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Updated: August 21, 2024
I shall certainly treasure it, though I must confess that from a purely spectacular standpoint it leaves me a little cold. However, I must not look a gift horse in the mouth eh, Baxter?" From afar came the silver booming of a gong. Lord Emsworth rose. "Time to dress for dinner? I had no idea it was so late. Baxter, you will be going past the museum door.
"Do as you think best, and I have no doubt our young sailor will turn out a shining character." It had been arranged that True Blue should visit Paul Pringle and his other friends at Emsworth before returning to his ship. The day for his leaving London was fixed.
"Do you know what he did to Mistress Martha Browning, his own cousin, you know, who lives at Emsworth with her aunt? He put a horsehair slily round her glass of wine, and tipped it over her best gray taffeta, and her aunt whipped her for the stain.
As this had suited George to perfection, he being desirous of getting rid of the Honorable Freddie at the earliest opportunity, he had not been inquisitive, and they had parted on the outskirts of the town without mutual confidences. George had then proceeded to the grocer's, and after that to another of the Market Blandings inns, not the Emsworth Arms, where he had bought the white wine.
This is a free country." "Exactly, your lordship," said Ashe approvingly. "You have touched the spot." "It all has to do with the theft of your scarab, Lord Emsworth. Somebody got into the museum and stole the scarab." "Ah, yes; ah, yes so they did. I remember now. You told me. Bad business that, my dear Baxter. Mr. Peters gave me that scarab. He will be most deucedly annoyed if it's lost.
He had disappointed them deeply by turning out to be the object of their quest. That he should not have been even grazed was too much. There was a cold silence as he slowly raised himself from the floor. As his eyes fell on the tongue, he started and remained gazing fixedly at it. Surprise paralyzed him. Lord Emsworth was also looking at the tongue and he leaped to a not unreasonable conclusion.
Several roads lead north through beautiful country, covered by lonely and unfrequented woodlands, to the Mardens. West Marden is about five miles from Emsworth and close to the Hampshire border; all the four villages which bear this name are among the most primitive in southern England.
It begins as an amusement and ends as an obsession. He was gloating over his treasures when the maid announced Lord Emsworth. A curious species of mutual toleration it could hardly be dignified by the title of friendship had sprung up between these two men, so opposite in practically every respect.
As a matter of fact, the house party at Blandings being in the main a gathering together of the Emsworth clan by way of honor and as a means of introduction to Mr. Peters and his daughter, the bride-of-the-house-to-be, most of the occupants of the housekeeper's room were old acquaintances and were renewing interrupted friendships at the top of their voices.
Baxter, he felt, was curiously irritating these days. He always seemed to be bobbing up. The Earl of Emsworth was conscious of a strong desire to be free from his secretary's company. He was efficient, yes invaluable indeed he did not know what he should do without Baxter; but there was no denying that his company tended after a while to become a trifle tedious.
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