ents when one wants to be
alone. It is imperative that we have a place to retire to after a
fatiguing day. And now, if you want to be really useful, come and help
me fetch up my box from downstairs. It's got a gas ring and various
things in it."

4

STAKING OUT A CLAIM

Psmith, in the matter of decorating a study and preparing tea in it, was
rather a critic than an executant. He was full of ideas, but he
preferred to allow Mike to carry them out. It was he who suggested that
the wooden bar which ran across the window was unnecessary, but it was
Mike who wrenched it from its place. Similarly, it was Mike who
abstracted the key from the door of the next study, though the idea
was Psmith's.

"Privacy," said Psmith, as he watched Mike light the gas ring, "is what
we chiefly need in this age of publicity. If you leave a study door
unlocked in these strenuous times, the first thing you know is, somebody
comes right in, sits down, and begins to talk about himself. I think
with a little care we ought to be able to make this room quite decently
comfortable. That putrid calendar must come down, though. Do you think
you could make a long arm, and haul it off the parent tintack? Thanks.
We make progress. We make progress."

"We shall jolly well make it out of the window," said Mike, spooning up
tea from a paperbag with a postcard, "if a sort of young Hackenschmidt
turns up and claims the study. What are you going to do about it?"

"Don't let us worry about it. I have a presentiment that he will be an
insignificant-looking little weed. How are you getting on with the
evening meal?"

"Just ready. What would you give to be at Eton now? I'd give something
to be at Wrykyn."

"These school reports," said Psmith sympathetically, "are the very
dickens. Many a bright young lad has been soured by them. Hello, what's
this, I wonder."

A heavy body had plunged against the door, evidently without a suspicion
that there would be any resistance. A rattling of the handle followed,
and a voice outside said, "Dash the door!"

"Hackenschmidt!" said Mike.

"The weed," said Psmith. "You couldn't make a long arm, could you, and
turn the key? We had better give this merchant audience. Remind me later
to go on with my remarks on school reports. I had several bright things
to say on the subject."

Mike unlocked the door, and flung it open. Framed in the entrance was a
smallish, freckled boy, wearing a pork-pie hat and carrying a bag.