The White Feather

The White Feather

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The White Feather, by P. G.
Wodehouse (#17 in our series by P. G. Wodehouse)
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Title: The White Feather
Author: P. G. Wodehouse
Release Date: November, 2004 [EBook #6927] [This file was first
posted on February 12, 2003]
Edition: 10

Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE
WHITE FEATHER ***

Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed
Proofreading
Team.

THE WHITE FEATHER

By P. G. Wodehouse

[Dedication] To MY BROTHER DICK

The time of this story is a year and a term later than that of _The Gold
Bat._ The history of Wrykyn in between these two books is dealt with
in a number of short stories, some of them brainy in the extreme, which
have appeared in various magazines. I wanted Messrs Black to publish
these, but they were light on their feet and kept away--a painful
exhibition of the White Feather.
P. G. Wodehouse

CONTENTS

Chapter
I EXPERT OPINIONS
II SHEEN AT HOME
III SHEEN RECEIVES VISITORS AND ADVICE
IV THE BETTER PART OF VALOUR

V THE WHITE FEATHER
VI ALBERT REDIVIVUS
VII MR JOE BEVAN
VIII A NAVAL BATTLE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
IX SHEEN BEGINS HIS EDUCATION
X SHEEN'S PROGRESS
XI A SMALL INCIDENT
XII DUNSTABLE AND LINTON GO UP THE RIVER
XIII DEUS EX MACHINA
XIV A SKIRMISH
XV THE ROUT AT RIPTON
XVI DRUMMOND GOES INTO RETIREMENT
XVII SEYMOUR'S ONE SUCCESS
XVIII MR BEVAN MAKES A SUGGESTION
XIX PAVING THE WAY
XX SHEEN GOES TO ALDERSHOT
XXI A GOOD START
XXII A GOOD FINISH
XXIII A SURPRISE FOR SEYMOUR'S
XXIV BRUCE EXPLAINS

I
EXPERT OPINIONS
"With apologies to gent opposite," said Clowes, "I must say I don't
think much of the team."
"Don't apologise to _me_," said Allardyce disgustedly, as he filled the
teapot, "I think they're rotten."
"They ought to have got into form by now, too," said Trevor. "It's not
as if this was the first game of the term."
"First game!" Allardyce laughed shortly. "Why, we've only got a
couple of club matches and the return match with Ripton to end the
season. It is about time they got into form, as you say."
Clowes stared pensively into the fire.
"They struck me," he said, "as the sort of team who'd get into form
somewhere in the middle of the cricket season."
"That's about it," said Allardyce. "Try those biscuits, Trevor. They're
about the only good thing left in the place."
"School isn't what it was?" inquired Trevor, plunging a hand into the tin
that stood on the floor beside him.
"No," said Allardyce, "not only in footer but in everything. The place
seems absolutely rotten. It's bad enough losing all our matches, or
nearly all. Did you hear that Ripton took thirty-seven points off us last
term? And we only just managed to beat Greenburgh by a try to nil."
"We got thirty points last year," he went on. "Thirty-three, and
forty-two the year before. Why, we've always simply walked them. It's
an understood thing that we smash them. And this year they held us all
the time, and it was only a fluke that we scored at all. Their back
miskicked, and let Barry in."
"Barry struck me as the best of the outsides today," said Clowes. "He's
heavier than he was, and faster."
"He's all right," agreed Allardyce. "If only the centres would feed him,
we might do something occasionally. But did you ever see such a pair
of rotters?"
"The man who was marking me certainly didn't seem particularly
brilliant. I don't even know his name. He didn't do anything at footer in
my time," said Trevor.
"He's a chap called Attell. He wasn't here with you. He came after the

summer holidays. I believe he was sacked from somewhere. He's no
good, but there's nobody else. Colours have been simply a gift this