girl should have honoured him with her friendship, when he bumped into something solid, and saw that it was the dream man in person.
‘Oh, sorry,’ said Jerry.
‘Not at all,’ said Gally courteously. ‘A pleasure.’
Seeing the object of Penny’s affections at close range, he found himself favourably impressed. For an author Jerry Vail was rather nice-looking, most authors, as is widely known, resembling in appearance the more degraded types of fish, unless they look like birds, when they could pass as vultures and no questions asked. His face, while never likely to launch a thousand ships, was not at all a bad sort of face, and Gally could readily picture it casting a spell in a dim light on a boat deck. Looking at him, he found it easy to understand why Penny should have described him as a baa-lamb. From a cursory inspection he seemed well entitled to membership in that limited class.
Jerry, meanwhile, drinking Gally in, had discovered that this was no stranger he had rammed.
‘Why, hullo, Mr Threepwood,’ he said. ‘You won’t remember me, but we’ve met before. I was introduced to you once by Admiral Biffen.’
Gally retained no recollection of this previous encounter, but the mention of that honoured name stirred him like a bugle.
‘You know Fruity Biffen?’
‘I’ve known him all my life. He’s a great friend of an uncle of mine. Major Basham.’
Any doubts Gally might have entertained as to the suitability of this young man as a husband for a girl on whom he looked as a daughter were dispelled. The name of Major Basham was equally as honoured as that of Fruity Biffen.
‘You mean Plug Basham is your uncle? God bless my soul, as my brother Clarence would say. One of my oldest friends.’
‘Yes, I’ve often heard him speak of you.’
‘We’ve always been like Damon and what’s-his-name. I once put a pig in his bedroom.’
‘Really? What made you do that?’
‘Oh, it struck me as a good idea. It was the night of the Bachelors’ Ball at Hammer’s Easton. Old Wivenhoe’s pig. Puffy Benger and I borrowed it and put it in Plug’s room. I had to leave early next morning, so never learned what happened when he met it. No doubt they got together across a round table and threshed things out. Plug Basham, by Jove! I once saw Plug throw a side of beef at a fellow in Romano’s. Laid him out cold, and all the undertakers present making bids for the body. How is he these days?’
‘Going as strong as ever.’
‘Fruity and I were talking about him only a week ago. Fruity was down here. Not staying at the castle – he can’t stand my sister Constance, and I don’t blame him. I got him to take a little house along the Shrewsbury road not far from here because I met him in London and he seemed a bit run down and I thought a breath of country air would do him good. But he couldn’t stick it out. Too much noise. He said there was a bunch of assorted bugs and insects in his front garden which seemed to be seeing the new year in all night, and he went back to Piccadilly, where he said a man could get a bit of peace. I miss him. Did he ever tell about the time when he and I –’
Gally paused. The story he had been about to relate was a good one, but he was a kindly man and realized that this was no time for stories, however entertaining.
‘But I mustn’t keep you here talking. You’ll be wanting to find Penny. Oh, I know all about you and Penny,’ said Gally, noticing that his young friend had leaped skywards as if a red-hot iron had been applied to the seat of his trousers. ‘She confided in me.’
Jerry became calmer. He was still not sure how he liked the idea of anyone sharing his sacred secret, but this old boy was so obviously friendly that perhaps in his case one could stretch a point.
‘I was just thinking, when you came along,’ said Gally, ‘what a really exceptional girl she must be to have sneaked you in here as Clarence’s secretary without my sister Constance
‘Oh, sorry,’ said Jerry.
‘Not at all,’ said Gally courteously. ‘A pleasure.’
Seeing the object of Penny’s affections at close range, he found himself favourably impressed. For an author Jerry Vail was rather nice-looking, most authors, as is widely known, resembling in appearance the more degraded types of fish, unless they look like birds, when they could pass as vultures and no questions asked. His face, while never likely to launch a thousand ships, was not at all a bad sort of face, and Gally could readily picture it casting a spell in a dim light on a boat deck. Looking at him, he found it easy to understand why Penny should have described him as a baa-lamb. From a cursory inspection he seemed well entitled to membership in that limited class.
Jerry, meanwhile, drinking Gally in, had discovered that this was no stranger he had rammed.
‘Why, hullo, Mr Threepwood,’ he said. ‘You won’t remember me, but we’ve met before. I was introduced to you once by Admiral Biffen.’
Gally retained no recollection of this previous encounter, but the mention of that honoured name stirred him like a bugle.
‘You know Fruity Biffen?’
‘I’ve known him all my life. He’s a great friend of an uncle of mine. Major Basham.’
Any doubts Gally might have entertained as to the suitability of this young man as a husband for a girl on whom he looked as a daughter were dispelled. The name of Major Basham was equally as honoured as that of Fruity Biffen.
‘You mean Plug Basham is your uncle? God bless my soul, as my brother Clarence would say. One of my oldest friends.’
‘Yes, I’ve often heard him speak of you.’
‘We’ve always been like Damon and what’s-his-name. I once put a pig in his bedroom.’
‘Really? What made you do that?’
‘Oh, it struck me as a good idea. It was the night of the Bachelors’ Ball at Hammer’s Easton. Old Wivenhoe’s pig. Puffy Benger and I borrowed it and put it in Plug’s room. I had to leave early next morning, so never learned what happened when he met it. No doubt they got together across a round table and threshed things out. Plug Basham, by Jove! I once saw Plug throw a side of beef at a fellow in Romano’s. Laid him out cold, and all the undertakers present making bids for the body. How is he these days?’
‘Going as strong as ever.’
‘Fruity and I were talking about him only a week ago. Fruity was down here. Not staying at the castle – he can’t stand my sister Constance, and I don’t blame him. I got him to take a little house along the Shrewsbury road not far from here because I met him in London and he seemed a bit run down and I thought a breath of country air would do him good. But he couldn’t stick it out. Too much noise. He said there was a bunch of assorted bugs and insects in his front garden which seemed to be seeing the new year in all night, and he went back to Piccadilly, where he said a man could get a bit of peace. I miss him. Did he ever tell about the time when he and I –’
Gally paused. The story he had been about to relate was a good one, but he was a kindly man and realized that this was no time for stories, however entertaining.
‘But I mustn’t keep you here talking. You’ll be wanting to find Penny. Oh, I know all about you and Penny,’ said Gally, noticing that his young friend had leaped skywards as if a red-hot iron had been applied to the seat of his trousers. ‘She confided in me.’
Jerry became calmer. He was still not sure how he liked the idea of anyone sharing his sacred secret, but this old boy was so obviously friendly that perhaps in his case one could stretch a point.
‘I was just thinking, when you came along,’ said Gally, ‘what a really exceptional girl she must be to have sneaked you in here as Clarence’s secretary without my sister Constance
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