? Ha! Besides, you know you're potty about Tuppy."
"I'm not!"
"Is that so? If I had a quid for every time I've seen you gaze at himwith the lovelight in your eyes----"
She gazed at me, but without the lovelight.
"Oh, for goodness sake, go away and boil your head, Bertie!"
I drew myself up.
"That," I replied, with dignity, "is just what I am going to go away andboil. At least, I mean, I shall now leave you. I have said my say."
"Good."
"But permit me to add----"
"I won't."
"Very good," I said coldly. "In that case, tinkerty tonk."
And I meant it to sting.
"Moody" and "discouraged" were about the two adjectives you would haveselected to describe me as I left the summer-house. It would be idle todeny that I had expected better results from this little chat.
I was surprised at Angela. Odd how you never realize that every girl isat heart a vicious specimen until something goes wrong with her loveaffair. This cousin and I had been meeting freely since the days when Iwore sailor suits and she hadn't any front teeth, yet only now was Ibeginning to get on to her hidden depths. A simple, jolly, kindly youngpimple she had always struck me as--the sort you could more or less relyon not to hurt a fly. But here she was now laughing heartlessly--atleast, I seemed to remember hearing her laugh heartlessly--like somethingcold and callous out of a sophisticated talkie, and fairly spitting onher hands in her determination to bring Tuppy's grey hairs in sorrow tothe grave.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again--girls are rummy. Old PopKipling never said a truer word than when he made that crack about the f.of the s. being more d. than the m.
It seemed to me in the circs. that there was but one thing to do--that ishead for the dining-room and take a slash at the cold collation of whichJeeves had spoken. I felt in urgent need of sustenance, for the recentinterview had pulled me down a bit. There is no gainsaying the fact thatthis naked-emotion stuff reduces a chap's vitality and puts him in thevein for a good whack at the beef and ham.
To the dining-room, accordingly, I repaired, and had barely crossed thethreshold when I perceived Aunt Dahlia at the sideboard, tucking intosalmon mayonnaise.
The spectacle drew from me a quick "Oh, ah," for I was somewhatembarrassed. The last time this relative and I had enjoyed a_tete-a-tete,_ it will be remembered, she had sketched out plans fordrowning me in the kitchen-garden pond, and I was not quite sure whatmy present standing with her was.
I was relieved to find her in genial mood. Nothing could have exceededthe cordiality with which she waved her fork.
"Hallo, Bertie, you old ass," was her very
matey greeting. "I thought Ishouldn't find you far away from the food. Try some of this salmon.Excellent."
"Anatole's?" I queried.
"No. He's still in bed. But the kitchen maid has struck an inspiredstreak. It suddenly seems to have come home to her that she isn'tcatering for a covey of buzzards in the Sahara Desert, and she has putout something quite fit for human consumption. There is good in the girl,after all, and I hope she enjoys herself at the dance."
I ladled out a portion of salmon, and we fell into pleasant conversation,chatting of this servants' ball at the Stretchley-Budds and speculatingidly, I recall, as to what Seppings, the butler, would look like, doingthe rumba.
It was not till I had cleaned up the first platter and was embarking on asecond that the subject of Gussie came up. Considering what had passed atMarket Snodsbury that afternoon, it was one which I had been expectingher to touch on earlier. When she did touch on it, I could see that shehad not yet been informed of Angela's engagement.
"I say, Bertie," she said, meditatively chewing fruit salad. "ThisSpink-Bottle."
"Nottle."
"Bottle," insisted the aunt firmly. "After that exhibition of his thisafternoon, Bottle, and nothing but Bottle, is how I shall always think ofhim. However, what I was going to say was that, if you see him, I wishyou would tell him that he has made an old woman very, very happy. Exceptfor the time when the curate tripped over a loose shoelace and fell downthe pulpit steps, I don't think I have ever had a more wonderful momentthan when good old Bottle suddenly started ticking Tom off from theplatform. In fact, I thought his whole performance in the most perfecttaste."
I could not but demur.
"Those references to myself----"
"Those were what I liked next best. I thought they were fine. Is it truethat you cheated when you won that Scripture-knowledge prize?"
"Certainly not. My victory was the outcome of the most strenuous andunremitting efforts."
"And how about this pessimism we hear of? Are you a pessimist, Bertie?"
I could have told her that what was occurring in this house was rapidlymaking me one, but I said no, I wasn't.
"That's right. Never be a pessimist. Everything is for the best in thisbest of all possible worlds. It's a long lane that has no turning. It'salways darkest before the dawn. Have patience and all will come right.The sun will shine, although the day's a grey one.... Try some of thissalad."
I followed her advice, but even as I plied the spoon my thoughts wereelsewhere. I was perplexed. It may have been the fact that I had recentlybeen hobnobbing with so many bowed-down hearts that made this cheerinessof hers seem so bizarre, but bizarre was certainly what I found it.
"I thought you might have been a trifle peeved," I said.
"Peeved?"
"By Gussie's manoeuvres on the platform this afternoon. I confess that Ihad rather expected the tapping foot and the drawn brow."
"Nonsense. What was there to be peeved about? I took the whole thing as agreat compliment, proud to feel that any drink from my cellars could haveproduced such a majestic jag. It restores one's faith in post-war whisky.Besides, I couldn't be peeved at anything tonight. I am like a littlechild clapping its hands and dancing in the sunshine. For though it hasbeen some time getting a move on, Bertie, the sun has at last brokenthrough the clouds. Ring out those joy bells. Anatole has withdrawn hisnotice."
"What? Oh, very hearty congratulations."
"Thanks. Yes, I worked on him like a beaver after I got back thisafternoon, and finally, vowing he would ne'er consent, he consented. Hestays on, praises be, and the way I look at it now is that God's in Hisheaven and all's right with----"
She broke off. The door had opened, and we were plus a butler.
"Hullo, Seppings," said Aunt Dahlia. "I thought you had gone."
"Not yet, madam."
"Well, I hope you will all have a good time."
"Thank you, madam."
"Was there something you wanted to see me about?"
"Yes, madam. It is with reference to Monsieur Anatole. Is it by yourwish, madam, that Mr. Fink-Nottle is making faces at Monsieur Anatolethrough the skylight of his bedroom?"