“You don’t say so, Mr. Wooster! This is remarkable. This is most cheering. I had not given the boy credit for such tenacity of purpose. An excellent trait in him which I had not hitherto suspected. I recollect clearly that, on the occasion when I first had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, nearly eighteen months ago, Richard was desirous of marrying this same waitress.”
I had to break it to him.
“Well, not absolutely this same waitress. In fact, quite a different waitress. Still, a waitress, you know.”
The light of avuncular affection died out of the old boy’s eyes.
“H’m!” he said a bit dubiously. “I had supposed that Richard was displaying the quality of constancy which is so rare in the modern young man. I—I must think it over.”
So we left it at that, and I came away and told Bingo the position of affairs.
“Allowance OK,” I said. “Uncle blessing a trifle wobbly.”
“Doesn’t he seem to want the wedding bells to ring out?”
“I left him thinking it over. If I were a bookie, I should feel justified in offering a hundred to eight against.”
“You can’t have approached him properly. I might have known you would muck it up,” said young Bingo. Which, considering what I had been through for his sake, struck me as a good bit sharper than a serpent’s tooth.
“It’s awkward,” said young Bingo. “It’s infernally awkward. I can’t tell you all the details at the moment, but … yes, it’s awkward.”