Tales of St. Austin'sWodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville)
General
Tales of St. Austin's
Wodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville)
Humorous stories; Schools -- Fiction
'Yes. I ought to have told you my brother was coming to the Coll. this
term. I told the Old Man and Merevale and the rest of the authorities.
Can't make out why I forgot you. Slipped my mind somehow. However, you
seem to have been doing the square thing by him, showing him round and
so on. Very good of you.'
Harrison smiled feebly. Venables junior grinned. What seemed to
Harrison a mystery was how the brothers had managed to arrive at the
School at different times. The explanation of which was in reality very
simple. The elder Venables had been spending the last week of the
holidays with MacArthur, the captain of the St Austin's Fifteen, the
same being a day boy, suspended within a mile of the School.
'But what I can't make out,' went on Venables, relentlessly, 'is this
furniture business. To the best of my knowledge I didn't leave suddenly
at the end of last term. I'll ask if you like, to make sure, but I
fancy you'll find you've been mistaken. Must have been thinking of
someone else. Anyhow, we thought you must know best, so we lugged all
the furniture out into the passage, and now it appears there's been a
mistake of sorts, and the stuff ought to be inside all the time. So
would you mind putting it back again? We'd help you, only we're going
out to the shop to get some tea. You might have it done by the time we
get back. Thanks, awfully.'
Harrison coughed nervously, and rose to a point of order.
'I was going out to tea, too,' he said.
'I'm sorry, but I think you'll have to scratch the engagement,' said
Venables.
Harrison made a last effort.
'I'm fagging for Welch this term,' he protested.
It was the rule at St Austin's that every fag had the right to refuse
to serve two masters. Otherwise there would have been no peace for that
down-trodden race.
'That,' said Venables, 'ought to be awfully jolly for Welch, don't you
know, but as a matter of fact term hasn't begun yet. It doesn't start
till tomorrow. Weigh in.'
Various feelings began to wage war beneath Harrison's Eton waistcoat. A
profound disinclination to undertake the suggested task battled briskly
with a feeling that, if he refused the commission, things might--nay,
would--happen.
'Harrison,' said Venables gently, but with meaning, as he hesitated,
'do you know what it is to wish you had never been born?'
And Harrison, with a thoughtful expression on his face, picked up a
photograph from the floor, and hung it neatly in its place over the
mantelpiece.
[5]
BRADSHAW'S LITTLE STORY
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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