T about the hour when Lord Emsworth’s train, whirling him and his son Freddie to London, had reached the half-way point in its journey, a very tall, very thin, very solemn young man, gleaming in a speckless2 top hat and a morning-coat of irreproachable3 fit, mounted the steps of Number Eighteen, Wallingford Street, West Kensington, and rang the front-door bell. This done, he removed the hat; and having touched his forehead lightly with a silk handkerchief, for the afternoon sun was warm, gazed about him with a grave distaste.
The young man’s judgment5 was one at which few people with an eye for beauty would have cavilled6. When the great revolution against London’s ugliness really starts and yelling hordes7 of artists and architects, maddened beyond endurance, finally take the law into their own hands and rage through the city burning and destroying, Wallingford Street, West Kensington, will surely not escape the torch. Long since it must have been marked down for destruction. For, though it possesses certain merits of a low practical kind, being inexpensive in the matter of rents and handy for the buses and the Underground, it is a peculiarly beastly little street. Situated8 in the middle of one of those[p. 39] districts where London breaks out into a sort of eczema of red brick, it consists of two parallel rows of semi-detached villas9, all exactly alike, each guarded by a ragged10 evergreen11 hedge, each with coloured glass of an extremely regrettable nature let into the panels of the front door; and sensitive young impressionists from the artists’ colony up Holland Park way may sometimes be seen stumbling through it with hands over their eyes, muttering between clenched13 teeth “How long? How long?”
A small maid-of-all-work appeared in answer to the bell, and stood transfixed as the visitor, producing a monocle, placed it in his right eye and inspected her through it.
“A warm afternoon,” he said cordially.
“Yes, sir.”
“But pleasant,” urged the young man. “Tell me, is Mrs. Jackson at home?”
“No, sir.”
“Not at home?”
“No, sir.”
The young man sighed.
“Ah well,” he said, “we must always remember that these disappointments are sent to us for some good purpose. No doubt they make us more spiritual. Will you inform her that I called? The name is Psmith. P-smith.”
“Peasmith, sir?”
“No, no. P-s-m-i-t-h. I should explain to you that I started life without the initial letter, and my father always clung ruggedly14 to the plain Smith. But it seemed to me that there were so many Smiths in the world that a little variety might well be introduced. Smythe I look on as a cowardly evasion15, nor do I approve of the too prevalent custom of tacking16 another name[p. 40] on in front by means of a hyphen. So I decided17 to adopt the Psmith. The p, I should add for your guidance, is silent, as in phthisis, psychic18, and ptarmigan. You follow me?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“You don’t think,” he said anxiously, “that I did wrong in pursuing this course?”
“N-no, sir.”
“Splendid!” said the young man, flicking19 a speck1 of dust from his coat-sleeve. “Splendid! Splendid!”
And with a courteous20 bow he descended21 the steps and made his way down the street. The little maid, having followed him with bulging22 eyes till he was out of sight, closed the door and returned to her kitchen.
Psmith strolled meditatively23 on. The genial24 warmth of the afternoon soothed25 him. He hummed lightly—only stopping when, as he reached the end of the street, a young man of his own age, rounding the corner rapidly, almost ran into him.
“Sorry,” said the young man. “Hallo, Smith.”
Psmith gazed upon him with benevolent26 affection.
“Comrade Jackson,” he said, “this is well met. The one man of all others whom I would have wished to encounter. We will pop off somewhere, Comrade Jackson, should your engagements permit, and restore our tissues with a cup of tea. I had hoped to touch the Jackson family for some slight refreshment27, but I was informed that your wife was out.”
Mike Jackson laughed.
“Phyllis isn’t out. She . . .”
“Not out? Then,” said Psmith, pained, “there has been dirty work done this day. For I was turned from the door. It would not be exaggerating to say that I was given the bird. Is this the boasted Jackson hospitality?”
[p. 41]“Phyllis is giving a tea to some of her old school pals,” explained Mike. “She told the maid to say she wasn’t at home to anybody else. I’m not allowed in myself.”
“Enough, Comrade Jackson!” said Psmith agreeably. “Say no more. If you yourself have been booted out in spite of all the loving, honouring, and obeying your wife promised at the altar, who am I to complain? And possibly, one can console oneself by reflecting, we are well out of it. These gatherings28 of old girls’-school chums are not the sort of function your man of affairs wants to get lugged29 into. Capital company as we are, Comrade Jackson, we should doubtless have been extremely in the way. I suppose the conversation would have dealt exclusively with reminiscences of the dear old school, of tales of surreptitious cocoa-drinking in the dormitories and what the deportment mistress said when Angela was found chewing tobacco in the shrubbery. Yes, I fancy we have not missed a lot. . . . By the way, I don’t think much of the new home. True, I only saw it from the outside, but . . . no, I don’t think much of it.”
“Best we can afford.”
“And who,” said Psmith, “am I to taunt30 my boyhood friend with his honest poverty? Especially as I myself am standing31 on the very brink32 of destitution33.”
“You?”
“I in person. That low moaning sound you hear is the wolf bivouacked outside my door.”
“But I thought your uncle gave you rather a good salary.”
“So he did. But my uncle and I are about to part company. From now on he, so to speak, will take the high road and I’ll take the low road. I dine with him[p. 42] to-night, and over the nuts and wine I shall hand him the bad news that I propose to resign my position in the firm. I have no doubt that he supposed he was doing me a good turn by starting me in his fish business, but even what little experience I have had of it has convinced me that it is not my proper sphere. The whisper flies round the clubs ‘Psmith has not found his niche34!’
“I am not,” said Psmith, “an unreasonable35 man. I realise that humanity must be supplied with fish. I am not averse36 from a bit of fish myself. But to be professionally connected with a firm that handles the material in the raw is not my idea of a large life-work. Remind me to tell you some time what it feels like to sling37 yourself out of bed at four a.m. and go down to toil38 in Billingsgate Market. No, there is money in fish—my uncle has made a pot of it—but what I feel is that there must be other walks in life for a bright young man. I chuck it to-night.”
“What are you going to do, then?”
“That, Comrade Jackson, is more or less on the knees of the gods. To-morrow morning I think I will stroll round to an employment agency and see how the market for bright young men stands. Do you know a good one?”
“Phyllis always goes to Miss Clarkson’s in Shaftesbury Avenue. But . . .”
“Miss Clarkson’s in Shaftesbury Avenue. I will make a note of it . . . Meanwhile, I wonder if you saw the Morning Globe to-day?”
“No. Why?”
“I had an advertisement in it, in which I expressed myself as willing—indeed, eager—to tackle any undertaking39 that had nothing to do with fish. I am confidently expecting shoals of replies. I look forward[p. 43] to winnowing40 the heap and selecting the most desirable.”
“Pretty hard to get a job these days,” said Mike doubtfully.
“Not if you have something superlatively good to offer.”
“What have you got to offer?”
“My services,” said Psmith with faint reproach.
“What as?”
“As anything. I made no restrictions41. Would you care to take a look at my manifesto42? I have a copy in my pocket.”
Psmith produced from inside his immaculate waistcoat a folded clipping.
“I should welcome your opinion of it, Comrade Jackson. I have frequently said that for sturdy common sense you stand alone. Your judgment should be invaluable43.”
The advertisement, which some hours earlier had so electrified44 the Hon. Freddie Threepwood in the smoking-room at Blandings Castle, seemed to affect Mike, whose mind was of the stolid45 and serious type, somewhat differently. He finished his perusal46 and stared speechlessly.
“Neat, don’t you think?” said Psmith. “Covers the ground adequately? I think so, I think so.”
“Do you mean to say you’re going to put drivel like that in the paper?” asked Mike.
“I have put it in the paper. As I told you, it appeared this morning. By this time to-morrow I shall no doubt have finished sorting out the first batch47 of replies.”
Mike’s emotion took him back to the phraseology of school days.
Psmith restored the clipping to his waistcoat pocket.
[p. 44]“You wound me, Comrade Jackson,” he said. “I had expected a broader outlook from you. In fact, I rather supposed that you would have rushed round instantly to the offices of the journal and shoved in a similar advertisement yourself. But nothing that you can say can damp my buoyant spirit. The cry goes round Kensington (and district) ‘Psmith is off!’ In what direction the cry omits to state: but that information the future will supply. And now, Comrade Jackson, let us trickle48 into yonder tea-shop and drink success to the venture in a cup of the steaming. I had a particularly hard morning to-day among the whitebait, and I need refreshment.”
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1
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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speckless
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| adj.无斑点的，无瑕疵的 | |
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irreproachable
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| adj.不可指责的，无过失的 | |
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scaly
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| adj.鱼鳞状的；干燥粗糙的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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cavilled
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| v.挑剔，吹毛求疵( cavil的过去式 ) | |
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hordes
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| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
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situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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evergreen
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| n.常青树；adj.四季常青的 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ruggedly
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| 险峻地； 粗暴地； （面容）多皱纹地； 粗线条地 | |
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evasion
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| n.逃避，偷漏(税) | |
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tacking
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| （帆船）抢风行驶，定位焊[铆]紧钉 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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psychic
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| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
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flicking
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的现在分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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gatherings
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| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
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lugged
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| vt.用力拖拉（lug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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taunt
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| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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destitution
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| n.穷困，缺乏，贫穷 | |
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niche
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| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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sling
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| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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winnowing
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| v.扬( winnow的现在分词 )；辨别；选择；除去 | |
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41
restrictions
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| 约束( restriction的名词复数 )； 管制； 制约因素； 带限制性的条件（或规则） | |
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manifesto
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| n.宣言，声明 | |
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invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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44
electrified
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| v.使电气化( electrify的过去式和过去分词 )；使兴奋 | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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46
perusal
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| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
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47
batch
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| n.一批(组，群)；一批生产量 | |
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48
trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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