“It fell on green lawns and wide terraces, on noble trees and bright flower-beds. It fell on the baggy trousers-seat of Angus McAllister, head-gardener to the ninth Earl of Emsworth, as he bent with dour Scottish determination to pluck a slug from its reverie beneath the leaf of a lettuce. It fell on the white flannels of the Hon. Freddie Threepwood, Lord Emsworth's second son, hurrying across the water-meadows. It also fell on Lord Emsworth himself and on Beach, his faithful butler. They were s...tanding on the turret above the west wing, the former with his eye to a powerful telescope, the latter holding the hat which he had been sent to fetch. 'Beach,' said Lord Emsworth. 'M'lord?' 'I've been swindled. This dashed thing doesn't work.' 'Your lordship cannot see clearly?' 'I can't see at all, dash it. It's all black.' The butler was an observant man. 'Perhaps if I were to remove the cap at the extremity of the instrument, m'lord, more satisfactory results might be obtained.' 'Eh? Cap? Is there a cap?MoreLessRead More Read Less
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