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When he did speak, he seemed to be speaking to himself. Every now and then he would murmur a few words, sometimes a single name. In spite of himself, Mr Bickersdyke found himself listening. At first the murmurs conveyed nothing to him. Then suddenly a name caught his ear. Strowther was the name, and somehow it suggested something to him. He could not say precisely what.
I called on Lady Mary at the Cambridge, and told this to her, and she laughed until she cried. Then she said: "'Oh, Mr. Jimmie, promise me that you will tell the whole thing to mamma just as you have told it to me! "Imagine telling this to the Duchess of Strowther! "Again, I repeat, I enjoyed myself on your ranch. I particularly enjoyed seeing Bee do the bucolic.
'Mr Strowther, murmured Psmith, 'said that the hon. gentleman's remarks would have been nothing short of treason, if they had not been so obviously the mere babblings of an irresponsible lunatic. Cries of "Order, order," and a voice, "Sit down, fat-head!" For just one moment Mr Bickersdyke's memory poised motionless, like a hawk about to swoop. Then it darted at the mark.
He remembered the whole affair as if it had happened yesterday. It had been a speech of his own which had called forth the above expression of opinion from Strowther. He remembered Strowther now, a pale, spectacled clerk in Baxter and Abrahams, an inveterate upholder of the throne, the House of Lords and all constituted authority.
His absurd misadventures, however, came well within her ken, and this last one so tickled her fancy that I blush to say it, but it is true our imported Guernsey cow is responsible for Jimmie's invitation to Combe Abbey to visit the Duchess of Strowther, when Lady Mary goes home to her mother next May. This is how it happened.
It seemed to touch some chord of memory. He knew no one of the name of Strowther. He was sure of that. And yet it was curiously familiar. An unusual name, too. He could not help feeling that at one time he must have known it quite well.
Strowther had objected to the socialistic sentiments of his speech in connection with the Budget, and there had been a disturbance unparalleled even in the Tulse Hill Parliament, where disturbances were frequent and loud.... Psmith looked across at him with a bright smile. 'They report you verbatim, he said. 'And rightly. A more able speech I have seldom read.
Jimmie clutched my arm, and, with eyes as big as stars, said, in a tense whisper: "My dear, we are invited to Combe Abbey! Think of it! To visit the Duchess of Strowther! Lady Mary is going to write to her mother immediately!" If it had been anybody except dear Mrs. Jimmie, I should have said: "Is she going to invite the cow, too?"
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