VISITORS AT THE OFFICE
On the following morning Mike had to leave with the team for
Philadelphia. Psmith came down to the ferry to see him off, and
hung about moodily until the time of departure.
"It is saddening me to a great extent, Comrade Jackson," he said,
"this perpetual parting of the ways. When I think of the happy
moments we have spent hand-in-hand across the seas, it fills me
with a certain melancholy to have you flitting off in this manner
without me. Yet there is another side to the picture. To me there
is something singularly impressive in our unhesitating reply to the
calls of Duty. Your Duty summons you to Philadelphia, to knock the
cover off the local bowling. Mine retains me here, to play my part
in the great work of making New York sit up. By the time you
return, with a century or two, I trust, in your bag, the good work
should, I fancy, be getting something of a move on. I will complete
the arrangements with regard to the flat."
After leaving Pleasant Street they had found Fourth Avenue by a
devious route, and had opened negotiations for a large flat near
Thirtieth Street. It was immediately above a saloon, which was
something of a drawback, but the landlord had assured them that the
voices of the revellers did not penetrate to it.
* * *
When the ferry-boat had borne Mike off across the river, Psmith
turned to stroll to the office of _Cosy Moments_. The day was fine,
and on the whole, despite Mike's desertion, he felt pleased with
life. Psmith's was a nature which required a certain amount of
stimulus in the way of gentle excitement; and it seemed to him that
the conduct of the remodelled _Cosy Moments_ might supply this. He
liked Billy Windsor, and looked forward to a not unenjoyable time
till Mike should return.
The offices of _Cosy Moments_ were in a large building in the street
off Madison Avenue. They consisted of a sort of outer lair, where
Pugsy Maloney spent his time reading tales of life in the prairies
and heading off undesirable visitors; a small room, which would
have belonged to the stenographer if _Cosy Moments_ had possessed
one; and a larger room beyond, which was the editorial sanctum.
As Psmith passed through the front door, Pugsy Maloney rose.
"Say!" said Master Maloney.
"Say on, Comrade Maloney," said Psmith.
"Dey're in dere."
"Who, precisely?"
"A whole bunch of dem."
Psmith inspected Master Maloney through his eye-glass. "Can
you give me any particulars?" he asked patiently. "You are
well-meaning, but vague, Comrade Maloney. Who are in there?"
"De whole bunch of dem. Dere's Mr. Asher and the Rev. Philpotts and
a gazebo what calls himself Waterman and about 'steen more of dem."
A faint smile appeared upon Psmith's face.
"And is Comrade Windsor in there, too, in the middle of them?"
"Nope. Mr. Windsor's out to lunch."
"Comrade Windsor knows his business. Why did you let them in?"
"Sure, dey just butted in," said Master Maloney complainingly. "I
was sittin' here, readin' me book, when de foist of de guys blew
in. 'Boy,' says he, 'is de editor in?' 'Nope,' I says. 'I'll go in
an' wait,' says he. 'Nuttin' doin',' says I. 'Nix on de goin' in
act.' I might as well have saved me breat'. In he butts, and he's
in der now. Well, in about t'ree minutes along comes another
gazebo. 'Boy,' says he, 'is de editor in?' 'Nope,' I says. 'I'll
wait,' says he lightin' out for de door. Wit dat I sees de
proposition's too fierce for muh. I can't keep dese big husky guys
out if dey's for buttin' in. So when de rest of de bunch comes
along, I don't try to give dem de t'run down. I says, 'Well,
gents,' I says, 'it's up to youse. De editor ain't in, but if youse
wants to join de giddy t'rong, push t'roo inter de inner room. I
can't be boddered.'"
"And what more _could_ you have said?" agreed Psmith approvingly.
"Tell me, Comrade Maloney, what was the general average aspect of
these determined spirits?"
"Huh?"
"Did they seem to you to be gay, lighthearted? Did they carol
snatches of song as they went? Or did they appear to be looking
for some one with a hatchet?"
"Dey was hoppin'-mad, de whole bunch of dem."
"As I suspected. But we must not repine, Comrade Maloney. These
trifling contretemps are the penalties we pay for our high
journalistic aims. I will interview these merchants. I fancy that
with the aid of the Diplomatic Smile and the Honeyed Word I may
manage to pull through. It is as well, perhaps, that Comrade
Windsor is out. The situation calls for the handling of a man of
delicate culture and nice tact. Comrade Windsor would probably have
endeavoured to clear the room with a chair. If he should arrive
during the _séance_, Comrade Maloney, be so good as to inform him of
the state of affairs, and tell him not to come in. Give him my
compliments, and tell him to go out and watch the snowdrops growing
in Madison Square Garden."
"Sure," said Master Maloney.
Then Psmith, having smoothed the nap of his hat and flicked a speck
of dust from his coat-sleeve, walked to the door of the inner room
and went in.