The Girl on the Boat - Penn State University

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Mrs. Hignett’s mind was too fully occupied with other matters to allow her to dwell on this subject. “Eustace, there are men in the house!” This fact was just what Eustace had been wondering how to break to her. “I know,” he said uneasily. “You know!” Mrs. Hignett stared. “Did you hear them?” “Hear them?” said Eustace, puzzled. “<strong>The</strong> drawing-room window was left open, and there are two burglars in the hall!” “Oh, I say, no! That’s rather rotten!” said Eustace. “I saw them and heard them! I—oh!” Mrs. Hignett’s sentence trailed off into a suppressed shriek, as the door opened and Jane Hubbard came in. Jane Hubbard was a girl who by nature and training was well adapted to bear shocks. Her guiding motto in life was that helpful line of Horace—Aequam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem. (For the benefit of those who have not, like myself, enjoyed an expensive classical education,—memento—Take my tip—servare—preserve— <strong>The</strong> <strong>Girl</strong> on the Boat 180 aequam—an unruffled—mentem—mind—rebus in arduis— in every crisis). She had only been out of the room a few minutes, and in that brief period a middle-aged lady of commanding aspect had apparently come up through a trap. It would have been enough to upset most girls, but Jane Hubbard bore it calmly. All through her vivid life her bedroom had been a sort of cosy corner for murderers, alligators, tarantulas, scorpions, and every variety of snake, so she accepted the middle-aged lady without comment. “Good evening,” she said placidly. Mrs. Hignett, having rallied from her moment of weakness, glared at the new arrival dumbly. She could not place Jane. From the airy way in which she had strolled into the room, she appeared to be some sort of a nurse; but she wore no nurse’s uniform. “Who are you?” she asked stiffly. “Who are you?” asked Jane. “I,” said Mrs. Hignett portentously, “am the owner of this house, and I should be glad to know what you are doing in it. I am Mrs. Horace Hignett.”
A charming smile spread itself over Jane’s finely-cut face. “I’m so glad to meet you,” she said. “I have heard so much about you.” “Indeed?” said Mrs. Hignett coldly. “And now I should like to hear a little about you.” “I’ve read all your books,” said Jane. “I think they’re wonderful.” In spite of herself, in spite of a feeling that this young woman was straying from the point, Mrs. Hignett could not check a slight influx of amiability. She was an authoress who received a good deal of incense from admirers, but she could always do with a bit more. Besides, most of the incense came by post. Living a quiet and retired life in the country, it was rarely that she got it handed to her face to face. She melted quite perceptibly. She did not cease to look like a basilisk, but she began to look like a basilisk who has had a good lunch. “My favourite,” said Jane, who for a week had been sitting daily in a chair in the drawing-room adjoining the table on which the authoress’s complete works were P. G. Wodehouse 181 assembled, “is ‘<strong>The</strong> Spreading Light.’ I do like ‘<strong>The</strong> Spreading Light!’” “It was written some years ago,” said Mrs. Hignett with something approaching cordiality, “and I have since revised some of the views I state in it, but I still consider it quite a good text-book.” “Of course, I can see that ‘What of the Morrow?’ is more profound,” said Jane. “But I read ‘<strong>The</strong> Spreading Light’ first, and of course that makes a difference.” “I can quite see that it would,” agreed Mrs. Hignett. “One’s first step across the threshold of a new mind, one’s first glimpse ….” “Yes, it makes you feel ….” “Like some watcher of the skies,” said Mrs. Hignett, “when a new planet swims into his ken, or like ….” “Yes, doesn’t it!” said Jane. Eustace, who had been listening to the conversation with every muscle tense, in much the same mental attitude as that of a peaceful citizen in a Wild West Saloon who holds himself in readiness to dive under a table directly the shooting begins, began to relax. What
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THE GIRL ON THE BOAT BY P. G. WODEH
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THE GIRL ON THE BOAT BY P. G. WODEH
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THE GIRL ON THE BOAT CHAPTER I A Di
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Breakfast was on the table in the s
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“Oh, no! I play cricket a bit and
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he had had to leave for England him
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“No?” “I’m not a man who
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eggs and a rasher of ham get cut of
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ellers off. There
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He had said nothing. Not a sound, e
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“She was an extraordinarily prett
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“Did you explain about the trouse
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He wore a bowler hat, and from time
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He was still busy with this congeni
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his middle, and accompanied him bel
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“Where is she?” “Where’s wh
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ing pea-green, rolled over on his s
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said it was all right. So it’s al
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as utterly heartless. Marlowe regar
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“Green. There is
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“I see!” said Sam. He shot his
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“While you’re down there, just
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and the males in the audience will
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“I am the Bandolero!” sang Sam
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which he had had through the portho
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in the mental scale. This morning,
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“Oh, hello!” “Why, Bream!”
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the only girl in the world! I have
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“Then,” said B
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iage under conditions like that. Wh
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“I think you were hard on him. A
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“How do I look?” Eustace Hignet
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“Ah, well, it’s seven years ago
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oosting in all your life, I’m goi
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other, had come back and rendered p
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like a man who was seeing some ghas
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to the door and took the note from
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“That’s good.” “But you’r
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of blacking up! You talk as though
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“what have you to say for yoursel
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a couple of days since my engagemen
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was stopping, are in a class of bun
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of Sam he laid down both engines of
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“Very well, Sir Mallaby.” “Th
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“Oh, what’s the good of answeri
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gines. Probably you have been feeli
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Sam started at his parent’s splen
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would chill her to the bone, and ri
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start. Cool and distant. Out of the
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“Awfully sorry, father! Don’t k
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“We do not require a large place,
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you it isn’t in that woman to cha
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and claimed that England had seen f
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It was a superb morning. It was as
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comfort was acute. Insects, some wi
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“Hullo!” said Bream, with amiab
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4 EVEN INTO THE BLACKEST days there
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Hignett had stirred his memory. “
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He brooded for half an hour, and, a
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knockout blow; his number was up; a
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“Good-night, sir.” “Stop a mo
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Mr. Bennett had no pistol, but he d
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Mr. Bennett drew himself up as haug
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nary ball with the mashie which he
Page 129 and 130: “Dropped my pen!” he gurgled ag
Page 131 and 132: comfortable. Yesterday afternoon fa
Page 133 and 134: “But he may be lurking out there
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Page 137 and 138: Mortimer take a bowl of gold fish o
Page 139 and 140: consternation, he could not check a
Page 141 and 142: use. He had given this sensitive gi
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Page 145 and 146: Mr. Bennett scorched him with a loo
Page 147 and 148: “What do you mean, be very carefu
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Page 151 and 152: Grocery Stores in Windlehurst—app
Page 153 and 154: “Five!” ejaculated Mr. Bennett,
Page 155 and 156: me to America, because I thought I
Page 157 and 158: “Sitting on the gate, miss. Yes,
Page 159 and 160: foreground. How eagerly he would ju
Page 161 and 162: “Will you take this to Miss Benne
Page 163 and 164: heart, had bribed a tramp to simula
Page 165 and 166: to occupy Sam’s thoughts for a mo
Page 167 and 168: “Quite easily, sir. I can admit y
Page 169 and 170: those abridged passenger-lists whic
Page 171 and 172: All the proprietor in Mrs. Hignett
Page 173 and 174: auders was to be dislodged she must
Page 175 and 176: gagements, and she could by no mean
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Page 183 and 184: She sat in her chair and gulped; an
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Page 187 and 188: “Get out!” whispered Sam tensel
Page 189 and 190: a violent activity descended upon h
Page 191 and 192: finished leaping into the air. She
Page 193 and 194: “I’m going,” said Billie reso
Page 195 and 196: “If you don’t come quick, I’l
Page 197 and 198: “Yes,” said Mr. Bennett, remind
Page 199 and 200: “Get out and crank her.” Bream
Page 201 and 202: der her arms, lifted her like a kit
Page 203 and 204: There was a long s
Page 205 and 206: ing the helmet on the floor of the
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