Meet Mr. Mulliner

by Wodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville), 1881-1975

  " What's this ? " demanded Augustine, eyeing it dangerously.

  " A nice fried Qg^, sir."

  " And what, pray, do you mean by nice ? It may be an amiable Qgg. It may be a civil, well-meaning Qgg. But if you think it is fit for human consumption, adjust that impression. Go back to your kitchen, woman; select another; and remember this time that you are a cook, not an incinerating machine. Between an egg that is fried and an Qgg that is cremated there is a wide and substantial difference. This difference, if you wish to retain me as a lodger in these far too expensive rooms, you will endeavour to appreciate."

  The glowing sense of well-being with which Augustine had begun the day did not diminish with the passage of time. It seemed, indeed, to increase. So full of effervescing energy did the young man feel that, departing from his usual custom of spending the morning crouched over the fire, he picked up his hat, stuck it at a rakish angle on his head, and sallied out for a healthy tramp across the fields.

  It was while he was returning, flushed and rosy, that he observed a sight which is rare in the country districts of England— the spectacle of a bishop running. It is not often in a place like Lower Briskett-in-the-Midden that you see a bishop at all; and when you do he is either riding in a stately car or pacing at a dignified walk. This one was sprinting hke a Derby winner, and Augustine paused to drink in the sight.

  The bishop was a large, burly bishop, built for endurance rather than speed ; but he was making excellent going. He flashed past Augustine in a whirl of flying gaiters : and then, proving himself thereby no mere specialist but a versatile all-round athlete, suddenly dived for a tree and climbed rapidly into its branches. His motive, Augustine readily divined, was to elude a rough, hairy dog which was toiling in his wake. The dog reached the tree a moment after his quarry had climbed it, and stood there, barking.

  Augustine strolled up.

  " Having a httle trouble with the dumb friend, bish ? " he asked, genially.

  The bishop peered down from his eyrie.

  " Young man," he said, " save me "

  " Right most indubitably ho ! " repHed Augustine. '* Leave it to me."

  Until to-day he had always been terrified of dogs, but now he did not hesitate. Almost quicker than words can tell, he picked up a stone, discharged it at the animal, and whooped cheerily as it got home with a thud. The dog, knowing when he had had enough, removed himself at some forty-five m.p.h. ; and the bishop, descending cautiously, clasped Augustine's hand in his.

  " My preserver ! " said the bishop.

  " Don't give it another thought," said Augustine, cheerily. " Always glad to do a pal a good turn. We clergymen must stick together."

  " I thought he had me for a minute."

  " Quite a nasty customer. Full of rude energy."

  The bishop nodded.

  " His eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated. Deuteronomy xxxiv. 7," he agreed. " I wonder if you can direct me to the vicarage ? I fear I have come a little out of my way."

  "Til take you there."

  " Thank you. Perhaps it would be as

  well if you did not come in. I have a serious matter to discuss with old Pieface—I mean, with the Rev. Stanley Brandon."

  " I have a serious matter to discuss with his daughter. I'll just hang about the garden."

  *' You are a very excellent young man," said the bishop, as they walked along. " You are a curate, eh ? "

  "At present. But," said Augustine, tapping his companion on the chest, " just watch my smoke. That's all I ask you to do—just watch my smoke."

  " I will. You should rise to great heights —to the very top of the tree."

  " Like you did just now, eh ? Ha, ha ! "

  " Ha, ha ! " said the bishop. " You young rogue ! "

  He poked Augustine in the ribs.

  " Ha, ha, ha ! " said Augustine.

  He slapped the bishop on the back.

  " But all joking aside," said the bishop as they entered the vicarage grounds, " I really shall keep my eye on you and see that you receive the swift preferment which your talents and character deserve. I say to you, my dear young friend, speaking seriously and

  weighing my words, that the way you picked that dog off with that stone was the smoothest thing I ever saw. And I am a man who always tells the strict truth."

  " Great is truth and mighty above all things. Esdras iv. 41," said Augustine.

  He turned away and strolled towards the laurel bushes, which were his customary meeting-place with Jane. The bishop went on to the front door and rang the bell.

  Although they had made no definite appointment, Augustine was surprised when the minutes passed and no Jane appeared. He did not know that she had been told off by her father to entertain the bishop's wife that morning, and show her the sights of Lower Briskett-in-the-Midden. He waited some quarter of an hour with growing impatience, and was about to leave when suddenly from the house there came to his ears the sound of voices raised angrily.

  He stopped. The voices appeared to proceed from a room on the ground floor facing the garden.

  Running hghtly over the turf, Augustine paused outside the window and listened.

  84 MEET MR. MULLINER

  The window was open at the bottom, and he could hear quite distinctly.

  The vicar was speaking in a voice that vibrated through the room.

  " Is that so ? " said the vicar. Yes, it is ! " said the bishop. Ha, ha ! "

  " Ha, ha ! to you, and see how you like it! " rejoined the bishop with spirit.

  Augustine drew a step closer. It was plain that Jane's fears had been justified and that there was serious trouble afoot between these two old schoolfellows. He peeped in. The vicar, his hands behind his coat-tails, was striding up and down the carpet, while the bishop, his back to the fireplace, glared defiance at him from the hearth-rug.

  " Who ever told you you were an authority on chasubles ? " demanded the vicar.

  " That's all right who told me," rejoined the bishop.

  " I don't believe you know what a chasuble is."

  " Is that so ? "

  " WeU, what is it, then ? "

  " It's a circular cloak hanging from the shoulders, elaborately embroidered with a

  pattern and with orphreys. And you can argue as much as you Hke, young Pieface, but you can't get away from the fact that there are too many orphreys on yours. And what I'm teUing you is that you've jolly well got to switch off a few of those orphreys or you'll get it in the neck."

  The vicar's eyes glittered furiously.

  " Is that so ? " he said. " Well, I just won't, so there ! And it's like your cheek coming here and trying to high-hat me. You seem to have forgotten that I knew you when you were an inky-faced kid at school, and that, if I liked, I could tell the world one or two things about you which would probably amuse it."

  " My past is an open book."

  "Is it ? " The vicar laughed malevolently. " Who put the white mouse in the French master's desk ? "

  The bishop started.

  " W'ho put jam in the dormitory prefect's bed ? " he retorted.

  " Who couldn't keep his collar clean ? "

  " WTio used to wear a dickey ? " The bishop's wonderful organ-hke voice, whose softest whisper could be heard throughout a

  vast cathedral, rang out in tones of thunder.

  " Who was sick at the house supper ? "

  The vicar quivered from head to foot. His rubicund face turned a deeper crimson.

  " You know jolly well/' he said, in shaking accents, " that there was something wrong with the turkey. Might have upset

  any one."

  " The only thing wrong with the turkey was that you ate too much of it. If you had paid as much attention to developing your soul as you did to developing your tummy, you might by now," said the bishop, " have risen to my own eminence."

  " Oh, might 1 ? "

  " No, perhaps I am wrong. You never had the brain."

  The vicar uttered another discordant laugh.


  " Brain is good ! We know all about your eminence, as you call it, and how you rose to that eminence."

  " WTiat do you mean ? "

  " You are a bishop. How you became one we will not inquire."

  " What do you mean ? "

  " What I say. We will not inquire."

  " Why don't you inquire ? "

  " Because," said the vicar, '* it is better not! "

  The bishop's self-control left him. His face contorted with fury, he took a step forward. And simultaneously Augustine sprang lightly into the room.

  " Now, now, now ! " said Augustine. '' Now, now, now, now, now ! "

  The two men stood transfixed. They stared at the intruder dumbly.

  " Come, come ! " said Augustine.

  The vicar was the first to recover. He glowered at Augustine.

  " What do you mean by jumping through my window ? " he thundered. '' Are you a curate or a harlequin ? "

  Augustine met his gaze with an unfaltering eye.

  " I am a curate," he replied, with a dignity that well became him. '' And, as a curate, I cannot stand by and see two superiors of the cloth, who are moreover old schoolfellows, forgetting themselves. It isn't right. Absolutely not right, my dear old superiors of the cloth."

  The vicar bit his hp. The bishop bowed his head.

  " Listen," proceeded Augustine, placing a hand on the shoulder of each. " I hate to see you two dear good chaps quarreUing like this."

  " He started it," said the vicar, sullenly.

  " Never mind who started it." Augustine silenced the bishop with a curt gesture as he made to speak. " Be sensible, my dear fellows. Respect the decencies of debate. Exercise a little good-humoured give-and-take. You say," he went on, turning to the bishop, " that our good friend here has too many orphreys on his chasuble ? " I do. And I stick to it." Yes, yes, yes. But what," said Augustine, soothingly, " are a few orphreys between friends ? Reflect! You and our worthy vicar here were at school together. You are bound by the sacred ties of the old Alma Mater. With him you sported on the green. With him you shared a crib and threw inked darts in the hour supposed to be devoted to the study of French. Do these things mean nothing to you ? Do these memories touch no chord ? " He turned appeahngly from one to the other. " Vicar ! Bish ! "

  ((

  tt

  The vicar had moved away and was wiping his eyes. The bishop fumbled for a pocket-handkerchief. There was a silence.

  " Sorry, Pieface," said the bishop, in a choking voice.

  ** Shouldn't have spoken as I did. Boko," mumbled the vicar.

  " If you want to know what I think," said the bishop, *' you are right in attributing your indisposition at the house supper to something wrong with the turkey. I recollect saying at the time that the bird should never have been served in such a condition."

  ** And when you put that white mouse in the French master's desk," said the vicar, *' you performed one of the noblest services to humanity of which there is any record. They ought to have made you a bishop on the spot."

  " Pieface ! "

  " Boko I "

  The two men clasped hands.

  " Splendid ! " said Augustine. " Everything hotsy-totsy now ? "

  " Quite, quite," said the vicar.

  " As far as I am concerned, completely

  hotsy-totsy," said the bishop. He turned to his old friend soHcitously. " You will continue to wear all the orphreys you want— will you not, Pieface ? ''

  " No, no. I see now that I was wrong. From now on. Boko, I abandon orphreys altogether."

  " But, Pieface "

  " It's all right," the vicar assured him. " I can take them or leave them alone."

  " Splendid fellow! " The bishop

  coughed to hide his emotion, and there was another silence. " I think, perhaps," he went on, after a pause, " I should be leaving you now, my dear chap, and going in search of my wife. She is with your daughter, I believe, somewhere in the village."

  " They are coming up the drive now."

  " Ah, yes, I see them. A charming girl, your daughter."

  Augustine clapped him on the shoulder.

  " Bish," he exclaimed, " you said a mouthful. She is the dearest, sweetest girl in the whole world. And I should be glad, vicar, if you would give your consent to our immediate union. I love Jane with a good man's fervour, and I am happy to

  inform you that my sentiments are returned. Assure us, therefore, of your approval, and I will go at once and have the banns put up."

  The vicar leaped as though he had been stung. Like so many vicars, he had a poor opinion of curates, and he had always regarded Augustine as rather below than above the general norm or level of the despised class.

  " What! " he cried.

  " A most excellent idea," said the bishop, beaming. " A very happy notion, I call it."

  " My daughter ! " The vicar seemed dazed. " My daughter marry a curate ! "

  " You were a curate once yourself. Pie-face."

  ** Yes, but not a curate Uke that."

  " No ! " said the bishop. " You were not. Nor was I. Better for us both had we been. This young man, I would have you know, is the most outstandingly excellent young man I have ever encountered. Are you aware that scarcely an hour ago he saved me with the most consummate address from a large shaggy dog with black spots and

  a kink in his tail ? I was sorely pressed, Pieface, when this young man came up and, with a readiness of resource and an accuracy of aim which it would be impossible to overpraise, got that dog in the short ribs with a rock and sent him flying."

  The vicar seemed to be struggHng with some powerful emotion. His eyes had widened.

  *' A dog with black spots ? "

  " Very black spots. But no blacker, I fear, than the heart they hid."

  ** And he really plugged him in the short ribs ? "

  " As far as I could see, squarely in the short ribs."

  The vicar held out his hand.

  " Mulliner," he said, " I was not aware of this. In the hght of the facts which have just been drawn to my attention, I have no hesitation in saying that my objections are removed. I have had it in for that dog since the second Sunday before Septuagesima, when he pinned me by the ankle as I paced beside the river composing a sermon on Certain Alarming Manifestations of the So-called Modern Spirit. Take Jane. I give

  my consent freely. And may she be as happy as any girl with such a husband ought to be."

  A few more affecting words were exchanged, and then the bishop and Augustine left the house. The bishop was silent and thoughtful.

  " I owe you a great deal, Mulliner," he said at length.

  " Oh, I don't know," said Augustine. '* Would you say that ? "

  ** A very great deal. You saved me from a terrible disaster. Had you not leaped through that window at that precise juncture and intervened, I really believe I should have pasted my dear old friend Brandon in the eye. I was sorely exasperated."

  " Our good vicar can be trying at times," agreed Augustine.

  " My list was already clenched, and I was just hauhng off for the swing when you checked me. What the result would have been, had you not exhibited a tact and discretion beyond your years, I do not like to think. I might have been unfrocked." He shivered at the thought, though the weather

  was mild. " I could never have shown my face at the Athenaeum again. But, tut, tut! " went on the bishop, patting Augustine on the shoulder, " let us not dwell on what might have been. Speak to me of yourself. The vicar's charming daughter—you really love her ? "

  " I do, indeed."

  The bishop's face had grown grave.

  " Think well, Mulliner," he said. " Marriage is a serious affair. Do not plunge into it without due reflection. I myself am a husband, and, though singularly blessed in the possession of a devoted helpmeet, cannot but feel sometimes that a man is better off as a bachelor. Women, Mulliner, are odd."

  " True," said Augustine.

  " My own dear wife is the best of women. And,
as I never weary of saying, a good woman is a wondrous creature, cleaving to the right and the good under all change ; lovely in youthful comeliness, lovely all her life in comeliness of h^^^t. And yet "

  " And yet ? " said Augustine.

  The bishop mused for a moment. He

  wriggled a little with an expression of pain, and scratched himself between the shoulder-blades.

  "Well, I'll tell you," said the bishop. " It is a warm and pleasant day to-day, is it not ? "

  " Exceptionally clement," said Augustine.

  ** A fair, sunny day, made gracious by a temperate westerly breeze. And yet, Mul-hner, if you will credit my statement, my wife insisted on my putting on my thick winter woollies this morning. Truly," sighed the bishop, " as a jewel of gold in a swine's snout, so is a fair woman which is without discretion. Proverbs xi. 21."

  " Twenty-two," corrected Augustine.

  " I should have said twenty-two. They are made of thick flannel, and I have an exceptionally sensitive skin. Oblige me, my dear fellow, by rubbing me in the smaU of the back with the ferrule of your stick. I think it will ease the irritation."

  " But, my poor dear old bish," said A^ygustine, sympathetically, " this must not be."

  The bishop shook Iiis head ruefully.

  " You would not speak so hardily,

  D

  Mulliner, if you knew my wife. There is no appeal from her decrees."

  " Nonsense," cried Augustine, cheerily. He looked through the trees to where the lady bishopess, escorted by Jane, was examining a lobeHa through her lorgnette with just the right blend of cordiahty and condescension. " m fix that for you in a second."

  The bishop clutched at his arm.

  " My boy ! What are you going to do? "

  '' I'm. just going to have a word with your wife and put the matter up to her as a reasonable woman. Thick winter woolhes on a day like this! Absurd ! " said Augustine. " Preposterous ! I never heard such rot."

  The bishop gazed after him with a laden heart. Already he had come to love this young man like a son : and to see him charging so light-heartedly into the very jaws of destruction afflicted him with a deep and poignant sadness. He knew what his wife was hke when even the highest in the land attempted to thwart her ; and this brave lad was but a curate. In another moment

  she would be looking at him through her lorgnette : and England was littered with the shrivelled remains of curates at whom the lady bishopess had looked through her lorgnette. Pie had seen them wilt like salted slugs at the episcopal breakfast-table.