Mr Mulliner Speaking by P. G. Wodehouse Read Free Book Online Page B

looked at him keenly. It seemed plain to her that all that was wanted here was a couple of doctors with fountain-pens to sign the necessary certificate, but she was not dismayed. After all, as she reasoned with not a little shrewd sense, a gibbering artist is just as good as a sane artist, provided he makes no charge for painting portraits.
     
'Well, Mr Mulliner,' she said cheerily, dismissing from her mind the problem, which had been puzzling her a little, of why her son Cyprian had been in this studio behaving like the Scotch Express, 'Hermione has nothing to do this morning, so, if you are free, now would be a good time for the first sitting.'
     
Ignatius came out of his reverie.
     
'Sitting?'
     
'For the portrait.'
     
'What portrait?'
     
'Hermione's portrait.'
     
'You wish me to paint Miss Rossiter's portrait?'
     
'Why, you said you would – only last night.'
     
'Did I?' Ignatius passed a hand across his forehead. 'Perhaps I did. Very well. Kindly step to the desk and write out a cheque for fifty pounds. You have your book with you?'
     
'Fifty – what?'
     
'Guineas,' said Ignatius. 'A hundred guineas. I always require a deposit before I start work.'
     
'But last night you said you would paint her for nothing.'
     
'I said I would paint her for nothing?'
     
'Yes.'
     
A dim recollection of having behaved in the fatuous manner described came to Ignatius.
     
'Well, and suppose I did,' he said warmly. 'Can't you women ever understand when a man is kidding you? Have you no sense of humour? Must you always take every light quip literally? If you want a portrait of Miss Rossiter, you will jolly well pay for it in the usual manner. The thing that beats me is why you do want a portrait of a girl who not only has most unattractive features but is also a dull yellow in colour. Furthermore, she flickers. As I look at her, she definitely flickers round the edges. Her face is sallow and unwholesome. Her eyes have no sparkle of intelligence. Her ears stick out and her chin goes in. To sum up, her whole appearance gives me an indefinable pain in the neck: and, if you hold me to my promise, I shall charge extra for moral and intellectual damage and wear and tear caused by having to sit opposite her and look at her.'
     
With these words, Ignatius Mulliner turned and began to rummage in a drawer for his pipe. But the drawer contained no pipe.
     
'What!' cried Mrs Rossiter.
     
'You heard,' said Ignatius.
     
'My smelling-salts!' gasped Mrs Rossiter.
     
Ignatius ran his hand along the mantelpiece. He opened two cupboards and looked under the settee. But he found no pipe.
     
The Mulliners are by nature a courteous family: and, seeing Mrs Rossiter sniffing and gulping there, a belated sense of having been less tactful than he might have been came to Ignatius.
     
'It is possible,' he said, 'that my recent remarks may have caused you pain. If so, I am sorry. My excuse must be that they came from a full heart. I am fed to the tonsils with the human race and look on the entire Rossiter family as perhaps its darkest blots. I cannot see the Rossiter family. There seems to me to be no market for them. All I require of the Rossiters is their blood. I nearly got Cyprian with a dagger, but he was too quick for me. If he fails as a critic, there is always a future for him as a Russian dancer. However, I had decidedly better luck with George. I gave him the juiciest kick I have ever administered to human frame. If he had been shot from a gun he couldn't have gone out quicker. Probably he passed you on the stairs?'
     
'So that was what passed us!' said Hermione, interested. 'I remember thinking at the time that there was a whiff of George.'
     
Mrs Rossiter was staring, aghast.
     
'You kicked my son!'
     
'As squarely in the seat of the pants, madam,' said Ignatius with modest pride, 'as if I had been practising for weeks.'
     
'My stricken child!' cried Mrs Rossiter. And, hastening from the room, she ran down the stairs in quest of