Psmith in the City

by P. G. Wodehouse

  28. Psmith Arranges his Future

  It was exactly four o'clock when Psmith, sliding unostentatiously fromhis stool, flicked divers pieces of dust from the leg of his trousers,and sidled towards the basement, where he was wont to keep his hatduring business hours. He was aware that it would be a matter of somedelicacy to leave the bank at that hour. There was a certain quantityof work still to be done in the Fixed Deposits Department--work inwhich, by rights, as Mike's understudy, he should have lent asympathetic and helping hand. 'But what of that?' he mused,thoughtfully smoothing his hat with his knuckles. 'Comrade Gregory is aman who takes such an enthusiastic pleasure in his duties that he willgo singing about the office when he discovers that he has got a doublelot of work to do.'

  With this comforting thought, he started on his perilous journey to theopen air. As he walked delicately, not courting observation, hereminded himself of the hero of 'Pilgrim's Progress'. On all sides ofhim lay fearsome beasts, lying in wait to pounce upon him. At anymoment Mr Gregory's hoarse roar might shatter the comparativestillness, or the sinister note of Mr Bickersdyke make itself heard.

  'However,' said Psmith philosophically, 'these are Life's Trials, andmust be borne patiently.'

  A roundabout route, via the Postage and Inwards Bills Departments, tookhim to the swing-doors. It was here that the danger became acute. Thedoors were well within view of the Fixed Deposits Department, and MrGregory had an eye compared with which that of an eagle was more orless bleared.

  Psmith sauntered to the door and pushed it open in a gingerly manner.

  As he did so a bellow rang through the office, causing a timid customer,who had come in to arrange about an overdraft, to lose his nervecompletely and postpone his business till the following afternoon.

  Psmith looked up. Mr Gregory was leaning over the barrier which dividedhis lair from the outer world, and gesticulating violently.

  'Where are you going,' roared the head of the Fixed Deposits.

  Psmith did not reply. With a benevolent smile and a gesture intended tosignify all would come right in the future, he slid through theswing-doors, and began to move down the street at a somewhat swifterpace than was his habit.

  Once round the corner he slackened his speed.

  'This can't go on,' he said to himself. 'This life of commerce is toogreat a strain. One is practically a hunted hare. Either the heads ofmy department must refrain from View Halloos when they observe me goingfor a stroll, or I abandon Commerce for some less exacting walk inlife.'

  He removed his hat, and allowed the cool breeze to play upon hisforehead. The episode had been disturbing.

  He was to meet his father at the Mansion House. As he reached thatland-mark he saw with approval that punctuality was a virtue of whichhe had not the sole monopoly in the Smith family. His father waswaiting for him at the tryst.

  'Certainly, my boy,' said Mr Smith senior, all activity in a moment,when Psmith had suggested going to Lord's. 'Excellent. We must begetting on. We must not miss a moment of the match. Bless my soul: Ihaven't seen a first-class match this season. Where's a cab? Hi, cabby!No, that one's got some one in it. There's another. Hi! Here, lunatic!Are you blind? Good, he's seen us. That's right. Here he comes. Lord'sCricket Ground, cabby, as quick as you can. Jump in, Rupert, my boy,jump in.'

  Psmith rarely jumped. He entered the cab with something of thestateliness of an old Roman Emperor boarding his chariot, and settledhimself comfortably in his seat. Mr Smith dived in like a rabbit.

  A vendor of newspapers came to the cab thrusting an evening paper intothe interior. Psmith bought it.

  'Let's see how they're getting on,' he said, opening the paper. 'Whereare we? Lunch scores. Lord's. Aha! Comrade Jackson is in form.'

  'Jackson?' said Mr Smith, 'is that the same youngster you brought homelast summer? The batsman? Is he playing today?'

  'He was not out thirty at lunch-time. He would appear to be makingsomething of a stand with his brother Joe, who has made sixty-one up tothe moment of going to press. It's possible he may still be in when weget there. In which case we shall not be able to slide into thepavilion.'

  'A grand bat, that boy. I said so last summer. Better than any of hisbrothers. He's in the bank with you, isn't he?'

  'He was this morning. I doubt, however, whether he can be said to bestill in that position.'

  'Eh? what? How's that?'

  'There was some slight friction between him and the management. Theywished him to be glued to his stool; he preferred to play for thecounty. I think we may say that Comrade Jackson has secured the Orderof the Boot.'

  'What? Do you mean to say--?'

  Psmith related briefly the history of Mike's departure.

  Mr Smith listened with interest.

  'Well,' he said at last, 'hang me if I blame the boy. It's a sincooping up a fellow who can bat like that in a bank. I should have donethe same myself in his place.'

  Psmith smoothed his waistcoat.

  'Do you know, father,' he said, 'this bank business is far from beingmuch of a catch. Indeed, I should describe it definitely as a bit off.I have given it a fair trial, and I now denounce it unhesitatingly as ashade too thick.'

  'What? Are you getting tired of it?'

  'Not precisely tired. But, after considerable reflection, I have cometo the conclusion that my talents lie elsewhere. At lugging ledgers Iam among the also-rans--a mere cipher. I have been wanting to speak toyou about this for some time. If you have no objection, I should liketo go to the Bar.'

  'The Bar? Well--'

  'I fancy I should make a pretty considerable hit as a barrister.'

  Mr Smith reflected. The idea had not occurred to him before. Now thatit was suggested, his always easily-fired imagination took hold of itreadily. There was a good deal to be said for the Bar as a career.Psmith knew his father, and he knew that the thing was practically asgood as settled. It was a new idea, and as such was bound to befavourably received.

  'What I should do, if I were you,' he went on, as if he were advising afriend on some course of action certain to bring him profit andpleasure, 'is to take me away from the bank at once. Don't wait. Thereis no time like the present. Let me hand in my resignation tomorrow.The blow to the management, especially to Comrade Bickersdyke, will bea painful one, but it is the truest kindness to administer it swiftly.Let me resign tomorrow, and devote my time to quiet study. Then I canpop up to Cambridge next term, and all will be well.'

  'I'll think it over--' began Mr Smith.

  'Let us hustle,' urged Psmith. 'Let us Do It Now. It is the only way.Have I your leave to shoot in my resignation to Comrade Bickersdyketomorrow morning?'

  Mr Smith hesitated for a moment, then made up his mind.

  'Very well,' he said. 'I really think it is a good idea. There aregreat opportunities open to a barrister. I wish we had thought of itbefore.'

  'I am not altogether sorry that we did not,' said Psmith. 'I haveenjoyed the chances my commercial life has given me of associating withsuch a man as Comrade Bickersdyke. In many ways a master-mind. Butperhaps it is as well to close the chapter. How it happened it is hardto say, but somehow I fancy I did not precisely hit it off with ComradeBickersdyke. With Psmith, the worker, he had no fault to find; but itseemed to me sometimes, during our festive evenings together at theclub, that all was not well. From little, almost imperceptible signs Ihave suspected now and then that he would just as soon have beenwithout my company. One cannot explain these things. It must have beensome incompatibility of temperament. Perhaps he will manage to bear upat my departure. But here we are,' he added, as the cab drew up. 'Iwonder if Comrade Jackson is still going strong.'

  They passed through the turnstile, and caught sight of thetelegraph-board.

  'By Jove!' said Psmith, 'he is. I don't know if he's number three ornumber six. I expect he's number six. In which case he has gotninety-eight. We're just in time to see his century.'