Oct 03, Manuel Alfonseca rated it it was ok ENGLISH: A typical Wodehouse collection of sketches about an English protagonist who marries in the US with an American girl, and manages to get into all kinds of troubles, many of them with his father-in-law, whose belief that Archie does not deserve his daughter is his only point of agreement with Archie. In his first adventure, he is "pinched" by the New York police when he was getting dressed in the clothes of the master mind of a swindle, just because he had been locked out of another flat ENGLISH: A typical Wodehouse collection of sketches about an English protagonist who marries in the US with an American girl, and manages to get into all kinds of troubles, many of them with his father-in-law, whose belief that Archie does not deserve his daughter is his only point of agreement with Archie. In his first adventure, he is "pinched" by the New York police when he was getting dressed in the clothes of the master mind of a swindle, just because he had been locked out of another flat while dressed in a yellow bathing suit. In the second adventure he is seen by a famous actress while he is sneaking her pet snake into his room. This is just a sample of the string of absurd adventures Archie must go through.
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Oh no! Brewster drew a long breath. Rum coincidence and so forth! How would it be to bury the jolly old hatchet—start a new life—forgive and forget—learn to love each other—and all that sort of rot? How do we go? Is it a bet? Brewster remained entirely unsoftened by this manly appeal to his better feelings. You know how these things ARE! Young yourself once, and all that. I suppose you looked me up in Bradstreet before committing yourself?
I can see that, from your point of view, this must look like a bit of a wash-out! He felt embarrassed, His father-in-law was opening up all kinds of new lines of thought.
The general scheme was that I should kind of look round, you know, and nose about and buzz to and fro till something turned up. That was, broadly speaking, the notion! You expected to live on me?
Brewster exploded. I do not think much of it! Good God! I say, you go out of my hotel, knocking it as no one has ever knocked it since it was built, and you sneak straight off and marry my daughter without my knowledge.
Slipped the old bean, somehow. You know how one forgets things! There seems no way out of it. You think my hotel is a pretty poor hotel, eh?
Nothing doing! Do you understand what I mean? But not a cent do you get out me. And, if you want your shoes shined, you can pay for it yourself in the basement.
Do you understand? Now, is there anything more you want to ask? Oh, right-o! In their attitude towards America, visiting Englishmen almost invariably incline to extremes, either detesting all that therein is or else becoming enthusiasts on the subject of the country, its climate, and its institutions. Archie belonged to the second class. He liked America and got on splendidly with Americans from the start.
He was a friendly soul, a mixer; and in New York, that city of mixers, he found himself at home. The atmosphere of good-fellowship and the open-hearted hospitality of everybody he met appealed to him. There were moments when it seemed to him as though New York had simply been waiting for him to arrive before giving the word to let the revels commence.
Nothing, of course, in this world is perfect; and, rosy as were the glasses through which Archie looked on his new surroundings, he had to admit that there was one flaw, one fly in the ointment, one individual caterpillar in the salad. Daniel Brewster, his father-in-law, remained consistently unfriendly. Indeed, his manner towards his new relative became daily more and more a manner which would have caused gossip on the plantation if Simon Legree had exhibited it in his relations with Uncle Tom.
And this in spite of the fact that Archie, as early as the third morning of his stay, had gone to him and in the most frank and manly way, had withdrawn his criticism of the Hotel Cosmopolis, giving it as his considered opinion that the Hotel Cosmopolis on closer inspection appeared to be a good egg, one of the best and brightest, and a bit of all right. Archie, a true philosopher, bore this hostility with fortitude, but it worried Lucille.
I want him to realise what an angel you are. You ARE an angel, you know. He loves people who work. Brewster quite different that stimulated Archie. He was strongly of the opinion that any change in his father-in-law must inevitably be for the better.
A chance meeting with James B. Wheeler, the artist, at the Pen-and-Ink Club seemed to open the way. Archie since his arrival had been showered with these pleasant evidences of his popularity; and he was now an honorary member of so many clubs of various kinds that he had not time to go to them all.
There were the fashionable clubs along Fifth Avenue to which his friend Reggie van Tuyl, son of his Florida hostess, had introduced him. It was in these that Archie spent most of his time, and it was here that he made the acquaintance of J. Wheeler, the popular illustrator. To Mr. Wheeler, over a friendly lunch, Archie had been confiding some of his ambitions to qualify as the hero of one of the Get-on-or-get-out-young-man-step-lively-books.
Wheeler consumed eight fried potatoes in quick succession. He was an able trencherman. Is it a go? You can do that, surely? In the first five minutes muscles which he had not been aware that he possessed had started to ache like neglected teeth.
How they acquired the stamina to go through this sort of thing all day and then bound off to Bohemian revels at night was more than he could understand. You miserable, invertebrate worm. Why, a girl who was posing for me last week stood for a solid hour on one leg, holding a tennis racket over her head and smiling brightly withal. He wished he had never taken on this binge. In addition to his physical discomfort, he was feeling a most awful chump.
The cover on which Mr. Wheeler was engaged was for the August number of the magazine, and it had been necessary for Archie to drape his reluctant form in a two-piece bathing suit of a vivid lemon colour; for he was supposed to be representing one of those jolly dogs belonging to the best families who dive off floats at exclusive seashore resorts. Wheeler, a stickler for accuracy, had wanted him to remove his socks and shoes; but there Archie had stood firm.
He was willing to make an ass of himself, but not a silly ass. Wheeler, laying down his brush. Abstemious as a rule, there were moments when Archie found the Eighteenth Amendment somewhat trying. Wheeler shook his head. I added a few more raisins yesterday, to speed things up a bit. There is much virtue in your raisin. We lost an hour of good daylight to-day. I was here on the absolute minute. I had to hang about on the landing waiting for you.
Wheeler, impatiently, for the artist soul is always annoyed by petty details. He was relieved to find that his friend had also lagged by the wayside. The door of the studio was ajar, and he went in, to discover the place occupied by a lady of mature years, who was scrubbing the floor with a mop. He went into the bedroom and donned his bathing suit. When he emerged, ten minutes later, the charwoman had gone, but J.
Wheeler was still absent. Rather glad of the respite, he sat down to kill time by reading the morning paper, whose sporting page alone he had managed to master at the breakfast table. There was not a great deal in the paper to interest him. The usual bond-robbery had taken place on the previous day, and the police were reported hot on the trail of the Master-Mind who was alleged to be at the back of these financial operations.
A messenger named Henry Babcock had been arrested and was expected to become confidential. To one who, like Archie, had never owned a bond, the story made little appeal. He turned with more interest to a cheery half-column on the activities of a gentleman in Minnesota who, with what seemed to Archie, as he thought of Mr.
Daniel Brewster, a good deal of resource and public spirit, had recently beaned his father-in-law with the family meat-axe. It was only after he had read this through twice in a spirit of gentle approval that it occurred to him that J.
Wheeler was uncommonly late at the tryst. He looked at his watch, and found that he had been in the studio three-quarters of an hour. Archie became restless. Long-suffering old bean though he was, he considered this a bit thick. He got up and went out on to the landing, to see if there were any signs of the blighter. There were none. He began to understand now what had happened.
For some reason or other the bally artist was not coming to the studio at all that day. Probably he had called up the hotel and left a message to this effect, and Archie had just missed it.
Indiscretions of Archie
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Indiscretions Of Archie