P. G. Wodehouse

“ Rutherford threw back his head and roared with laughter.
'I'm sorry!' he said. 'Slowness is our national failing, you know.'
'I believe you.'
'Tell me about yourself. You know all about me, by now. What do you do besides brightening up the dull evenings of poor devils of bank-clerks?'
'Give you three guesses.'
'Stage?'
'Gee! You're the human sleuth all right, all right! It's a home-run every time when you get your deductive theories unlimbered. Yes, George; the stage it is. I'm an actorine—one of the pony ballet in The Island of Girls at the Melody. ”

“ Rutherford raised his glass.
'Peggy,' he said, 'you're more than a mascot. You ought to be drawing a big commission on everything I write. It beats me how any of these other fellows ever write anything without you there to help them. I wonder what's the most expensive cigar they keep here? I must have it, whatever it is. Noblesse oblige. We popular playwrights mustn't be seen in public smoking any cheap stuff.'
It was Rutherford's artistic temperament which, when they left the restaurant, made him hail a taxi-cab. ”

“ There is never an hour of the day or night when Alcala is wholly asleep. The middle of the house is a sort of chorus-girl belt, while in the upper rooms there are reporters and other nightbirds. Long after he had gone to bed, Rutherford would hear footsteps passing his door and the sound of voices in the passage. ”

“ It might, as one critic pointed out, be more of a monologue act for Winfield Knight than a play, but that did not affect Rutherford.
It was late on the opening night when he returned to Alcala. He had tried to get away earlier. He wanted to see Peggy. But Winfield Knight, flushed with success, was in his most expansive mood. He seized upon Rutherford and would not let him go. There was supper, a gay, uproarious supper, at which everybody seemed to be congratulating everybody else. Men he had never met before shook him warmly by the hand. ”

“ What's the matter with you?'
'I'm sorry, Peggy,' he said. 'I'm a fool. It's only that it all seems so damned hopeless! Here am I, earning about half a dollar a year, and—Still, it's no use kicking, is it? Besides, I may make a home-run with my writing one of these days. That's what I meant when I said you were a Billiken, Peggy. Do you know, you've brought me luck. Ever since I met you, I've been doing twice as well. You're my mascot.'
'Bully for me! We've all got our uses in the world, haven't we? I wonder if it would help any if I was to kiss you, George?'
'Don't you do it. ”

“ Alcala was full once more. The nightly snatches of conversation outside his door had recommenced. He listened for her voice, but he never heard it.
He sat up, waiting, into the small hours, but she did not come. Once he had been trying to write, and had fallen, as usual, to brooding—there was a soft knock at the door. In an instant he had bounded from his chair, and turned the handle. It was one of the reporters from upstairs, who had run out of matches. Rutherford gave him a handful. The reporter went out, wondering what the man had laughed at.
There is balm in Broadway, especially by night. ”

“ In Alcala, as in most of New York's apartment houses, the schedule of prices is like a badly rolled cigarette—thick in the middle and thin at both ends. The rooms half-way up are expensive; some of them almost as expensive as if Fashion, instead of being gone for ever, were still lingering. The top rooms are cheap, the ground-floor rooms cheaper still. ”

“ Broadway's like that for you, George. You go back to the girl and the cows and all of it. It'll hurt some, I guess, but I reckon you'll be glad you did.'
She stooped swiftly, and kissed him on the forehead.
'I'll miss you, dear,' she said, softly, and was gone.
Rutherford sat on, motionless. Outside, the blackness changed to grey, and the grey to white. He got up. He felt very stiff and cold.
'A Broadway dream!' he muttered.
He went to the mantelpiece and took up the photograph. He carried it to the window where he could see it better. ”

“ I've got a story in this month's Wilson's. A long story, and paid accordingly. That's why I'm able to go about giving suppers to great actresses.'
'I read it on the train,' said Peggy. 'It's dandy. Do you know what you ought to do, George? You ought to turn it into a play. There's a heap of money in plays.'
'I know. But who wants a play by an unknown man?'
'I know who would want Willie in the Wilderness, if you made it into a play, and that's Winfield Knight. ”

“ And if you climb to the top of that cedar, you can see the river through the apple trees in the orchard. And in the distance there are hills. And—'
'Of all the rube joints!' exclaimed Peggy, in deep disgust. 'Why, a day of that would be about twenty-three hours and a bit too long for me. Broadway for mine! Put me where I can touch Forty-Second Street without over-balancing, and then you can leave me. I never thought you were such a hayseed, George.'
'Don't worry, Peggy. It'll be a long time, I expect, before I go there. ”

“ He's clever.'
'He's It, if he gets a part to suit him. If he doesn't, he don't amount to a row of beans. It's just a gamble. This thing he's in now is no good. The part doesn't begin to fit him. In a month he'll be squealing for another play, so's you can hear him in Connecticut.'
'He shall not squeal in vain,' said Rutherford. 'If he wants my work, who am I that I should stand in the way of his simple pleasures? I'll start on the thing tomorrow.'
'I can help you some too, I guess. I used to know Winfield Knight. ”

“ Taxi-cabs are not for young men drawing infinitesimal salaries in banks, even if those salaries are supplemented at rare intervals by a short story in a magazine. Peggy was for returning to Alcala by car, but Rutherford refused to countenance such an anti-climax. ”

“ The chuckle from the actor and the sigh of relief from Rutherford were almost simultaneous. Winfield Knight turned to him.
'That's a dandy line about golf,' said he.
Rutherford puffed complacently at his cigar.
'There's lots more of them in the piece,' he said.
'Bully for you,' said the actor. And went on reading.
Three-quarters of an hour passed before he spoke again. Then he looked up.
'It's me,' he said; 'it's me all the time. I wish I'd seen this before I put on the punk I'm doing now. This is me from the drive off the tee. It's great! ”

“ They are skinny, but he thinks them the limit. Better put in a shirt-sleeve scene for Willie somewhere.'
'He thinks he has a beautiful profile. Couldn't you make one of the girls say something about Willie having the goods in that line?'
'He is crazy about golf.'
'He is proud of his French accent. Couldn't you make Willie speak a little piece in French?'
'He' being Winfield Knight.
And so, little by little, the character of Willie grew, till it ceased to be the Willie of the magazine story, and became Winfield Knight himself, with improvements. The task began to fascinate Rutherford. ”

“ Rutherford looked at the girl in the doorway with interest. So this was Peggy. She was little, and trim of figure. That was how he had always imagined her. Her dress was simpler than the other's. The face beneath the picture-hat was small and well-shaped, the nose delicately tip-tilted, the chin determined, the mouth a little wide and suggesting good-humour. A pair of grey eyes looked steadily into his before transferring themselves to the statuesque being at the table.
'Don't monkey with the man's inkwell, Gladys. Come along up to bed.'
'What? Say, got a cigarette?'
'There's plenty upstairs. ”

“ Sometimes, when he came in after dinner to settle down to work, he would find a piece of paper on his table covered with her schoolgirl scrawl. It would run somewhat as follows:
'He is proud of his arms. ”