Page 25 of Piccadilly Jim


  CHAPTER XXV

  NEARLY EVERYBODY HAPPY

  Mrs. Crocker turned to her husband.

  "Well, Bingley?" she said, a steely tinkle in her voice.

  "Well, Eugenia?" said Mr. Crocker.

  A strange light was shining in Mr. Crocker's mild eyes. He hadseen a miracle happen that night. He had seen an even moreformidable woman than his wife dominated by an even meeker manthan himself, and he had been amazed and impressed by thespectacle. It had never even started to occur to him before, butapparently it could be done. A little resolution, a littledetermination . . . nothing more was needed. He looked at Mr.Pett. And yet Mr. Pett had crumpled up Eugenia's sister withabout three firm speeches. It could be done. . . .

  "What have you to say, Bingley?"

  Mr. Crocker drew himself up.

  "Just this!" he said. "I'm an American citizen, and the way I'vefigured it out is that my place is in America. It's no goodtalking about it, Eugenia. I'm sorry if it upsets your plans, butI--am--not--going--back--to--London!" He eyed his speechless wifeunflatteringly. "I'm going to stick on here and see the pennantrace out. And after that I'm going to take in the World'sSeries."

  Mrs. Crocker opened her mouth to speak, closed it, re-opened it.Then she found that she had nothing to say.

  "I hope you'll be sensible, Eugenia, and stay on this side, andwe can all be happy. I'm sorry to have to take this stand, butyou tried me too high. You're a woman, and you don't know what itis to go five years without seeing a ball game; but take it fromme it's more than any real fan can stand. It nearly killed me,and I'm not going to risk it again. If Mr. Pett will keep me onas his butler, I'll stay here in this house. If he won't, I'llget another job somewhere. But, whatever happens, I stick to thisside!"

  Mr. Pett uttered a whoop of approval.

  "There's always been a place for you in my house, old man!" hecried. "When I get a butler who--"

  "But, Bingley! How can you be a butler?"

  "You ought to watch him!" said Mr. Pett enthusiastically. "He's awonder! He can pull all the starchy stuff as if he'd lived withthe Duke of Whoosis for the last forty years, and then go rightoff and fling a pop-bottle at an umpire! He's all right!"

  The eulogy was wasted on Mrs. Crocker. She burst into tears. Itwas a new experience for her husband, and he watched herawkwardly, his resolute demeanour crumbling under this unexpectedassault.

  "Eugenia!"

  Mrs. Crocker wiped her eyes.

  "I can't stand it!" she sobbed. "I've worked and worked all theseyears, and now, just as success has nearly come--Bingley, _do_come back! It will only be for a little longer."

  Mr. Crocker stared.

  "A little longer? Why, that Lord Percy Whipple business--I knowyou must have had excellent reasons for soaking him, Jimmy, butit did put the lid on it--surely, after that Lord Percy affairthere's no chance--?"

  "There is! There is! It has made no difference at all! Lord Percycame to call next day with a black eye, poor boy!--and said thatJames was a sportsman and that he wanted to know him better! Hesaid he had never felt so drawn towards any one in his life andhe wanted him to show him how he made some blow which he called aright hook. The whole affair has simply endeared James to him,and Lady Corstorphine says that the Duke of Devizes read theaccount of the fight to the Premier that very evening and theyboth laughed till they nearly got apoplexy."

  Jimmy was deeply touched. He had not suspected such a sportingspirit in his antagonist.

  "Percy's all right." he said enthusiastically. "Dad, you ought togo back. It's only fair."

  "But, Jimmy! Surely _you_ can understand? There's only a gameseparating the Giants and the Phillies, with the Braves comingalong just behind. And the season only half over!"

  Mrs. Crocker looked imploringly at him.

  "It will only be for a little while, Bingley. Lady Corstorphine,who has means of knowing, says that your name is certain to be inthe next Honours List. After that you can come back as often asyou like. We could spend the summer here and the winter inEngland, or whatever you pleased."

  Mr. Crocker capitulated.

  "All right, Eugenia. I'll come."

  "Bingley! We shall have to go back by the next boat, dear. Peopleare beginning to wonder where you are. I've told them that youare taking a rest in the country. But they will suspect somethingif you don't come back at once."

  Mr. Crocker's face wore a drawn look. He had never felt soattached to his wife as now, when she wept these unexpected tearsand begged favours of him with that unfamiliar catch in hervoice. On the other hand . . . A vision rose before him of thePolo Grounds on a warm afternoon. . . . He crushed it down.

  "Very well," he said.

  Mr. Pett offered a word of consolation.

  "Maybe you'll be able to run over for the World's Series?"

  Mr. Crocker's face cleared.

  "That's true."

  "And I'll cable you the scores every day, dad," said Jimmy.

  Mrs. Crocker looked at him with a touch of disapproval cloudingthe happiness of her face.

  "Are you staying over here, James? There is no reason why youshould not come back, too. If you make up your mind to changeyour habits--"

  "I have made up my mind to change them. But I'm going to do it inNew York. Mr. Pett is going to give me a job in his office. I amgoing to start at the bottom and work my way still further down."

  Mr. Pett yapped with rapture. He was experiencing something ofthe emotion of the preacher at the camp-meeting who sees theSinners' Bench filling up. To have secured Willie Partridge, whomhe intended to lead gradually into the realms of high finance byway of envelope-addressing, was much. But that Jimmy, with achoice in the matter, should have chosen the office filled himwith such content that he only just stopped himself from dancingon his bad foot.

  "Don't worry about me, dad. I shall do wonders. It's quite easyto make a large fortune. I watched uncle Pete in his office thismorning, and all he does is sit at a mahogany table and tell theoffice-boy to tell callers that he has gone away for the day. Ithink I ought to rise to great heights in that branch ofindustry. From the little I have seen of it, it seems to havebeen made for me!"

  CHAPTER XXVI

  EVERYBODY HAPPY

  Jimmy looked at Ann. They were alone. Mr. Pett had gone back tobed, Mrs. Crocker to her hotel. Mr. Crocker was removing hismake-up in his room. A silence had followed their departure.

  "This is the end of a perfect day!" said Jimmy.

  Ann took a step towards the door.

  "Don't go!"

  Ann stopped.

  "Mr. Crocker!" she said.

  "Jimmy," he corrected.

  "Mr. Crocker!" repeated Ann firmly.

  "Or Algernon, if you prefer it."

  "May I ask--" Ann regarded him steadily. "May I ask."

  "Nearly always," said Jimmy, "when people begin with that, theyare going to say something unpleasant."

  "May I ask why you went to all this trouble to make a fool of me?Why could you not have told me who you were from the start?"

  "Have you forgotten all the harsh things you said to me from timeto time about Jimmy Crocker? I thought that, if you knew who Iwas, you would have nothing more to do with me."

  "You were quite right."

  "Surely, though, you won't let a thing that happened five yearsago make so much difference?"

  "I shall never forgive you!"

  "And yet, a little while ago, when Willie's bomb was about to gooff, you flung yourself into my arms!"

  Ann's face flamed.

  "I lost my balance."

  "Why try to recover it?"

  Ann bit her lip.

  "You did a cruel, heartless thing. What does it matter how longago it was? If you were capable of it then--"

  "Be reasonable. Don't you admit the possibility of reformation?Take your own case. Five years ago you were a minor poetess. Nowyou are an amateur kidnapper--a bright, lovable girl at whoseapproach people lock up their children and sit on the key. As forme, five
years ago I was a heartless brute. Now I am a soberserious business-man, specially called in by your uncle to helpjack up his tottering firm. Why not bury the dead past?Besides--I don't want to praise myself, I just want to call yourattention to it--think what I have done for you. You admittedyourself that it was my influence that had revolutionised yourcharacter. But for me, you would now be doing worse than writepoetry. You would be writing _vers libre_. I saved you from that.And you spurn me!"

  "I hate you!" said Ann.

  Jimmy went to the writing-desk and took up a small book.

  "Put that down!"

  "I just wanted to read you 'Love's Funeral!' It illustrates mypoint. Think of yourself as you are now, and remember that it isI who am responsible for the improvement. Here we are. 'Love'sFuneral.' 'My heart is dead. . . .' "

  Ann snatched the book from his hands and flung it away. It soaredup, clearing the gallery rails, and fell with a thud on thegallery floor. She stood facing him with sparkling eyes. Then shemoved away.

  "I beg your pardon," she said stiffly. "I lost my temper."

  "It's your hair," said Jimmy soothingly. "You're bound to bequick-tempered with hair of that glorious red shade. You mustmarry some nice, determined fellow, blue-eyed, dark-haired,clean-shaven, about five foot eleven, with a future in business.He will keep you in order."

  "Mr. Crocker!"

  "Gently, of course. Kindly-lovingly. The velvet thingummy ratherthan the iron what's-its-name. But nevertheless firmly."

  Ann was at the door.

  "To a girl with your ardent nature some one with whom you canquarrel is an absolute necessity of life. You and I areaffinities. Ours will be an ideally happy marriage. You would bemiserable if you had to go through life with a human doormat with'Welcome' written on him. You want some one made of sternerstuff. You want, as it were, a sparring-partner, some one withwhom you can quarrel happily with the certain knowledge that hewill not curl up in a ball for you to kick, but will be therewith the return wallop. I may have my faults--" He pausedexpectantly. Ann remained silent. "No, no!" he went on. "But I amsuch a man. Brisk give-and-take is the foundation of the happymarriage. Do you remember that beautiful line of Tennyson's--'Wefell out, my wife and I'? It always conjures up for me a visionof wonderful domestic happiness. I seem to see us in our old age,you on one side of the radiator, I on the other, warming our oldlimbs and thinking up snappy stuff to hand to eachother--sweethearts still! If I were to go out of your life now,you would be miserable. You would have nobody to quarrel with.You would be in the position of the female jaguar of the Indianjungle, who, as you doubtless know, expresses her affection forher mate by biting him shrewdly in the fleshy part of the leg, ifshe should snap sideways one day and find nothing there."

  Of all the things which Ann had been trying to say during thisdiscourse, only one succeeded in finding expression. To hermortification, it was the only weak one in the collection.

  "Are you asking me to marry you?"

  "I am."

  "I won't!"

  "You think so now, because I am not appearing at my best. You seeme nervous, diffident, tongue-tied. All this will wear off,however, and you will be surprised and delighted as you begin tounderstand my true self. Beneath the surface--I speakconservatively--I am a corker!"

  The door banged behind Ann. Jimmy found himself alone. He walkedthoughtfully to Mr. Pett's armchair and sat down. There was afeeling of desolation upon him. He lit a cigarette and began tosmoke pensively. What a fool he had been to talk like that! Whatgirl of spirit could possibly stand it? If ever there had been atime for being soothing and serious and pleading, it had beenthese last few minutes. And he talked like that!

  Ten minutes passed. Jimmy sprang from his chair. He thought hehad heard a footstep. He flung the door open. The passage wasempty. He returned miserably to his chair. Of course she had notcome back. Why should she?

  A voice spoke.

  "Jimmy!"

  He leaped up again, and looked wildly round. Then he looked up.Ann was leaning over the gallery rail.

  "Jimmy, I've been thinking it over. There's something I want toask you. Do you admit that you behaved abominably five yearsago?"

  "Yes!" shouted Jimmy.

  "And that you've been behaving just as badly ever since?"

  "Yes!"

  "And that you are really a pretty awful sort of person?"

  "Yes!"

  "Then it's all right. You deserve it!"

  "Deserve it?"

  "Deserve to marry a girl like me. I was worried about it, but nowI see that it's the only punishment bad enough for you!" Sheraised her arm.

  "Here's the dead past, Jimmy! Go and bury it! Good-night!"

  A small book fell squashily at Jimmy's feet. He regarded it dullyfor a moment. Then, with a wild yell which penetrated even to Mr.Pett's bedroom and woke that sufferer just as he was dropping offto sleep for the third time that night he bounded for the gallerystairs.

  At the further end of the gallery a musical laugh sounded, and adoor closed. Ann had gone.

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  Transcriber's Notes for edition 11:

  I am greatly indebted to the Wodehouse readers from the BLANDINGSe-mail group who did such detailed research on this text, not onlyon simple typos but on the differences between the 1916 SaturdayEvening Post serialization and the US and UK early printings.

  I have made use, in this new PG edition, of the 1918 UK first editionreferences provided by these helpful savants, to correct misprints orother publisher's errors in the US edition, but I have otherwisefollowed the US edition.

  The punctuation is somewhat different from the UK versions, notably inits use of colons. The words "Uncle" and "Aunt", where used with a name("Uncle Peter", "Aunt Nesta"), were capitalized in the originalserialized and UK editions, but lower-cased in the US edition, so I haveretained the lower-case.

  I have also restored some _italics_ omitted in the previous PG edition.

  I note below some significant differences between the early printings:

  Chapter II: ""Well played, sir!" when they meant "'at-a-boy!"" "mean" is in the US edition; other editions have "meant".

  Chapter VI: "Regent's bill-of-fare" has been corrected from "Regent's bill-of-fair" in the US edition. "pull some boner" has been corrected from "pull some bone" in the US edition.

  Chapter VIII: "Before his stony eye the immaculate Bartling wilted. It was a perfectly astounding likeness, but it was apparent to him when what he had ever heard and read about doubles came to him."

  This is a somewhat clumsy construction, and quite un-Wodehousian.The original passage in the serialization read:

  "Before his stony eye the immaculate Bartling wilted. All that he had ever heard and read about doubles came to him."

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