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Wodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville), 1881-1975

"Mike"

And," as he reached the door, "do me one hundred
lines."
A pained "OO-oo-oo, sir-r-r," was cut off by the closing door.
Mr. Downing proceeded to improve the occasion. "I deplore this growing
spirit of flippancy," he said. "I tell you I deplore it! It is not
right! If this Fire Brigade is to be of solid use, there must be less
of this flippancy. We must have keenness. I want you boys above all to
be keen. I--What is that noise?"
From the other side of the door proceeded a sound like water gurgling
from a bottle, mingled with cries half-suppressed, as if somebody were
being prevented from uttering them by a hand laid over his mouth. The
sufferer appeared to have a high voice.
There was a tap at the door and Mike walked in. He was not alone.
Those near enough to see, saw that he was accompanied by Jellicoe's
clock-work rat, which moved rapidly over the floor in the direction of
the opposite wall.
"May I fetch a book from my desk, sir?" asked Mike.
"Very well--be quick, Jackson; we are busy."
Being interrupted in one of his addresses to the Brigade irritated Mr.
Downing.
The muffled cries grew more distinct.
"What--is--that--noise?" shrilled Mr. Downing.
"Noise, sir?" asked Mike, puzzled.
"I think it's something outside the window, sir," said Stone
helpfully.
"A bird, I think, sir," said Robinson.


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