Psmith, Journalist by P. G. (Pelham Grenville) Wodehouse
page 37 of 257 (14%)
page 37 of 257 (14%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
taken it?"
"Up to the present we have no means of ascertaining. The letters giving them the miss-in-baulk in no uncertain voice were only despatched yesterday. But it cannot affect us how they writhe beneath the blow. There is no reprieve." Mike roared with laughter. "It's the rummiest business I ever struck," he said. "I'm jolly glad it's not my paper. It's pretty lucky for you two lunatics that the proprietor's in Europe." Psmith regarded him with pained surprise. "I do not understand you, Comrade Jackson. Do you insinuate that we are not acting in the proprietor's best interests? When he sees the receipts, after we have handled the paper for a while, he will go singing about his hotel. His beaming smile will be a by-word in Carlsbad. Visitors will be shown it as one of the sights. His only doubt will be whether to send his money to the bank or keep it in tubs and roll in it. We are on to a big thing, Comrade Jackson. Wait till you see our first number." "And how about the editor? I should think that first number would bring him back foaming at the mouth." "I have ascertained from Comrade Windsor that there is nothing to fear from that quarter. By a singular stroke of good fortune Comrade Wilberfloss--his name is Wilberfloss--has been ordered |
|