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Psmith in the City by P. G. (Pelham Grenville) Wodehouse
page 13 of 215 (06%)
settled, and he had played for it once already at the beginning of the
holidays. His _debut_ had not been sensational, but it had been
promising. The fact that two members of the team had made centuries,
and a third seventy odd, had rather eclipsed his own twenty-nine not
out; but it had been a faultless innings, and nearly all the papers had
said that here was yet another Jackson, evidently well up to the family
standard, who was bound to do big things in the future.

The touch of gloom was contributed by his brother Bob to a certain
extent, and by his father more noticeably. Bob looked slightly
thoughtful. Mr Jackson seemed thoroughly worried.

Mike approached Bob on the subject in the billiard-room after dinner.
Bob was practising cannons in rather a listless way.

'What's up, Bob?' asked Mike.

Bob laid down his cue.

'I'm hanged if I know,' said Bob. 'Something seems to be. Father's
worried about something.'

'He looked as if he'd got the hump rather at dinner.'

'I only got here this afternoon, about three hours before you did. I
had a bit of a talk with him before dinner. I can't make out what's up.
He seemed awfully keen on my finding something to do now I've come down
from Oxford. Wanted to know whether I couldn't get a tutoring job or a
mastership at some school next term. I said I'd have a shot. I don't
see what all the hurry's about, though. I was hoping he'd give me a bit
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