Pigs Have Wings by P. G. Wodehouse

stay at a place called Blandings Castle.’
    Jerry started.
    ‘Blandings Castle?’
    ‘You know it?’
    Jerry hesitated. Should he tell her all about Penny? On the whole, he thought, no. The fewer people who knew, the better.
    ‘I’ve heard of it,’ he said. ‘Nice place, I believe.’
    ‘So they all tell me. It’s only a mile or two from where Gregory hangs out, so we’ll be able to see something of each other. I imagine that’s why Lady Constance invited me. Well, keep the words “Blandings Castle” steadily in your mind, because they are the heart of the matter. I will now approach the heart of the matter.’
    A waiter brought roast beef, underdone, and she took a thin slice. Jerry took two slices, with potatoes, and Gloria in her austere way advised him to be very careful how he tucked into those things, because she was convinced that it was a lifelong passion for potatoes that had made Sir Gregory Parsloe the man he was … or, rather, she added, for she was a girl who liked exactness, the two men he was.
    ‘Where were we?’ she asked, as the waiter withdrew.
    ‘You were about to approach the heart of the matter.’
    ‘That’s right. So I was. Well, here it comes. Listen attentively, for what I have to say will interest you strangely.’
    She ate a Brussels sprout. It is the virtue of Brussels sprouts that you can wolf them freely without running any risk of becoming like Sir Gregory Parsloe, Bart, of Matchingham Hall, Much Matchingham.
    ‘I don’t know about the flora of Blandings Castle,’ she said, ‘though no doubt they are varied and beautiful, but its fauna consist of – amongst others – Clarence, ninth Earl of Emsworth, and his sister, Lady Constance. What the relations are between the noble lord and my betrothed I cannot say, but Lady Constance and he appear to be on matey terms, so much so that when the other day she wanted to get a new secretary for Lord Emsworth, she asked if he could do anything to help. “Charmed, dear lady,” said Greg, and got me on the phone and told me to attend to it, if it was not giving me too much trouble. “No trouble at all, my king,” I said. “As a matter of fact, I know a man.” You’re the man.’
    Jerry gasped. The roast beef swam before his eyes.
    ‘You don’t mean –?’
    ‘The job’s yours, if you care to take it, and I strongly advise you to take it, because there is more in this than meets the eye and the plot is shortly about to thicken. But I suppose you’re going to come over all haughty and say that the Vails don’t take jobs as secretaries.’
    Jerry laughed. The thought of being too proud to allow himself to be employed in a house which contained Penny, a house probably stiff with rose gardens and other secluded nooks where he and Penny could meet and talk of this and that, was an amusing one. Had it been required of him, he would have accepted office as the boy who cleaned the knives and boots.
    ‘I’ll be there. You couldn’t have suggested anything that would have suited me better.’
    ‘That’s all right, then. And now for the thickening of the plot. About a year ago I ran into a lad I used to go dancing with in the days of Edward the Confessor, a youth named Hugo Carmody, and he gave me lunch and told me all about Blandings Castle. It seems that he was Lord Emsworth’s secretary at one time, and he had me in stitches with his diverting stories about the old boy. Are you listening?’
    ‘You bet I’m listening.’
    ‘I had completely forgotten Hugo and his saga till Greg rang me up, and then the word “secretary”, taken in conjunction with the words “Blandings Castle”, brought it all back to me, and I saw that this was where I could do my day’s good deed. The gist of what Hugo had told me was that the old bird – I allude to the ninth Earl – is practically dotty on the subject of pigs. He has a prize pig called Empress of Blandings to which he is devoted. In fact, you might say he thinks of nothing else.