Free A Few Quick Ones by P. G. Wodehouse Page B

Manor did little to smooth the former and raise the latter. Shown into the hall, I found myself in as cosy an interior as one could wish - large log fire, comfortable chairs and a tea-table that gave out an invigorating aroma of buttered toast and muffins, all very pleasant to encounter after a long drive on a chilly winter afternoon - but a single glance at the personnel was enough to tell me that I had struck one of those joints where every prospect pleases and only man is vile.
    Three human souls were present when I made my entry, each plainly as outstanding a piece of cheese as Hampshire could provide. One was a small, thin citizen with a beard of the type that causes so much distress - my host, I presumed - and seated near him was another bloke of much the same construction but an earlier model, whom I took to be the father. He, too, was bearded to the gills. The third was a large spreading woman wearing the horn-rimmed spectacles which are always an occupational risk for penpushers of the other sex. They gave her a rather remarkable resemblance to my Aunt Agatha, and I would be deceiving my public were I to say that the heart did not sink to some extent. To play on such a woman as on a stringed instrument wasn't going to be the simple task Aunt Dahlia appeared to think it.
    After a brief pause for station identification, she introduced me to the gang, and I was on the point of doing the civil thing by asking Everard Fothergill if he had been painting anything lately, when he stiffened.
    "Hark!" he said. "Can you hear a mewing cat?"
    "Eh?" I said.
    "A mewing cat. I feel sure I hear a mewing cat. Listen!"
    While we were listening the door opened and Aunt Dahlia came in. Everard put the 64,000-dollar question squarely up to her.
    "Mrs. Travers, did you meet a mewing cat outside?"
    "No," said the aged relative. "No mewing cat. Why, did you order one?"
    "I can't bear mewing cats," said Everard. "A mewing cat gets on my nerves."
    That was all about mewing cats for the moment. Tea was dished out, and I had a couple of bits of buttered toast, and so the long day wore on till it was time to dress for dinner. The Fothergill contingent pushed off, and I was heading in the same direction, when Aunt Dahlia arrested my progress.
    "Just a second, Bertie, before you put on your clean dickey," she said. "I would like to show you something."
    "And I," I riposted, "would like to know what this job is you say you want me to do for you."
    "I'll be coming, to that later. This thing I'm going to show you is tied in with it. But first a word from our sponsor. Did you notice anything about Everard Fothergill just now?"
    I reviewed the recent past.
    "Would you describe him as perhaps a bit jumpy? He seemed to me to be stressing the mewing cat motif rather more strongly than might have been expected."
    "Exactly. He's a nervous wreck. Cornelia tells me he used to be very fond of cats."
    "He still appears interested in them."
    "It's this blasted picture that has sapped his morale."
    "Which blasted picture would that be?"
    "I'll show you. Step this way."
    She led me into the dining-room and switched on the light. "Look," she said.
    What she was drawing to my attention was a large oil painting. A classical picture, I suppose you would have called it. Stout female in the minimum of clothing in conference with a dove.
    "Venus?" I said. It's usually a safe bet.
    "Yes. Old Fothergill painted it. He's just the sort of man who would paint a picture of Ladies Night In A Turkish Bath and call it Venus. He gave it to Everard as a wedding present."
    "Thus saving money on the customary fish-slice. Shrewd, very shrewd. And I gather from what you were saying that the latter does not like it."
    "Of course he doesn't. It's a mess. The old boy's just an incompetent amateur. But being devoted to .his father and not wanting to hurt his feelings Everard can't have it taken down and put in the cellar. He's stuck with it, and has to sit looking at it every time he puts on