Miss Plum and Miss Penny by Dorothy Evelyn Smith

Author:Dorothy Evelyn Smith
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2020-06-17T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

1.

It wasn’t so foul up at old Hartley’s, after all, Ronnie decided.

Sprawled luxuriously amongst foam rubber cushions before a brightly blazing fire, his stomach comfortably distended with the appetizing supper Stanley had provided, Ronnie was convinced that this was the life. Make a lot of money and spend it on yourself. Be a bachelor gay, and to hell with all women (except, of course, when you were being especially gay.)

Gazing around the pleasant room he realized that Stanley did himself very proud indeed. The heavy velvet curtains, the softly shaded lights, the cushions of velvet and silk, the delicate china, the gleam of fluted silver—all this was surely not the result of merely being a bank manager in a provincial town. Stocks and shares—that’s what it would be. Buying cheap and selling out—bingo!—just at the right moment. That’s how it was done. There was a fellow at school whose father made thousands overnight. Of course, he sometimes lost thousands, too, but that was the fun of the game, Dysart said.

Dysart always seemed to be in the money, anyway. His people were going to Austria next summer and Dysart had promised that if Ronnie would do all his latin prep for him, he’d wangle an invitation for him to join the party. It might be possible to get some tips from Dysart’s old man. An earnest, respectful attitude. “I see, sir. Yes, sir. No, sir, of course not. I say, sir, how absolutely wizard!” All that old stuff. Ronnie had found that it usually paid off pretty well.

It had gone down well with Cooper’s old man in Italy, last Easter. The Coopers were in oil and, at that time, Ronnie had rather fancied himself in oil.

The Italy adventure had been all right, but it had been spoiled for Ronnie because the Coopers had imagined that he would yearn to attend the Protestant church twice each Sunday, on account of Pop being a parson.

Of course, Pop was nuts on this idea of Ronnie being a parson too. Me, a parson—give me strength! thought Ronnie. Don’t make me laugh!

He did laugh a little, and Stanley broke off his conversation with Hubert to inquire indulgently: “Are we to be let in on the joke?”

“No,” said Ronnie. And as an afterthought added: “I don’t think either of you is old enough.”

In the ensuing merriment the conversation became more general. Ronnie found it rather pleasant to be included in male, adult talk that touched lightly on politics, art, travel, books and education. He spoke with modest authority on Rome and Florence, secure in the knowledge that Stanley had never been out of England, and Hubert no farther than France—and that many years ago, when he had gone hiking through Normandy with other impecunious undergraduates. He was deferential on politics, humorous on education, admittedly ignorant on the subjects of art and literature. He made quite an impression. Even Stanley mellowed toward him.

What a dear boy he is, Hubert thought fondly. What a good boy. How I

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.