The Little Nugget

by P. G. Wodehouse

'How dare you smoke, boy! How dare you smoke that cigarette!'

'It's the only one I've got,' responded the Little Nugget amiably.

'I have spoken to you—I have warned you—Ten bad marks!—I will not have—Fifteen bad marks!'

The Little Nugget ignored the painful scene. He was smiling quietly.

'If you ask me,' he said, 'that guy was after something better than plated spoons. Yes, sir! If you want my opinion, it was Buck MacGinnis, or Chicago Ed., or one of those guys, and what he was trailing was me. They're always at it. Buck had a try for me in the fall of '07, and Ed.—'

'Do you hear me? Will you return instantly—'

'If you don't believe me I can show you the piece there was about it in the papers. I've got a press-clipping album in my box. Whenever there's a piece about me in the papers, I cut it out and paste it into my album. If you'll come right along, I'll show you the story about Buck now. It happened in Chicago, and he'd have got away with me if it hadn't been—'

'Twenty bad marks!'

'Mr Abney!'

It was the person standing behind me who spoke. Till now he or she had remained a silent spectator, waiting, I suppose, for a lull in the conversation.