09 - Selected Short Stories - Archibald's Benefit

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter nine of The Man Upstairs and Other Stories. This
is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the
public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit
LibriVox dot org. Recording by Mike Harris. The Man Upstairs
by P. G. Woodhouse, Chapter nine, Archibald's Benefit. Archibald Meeeling

(00:26):
was one of those golfers in whom desire outruns performance.
Nobody could have been more willing than Archibald. He tried,
and he tried very hard. Every morning, before he took
his bath, he'd stand in front of his mirror and
practice swings. Every night before he went to bed, he'd
read the golden words of some master on the subject
of potting, driving, or approaching. Yet on the links, most

(00:48):
of his time was spent in retrieving lost balls or
replacing pieces of American Whither it was that Archibald pressed
too much or pressed too little, Whether it was that
his club deviated from the dotted line which joined the
two points A and B in the illustrated plate of
the man making the brassy shot in the Hints on

(01:09):
Golf book, or whither it was that he was pursued
by some malignant fate. I do not know. Archibald rather
favored the last theory. The important point is that in
his thirty first year, after six seasons of untiring effort,
Archibald went in for a championship and won it. Archibald,

(01:29):
mark you, whose golf was a kind of blend of hockey,
Swedish drill and buck and wing dancing. I know the
ordeal I must face when I make such a statement.
I see clearly before me the solid phalanx of men
from Missouri, some urging me to tell it to the
King of Denmark, others insisting that I produce my eskimos. Nevertheless,
I do not shrink. I state once more that in

(01:52):
his thirty first year, Archibald Mealing went in for a
golf championship and won it. Archibald belonged to a select
little golf club, the members of which lived and worked
in New York, but played in New Jersey. Men of substance,
financially as well as physically. They had combined their superfluous

(02:12):
cash and with it purchased a strip of land close
to the sea. This land had been drained to the
huge discomfort of a colony of mosquitoes who had come
to look on the place as their own private property
and converted it into lynks, which had become a sort
of refuge for incompetent golfers. The members of the Cape
Pleasant Club were easy going refugees from other and more

(02:34):
exacting clubs, men who pottered rather than raced round of
the lynx. Men in short, who had grown tired of
having to stop their game and stand aside in order
to allow perspiring experts to whiz past them. The Cape
Pleasant golfers did not make themselves slaves to the game.
Their language when they foozled was gently regretful rather than sulfurous.

(02:56):
The moment in the day's play which they enjoyed most
was when they were set well, here's luck in the clubhouse.
It will therefore be readily understood that Archibald's inabilitateor do
a hole in single figures did not handicap him at
Cape Pleasant as it might have done at Saint Andrew's.
His kindly clubmates took him to their bosoms to a man,

(03:17):
and looked on him as a brother. Archibald's was one
of those admirable natures which prompted the possessor frequently to
remark these are on me, and his fellow golfers were
not slow to appreciate the fact they all loved Archibald.
Archibald was on the floor of his bedroom one afternoon,

(03:37):
picking up the fragments of his mirror. A friend had
advised him to practice the Walter J. Travis Lofting shot.
When the telephone bell rang, he took up the receiver
and was hailed by the comfortable voice of Mackay, the
club secretary. Is that meeeling, asked Mackay. Say Archie, I'm
putting your name down for our championship competition. That's right,

(03:57):
isn't it? Sure, said Archibald. When does it start next Saturday? Oh?
That's me. Good for you. Oh oh oh, Archie. Hello,
A man I met to day told me you were engaged.
Is that a fact? Sure, murmured Archibald blushfully. The wire
hummed with Mackay's congratulations. Oh thanks, says Archibald. Thanks, o man.

(04:21):
What oh oh, yes, Milsom's her name. By the way,
her family have taken a cottage at Cape Pleasant for
the summer, some distance from the Lynx. Very convenient, isn't it. Goodbye?
Archibald hung up the receiver and resumed his task of
gathering up the fragments. Now Mackay happened to be of
a romantic and sentimental nature. He was, by profession a

(04:42):
chartered accountant and inclined to be stout, and all rather
stout charted accountants are sentimental. Mackay was a sort of
man who keeps old ball programs in bundles of letters
tied round with lilac ribbon at country houses, where they
lingered in the porch after dinner to watch them moonlight
flooding the quiet garden. It was Mackay and his colleague

(05:04):
who lingered longest. Mackay knew ellow Wheeler Wincox by heart,
and could take browning without anesthetics. It's not to be
wondered at, therefore, that Archibald's re mark about his fiancee
coming to live at Cape Pleasant should give him food
for thought. It appealed to him. He reflected on it

(05:25):
a good deal during the day, and running across sigsby
a fellow Cape pleasanterer, after dinner that night at the
Cybrights Club, he spoke of the matter to him. It
so happened that both had dined excellently, and looking on
the world with a sort of cozy benevolence. They were
in the mood when men pat small boys on the
head and ask him if they mean to be president
when they grow up, said Mackay. I called up Archie

(05:49):
kneeling to day. Do you know he was engaged? I
did hear something about it? Girl of the name of
Wilson or Milsom, she's going to spend the summer at
Cape Pleasant, Archie tells me, well, then she'll have a
chance of seeing him play in the championship competition. Mackay
sucked his cigar in silence for a while, watching with

(06:09):
dreamy eyes the blue smoke as it curled ceiling with
Then when he spoke, his voice was singularly soft. Do
you know, Sigsby, he said, sipping his maraschino with a
gentle melancholy. Do you know there's something wonderfully pathetic to
me in this business? I see the whole thing so clearly.
There was a kind of quiver in the poor old

(06:31):
Chap's voice when he said she is coming to Kay Pleasant,
which told me more than any words could have done
to tragedy in its way. Sixby, we may smile at it,
think it trivial, but it is none the less a tragedy.
That warm hearted, enthusiastic girl, all eagerness to see the
man she loves do well, Archie, poor old Archie, all

(06:51):
on fire to prove to her that her trust in
him is not misplaced. In the end, disillusionment, disappointment, unhappiness.
He ought to keep his eye on the ball, said
the more practical Sigsby, quite possibly, continued Mackay. He has
told her that he will win this championship if Archie's

(07:12):
mut enough to have told her that, says Sigsby. Decidedly,
he deserves all he gets. Walter two Scotch high balls.
Mackay was in no mood to subscribe to this stony
hearted view, I tell you, he said. I'm sorry for Archie,
I am sorry for the poor old Chap, and I'm
more than sorry for the girl. Well, I don't see

(07:35):
what we can do, said Sixby. We can hardly be
expected to foozle on purpose just to let Archie show
off before his girl. Mackay paused in the act of
lighting his cigar as once smitten with a great thought.
Why not? He said, why not? Sixby SIXB You've hit it, eh,
you have, I tell you Sixby, You've solved the whole thing.

(07:57):
Archie is such a bully, good fellow. Why not give
him a bit of it? Why not let him win
this championship. You aren't going to tell me that you
care whether you win a tin medal or not. Sigsby's
benevolence was expanding under the influence of the Scotch high
ball and his cigar. Little acts of kindness on Archie's part.
Here a cigar, there, a lunch at another time. Seats

(08:17):
for the theater began to rise to the surface of
his memory like rainbow colored bubbles. He wavered, yes, But
what about the rest of the men, Sigby said, There'll
be dozen of more in for the medal. Oh, we
can square them, said Mackay. Confidently. We will broach the
matter to them at a series of dinners at which

(08:38):
we will be joint hosts. They are white men, will
be charmed to do a little thing like that for
a sport like Archie. How about gossip, said Sigsby. Mackay's
voice clouded. Gossip was an unpopular subject with members of
the Cape Pleasant Golf Club. He was the serpent in
their eden. Nobody seemed quite to know how he got in,

(08:59):
but they're un fortunately he was. Gossip had introduced himTo
kpe pleasant golf, a cheerless atmosphere of the rigor of
the game. It was to enable them to avoid just
such golfers as Gossip that the Cape Pleasanters had founded
their club. Genial courtesy, rather than strict attention to the rules,
had been the leading characteristics of their play till his arrival.

(09:22):
Up to that time, it had been looked on as
a rather bad form to exact a penalty. A cheery
give and take system had prevailed. Then Gossip had come
full of strange rules and created about the same stir
in the community which a hawk would create in a
gathering of middle aged doves. You can't square Gossip, said Sigsby.

(09:45):
Mackay looked unhappy, and I forgot him, he said. Of course,
nothing will stop him trying to win. I wish we
could think of something. I would almost as soon see
him lose as Archie win. But after all he does
have off day. Sometimes you need to have a very
off day to be as bad as Archie. They sat
and smoked in silence. I've got it, said Sixby. Suddenly.

(10:08):
Gossip is a fine golfer, but nervous. If we upset
his nerves enough, he'll go right off his stroke. Couldn't
we think of some way? Mackay reached out for his glass.
Yours is a noble nature, Sigsby, he said, Oh, no,
said the paragon, modestly have another cigar, in order that

(10:30):
the reader may get the mental half. Nelson on the
plot of this narrative, which is so essential if a
short story is to charm, elevate, and instruct. It is
necessary now for the nonce, but only for the nonce
to inspect Archie's past life. Archibald, as he had stated
to Mackay, was engaged to a Miss Milsom, Miss Margaret Milsom.

(10:51):
How few men, dear reader, are engaged to girls with
felt figures, brown hair and large, blue eyes, now sparkling
and vivacious, now dreamy and so but always large and blue.
How few I say you are a dear reader, and
so am I? But who else? Archibald was one of
the few who happened to be He was happy. It

(11:12):
is true that Margaret's mother was not, as it were,
wrapped up in him. She exhibited none of that evervescent
joy at his appearance, which we liked to see in
our mothers in law. Elect On the contrary, she generally
cried bitterly whenever she saw him, and at the end
of ten minutes was apt to retire, sobbing to her room,
where she remained in a state of semi coma till

(11:33):
an advanced hour. She was, by way of being a
confirmed invalid, and something about Archibald seemed to get right
in among her nerve centers, reducing them for the time
being to a complicated hash. She did not like Archibald,
she said, she liked big manly men. Behind his back,
she not infrequently referred to him as a gabby, sometimes

(11:56):
even as that guffin. She did not do this to Margaret,
for Margaret, besides being blue eyed, was also a shade
quick tempered. Whenever missus Milsom discussed Archibald, it was with
her son Stuyvesant. Stuyvesant Milsom, who thought Archibald a bit
of an ass, was always ready to sit and listen
to his mother on the subject. It being, however, an

(12:18):
understood thing that at the conclusion of the seance, she
yielded one or two saffron colored builds towards his racing debts.
But Stuyvesant, having developed a habit of backing horses which
either did not start at all or else sat down
and thought in the middle of the race, could always
do with ten dollars or so. His prices for these
interviews worked out, as a rule, not about three cents

(12:40):
a word. In these circumstances, it was perhaps natural that
Archibald and Margaret should prefer to meet when they did
meet at some other spot than the milsomb home. It
suited them both better that they should arrange a secret
tryst on these occasions. Archibald preferred it because being in
the same room with Missus milsom Or always made him
feel like a murderer with particularly large feet. And Margaret

(13:04):
preferred it because, as she told Archibald, these secret meetings
lent a touch of poetry to what might otherwise have
been a commonplace engagement. Archibald thought this charming, but at
the same time he could not conceal from himself the
fact that Margaret's passion for the poetic cut so to speak.
Both ways. He admired and loved the loftiness of her soul,

(13:26):
but on the other hand, it was a tough job
having to live up to it. For Archibald was a
very ordinary young man. They had tried to inoculate him
with the love of poetry at school, but it had
not taken until he was thirty. He had been satisfied
to class all poetry except that of mister George Cohen
under the general heading of punk. Then he met Margaret,

(13:48):
and the trouble began. On the day he first met
her at a picnic, she looked so soulful, so aloof
from this world, that he had felt instinctively that here
was a girl who expected more from a man than
a mere statement of the weather was great. It so
chanced that he knew just one quotation from the classics
to wit Tennyson's critique of the island Valley of Avillon.

(14:09):
He knew this because he had had the passage to
write out one hundred and fifty times at school on
the occasion of his being caught smoking by one of
the faculty, who happened to be a passionate admirer of
the idols of the King. A remark of Margaret's that
it was a splendid day for a picnic, and that
the country looked nice gave him his opportunity. It reminds me,

(14:30):
he said, It reminds me strongly the island valley of Avillon,
where falls not hail or rain or any snow or
ever wind blows loudly, but it lies deep, meadowed, happy, fair,
with orchard lawns. He broke off here to squash a hornet,
but Margaret had heard enough. Are you fond of the poets,
mister meeling, she said, with a far off look. Me,

(14:52):
said Archibald, fervently, me why I eat em alive? And
that was how all the trouble had started. It had
meant unremitting toil for Archibald. He felt it he had
set himself a standard from which he must not fall.
He bought every new volume of poetry which was praised
in the press, and learned the reviews by heart. Every

(15:13):
evening he read painfully a portion of the classics. He
plodded through the poetry sections of Bartlet's familiar quotations. Margaret's
devotion to the various bards was so enthusiastic, and her
reading so wide, that there were times when Archibald wondered
if he could endure the strain. But he persevered heroically
and so far had not been found wanting ah, but

(15:35):
the strain was fearful. The early stages of became pleasant
golf tournament need no detailed description. The rules of match
play governed the contests, and Archibald disposed of his first
three opponents before the twelfth hole. He had been definite
when he teed off with Mackay in the first round,

(15:55):
but finding that he defeated the secretary with ease, he
met one Butler in the second round with more confidence,
Butler too he routed, with the result that by the
time he faced sixby in round three, he was practically
the conquering hero. Fortune seemed to be beaming upon him
with almost insipid sweetness. When he was trapped in the

(16:16):
bunker of the seventh hole. Sigsby became trapped as well
when he sliced at the sixth tee. Sigsby pulled an Archibald,
striking a brilliant vein, did the next three holes in eleven,
nine and twelve, and romping home qualified for the final.
Gossip that Serpent, meanwhile, had beaten each of his three

(16:38):
opponents without much difficulty. The final was fixed for the
following Thursday morning. Gossitt, who was a broker, had made
some frivolous objection about the difficulty of absenting himself from
Wall Street, but had been overruled when Sigsby pointed out
that he could easily defeat Archibald and get to the
city by lunch time if he wished, and that in
any case his partner would be looking after things. He

(17:00):
allowed himself to be persuaded, though reluctantly. It was a
well known fact that Gossip was in the midst of
some rather sizeable deals at that time. Thursday morning suited
Archibald admirably. It had occurred to him that he could
bring off a double event. Margaret had arrived at Cape
Pleasant on the previous evening, and he had arranged by
telephone to meet her at the end of the boardwalk,

(17:22):
which was about a mile from the Lynks, at one
o'clock supplier with lunch, and spend the afternoon with her
on the water. If he started his match with Gossip
at eleven thirty, he would have plenty of time to
have his game and be at the end of the
boardwalk at the appointed hour. He had no delusions about
the respective merits of Gossip and himself. As golfers, he

(17:42):
knew that Gossip would win the necessary ten holes off
the reel. It was saddening, but it was a scientific fact.
There was no avoiding it. One simply had to face it.
Having laid these plans, he caught the train on the
Thursday morning with the consoling feeling that however sadly the
morning might begin, it was bound to end well. Well.
The day was fine, the sun warm but tempered with

(18:03):
a light breeze. One or two of the club had
come to watch the match, among them Sigsby. Sigsby drew
Gossip aside. You must let me carry for you, old man,
he said. I I know your temperaments so exactly. I
know how little it takes to put you off your stroke.
In an ordinary game, you might take one of these boys,
I know. But on an important occasion like this you

(18:24):
must not risk it. A grubby boy, probably with a squint,
would almost certainly get on your nerves. He might even
make comments on the game or whistle that. I understand you.
You must let me carry your clubs. It's very good
of yours, said Gossip. Oh not at all, said Sigsby.
Archibald was now preparing to drive off from the first tea.

(18:46):
He did this with great care. Everyone who has seen
Archibald Mealing play golf knows that his teeing off is
one of the most impressive sights ever witnessed. On the lynx,
he tilted his cap over his eyes, waggled his club
a little, shifted his feet, waggled his club some more,
gazed keenly toward the horizon for a moment, waggled his

(19:07):
club again, and finally, with the air of a strong man,
lifting a bar of iron, raised it slowly above his head,
then bringing it down with a sweep. He drove the
ball with a lofty slice some fifty yards. It was
rarely that he failed either to slice or pull his ball.
His progress from hole to hole was generally a majestic zigzag.

(19:30):
Gossip's drive took him well on the way to the green.
He holed out in five. Archibald, mournful but not surprised,
made his way to the second tea. The second hole
was shorter, Gossip won it in three, the third he
took in six, the fourth in four. Archibald began to
feel he might just as well not be there. He

(19:51):
was practically a spectator at this point. He reached in
his pocket for his tobacco pouch to console himself with smoke.
To his dismay, he found and it was not there.
He had had it on the train, but now it
had vanished. This added to his gloom, for the pouch
had been given to him by Margaret, and he had
always thought it one more proof of the way her
nature towered over the natures of other girls. That she

(20:13):
had not woven a monogram on it. In Forget Me nots,
This record pouch was missing, an Archibald mourned for the loss.
The sorrows were not alleviated by the fact that Gossipt
won the fifth and sixth holes. It was now a
quarter past twelve, and Archibald reflected with moody satisfaction that
the massacre must soon be over, and that he would

(20:35):
then be able to forget it in the society of Margaret.
As Gossip was about to drive off from the seventh Tea,
a telegraph boy approached the little group. Mister Gossip, he said.
Gossipt lowered his driver and wheeled round, but Sigsby had
snatched the envelope from the boy's hand. It's all right,
old man, he said, Go right ahead. I'll keep it
safe for you. Give it to me, said Gossip anxiously.

(20:57):
It may be from the office, something may have happened
to the mark I may be needed. No, no, no, no,
no no, said Sigsby soothingly. Don't you worry about it.
Better not open it. It might have something in it
that would put you off your stroke. Wait till the
end of the game. Give it to me. I want
to see it. Sigsby was firm. No, no, no, no, no,

(21:18):
he said, I'm here to see you win this championship,
and I won't have you taking any risks. Besides, even
it was important, a few minutes won't make any difference. Well,
at any rate, open it and read it. It's probably
in ciphers, said Sixby. I wouldn't understand it. Play on,
old man, You've only a few more holes to win.
Gossipt turned and addressed his ball again. Then he swung

(21:40):
the club, tipped the ball and rolled sluggishly for a
couple of feet. Archibald approached the tea. Now there were
moments when Archibald could drive quite decently. He always applied
a considerable amount of muscular force to his efforts. It
was in that direction. As a rule he erred on
this occasion, whether inspired by his rival's failure or merely

(22:02):
favored by chance, he connected with his ball at precisely
the right moment. It flew from the tee straight, hard
and low, struck the ground near the green, bounded on,
and finally rocked to within a foot of the hole.
No such long ball had been driven on the cape
lessoned links since their foundation. That it should have taken

(22:23):
him three strokes to hold out from this promising position
was unfortunate, but not fatal for Gossett, who seemed suddenly
to have fallen off his game, only reached the green
in seven. A moment later, a murmur of approval signified
the fact that Archibald had won his first hole. Mister Gossett,
said a voice. Those murmuring approval observed that the telegraph

(22:44):
boy was once more in their midst. This time he
bore two missives sixby dexterously impounded both. No, no, no,
he said, with decision. I absolutely refused to let you
look at them till the game is over. I know
your temperament. Gossip gesticulated, but they must be important. They
must come from my office. Where else would I get
a stream of telegrams. Something has gone wrong. I'm urgently needed.

(23:08):
Sigxby nodded gravely. That is what I fear, he said.
That's why I cannot risk having you upset. Time enough
Gossip for bad news after the game, play on man
and dismiss it from your mind. Besides, you couldn't get
back to New York just yet. In any case, there
are no trains. Dismiss the whole ring from your mind
and just play your usual and you're sure to win.

(23:30):
Archibald had driven off during this conversation, but without his
previous success. This time he had pulled his ball into
some long grasp. Gossip's drive was, however, worse, and the
subsequent movement of the pair to the hole resembled, more
than anything else, the maneuvers of two men rolling peanuts
with tooth picks as the result of some election bet.
Archibald finally took the hole in twelve, after Gossipt had

(23:53):
played his fourteenth. When Archibald won the next in eleven
and the tenth in nine, Hope began to flicker feebly
in his bosom, But when he won two more holes,
bringing the score to like as we lie, it flamed
up within him like a beacon. The ordinary golfer, who
scores per hole seldom exceed those of Colonel Bogie, does

(24:15):
not understand the whirl of mixed sensations which the really
incompetent performer experiences on the rare occasions when he does
strike a winning vein. As stroke follows stroke and he
continues to hold his opponent, a wild exhilaration surges as
within him, followed by a sort of awe as if
he were doing something wrong, even irreligious. Then all these

(24:38):
yeasty emotions subside and are blended into one glorious sensation
of grandeur and majesty, as of a giant among pigmies.
By the time that Archibald, putting with the care of
one brushing flies off a sleeping venus, had holed out
and one the thirteenth, he was in the full grip
of this feeling. And as he walked to the fifteenth
tee after winning the fourteenth, he felt that this was life,

(25:02):
that till now he had been a mere mollusk. But
just at that moment he happened to look at his watch,
and the sight was like a douche of cold water.
The hands stood at five minutes to one. Let us
pause and ponder on this point for a while. Let
us not dismiss it as if it were some mere, trivial,

(25:23):
every day difficulty. You, dear reader, play an accurate, scientific
game and beat your opponent with ease every time you
go to the lynks, of course, and score so do why?
But Archibald was not like us. This was the first
occasion on which he ever felt that he was playing
well enough to give him a chance of defeating a
really good man. True, he had beaten Mackay, Sigsby and

(25:45):
Butler in the early roundsment they were ignoble rivals compared
with Gossip. To defeat Gossip, however, meant the championship. On
the other hand, he was passionately devoted to Margaret Milsom,
whom he was due to meet at the end of
the boardwalk one sharp. It was now five minutes to one,
and the end of the boardwalk still a mile away.

(26:07):
The mental struggle was brief, but keen. A sharp pang
in his mind was made up cost what it might,
he must stay on the links. If Margaret broke off
the engagement. Well, it might be that time would heal
the wound, and that after many years he would find
some other girl for whom he might come to care
in a wrecked, broken sort of way. But a chance

(26:28):
like this could never come again. What is love compared
with holding out before your opponent. The excitement now had
become so intense that a small boy following with the
crowd swallowed his chewing gum for a slight improvement had
become noticeable in Gossip's play, and a slight improvement in
the play of almost anyone meant that it became vastly

(26:48):
superior to Archibald's. At the next hole, the improvement was
not marked enough to have its full effect. An Archibald
contrived to have This made him two up and three
to play, But the average golfer would consider a commanding lead,
But Archibald was no average golfer. A commanding lead for
Archibald would have been two up and one to play.

(27:10):
To give the public of his best, your golfer should
have his mind cool and intent upon the game. Inasmuch
as Gossip was worrying about telegrams, while Archibald strive as
he might to dismiss it was haunted by a vision
of Margaret's standing alone and deserted on the board walk.
Play became, as it were, ragged. Fine putting enabled Gossip
to do the sixteenth hole in twelve, and when winning

(27:34):
the seventeenth and nine, he brought his score level with Archibald's.
The match seemed over. But just then mister Gossett said
a familiar voice. Once more was the much enduring telegraph
boy among those present. Try as time he observed Gossip sprang.
But again the watchful sixby was too swift. Be brave, Gossip,

(27:54):
be brave, he said, this is a crisis in the game.
Keep your nerve. Play just as if nothing existed outside
the lynx, to look at these telegrams now would be fatal.
Eye witnesses of that great encounter will tell the story
of the last hole to their dying day. It was
one of those Titanic struggles which time cannot efface from

(28:15):
the memory. Archibald was fortunate in getting a good start.
He only missed twice before he struck his ball on
the tee. Gossip had four strokes ere he achieved the feat.
Nor did Archibald's luck desert him in the Journey to
the Green. He was out of the bunker in eleven.
Gossip emerged only after sixteen. Finally, when Archibald's twenty first

(28:37):
stroke sent the ball trickling into the hole, Gossip had
played his thirtieth. The ball had hardly rested on the
bottom of the hole before Gossip had begun to tear
the telegrams from their envelope. As he read, his eyes
bulged in their sockets. Not bad news, I hope, said
a sympathetic bystander. Sigsby took the sheaf of telegrams. The

(28:57):
first ran good luck, hope you win mac eh. The
second also ran good luck hope you win mackay, so
singularly enough to the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh.
Great Scott said Sixby. He seems to have been pretty
anxious not to run any risk of missing you Gossip.
As he spoke. Archibald, close beside him, was looking at

(29:18):
his watch. The hands stood at a quarter to two.
Margaret and her mother were seated in the parlor when
Archibald arrived. Missus Milsom, who had elicited the fact that
Archibald had not kept his appointment, had been saying I
told you so for some time, and this had not
improved Margaret's temper. When therefore Archibald, damp and disheveled, was

(29:40):
shown in the chill in the air nearly gave him frostbite.
Missus Milsom did her celebrated imitation of the gorgon, while Margaret,
lightly humming an air, picked up a weekly paper and
became absorbed in it. Margaret, let me explain, panted Archibald.
Missus Milsom was understood to remark that she dared say.
Margaret's attention was riveted by a fashion plate driving in

(30:03):
a taximeter to the ferry this morning, resumed Archibald, I
had an accident. This was the result of some rather
feverish brainwork. On the way from the links to the cottage,
the periodical flopped to the floor. Oh, Archie, are you hurt?
A few scratches, nothing more, but it made me miss
my train. What train did you catch, asked Missus Milsom.
Sepple colarly, the one o'clock. I came straight on here

(30:27):
from the station, Why, said Margaret Stuyvesant was coming home
on the one o'clock train. Did you see him? Archibald's
jaw dropped slightly er. No, how curious, said Margaret. Very curious,
said Archibald. Most curious, said Missus Milsom. They were still
reflecting on the singularity of this fact when the door

(30:48):
opened and the son of the house entered in person.
Thought I should find jo Her Mealy, He said. They
gave me this at the station to give to you.
You dropped it this morning when you got out of
the train. He handed Archibald a missing pouch. Oh, thanks,
said the latter, huskily. When you say this morning, of
course you mean the safternoon. But thanks all the same, Thanks,
thanks very much. No, Archibald mealing, He does not mean

(31:13):
this afternoon, said Missus Milson Stuyvesant, speak from what train
did that? Guff? What train did mister meeling alight? When
he dropped the tobacco pouch the ten o'clock, the fellow
told me said he'd have given it back to him
then only, but he sprinted off In the duce arry.
Six eyes focused themselves upon Archibald Margaret. He said, I

(31:35):
will not try to deceive you. You may try, observed
Missus Milsom, but you will not succeed. Well, Archibald Archibald
fingered his collar. There was no taximeter accident, Ah, said
missus Milson. The fact is I have been playing in
a golf tournament. Margaret uttered an exclamation of surprise. Playing golf.

(31:58):
Archie bowed his head with manly, Why didn't you tell me?
Why didn't you arrange for us to meet on the links?
I should have loved it. Archibald was amazed. Don't you
take an interest in golf? Margaret? You? I thought you
you scorned it, considering it an unintellectual game. I thought
you considered all games unintellectual. Why I play golf myself?

(32:20):
Not very well? Margaret? Why didn't you tell me? I
thought you might not like it. You were so spiritual,
so poetic, I feared you would despise me. Archibald took
a step forward. His voice was tense and trembling. Margaret,
He said, this is no time for misunderstandings. We must
be open with one another. Our happiness is at stake.

(32:41):
Tell me, honestly, do you like poetry? Really? Margaret hesitated,
then answered bravely no, Archibald. She said, it is as
you suspect, I am not worthy of you. I do
not like poetry. Ah, you shudder, you turn away. Your
face grows hard and scornful. I don't yell, Archibald. It
doesn't it doesn't do anything of the sort. You've made

(33:03):
me another man. She stared, wild eyed, astonished. What what
do you mean? Do you mean that you too? I
should just say I do. I tell you I hate
the beastly stuff. I only pretended to like it because
I thought you did. The hours I've spent learning it up.
I wonder I've not got brain fever. Archie used you

(33:24):
to read it up too, if I'd only known, and
you forgive me this morning. I mean, well, of course
you couldn't leave a golf tournament. By the way, how
did you get on, Archibald coughed. Well, rather well, he said, modestly,
pretty decently, in fact, not badly. As a matter of fact,
I won the championship. The championship, whispered Margaret, of America.

(33:50):
Well not absolutely, of America, said Archibald, all the same.
I'm a championship, my hero. You won't be wanting me
for a while, I guess at Stuyveson nonchalantly think I'll
smoke a cigarette on the porch and sobs from the stairs,
told that missus Milsom was already on her way to
a room. End of story number nine, Archibald's Benefit recording

(34:15):
by Mike Harris,