Psmith, Journalist
Page 3
CHAPTER III
AT "THE GARDENIA"
"It would ill beseem me, Comrade Jackson," said Psmith,thoughtfully sipping his coffee, "to run down the metropolis of agreat and friendly nation, but candour compels me to state that NewYork is in some respects a singularly blighted town."
"What's the matter with it?" asked Mike.
"Too decorous, Comrade Jackson. I came over here principally, it istrue, to be at your side, should you be in any way persecuted byscoundrels. But at the same time I confess that at the back of mymind there lurked a hope that stirring adventures might come myway. I had heard so much of the place. Report had it that anearnest seeker after amusement might have a tolerably spacious ragin this modern Byzantium. I thought that a few weeks here mightrestore that keen edge to my nervous system which the languor ofthe past term had in a measure blunted. I wished my visit to be atonic rather than a sedative. I anticipated that on my return thecry would go round Cambridge, 'Psmith has been to New York. He isfull of oats. For he on honey-dew hath fed, and drunk the milk ofParadise. He is hot stuff. Rah!' But what do we find?"
He paused, and lit a cigarette.
"What do we find?" he asked again.
"I don't know," said Mike. "What?"
"A very judicious query, Comrade Jackson. What, indeed? We find atown very like London. A quiet, self-respecting town, admirable tothe apostle of social reform, but disappointing to one who, likemyself, arrives with a brush and a little bucket of red paint, alleager for a treat. I have been here a week, and I have not seen asingle citizen clubbed by a policeman. No negroes dance cake-walksin the street. No cow-boy has let off his revolver at random inBroadway. The cables flash the message across the ocean, 'Psmith islosing his illusions.'"
Mike had come to America with a team of the M.C.C. which wastouring the cricket-playing section of the United States. Psmithhad accompanied him in a private capacity. It was the end of theirfirst year at Cambridge, and Mike, with a century against Oxford tohis credit, had been one of the first to be invited to join thetour. Psmith, who had played cricket in a rather desultory way atthe University, had not risen to these heights. He had merely takenthe opportunity of Mike's visit to the other side to accompany him.Cambridge had proved pleasant to Psmith, but a trifle quiet. Hehad welcomed the chance of getting a change of scene.
So far the visit had failed to satisfy him. Mike, whose tastes inpleasure were simple, was delighted with everything. The cricket sofar had been rather of the picnic order, but it was very pleasant;and there was no limit to the hospitality with which the visitorswere treated. It was this more than anything which had causedPsmith's grave disapproval of things American. He was not a memberof the team, so that the advantages of the hospitality did notreach him. He had all the disadvantages. He saw far too little ofMike. When he wished to consult his confidential secretary andadviser on some aspect of Life, that invaluable official wasgenerally absent at dinner with the rest of the team. To-night wasone of the rare occasions when Mike could get away. Psmith wasbecoming bored. New York is a better city than London to be alonein, but it is never pleasant to be alone in any big city.
As they sat discussing New York's shortcomings over their coffee, ayoung man passed them, carrying a basket, and seated himself at thenext table. He was a tall, loose-jointed young man, with unkempthair.
A waiter made an ingratiating gesture towards the basket, but theyoung man stopped him. "Not on your life, sonny," he said. "Thisstays right here." He placed it carefully on the floor beside hischair, and proceeded to order dinner.
Psmith watched him thoughtfully.
"I have a suspicion, Comrade Jackson," he said, "that this willprove to be a somewhat stout fellow. If possible, we will engagehim in conversation. I wonder what he's got in the basket. I mustget my Sherlock Holmes system to work. What is the most likelything for a man to have in a basket? You would reply, in yourunthinking way, 'sandwiches.' Error. A man with a basketful ofsandwiches does not need to dine at restaurants. We must tryagain."
The young man at the next table had ordered a jug of milk to beaccompanied by a saucer. These having arrived, he proceeded tolift the basket on to his lap, pour the milk into the saucer, andremove the lid from the basket. Instantly, with a yell which madethe young man's table the centre of interest to all the diners, alarge grey cat shot up like a rocket, and darted across the room.Psmith watched with silent interest.
It is hard to astonish the waiters at a New York restaurant, butwhen the cat performed this feat there was a squeal of surprise allround the room. Waiters rushed to and fro, futile but energetic.The cat, having secured a strong strategic position on the top of alarge oil-painting which hung on the far wall, was expressing louddisapproval of the efforts of one of the waiters to drive it fromits post with a walking-stick. The young man, seeing thesemanoeuvres, uttered a wrathful shout, and rushed to the rescue.
"Comrade Jackson," said Psmith, rising, "we must be in this."
When they arrived on the scene of hostilities, the young man hadjust possessed himself of the walking-stick, and was deep in acomplex argument with the head-waiter on the ethics of the matter.The head-waiter, a stout impassive German, had taken his stand on apoint of etiquette. "Id is," he said, "to bring gats into dergrill-room vorbidden. No gendleman would gats into der grill-roombring. Der gendleman--"
The young man meanwhile was making enticing sounds, to which thecat was maintaining an attitude of reserved hostility. He turnedfuriously on the head-waiter.
"For goodness' sake," he cried, "can't you see the poor brute'sscared stiff? Why don't you clear your gang of German comediansaway, and give her a chance to come down?"
"Der gendleman--" argued the head-waiter.
Psmith stepped forward and touched him on the arm.
"May I have a word with you in private?"
"Zo?"
Psmith drew him away.
"You don't know who that is?" he whispered, nodding towards theyoung man.
"No gendleman he is," asserted the head-waiter. "Der gendlemanwould not der gat into--"
Psmith shook his head pityingly.
"These petty matters of etiquette are not for his Grace--but, hush,he wishes to preserve his incognito."
"Ingognito?"
"You understand. You are a man of the world, Comrade--may I callyou Freddie? You understand, Comrade Freddie, that in a man in hisGrace's position a few little eccentricities may be pardoned. Youfollow me, Frederick?"
The head-waiter's eye rested upon the young man with a new interestand respect.
"He is noble?" he inquired with awe.
"He is here strictly incognito, you understand," said Psmithwarningly. The head-waiter nodded.
The young man meanwhile had broken down the cat's reserve, andwas now standing with her in his arms, apparently anxious tofight all-comers in her defence. The head-waiter approacheddeferentially.
"Der gendleman," he said, indicating Psmith, who beamed in afriendly manner through his eye-glass, "haf everything exblained.All will now quite satisfactory be."
The young man looked inquiringly at Psmith, who winkedencouragingly. The head-waiter bowed.
"Let me present Comrade Jackson," said Psmith, "the pet of ourEnglish Smart Set. I am Psmith, one of the Shropshire Psmiths. Thisis a great moment. Shall we be moving back? We were about to ordera second instalment of coffee, to correct the effects of afatiguing day. Perhaps you would care to join us?"
"Sure," said the alleged duke.
"This," said Psmith, when they were seated, and the head-waiter hadceased to hover, "is a great meeting. I was complaining with someacerbity to Comrade Jackson, before you introduced your veryinteresting performing-animal speciality, that things in New Yorkwere too quiet, too decorous. I have an inkling, Comrade--"
"Windsor's my name."
"I have an inkling, Comrade Windsor, that we see eye to eye on thesubject."
"I guess that's right. I was raised in the plains, and I lived inKentucky a while. There's more d
oing there in a day than there ishere in a month. Say, how did you fix it with the old man?"
"With Comrade Freddie? I have a certain amount of influence withhim. He is content to order his movements in the main by myjudgment. I assured him that all would be well, and he yielded."Psmith gazed with interest at the cat, which was lapping milk fromthe saucer. "Are you training that animal for a show of some kind,Comrade Windsor, or is it a domestic pet?"
"I've adopted her. The office-boy on our paper got her away from adog this morning, and gave her to me."
"Your paper?"
"_Cosy Moments_," said Billy Windsor, with a touch of shame.
"_Cosy Moments_?" said Psmith reflectively. "I regret that thebright little sheet has not come my way up to the present. I mustseize an early opportunity of perusing it."
"Don't you do it."
"You've no paternal pride in the little journal?"
"It's bad enough to hurt," said Billy Windsor disgustedly. "If youreally want to see it, come along with me to my place, and I'llshow you a copy."
"It will be a pleasure," said Psmith. "Comrade Jackson, have youany previous engagement for to-night?"
"I'm not doing anything," said Mike.
"Then let us stagger forth with Comrade Windsor. While he isloading up that basket, we will be collecting our hats. . . . I amnot half sure, Comrade Jackson," he added, as they walked out,"that Comrade Windsor may not prove to be the genial spirit forwhom I have been searching. If you could give me your undividedcompany, I should ask no more. But with you constantly away,mingling with the gay throng, it is imperative that I have somesolid man to accompany me in my ramblings hither and thither. It ispossible that Comrade Windsor may possess the qualificationsnecessary for the post. But here he comes. Let us foregather withhim and observe him in private life before arriving at anypremature decision."