Chapter 6 Chapter 6 The End of the Picnic

Bobby suddenly felt left out. The next day, Bobby received a letter of a completely different kind. Badger's illiterate scribbles reflected the ineffectiveness of his expensive public school education. Everything is arranged, old man.Got five cars for fifteen pounds yesterday: an Austin, two Morriss, two Lovers.Right now the cars are practically impossible to drive, but I believe we can totally fix them.Whatever it is, a car is a car.As long as it doesn't break down while driving the buyer home, that's all we can hope for.I think it's up to you to open on Monday, so don't let me down, old man?I must say that old Aunt Cary was a cheery person.I once smashed the window of an old friend next door to hers and he was rough on her cat, but she never cared.Send me a five pound note every Christmas, and that's it.

We are sure to succeed.This is absolutely certain.I mean, a car is a car after all.You can pick it up for free, just put a light coat of paint on it, and all the average fools will take care.It takes a group of people to do this.Don't forget, Monday. It's all up to you. your forever best friend Badger Bobby told his father that he was going into town on Monday to take a job, and his account of the job did not arouse any enthusiasm from the priest.It may be reminded that the pastor has run into Badger Beeden in the past.He just gave Bobby a long lesson in not making himself legally responsible for something gracefully.His exhortations are vague in terms and have no financial or business authority, but the meaning is clear.

Another letter came to Bobby that Wednesday, in foreign italics, which surprised the young man with its contents. The letter was succinct, from the firm of Henrik and Dallow in Venlis, Buenos, which offered Bobby a job at a thousand pounds a year. For a minute or two Bobby thought he was dreaming.A thousand pounds a year.He read the letter again more carefully.The letter referred to the selection of ex-Navy personnel, implying that Bobby's name had been recommended by someone (not named).The appointment had to be quick, and Bobby had to be ready to leave for Buenos Venlis within a week.

"Oh, hell!" Bobby let out his feelings in a slightly unlucky manner. "Bobby!" "I'm sorry, Dad. I forgot you were here." The pastor cleared his throat and said, "I want to point out to you..." Bobby realizes that this process is often lengthy and must be avoided as much as possible.He cut in bluntly, "I'm being offered a thousand pounds a year." The pastor's mouth was half-opened and half-closed, and for a moment he wanted to say that he couldn't. "That's just a distraction from his train of thought," thought Bobby, contentedly.

"My dear Bobby, you said that you were being offered a thousand pounds a year. Am I not mistaken? A thousand pounds?" "Hit it in, Dad," said Bobby. "That's impossible," said the priest. Bobby wasn't hurt by the frank skepticism.His estimate of his worth differed from that of his father. "They must be some utter fools," he agreed cheerfully. "Who... who are those people?" Bobby handed him the letter.The priest fumbled with his pince-nez, stared at the letter questioningly, and read it twice. "It's unbelievable," he said at last. "It's unbelievable."

"They're crazy," said Bobby. "Ah2 my boy," said the vicar, "all in all it is great to be an Englishman. Loyalty is what we stand for. The Navy has carried this idea all over the world. It is an English word: the South American Company Realizing the value of a young man, whose integrity is unshakable, his employer will be convinced of his fidelity. You can always trust an Englishman to do things aboveboard..." "And act with integrity," said Bobby. The pastor looked at his son suspiciously.There was a very good epigram already on the tip of his tongue, but something in Bobby's tone made him feel insincere.

The lad, however, looked particularly serious. "But, Dad," he said, "why me?" "What do you mean, why you?" "There are plenty of Englishmen in England," said Bobby, "who are good-natured and above board. Why me?" "Perhaps your past commander recommended you." "Yes, I suppose so." Bobby didn't believe it. "It doesn't matter. Anyway, I can't take the job." "Unacceptable? My dear boy, what do you mean?" "Well, I've made an arrangement, you know, to work with Badger."

"Badger? Badger Beeden. Absurd, my dear boy, this is serious business." "I admit it's a little difficult." Bobby sighed. "That childish arrangement you made with little Beaden will not count for a while." "It's about me." "Jr. Biden is irresponsible. I understand that he has been the bane of many disasters and cost his parents money." "He's unlucky. Badger's sure to come." "Luck, luck: I'll say the lad never helped a little in his life." "That's not true, Dad. Well, he used to get up at five in the morning to feed those nasty chickens. It wasn't his fault they were all dead or something."

"I never agreed to the garage business. It's nonsense. You've got to give it up." "No, Your Excellency. I have already promised. I cannot disappoint Badger, he is counting on me." Talk about going on.Based on his prejudice against Badger, the pastor felt that the promise made to the young man should not be binding at all.He thought Bobby so obstinate that he had made up his mind to live a wandering life with a possibly worse companion at any cost.Bobby, on the other hand, kept saying he "couldn't let old Badger down" without thinking any more. The priest eventually stormed out of the room.So Bobby immediately sat down and wrote to Henrik and Darrow, rejecting their offer of a good job.

He wrote with a sigh.He passed up this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but he knew he had no choice. Later, on the golf course, he told Frankie about it.She listened intently. "Did you really have to go to South America?" she asked. "yes." "do you want to go?" "Yes, why not?" Frankie sighed. "Anyway," she said decisively, "I think you're doing quite right." "You mean Badger?" "yes." "I can't let the old bastard down, can I?" "No, but beware of the old bastard, that's what you call it, don't let you fall into it."

"Oh! I'll be careful. Anyway, I'll be fine. I've got no fortune." "That must be pretty fun." "why?" "I don't know why. It's more fun, more comfortable, less responsible. That being said, I think about it, and I don't think I've gotten any more property. I mean, my father promised me, I have a lot of houses to live in, a lot of clothes and maids, an amazing collection of jewellery, a lot of credit cards for shopping, but it's true that they all belong to the family, not mine." "No, but more or less..." Bobby fell silent. "Sniff, it's totally different, I know." "Yes," said Bobby, "it's quite different." He felt suddenly oppressed. They walked silently to the next tee. "I'm going into town tomorrow," Frankie said as Bobby teed off. "Tomorrow? Well, I'm planning to invite you to a picnic." "I'd like to. But it's settled. You see, my father has the gout again." "You should stay and look after him," said Bobby. "He doesn't like being teased, it just annoys him badly. He likes the second valet best, the valet who is so caring and doesn't care if people throw things at him or call him damn fool." Bobby hit the ball up and it sank slowly into the pothole. "Bad luck," said Frankie.She hit a nice straight shot that flew over the pothole. "By the way," she went on, "we might be doing something together in London. Are you going anytime soon?" "Monday. But, uh, it's no fun, is it?" "What did you say... doesn't make any sense?" "Oh, I mean I work as a mechanic most of the time, I mean..." "Even then," said Frankie, "I reckon you might go to a cocktail party and get drunk like some of my other friends." Bobby shook his head. "If you like, I'll throw you a beer sausage party." Frankie encouraged Bobby. "Oh, look out, Frankie, what's goodwill? I mean, you can't mix people who are different. Your friends are nothing like my friends." "I assure you," said Frankie, "my group of friends is very different." "You're pretending not to understand." "If you want, you can bring Badger. You have friendship." "You have a certain prejudice against Badger." "I dare say it's because he stutters. People who stutter always make me stutter too." "Actually, Frankie, it's no use, you know that's not the case. It's all good here. I don't have much more to do, but I think I'm a little better than a worthless person. I mean you always treat me It's quite gracious, and I appreciate it. But I know I'm a little guy... I mean..." "When you've finished expressing your inferiority complex," said Frankie dryly, "maybe you'll try to get the ball out of the pot with an iron instead of a putter." "I've... Ouch! Damn it!" He put the putter back in his pocket and drew the iron.Frankie watched contentedly as he hit five shots in a row.Sand was flying around them. "Your hole." Bobby picked up the ball. "I think we're even." "Shall we play another play-off?" "No, forget it. I have a lot of things to do." "Of course, I think you have a lot to do." They walked silently to the ballroom together. "Well," said Frankie, holding out her hand, "good-bye, dear. It was wonderful to have you in hand while I was here. See you again, perhaps, when I have nothing better to do." Bar." "Take care, Frankie..." "Perhaps you'll deign to join my hawker parties. I'm sure you can get cheap pearl buttons here." "Frankie!" His voice was overwhelmed by the sound of Frankie's newly started Bentley engine.Frankie waved artificially and drove away. "Damn it!" Bobby cursed from the bottom of his heart. He thought Frankie's behavior was too unpleasant.Maybe he wasn't tactful himself, but, what the hell, what he said was pretty sincere.Perhaps, he still didn't express his sincerity in his words. The next three days seemed particularly long. The pastor's sore throat forced him to speak like a whisper. He spoke very little, with the obvious patience that a Christian should have. Treat your fourth son. Once or twice he quotes Shakespeare to the effect of the serpent's tooth, etc. On Saturday, when Bobby felt that he could no longer bear the confines of home life, he persuaded Mrs. Roberts, and her husband, who "managed" the Vicar's Kew House, to give him a pack of sandwiches, and he bought a bottle at March Bolt. beer, and set off for a solitary picnic. For several days Bobby was distraught by Frankie's absence.Old friends are few and far between, and they all have responsibilities. Bobby lay sprawled on the bracken-covered hillside, trying to figure out whether he should eat his lunch and then go to bed, or go to bed and then eat his lunch.Just as he was thinking about it, he fell asleep unknowingly. It was half past three when he woke up!Bobby grinned as he thought of the ways in which his father would object to this way of spending his days.A fine twelve-mile walk through the village, as a young man in good health should do.Walking brings to mind the famous saying: "I've earned my lunch, I guess." "Really," thought Bobby, "why earn your lunch walking all this way when you don't particularly feel like walking? What's the value in it? If you like walking it's purely a hobby; if you don't If you like to walk, if you still want to walk, then you are a fool." So he began to eat his unearned lunch with great relish.With a contented sigh, he unscrewed the beer bottle.The wine was oddly bitter, but undeniably fresh. He lay down again and threw the empty wine bottle into a clump of heather. Lying here lazily, he feels like a god.The world is at his feet, a famous quote, but a brilliant quote.He can do anything, as long as he does his best!Great plans and high-spirited initiatives passed through his mind one by one. Then he fell asleep again.The Sandman attacked him. He fell asleep... with drooping eyelids and lost feeling...

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