What are you going to

"Privacy," said Psmith, as he watched Mike light the Etna, "is what wechiefly need in this age of publicity. If you leave a study doorunlocked in these strenuous times, the first thing you know is,somebody comes right in, sits down, and begins to talk about himself. 　　I think with a little care we ought to be able to make this room quitedecently comfortable. That putrid calendar must come down, though. 　　Do you think you could make a long arm, and haul it off the parenttin-tack? Thanks. We make progress. We make progress.""We shall jolly well make it out of the window," said Mike, spooningup tea from a paper bag with a postcard, "if a sort of youngHackenschmidt turns up and claims the study. What are you going to doabout it?""Don't let us worry about it. I have a presentiment that he will be aninsignificant-looking little weed. How are you getting on with theevening meal?""Just ready. What would you give to be at Eton now? I'd give somethingto be at Wrykyn.""These school reports," said Psmith sympathetically, "are the verydickens. Many a bright young lad has been soured by them. Hullo. 　　What's this, I wonder."A heavy body had plunged against the door, evidently without asuspicion that there would be any resistance. A rattling at the handlefollowed, and a voice outside said, "Dash the door!""Hackenschmidt!" said Mike. 　　"The weed," said Psmith. "You couldn't make a long arm, could you, andturn the key? We had better give this merchant audience. Remind melater to go on with my remarks on school reports. I had several brightthings to say on the subject."Mike unlocked the door, and flung it open. Framed in the entrance wasa smallish, freckled boy, wearing a bowler hat and carrying a bag. Onhis face was an expression of mingled wrath and astonishment. 　　Psmith rose courteously from his chair, and moved forward with slowstateliness to do the honours. 　　"What the dickens," inquired the newcomer, "are you doing here?"[Illustration: "WHAT THE DICKENS ARE YOU DOING HERE?"] 　　"We were having a little tea," said Psmith, "to restore our tissuesafter our journey. Come in and join us. We keep open house, wePsmiths. Let me introduce you to Comrade Jackson. A stout fellow. 　　Homely in appearance, perhaps, but one of us. I am Psmith. Your ownname will doubtless come up in the course of general chit-chat overthe tea-cups.""My name's Spiller, and this is my study."Psmith leaned against the mantelpiece, put up his eyeglass, andharangued Spiller in a philosophical vein.

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