torn limb from limb.
So with the bearded bloke. Whether he was abreast of the inside facts in
Gussie's case, I don't know, but it was obvious to him by this time that
he had run into something pretty hot. Trial gallops had shown that Gussie
had his own way of doing things. Those interruptions had been enough to
prove to the perspicacious that here, seated on the platform at the big
binge of the season, was one who, if pushed forward to make a speech,
might let himself go in a rather epoch-making manner.
On the other hand, chain him up and put a green-baize cloth over him, and
where were you? The proceeding would be over about half an hour too soon.
It was, as I say, a difficult problem to have to solve, and, left to
himself, I don't know what conclusion he would have come to. Personally,
I think he would have played it safe. As it happened, however, the thing
was taken out of his hands, for at this moment, Gussie, having stretched
his arms and yawned a bit, switched on that pebble-beached smile again
and tacked down to the edge of the platform.
"Speech," he said affably.
He then stood with his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, waiting
for the applause to die down.
It was some time before this happened, for he had got a very fine hand
indeed. I suppose it wasn't often that the boys of Market Snodsbury
Grammar School came across a man public-spirited enough to call their
head master a silly ass, and they showed their appreciation in no
uncertain manner. Gussie may have been one over the eight, but as far as
the majority of those present were concerned he was sitting on top of the
world.
"Boys," said Gussie, "I mean ladies and gentlemen and boys, I do not
detain you long, but I suppose on this occasion to feel compelled to say
a few auspicious words; Ladies--and boys and gentlemen--we have all
listened with interest to the remarks of our friend here who forgot to
shave this morning--I don't know his name, but then he didn't know
mine--Fitz-Wattle, I mean, absolutely absurd--which squares things up a
bit--and we are all sorry that the Reverend What-ever-he-was-called should
be dying of adenoids, but after all, here today, gone tomorrow, and all
flesh is as grass, and what not, but that wasn't what I wanted to say.
What I wanted to say was this--and I say it confidently--without fear of
contradiction--I say, in short, I am happy to be here on this auspicious
occasion and I take much pleasure in kindly aw
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