Plum Pie by P. G. Wodehouse Page B

escutcheon, but in Freddie he excited only admiration. He considered him a man of infinite resource and sagacity, as indeed he was.
    "Well, young Freddie," said Gaily. "Where are you off to with that dog?"
    "I'm taking him to the Fanshawes."
    "At Marling Hall? That's where that pretty girl I met you with the other day lives, isn't it?"
    "That's right. Valerie Fanshawe. Her father's the local Master of Hounds. And you know what that means."
    "What does it mean?"
    "That he's the managing director of more dogs than you could shake a stick at, each dog requiring the daily biscuit. And what could be better for them than Donaldson's Dog Joy, containing as it does all the essential vitamins?"
    "You're going to sell him dog biscuits?"
    "I don't see how I can miss. Valerie is the apple of his eye, to whom he can deny nothing. She covets this Alsatian and says if I'll give it to her, she'll see that the old man comes through with a substantial order. I'm about to deliver it F.O.B."
    "But, my good Freddie, that dog is Aggie's dog. She'll go up in flames."
    "Oh, that's all right. I've budgeted for that. I have my story all set and ready. I shall tell her it died and I'll get her another just as good. That'll fix Aggie. But I mustn't sit here chewing the fat with you, I must be up and about and off and away. See you later," said Freddie, and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
    He left Gaily pursing his lips. A lifetime spent in the society of bookies, racecourse touts and skittle sharps had made him singularly broadminded, but he could not regard these tactics with approval. Shaking his head, he went back into the house and in the hall encountered Beach, the castle butler. Beach was wheezing a little, for he had been hurrying, and he was no longer the streamlined young butler he had been when he had first taken office.
    "Have I missed Mr. Frederick, sir?"
    "By a hair's breadth. Why?"
    "This telegram has arrived for him, Mir. Galahad. I thought it might be important."
    "Most unlikely. Probably somebody just wiring him the result of the four o'clock race somewhere. Give it to me. I’ll see that he gets it on his return."
    He continued on his way, feeling now rather at a loose end. A sociable man, he wanted someone to talk to. He could of course go and chat with his sister Lady Constance, who was reading a novel on the terrace, but something told him that there would be little profit and entertainment in this. Most of his conversation consisted of anecdotes of his murky past, and Connie was not a good audience for these. He decided on consideration to look up his brother Clarence, with whom it was always a pleasure to exchange ideas, and found that mild and dreamy peer in the library staring fixedly at nothing.
    "Ah, there you are, Clarence," he said, and Lord Emsworth sat up with a startled 'Eh, what?', his stringy body quivering.
    "Oh, it's you, Galahad."
    "None other. What's the matter, Clarence?"
    "Matter?"
    "There's something on your mind. The symptoms are unmistakable. A man whose soul is at rest does not leap like a nymph surprised while bathing when somebody tells him he's there. Confide in me."
    Lord Emsworth was only too glad to do so. A sympathetic listener was precisely what he wanted.
    "It's Connie," he said. "Did you hear what she was saying at breakfast?"
    "I didn't come down to breakfast."
    "Ah, then you probably missed it. Well, right in the middle of the meal—I was eating a kippered herring at the time—she told me she was going to get rid of Beach."
    "What! Get rid of Beach?"
    " 'He is so slow', she said. 'He wheezes. We ought to have a younger, smarter butler'. I was appalled. I choked on my kippered herring."
    "I don't blame you. Blandings without Beach is unthinkable. So is Blandings with what she calls a young, smart butler at the helm. Good God! I can picture the sort of fellow she would get, some acrobatic stripling who would turn somersaults and slide down the banisters. You must put your foot down,