Pelham Wodehouse - Spring Fever

"Very good, m'lord," he said, extending his elbows at right angles. "Very good, m'lord."

A look of satisfaction came into his face. Butler parts would be pie.

Mervyn Spink came silently in, and Lord Shortlands, seeing him in the mirror, turned. As these two strong men, linked by the bond of thwarted love, faced each other, there was a silence. Mervyn Spink was feeling that Lord Shortlands was not such a bad old buster, after all, and Lord Shortlands was feeling strangely softened towards Mervyn Spink.

"You have heard, m'lord?"

Lord Shortlands nodded.

"A nasty knock, m'lord."

"Very nasty."

"We must face it like men, m'lord."

"You betcher. Be British."

Mervyn Spink coughed.

"If your lordship would care for a drop of something to take your lordship's mind off it, I have the materials in my pantry."

Lord Shortlands moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. The suggestion was a very welcome one. It astounded him to think that he could ever have disliked this St. Bernard dog among butlers.

"Lead me to it, Spink."

"This way, m'lord."

"Don't call me 'm'lord.'"

"This way, Shortlands."

"Don't call me 'Shortlands,'" said the fifth earl. "Call me Shorty."

He put his hand in his new friend's arm, and they went out.