The Girl on the BoatWodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville)
General
The Girl on the Boat
Wodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville)
Children of the rich -- Fiction; Golf stories; Humorous stories; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
“No, sir, I fear not. There’s a difference between handing in your
resignation—I was compelled to do that only recently, owing to a few
words I had with the guv’nor, though subsequently prevailed upon to
withdraw it—I say there’s a difference between handing in your
resignation and being given the sack, and that’s what would
happen—without a character, what’s more, and lucky if it didn’t mean a
prison cell! No, sir, I could not contemplate such a thing.”
“Then I don’t see that there’s anything to be done,” said Sam,
morosely.
“Oh, I shouldn’t say that, sir,” said Webster encouragingly. “It’s
simply a matter of finding the way. The problem confronting us—you, I
should say....”
“Us,” said Sam. “Most decidedly us.”
“Thank you very much, sir. I would not have presumed, but if you say
so.... The problem confronting us, as I envisage it, resolves itself
into this. You have offended our Miss B. and she has expressed a
disinclination ever to see you again. How, then, is it possible, in
spite of her attitude, to recapture her esteem?”
“Exactly,” said Sam.
“There are several methods which occur to one....”
“They don’t occur to _me!_”
“Well, for example, you might rescue her from a burning building, as in
‘True As Steel’....”
“Set fire to the house, eh?” said Sam reflectively. “Yes, there might
be something in that.”
“I would hardly advise such a thing,” said Webster, a little
hastily—flattered at the readiness with which his disciple was taking
his advice, yet acutely alive to the fact that he slept at the top of
the house himself. “A little drastic, if I may say so. It might be
better to save her from drowning, as in ‘The Earl’s Secret.’”
“Ah, but where could she drown?”
“Well, there is a lake in the grounds....”
“Excellent!” said Sam. “Terrific! I knew I could rely on you. Say no
more! The whole thing’s settled. You take her out rowing on the lake,
and upset the boat. I plunge in.... I suppose you can swim?”
“No, sir.”
“Oh? Well, never mind. You’ll manage somehow, I expect. Cling to the
upturned boat or something, I shouldn’t wonder. There’s always a way.
Yes, that’s the plan. When is the earliest you could arrange this?”
“I fear such a course must be considered out of the question, sir. It
really wouldn’t do.”
“I can’t see a flaw in it.”
“Well, in the first place, it would certainly jeopardise my
situation....”
“Oh, hang your situation! You talk as if you were Prime Minister or
something. You can easily get another situation. A valuable man like
you,” said Sam ingratiatingly.
“No, sir,” said Webster firmly. “From boyhood up I’ve always had a
regular horror of the water. I can’t so much as go paddling without an
uneasy feeling.”
The image of Webster paddling was arresting enough to occupy Sam’s
thoughts for a moment. It was an inspiring picture, and for an instant
uplifted his spirits. Then they fell again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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