Service with a Smile by P.G. Wodehouse

boy he had always been
in and out — in when he wanted cake and out when the cook caught him getting
it, and he had no difficulty in finding his way there. Full of anticipation of
the happy ending, for though he knew he had his limitations he was pretty sure
that he could boil a kettle, he pushed open the familiar door and went in, and
was unpleasantly surprised to see his grandson George there, eating eggs and
bacon.
    ‘Oh,
hullo, grandpa,’ said George, speaking thickly, for his mouth was full.
    ‘George!’
said Lord Emsworth, also speaking thickly, but for a different reason. ‘You are
up very early.’
    George
said he liked rising betimes. You got two breakfasts that way. He was at the
age when the young stomach wants all that is coming to it.
    ‘Why
are you up so early, Grandpapa?’
    ‘I … er…
I was unable to sleep.’
    ‘Shall
I fry you an egg?’
    ‘Thank
you, no. I thought of taking a little stroll. The air is so nice and fresh. Er
— good-bye, George.’
    ‘Good-bye,
Grandpapa.’
    ‘Little
stroll,’ said Lord Emsworth again, driving home his point, and withdrew,
feeling rather shaken.
     
     
    2
     
    The big story of the cut
tent ropes broke shortly before breakfast, when a Church Lad who looked as if
he had had a disturbed night called at the back premises of the castle asking
to see Beach. To him he revealed the position of affairs, and Beach dispatched
an underling to find fresh rope to take the place of the severed strands. He
then reported to Lady Constance, who told the Duke, who told his nephew Archie
Gilpin, .who told Lord Ickenham, who said, ‘Well, well well! Just fancy!’
    ‘The
work of an international gang, do you think?’ he said, and Archie said Well,
anyway, the work of somebody who wasn’t fond of Church Lads, and Lord Ickenham
agreed that this might well be so.
    Normally
at this hour he would have been on his way to his hammock, but obviously the
hammock must be postponed till later. His first task was to seek Lord Emsworth
out and offer his congratulations. He was feeling quite a glow as he proceeded
to the library, where he knew that the other would have retired to read Whiffle
On The Care Of The Pig or some other volume of porcine interest, his invariable
procedure after he had had breakfast. It gratified the kindly man to know that
his advice had been taken with such excellent results.
    Lord Emsworth
was not actually reading when he entered. He was sitting staring before him,
the book on his lap. There are moments when even Whiffle cannot hold the
attention, and this was one of them. It would be too much, perhaps, to say that
remorse gripped Lord Emsworth, but he was undoubtedly in something of a twitter
and wondering if that great gesture of his had been altogether well-advised.
His emotions were rather similar to those of a Chicago business man of the old
school who has rubbed out a competitor with a pineapple bomb and, while feeling
that that part of it is all right, cannot help speculating on what the F.B.I.
are going to do when they hear about it.
    ‘Oh — er
— hullo, Ickenham,’ he said. ‘Nice morning.’
    ‘For
you, my dear Emsworth, a red-letter morning. I’ve just heard the news.’
    ‘Eh?’
    ‘The
place is ringing with the story of your exploit.’
    ‘Eh?’
    ‘Now
come,’ said Lord Ickenham reproachfully. ‘No need to dissemble with me. You
took my advice, didn’t you, and pulled a sword of Gideon on those tented boys?
And I imagine that you are feeling a better, cleaner man.’
    Lord Emsworth
was looking somewhat more guilty and apprehensive than good, clean men usually
do. He peered through his pince-nez at the wall, as if suspecting it of having
ears.
    ‘I wish
you wouldn’t talk so loudly, Ickenham.’
    ‘I’ll
whisper.’
    ‘Yes,
do,’ said Lord Emsworth, relieved.
    Lord
Ickenham took a seat and sank his voice.
    ‘Tell
me all about it.’
    ‘Well —’
    ‘I
understand. You are a man of action, and words don’t come to you