Uncle Fred in the Springtime by P.G. Wodehouse Read Free Book Online Page A

build. A few moments
later, he shot back again, and suddenly the Eggs, Beans and Crumpets assembled
at the bar were shocked to discover that some bounder, contrary to all club
etiquette, was making a speech.
    ‘Gentlemen!’
    The
babble died away, to be succeeded by a stunned silence, through which there
came the voice of Claude Pott, speaking with all the fervour and brio of
his Silver Ring days.
    ‘Gentlemen
and sportsmen, if I may claim your kind indulgence for one instant! Gentlemen
and sportsmen, I know gentlemen and sportsmen when I see them, and what I have
been privileged to overhear of your conversation since entering this room has
shown me that you are all gentlemen and sportsmen who are ready at all times to
take part in a little sporting flutter.’
    The
words ‘sporting flutter’ were words which never failed to touch a chord in the
members of the Drones Club. Something resembling warmth and sympathy began to
creep into the atmosphere of cold disapproval. How this little blister had
managed to worm his way into their smoking-room they were still at a loss to
understand, but the initial impulse of those present to bung him out on his ear
had softened into a more friendly desire to hear what he had to say.
    ‘Pott
is my name, gentlemen — a name at one time, I venture to assert, not unfamiliar
to patrons of the sport of kings, and though I have retired from active
business as a turf commission agent I am still willing to make a little book
from time to time to entertain sportsmen and gentlemen, and there’s no time
like the present. Here we all are — you with the money, me with the book — so I
say again, gentlemen, let’s have a little flutter. Gentlemen all, the Clothes
Stakes are about to be run.’
    Few
members of the Drones are at their brightest and alertest in the morning. There
was a puzzled murmur. A Bean said, ‘What did he say?’ and a Crumpet whispered, ‘The
what Stakes?’
    ‘I was
explaining the how-you-do-it of the Hat Stakes to my friend Mr Twistleton over
there, and the Clothes Stakes are run on precisely the same principle. There is
at the present moment a gentleman in the telephone booth along the corridor,
and I have just taken the precaution to instruct a page-boy to shove a wedge
under the door, thus ensuring that he will remain there and so accord you all
ample leisure in which to place your wagers. Coo!’ said Claude Pott, struck by
an unpleasant idea. ‘Nobody’s going to come along and let him out, are they?’
    ‘Of
course not!’ cried his audience indignantly. The thought of anybody wantonly
releasing a fellow member who had got stuck in the telephone booth, a thing
that only happened once in a blue moon, was revolting to them.
    ‘Then
that’s all right. Now then, gentlemen, the simple question you have to ask
yourselves is — What is the gentleman in the telephone booth wearing? Or
putting it another way — What’s he got on? Hence the term Clothes Stakes. It
might be one thing, or it might be another. He might be in his
Sunday-go-to-meetings, or he might have been taking a dip in the Serpentine and
be in his little bathing suit. Or he may have joined the Salvation Army. To
give you a lead, I am offering nine to four against Blue Serge, four to one Pin-Striped
Grey Tweed, ten to one Golf Coat and Plus Fours, a hundred to six Gymnasium
Vest and Running Shorts, twenty to one Court Dress as worn at Buckingham
Palace, nine to four the field. And perhaps you, sir,’ said Mr Pott, addressing
an adjacent Egg, ‘would be good enough to officiate as my clerk.’
    ‘That
doesn’t mean I can’t have a bit on?’
    ‘By no
means, sir. Follow the dictates of your heart and fear nothing.’
    ‘What
are you giving Herringbone Cheviot Lounge?’
    ‘Six to
one Herringbone Cheviot Lounge, sir.’
    ‘I’ll
have ten bob.’
    ‘Right,
sir. Six halves Herringbone Cheviot Lounge. Ready money, if you please sir. It’s
not that I don’t trust you, but I’m not allowed by