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The Coming of Bill

by P. G. Wodehouse

 

1920

Contents

 

 

BOOK ONE

Chapter I A Pawn of Fate

Chapter II Ruth States Her Intentions

Chapter III The Mates Meet

Chapter IV Troubled Waters

Chapter V Wherein Opposites Agree

Chapter VI Breaking the News

Chapter VII Sufficient Unto Themselves

Chapter VIII Suspense

Chapter IX The White Hope is Turned Down

Chapter X An Interlude of Peace

Chapter XI Stung to Action

Chapter XII A Climax

BOOK TWO

Chapter I Empty-handed

Chapter II An Unknown Path

Chapter III The Misadventure of Steve

Chapter IV The Widening Gap

Chapter V The Real Thing

Chapter VI The Outcasts

Chapter VII Cutting the Tangled Knot

Chapter VIII Steve to the Rescue

Chapter IX At One in the Morning

Chapter X Accepting the Gifts of the Gods

Chapter XI Mr. Penway on the Grill

Chapter XII Dolls with Souls

Chapter XIII Pastures New

Chapter XIV The Sixty-First Street Cyclone

Chapter XV Mrs. Porter's Waterloo

Chapter XVI The White-Hope Link

BOOK ONE

 

Chapter I A Pawn of Fate 

Mrs. Lora Delane Porter dismissed the hireling who had brought her

automobile around from the garage and seated herself at the wheel. It

was her habit to refresh her mind and improve her health by a daily

drive between the hours of two and four in the afternoon.

The world knows little of its greatest women, and it is possible that

Mrs. Porter's name is not familiar to you. If this is the case, I am

pained, but not surprised. It happens only too often that the uplifter

of the public mind is baulked by a disinclination on the part of the

public mind to meet him or her half-way. The uplifter does his share.

He produces the uplifting book. But the public, instead of standing

still to be uplifted, wanders off to browse on coloured supplements and

magazine stories.

If you are ignorant of Lora Delane Porter's books that is your affair.

Perhaps you are more to be pitied than censured. Nature probably gave

you the wrong shape of forehead. Mrs. Porter herself would have put

it down to some atavistic tendency or pre-natal influence. She put

most things down to that. She blamed nearly all the defects of the

modern world, from weak intellects to in-growing toe-nails, on

long-dead ladies and gentlemen who, safe in the family vault, imagined

that they had established their alibi. She subpoenaed grandfathers

and even great-grandfathers to give evidence to show that the reason

Twentieth-Century Willie squinted or had to spend his winters in

Arizona was their own shocking health 'way back in the days beyond

recall.

Mrs. Porter's mind worked backward and forward. She had one eye on the

past, the other on the future. If she was strong on heredity, she was

stronger on the future of the race. Most of her published works dealt

with this subject. A careful perusal of them would have enabled the

rising generation to select its ideal wife or husband with perfect

ease, and, in the event of Heaven blessing the union, her little

volume, entitled "The Hygienic Care of the Baby," which was all about

germs and how to avoid them, would have insured the continuance of the

direct succession.

Unfortunately, the rising generation did not seem disposed to a careful

perusal of anything except the baseball scores and the beauty hints in

the Sunday papers, and Mrs. Porter's public was small. In fact, her

only real disciple, as she sometimes told herself in her rare moods of

discouragement, was her niece, Ruth Bannister, daughter of John

Bannister, the millionaire. It was not so long ago, she reflected with

pride, that she had induced Ruth to refuse to marry Basil Milbank, a

considerable feat, he being a young man of remarkable personal

attractions and a great match in every way. Mrs. Porter's objection to

him was that his father had died believing to the last that he was a

teapot.

There is nothing evil or degrading in believing oneself a teapot, but

it argues a certain inaccuracy of the thought processes; and Mrs.

Porter had used all her influence with Ruth to make her reject Basil.

It was her success that first showed her how great that influence was.

She had come now to look on Ruth's destiny as something for which she

was personally responsible, a fact which was noted and resented by

others, in particular Ruth's brother Bailey, who regarded his aunt with

a dislike and suspicion akin to that which a stray dog feels towards

the boy who saunters towards him with a tin can in his hand.

To Bailey, his strong-minded relative was a perpetual menace, a sort of

perambulating yellow peril, and the fact that she often alluded to him

as a worm consolidated his distaste for her.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. Porter released the clutch and set out on her drive. She rarely

had a settled route for these outings of hers, preferring to zigzag

about New York, livening up the great city at random. She always drove

herself and, having, like a good suffragist, a contempt for male

prohibitions, took an honest pleasure in exceeding a man-made speed

limit.

One hesitates to apply the term "joy-rider" to so eminent a leader of

contemporary thought as the authoress of "The Dawn of Better Things,"

"Principles of Selection," and "What of To-morrow?" but candour compels

the admission that she was a somewhat reckless driver. Perhaps it was

due to some atavistic tendency. One of her ancestors may have been a

Roman charioteer or a coach-racing maniac of the Regency days. At any

rate, after a hard morning's work on her new book she felt that her

mind needed cooling, and found that the rush of air against her face

effected this satisfactorily. The greater the rush, the quicker the

cooling. However, as the alert inhabitants of ManhattanIsland, a hardy

race trained from infancy to dodge taxicabs and ambulance wagons, had

always removed themselves from her path with their usual agility, she

had never yet had an accident.

But then she had never yet met George Pennicut. And George, pawn of

fate, was even now waiting round the corner to upset her record.

George, man of all work to Kirk Winfield, one of the youngest and least

efficient of New York's artist colony, was English. He had been in

America some little time, but not long enough to accustom his rather

unreceptive mind to the fact that, whereas in his native land vehicles

kept to the left, in the country of his adoption they kept to the

right; and it was still his bone-headed practice, when stepping off the

sidewalk, to keep a wary look-out in precisely the wrong direction.