Meet Mr. Mulliner

by P. G. Wodehouse

  He held his breath. Augustine had reached the lady bishopess, and the lady bishopess was even now raising her lorgnette.

  The bishop shut his eyes and turned away. And then—years afterwards, it seemed to him—a cheery voice hailed him : and, turning, he perceived Augustine bounding back through the trees.

  " It's all right, bish," said Augustine. All—all right ? " faltered the bishop. Yes. She says you can go and change into the thin cashmere."

  The bishop reeled.

  ** But—but—but what did you say to her ? What arguments did you employ ? "

  " Oh, I just pointed out what a warm day it was and jolUed her along a bit "

  " JoUied her along a bit! "

  *' And she agreed in the most friendly and cordial manner. She has asked me to call at the Palace one of these days."

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  98 MEET MR. MULLINER

  The bishop seized Augustine's hand. My boy," he said in a broken voice, you shall do more than call at the Palace. You shall come and hve at the Palace. Become my secretary, MuUiner, and name your own salary. If you intend to marry, you will require an increased stipend. Become my secretary, boy, and never leave my side. I have needed somebody like you for years."

  It was late in the afternoon when Augustine returned to his rooms, for he had been invited to lunch at the vicarage and had been the life and soul of the cheery little party.

  " A letter for you, sir," said Mrs. Wardle, obsequiously.

  Augustine took the letter.

  " I am sorry to say I shall be leaving you shortly, Mrs. Wardle."

  "Oh, sir! If there's anything I can do "

  " Oh, it's not that. The fact is, the bishop has made me his secretary, and I shall have to shift my toothbrush and spats to the Palace, you see."

  " WeU, fancy that, sir ! Why, you'U be a bishop yourself one of these days."

  " Possibly," said Augustine. " Possibly. And now let me read this."

  He opened the letter. A thoughtful frown appeared on his face as he read.

  My dear Augustine,

  I am writing in some haste to tell you that the impulsiveness of your aunt has led to a rather serious mistake.

  She tells me that she dispatched to you yesterday hy parcels post a sample bottle of my new Buck-U-Uppo, which she obtained without my knowledge from my laboratory. Had she mentioned what she was intending to do, I could have prevented a very unfortunate occurrence.

  Mulliner's Buck-U-Uppo is of two grades or qualities — the A and the B. The A is a mild, but strengthening, tonic designed for human invalids. The B, on the other hand, is purely for circulation in the animal kingdom, and was invented to fill a long-felt want throiighout our Indian possessions.

  As you are doubtless aware, the favourite pastime of the Indian Maharajahs is the

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  hunting of the tiger of the jungle from the hacks of elephants ; and it has happened frequently in the past that hunts have been spoiled by the failure of the elephant to see eye to eye with its owner in the matter of what constitutes sport.

  Too often elephants, on sighting the tiger, have turned and galloped home : and it ivas to correct this tendency on their part that I invented Mulliner's Buck-U-Uppo " B." One teaspoonful of the Buck-U-Uppo " B " administered in its morning bran-mash will cause the most timid elephant to trumpet loudly and charge the fiercest tiger without a qualm.

  Abstain, therefore, from taking any of the contents of the bottle you now possess, And believe me,

  Your affectionate uncle.

  Wilfred Mulliner.

  Augustine remained for some time in deep thought after perusing this communication. Then, rising, he whistled a few bars of the psalm appointed for the twenty-sixth of June and left the room.

  Half an hour later a telegraphic message was speeding over the wires.

  MULLINER'S BUCK-U-UPPO loi

  It ran as follows :—

  Wilfred Mulliner, The Gables,

  Lesser Lossingham, Salop.

  Letter received. Send immediately, C.O.D., three cases of the " B." " Blessed shall be thy basket and thy store." Deuteronomy xxviii. 5.

  Augustine.

  THE BISHOP'S MOVE

  ANOTHER Sunday was drawing to a close, /- and Mr. Mulliner had come into the bar-parlour of the Anglers' Rest wearing on his head, in place of the seedy old wideawake which usually adorned it, a gUstening top hat. From this, combined with the sober black of his costume and the rather devout voice in which he ordered hot Scotch and lemon, I deduced that he had been attending Evensong.

  " Good sermon ? " I asked.

  " Quite good. The new curate preached. He seems a nice young fellow."

  " Speaking of curates," I said, " I have often wondered what became of your nephew —the one you were telling me about the other day."

  " Augustine ? "

  " The fellow who took the Buck-U-Uppo."

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  " That was Augustine. And I am pleased and not a little touched/' said Mr. Mulliner, beaming, " that you should have remembered the trivial anecdote which I related. In this self-centred world one does not always find such a sympathetic listener to one's stories. Let me see, where did we leave Augustine ? "

  " He had just become the bishop's secretary and gone to live at the Palace."

  "Ah, yes. We will take up his career, then, some six months after the date which you have indicated."

  It was the custom of the good Bishop of Stortford—for, like all the prelates of our Church, he loved his labours—to embark upon the duties of the day (said Mr. Mulliner) in a cheerful and jocund spirit. Usually, as he entered his study to dispatch such business as might have arisen from the correspondence which had reached the Palace by the first post, there was a smile upon his face and possibly upon his hps a snatch of some gay psalm. But on the morning on which this story begins an observer would

  have noted that he wore a preoccupied, even

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  a sombre, look. Reaching the study door, he hesitated as if reluctant to enter ; then, pulHng himself together with a visible effort, he turned the handle.

  " Good morning, MuUiner, my boy," he said. His manner was noticeably embarrassed.

  Augustine glanced brightly up from the pile of letters which he was opening.

  " Cheerio, Bish. How's the lumbago to-day ? "

  " I find the pain sensibly diminished, thank you, Mulhner—in fact, almost nonexistent. This pleasant weather seems to do me good. For lo ! the winter is past, the rain is over and gone ; the flowers appear on the earth ; the time of the singing birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land. Song of Solomon ii. ii, 12."

  " Good work," said Augustine. " Well, there's nothing much of interest in these letters so far. The Vicar of St. Beowulf's in the West wants to know, How about incense ? " 1

  " Tell him he mustn't." '

  " Right ho."

  The bishop stroked his chin uneasily.

  He seemed to be nerving himself for some unpleasant task.

  " MuUiner," he said.

  " Hullo ? "

  " Your mention of the word * vicar' provides a cue, which I must not ignore, for alluding to a matter which you and I had under advisement yesterday — the matter of the vacant living of Steeple Mummery."

  " Yes ? " said Augustine eagerly. " Do I cUck ? "

  A spasm of pain passed across the bishop's face. He shook his head sadly.

  " Mulliner, my boy," he said. " You know that I look upon you as a son and that, left to my own initiative, I would bestow this vacant living on you without a moment's hesitation. But an unforeseen complication has arisen. Unhappy lad, my wife has instructed me to give the post to a cousin of hers. A fellow," said the bishop bitterly, " who bleats hke a sheep and doesn't know an alb from a reredos."

  Augustine, as was only natural, was conscious of a momentary pang of disappointment. But he was a MulUner and a sportsman.

  " Don't give it another thought, Bish," he said cordially.
" I quite understand. I don't say I hadn't hopes, but no doubt there will be another along in a minute."

  " You know how it is," said the bishop, looking cautiously round to see that the door was closed. "It is better to dwell in a corner of the housetop than with a brawling woman in a wide house. Proverbs xxi. 9."

  " A continual dropping in a very rainy day and a contentious woman are alike. Proverbs xxvii. 15," agreed Augustine.

  " Exactly. How well you understand me, MuUiner."

  " Meanwhile," said Augustine, holding up a letter, " here's something that calls for attention. It's from a bird of the name of Trevor Entwhistle."

  " Indeed ? An old schoolfellow of mine. He is now Headmaster of Harchester, the foundation at which we both received our early education. Wliat does he say ? "

  " He wants to know if you will run down for a few days and unveil a statue which they have just put up to Lord Hemel of Hempstead."

  '* Another old schoolfellow. We called him Fatty."

  " There's a postscript over the page. He says he still has a dozen of the 'Sy port."

  The bishop pursed his hps.

  " These earthly considerations do not weigh with me so much as old Catsmeat— as the Reverend Trevor Entwhistle seems to suppose. However, one must not neglect the call of the dear old school. We will certainly

  go."

  " We ? "

  " I shall require your company. I think you will hke Harchester, MulHner. A noble pile, founded by the seventh Henry."

  " I know it well. A young brother of mine is there."

  " Indeed ? Dear me," mused the bishop, " it must be twenty years and more since I last visited Harchester. I shall enjoy seeing the old, famiUar scenes once again. After all, MuUiner, to whatever eminence we may soar, howsoever great may be the prizes which life has bestowed upon us, we never wholly lose our sentiment for the dear old school. It is our Alma Mater, MuUiner, the gentle

  mother that has set our hesitating footsteps on the "

  " Absolutely," said Augustine.

  " And, as we grow older, we see that never can we recapture the old, careless gaiety of our school days. Life was not complex then, MuUiner. Life in that halcyon period was free from problems. We were not faced with the necessity of disappointing our friends."

  " Now hsten, Bish," said Augustine cheerily, " if you're still worrying about that hving, forget it. Look at me. I'm quite chirpy, aren't I ? "

  The bishop sighed.

  " I wish I had your sunny resihence, MuUiner. How do you manage it ? "

  " Oh, I keep smiUng, and take the Buck-U-Uppo daily."

  " The Buck-U-Uppo ? "

  "It's a tonic my uncle Wilfred invented. Works like magic."

  " I must ask you to let me try it one of these days. For somehow, MuUiner, I am finding hfe a httle grey. What on earth," said the bishop, half to himself and speaking peevishly, " they wanted to put up a statue

  to old Fatty for, I can't imagine. A fellow who used to throw inked darts at people. However," he continued, abruptly abandoning this train of thought, " that is neither here nor there. If the Board of Governors of Harchester College has decided that Lord Kernel of Hempstead has by his services in the public weal earned a statue, it is not for us to cavil. Write to Mr. Entwhistle, Mulliner, and say that I shall be delighted."

  Although, as he had told Augustine, fully twenty years had passed since his last visit to Harchester, the bishop found, somewhat to his surprise, that little or no alteration had taken place in the grounds, buildings and personnel of the school. It seemed to him almost precisely the same as it had been on the day, forty-three years before, when he had first come there as a new boy.

  There was the tuck-shop where, a lissom stripling with bony elbows, he had shoved and pushed so often in order to get near the counter and snaffle a jam-sandwich in the eleven o'clock recess. There were the baths, the fives courts, the football fields, the library, the gymnasium, the gravel, the chestnut trees.

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  all just as they had been when the only thing he knew about bishops was that they wore bootlaces in their hats.

  The sole change that he could see was that on the triangle of turf in front of the library there had been erected a granite pedestal surmounted by a shapeless something swathed in a large sheet—the statue to Lord Hemel of Hempstead which he had come down to unveil.

  And gradually, as his visit proceeded, there began to steal over him an emotion which defied analysis.

  At first he supposed it to be a natural sentimentality. But, had it been that, would it not have been a more pleasurable emotion ? For his feelings had begun to be far from unmixedly agreeable. Once, when rounding a comer, he came upon the captain of football in all his majesty, there had swept over him a hideous blend of fear and shame which had made his gaitered legs wobble hke jellies. The captain of football doffed his cap respectfully, and the feehng passed as quickly as it had come : but not so soon that the bishop had not recognised it. It was exactly the feeling he had been wont to have

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  forty-odd years ago when, sneaking softly away from football practice, he had encountered one in authority.

  The bishop was puzzled. It was as if some fairy had touched him with her wand, sweeping away the years and making him an inky-faced boy again. Day by day this illusion grew, the constant society of the Rev. Trevor Entwhistle doing much to foster it. For young Catsmeat Entwhistle had been the bishop's particular crony at Harchester, and he seemed to have altered his appearance since those days in no way whatsoever. The bishop had had a nasty shock when, entering the headmaster's study on the third morning of his visit, he found him sitting in the headmaster's chair with the headmaster's cap and gown on. It had seemed to him that young Catsmeat, in order to indulge his distorted sense of humour, was taking the most frightful risk. Suppose the Old Man were to come in and cop him !

  Altogether, it was a relief to the bishop when the day of the unveihng arrived.

  The actual ceremony, however, he found both tedious and irritating. Lord Hemel of

  Hempstead had not been a favourite of his in their school days, and there was something extremely disagreeable to him in being obUged to roll out sonorous periods in his praise.

  In addition to this, he had suffered from the very start of the proceedings from a bad attack of stage fright. He could not help thinking that he must look the most awful chump standing up there in front of all those people and spouting. He half expected one of the prefects in the audience to step up and clout his head and tell him not to be a funny young swine.

  However, no disaster of this nature occurred. Indeed, his speech was notably successful.

  " My dear bishop," said old General Bloodenough, the Chairman of the College Board of Governors, shaking his hand at the conclusion of the unveihng, " your magnificent oration put my own feeble efforts to shame, put them to shame, to shame. You were astounding ! "

  " Thanks awfully," mumbled the bishop, blushing and shuffling his feet.

  The weariness which had come upon the

  bishop as the result of the prolonged ceremony seemed to grow as the day wore on. By the time he was seated in the headmaster's study after dinner he was in the grip of a severe headache.

  The Rev. Trevor Entwhistle also appeared jaded.

  " These affairs are somewhat fatiguing, bishop," he said, stifling a yawn. " They are, indeed. Headmaster." *' Even the '%y port seems an inefficient restorative."

  " Markedly inefficient. I wonder," said the bishop, struck with an idea, "if a little Buck-U-Uppo might not alleviate our exhaustion. It is a tonic of some kind which my secretary is in the habit of taking. It certainly appears to do him good. A hveher, more vigorous young fellow I have never seen. Suppose we ask your butler to go to his room and borrow the bottle ? I am sure he will be dehghted to give it to us." " By all means."

  The butler, dispatched to Augustine's room, returned with a bottle half full of a thick, dark coloured liquid. The bishop examined it
thoughtfully.

  " 1 see there are no directions given as to the requisite dose," he said. '' However, 1 do not Uke to keep disturbing your butler, who has now doubtless returned to his pantry and is once more setthng down to the enjoyment of a well-earned rest after a day more than ordinarily fraught with toil and anxiety. Suppose we use our own judgment ? "

  " Certainly. Is it nasty ? "

  The bishop licked the cork warily.

  " No. I should not call it nasty. The taste, while individual and distinctive and even striking, is by no means disagreeable."

  " Then let us take a glassful apiece."

  The bishop filled two portly wine-glasses with the fluid, and they sat sipping gravely.

  " It's rather good," said the bishop.

  " Distinctly good," said the headmaster.

  " It sort of sends a kind of glow over you."

  " A noticeable glow."

  " A httle more. Headmaster ? "

  " No, I thank you."

  " Oh, come."

  " Well, just a spot, bishop, if you insist."

  " It's rather good," said the bishop.

  '' Distinctly good," said the headmaster.

  Now you, who have Hstened to the story of Augustine's previous adventures with the Buck-U-Uppo, are aware that my brother Wilfred invented it primarily with the object of providing Indian Rajahs with a specific which would encourage their elephants to face the tiger of the jungle with a jaunty sang-froid: and he had advocated as a medium dose for an adult elephant a tea-spoonful stirred up with its morning bran-mash. It is not surprising, therefore, that after they had drunk two wine-glassfuls apiece of the mixture the outlook on life of both the bishop and the headmaster began to undergo a marked change.

  Their fatigue had left them, and with it the depression which a few moments before had been weighing on them so heavily. Both were conscious of an extraordinary feehng of good cheer, and the odd illusion of extreme youth which had been upon the bishop since his arrival at Harchester was now more pronounced than ever. He felt a youngish and rather rowdy fifteen.

  " Where does your butler sleep, Cats-meat ? " he asked, after a thoughtful pause.