Scoop-Evelyn-Waugh [61]
RETURNING TONIGHT WILLIAM
"Boot said he didn't want these any more." "No," said Mr. Salter, surveying with distaste the heap of travelworn tropical equipment which encumbered his room. "No, I suppose not. And where is Boot?" "Just behind." "You ought to have stayed with him." "I'm sorry, Mr. Salter." "There's no need for you to wait." "All right." "Well, what are you waiting for?" "I was wondering, would you think it awful cheek if I asked for a souvenir?" "Souvenir?" "Of my meeting with Boot. Could you spare one of those sticks?" "Take the lot." "I say, may I really. I say, thank you ever so much."
"That boy, Bateson. Is he balmy or something?" "I daresay." "What's he doing here?" "He comes from the Aircastle Correspondence School. They guarantee a job to all their star pupils. They've a big advertising account with us, so we sometimes take one of their chaps 'on space' for a bit." "Well, he's lost Boot. I suppose we can fire him now?" "Surely."
The harvest moon hung, brilliant and immense, over the elm trees. In the lanes around Boot Magna motorcycles or decrepit cars travelled noisily home from the village whist drive; Mr. Atwater, the bad character, packed his pockets for the night's sport; the smell of petrol hung about the hedges but inside the park everything was sweet and still. For a few feet ahead the lights of the car shed a feeble, yellow glow; beyond, the warm land lay white as frost, and, as they emerged from the black tunnel of evergreen around the gates into the open pasture, the drive with its sharply defined ruts and hollows might have been a strip of the moon itself, a volcanic field cold since the creation. A few windows were alight; only Uncle Theodore was still up. He opened the door to William. "Ah," he said, "train late?" "I don't think so." "Ah," he said. "We got your telegram." "Yes." "Had a good time?" "Yes, fairly." "You must tell us about it tomorrow. Your grandmother will want to hear, I know. Had any dinner?" "Yes, thank you, on the train." "Good. We thought that you might. We didn't keep anything hot. Rather short-handed at the moment. James hasn't been at all well, getting too old for his work � but there are some biscuits in the dining-room." "Thanks very much," said William. "I don't think I want anything." "No. Well, I think I�ll be going along. Glad you've had such a good time. Don't forget to tell us about it. Can't say I read your articles. They were always cut out by the time I got the paper. Nannie Bloggs disapproved of them. I must get hold of them, want to read them very much..." They were walking upstairs together; they reached the landing, where their ways diverged. William carried his bag to his own room and laid it on the bed. Then he went to the window and, stooping, looked out across the moonlit park. On such a night as this, not four weeks back, the tin roofs of Jacksonburg had lain open to the sky; a three-legged dog had awoken, started from his barrel in Frau Dressler's garden, and all over the town, in yards and refuse heaps, the pariahs had taken up his cries of protest.
"Well," said Mr. Salter, "I've heard from Boot" "Any good?" "No. No good." He handed the News Editor the letter that had arrived that morning from William.
Dear Mr. Salter:�
Thank you very much for your letter and the invitation. It is very kind of Lord Copper, please thank him, but if you don't mind I think I won't come to the banquet. You see it is a long way and there is a great deal to do here and I can't make speeches. I have to every now and then for things in the village and they are bad enough