in silence for a while, then, having flicked
an invisible speck of dust from the left sleeve of his coat, he spoke.

"Hullo," he said.

He spoke in a tired voice.

"Hullo," said Mike.

"Take a seat," said the immaculate one. "If you don't mind dirtying
your bags, that's to say. Personally, I don't see any prospect of ever
sitting down in this place. It looks to me as if they meant to use
these chairs as mustard-and-cress beds. A Nursery Garden in the Home.
That sort of idea. My name," he added pensively, "is Smith. What's
yours?"

CHAPTER XXXII

PSMITH

"Jackson," said Mike.

"Are you the Bully, the Pride of the School, or the Boy who is Led
Astray and takes to Drink in Chapter Sixteen?"

"The last, for choice," said Mike, "but I've only just arrived, so I
don't know."

"The boy--what will he become? Are you new here, too, then?"

"Yes! Why, are you new?"

"Do I look as if I belonged here? I'm the latest import. Sit down
on yonder settee, and I will tell you the painful story of my life.
By the way, before I start, there's just one thing. If you ever
have occasion to write to me, would you mind sticking a P at the
beginning of my name? P-s-m-i-t-h. See? There are too many Smiths,
and I don't care for Smythe. My father's content to worry along in
the old-fashioned way, but I've decided to strike out a fresh line.
I shall found a new dynasty. The resolve came to me unexpectedly this
morning, as I was buying a simple penn'orth of butterscotch out of
the automatic machine at Paddington. I jotted it down on the back of
an envelope. In conversation you may address me as Rupert (though I
hope you won't), or simply Smith, the P not being sounded. Cp. the
name Zbysco, in which the Z is given a similar miss-in-baulk. See?"

Mike said he saw. Psmith thanked him with a certain stately old-world
courtesy.

"Let us start at the beginning," he resumed. "My infancy. When I was
but a babe, my eldest sister was bribed with a shilling an hour by my
nurse to keep an rye on me, and see that I did not raise Cain. At the
end of the first day she struck for one-and six, and got it. We now
pass to my boyhood. At an early age, I was sent to Eton, everybody
predicting a bright career for me. But," said Psmith solemnly, fixing
an owl-like gaze on Mike through the eye-glass, "it was not to be."

"No?" said Mike.

"No. I was superannuated last term."

"Bad luck."

"For Eton, yes. But what Eton loses, Sedleigh gains.