The Little NuggetWodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville)
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The Little Nugget
Wodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville)
Humorous stories; Kidnapping -- Fiction
Ogden submitted to the embrace in sulky silence. The others
comported themselves each after his or her own fashion. Mr Mennick
fingered his chin uncomfortably. Cynthia turned to the table and
picked up an illustrated paper. Mrs Sheridan's eyes filled with
tears. She took a half-step towards Mrs Ford, as if about to
speak, then drew back.
'Come, Ogden,' said Mr Mennick gruffly. Necessary, this Hired
Assassin work, but painful--devilish painful. He breathed a sigh
of relief as he passed into the corridor with his prize.
At the door Mrs Sheridan hesitated, stopped, and turned.
'I'm sorry,' she said impulsively.
Mrs Ford turned away without speaking, and went into the bedroom.
Cynthia laid down her paper.
'One moment, Mrs Sheridan.'
The girl had turned to go. She stopped.
'Can you give me a minute? Come in and shut the door. Won't you
sit down? Very well. You seemed sorry for Mrs Ford just now.'
'I am very sorry for Mrs Ford. Very sorry. I hate to see her
suffering. I wish Mr Mennick had not brought me into this.'
'Nesta's mad about that boy,' said Cynthia. 'Heaven knows why.
_I_ never saw such a repulsive child in my life. However,
there it is. I am sorry for you. I gathered from what Mr Mennick
said that you were to have a good deal of Ogden's society for some
time to come. How do you feel about it?'
Mrs Sheridan moved towards the door.
'I must be going,' she said. 'Mr Mennick will be waiting for me.'
'One moment. Tell me, don't you think, after what you saw just
now, that Mrs Ford is the proper person to have charge of Ogden?
You see how devoted she is to him?'
'May I be quite frank with you?'
'Please.'
'Well, then, I think that Mrs Ford's influence is the worst
possible for Ogden. I am sorry for her, but that does not alter my
opinion. It is entirely owing to Mrs Ford that Ogden is what he
is. She spoiled him, indulged him in every way, never checked
him--till he has become--well, what you yourself called him,
repulsive.'
Cynthia laughed.
'Oh well,' she said, 'I only talked that mother's love stuff
because you looked the sort of girl who would like it. We can drop
all that now, and come down to business.'
'I don't understand you.'
'You will. I don't know if you think that I kidnapped Ogden from
sheer affection for Mrs Ford. I like Nesta, but not as much as
that. No. I'm one of the Get-Rich-Quick-Wallingfords, and I'm
looking out for myself all the time. There's no one else to do it
for me. I've a beastly home. My father's dead. My mother's a cat.
So--'
'Please stop,' said Mrs Sheridan. I don't know why you are telling
me all this.'
'Yes, you do. I don't know what salary Mr Ford pays you, but I
don't suppose it's anything princely. Why don't you come over to
us? Mrs Ford would give you the earth if you smuggled Ogden back
to her.'
'You seem to be trying to bribe me,' said Mrs Sheridan.
'In this case,' said Cynthia, 'appearances aren't deceptive. I
am.'
'Good afternoon.'
'Don't be a little fool.'
The door slammed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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