A Prefect's Uncle by P. G. (Pelham Grenville) Wodehouse
page 87 of 176 (49%)
page 87 of 176 (49%)
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had caught his eye. On a bench at the extreme end of the platform sat a
youth. And a further scrutiny convinced the Bishop of the fact that the youth was none other than Master Reginald Farnie, late of Beckford, and shortly, or he would know the reason why, to be once more of Beckford. Other people besides himself, it appeared, could miss trains. Farnie was reading one of those halfpenny weeklies which--with a nerve which is the only creditable thing about them--call themselves comic. He did not see the Bishop until a shadow falling across his paper caused him to look up. It was not often that he found himself unequal to a situation. Monk in a recent conversation had taken him aback somewhat, but his feelings on that occasion were not to be compared with what he felt on seeing the one person whom he least desired to meet standing at his side. His jaw dropped limply, _Comic Blitherings_ fluttered to the ground. The Bishop was the first to speak. Indeed, if he had waited for Farnie to break the silence, he would have waited long. 'Get up,' he said. Farnie got up. 'Come on.' Farnie came. 'Go and get your machine,' said Gethryn. 'Hurry up. And now you will jolly well come back to Beckford, you little beast.' But before that could be done there was Gethryn's back wheel to be mended. This took time. It was nearly half past four before they started. |
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