Right Ho, Jeeves
dining together with every indication of relish, their differences made
up and the lovelight once more in their eyes. That shows you, Jeeves.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I expect precisely similar results from my Cousin Angela when I start
roasting Tuppy. By lunchtime, I should imagine, the engagement will be
on again and the diamond-and-platinum ring glittering as of yore on her
third finger. Or is it the fourth?”
“Scarcely by luncheon time, sir. Miss Angela’s maid informs me that
Miss Angela drove off in her car early this morning with the intention
of spending the day with friends in the vicinity.”
“Well, within half an hour of whatever time she comes back, then. These
are mere straws, Jeeves. Do not let us chop them.”
“No, sir.”
“The point is that, as far as Tuppy and Angela are concerned, we may
say with confidence that everything will shortly be hotsy-totsy once
more. And what an agreeable thought that is, Jeeves.”
“Very true, sir.”
“If there is one thing that gives me the pip, it is two loving hearts
being estranged.”
“I can readily appreciate the fact, sir.”
I placed the stub of my gasper in the ash tray and lit another, to
indicate that that completed Chap. I.
“Right ho, then. So much for the western front. We now turn to the
eastern.”
“Sir?”
“I speak in parables, Jeeves. What I mean is, we now approach the
matter of Gussie and Miss Bassett.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Here, Jeeves, more direct methods are required. In handling the case
of Augustus Fink-Nottle, we must keep always in mind the fact that we
are dealing with a poop.”
“A sensitive plant would, perhaps, be a kinder expression, sir.”
“No, Jeeves, a poop. And with poops one has to employ the strong,
forceful, straightforward policy. Psychology doesn’t get you anywhere.
You, if I may remind you without wounding your feelings, fell into
the error of mucking about with psychology in connection with this
Fink-Nottle, and the result was a wash-out. You attempted to push
him over the line by rigging him out in a Mephistopheles costume and
sending him off to a fancy-dress ball, your view being that scarlet
tights would embolden him. Futile.”
“The matter was never actually put to the test, sir.”
“No. Because he didn’t get to the ball. And that strengthens my
argument. A man who can set out in a cab for a fancy-dress ball and
not get there is manifestly a poop of no common order. I don’t think I
have ever known anybody else who was such a dashed silly ass that he
couldn’t even get to a fancy-dress ball. Have you, Jeeves?”
“No, sir.”
“But don’t forget this, because it is the point I wish, above all,
to make: Even if Gussie had got to that ball; even if those scarlet
tights, taken in conjunction with his horn-rimmed spectacles, hadn’t
given the girl a fit of some kind; even if she had rallied from the
shock and he had been able to dance and generally hobnob with her; even
then your efforts would have been fruitless, because, Mephistopheles
costume or no Mephistopheles costume, Augustus Fink-Nottle would never
have been able to summon up the courage to ask her to be his. All
that would have resulted would have been that she would have got that
lecture on newts a few days earlier. And why, Jeeves? Shall I tell you
why?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Because he would have been attempting the hopeless task of trying to
do the thing on orange juice.”
“Sir?”
“Gussie is an orange-juice addict. He drinks nothing else.”
“I was not aware of that, sir.”
“I have it from his own lips. Whether from some hereditary taint,
or because he promised his mother he wouldn’t, or simply because he
doesn’t like the taste of the stuff, Gussie Fink-Nottle has never in
the whole course of his career pushed so much as the simplest gin and
tonic over the larynx. And he expects--this poop expects, Jeeves--this
wabbling, shrinking, diffident rabbit in human shape expects under
these conditions to propose to the girl he loves. One hardly knows
whether to smile or weep, what?”
“You consider total abstinence a handicap to a gentleman who wishes to
make a proposal of marriage, sir?”
The question amazed me.
“Why, dash it,” I said, astounded, “you must know it is. Use your
intelligence, Jeeves. Reflect what proposing means. It means that a
decent, self-respecting chap has got to listen to himself saying things
which, if spoken on the silver screen, would cause him to dash to the
box-office and demand his money back. Let him attempt to do it on
orange juice, and what ensues? Shame seals his lips, or, if it doesn’t
do that, makes him lose his morale and start to babble. Gussie, for
example, as we have seen, babbles of syncopated newts.”
“Palmated newts, sir.”
“Palmated or syncopated, it doesn’t matter which. The point is that
he babbles and is going to babble again, if he has another try at
it. Unless--and this is where I want you to follow me very closely,
Jeeves--unless steps are taken at once through the proper channels.
Only active measures, promptly applied, can provide this poor,
pusillanimous poop with the proper pep. And that is why, Jeeves, I
intend tomorrow to secure a bottle of gin and lace his luncheon orange
juice with it liberally.”
“Sir?”
I clicked the tongue.
“I have already had occasion, Jeeves,” I said rebukingly, “to comment
on the way you say ‘Well, sir’ and ‘Indeed, sir?’ I take this
opportunity of informing you that I object equally strongly to your
‘Sir?’ pure and simple. The word seems to suggest that in your opinion
I have made a statement or mooted a scheme so bizarre that your brain
reels at it. In the present instance, there is absolutely nothing to
say ‘Sir?’ about. The plan I have put forward is entirely reasonable
and icily logical, and should excite no sirring whatsoever. Or don’t
you think so?”
“Well, sir----”
“Jeeves!”
“I beg your pardon, sir. The expression escaped me inadvertently. What
I intended to say, since you press me, was that the action which you
propose does seem to me somewhat injudicious.”
“Injudicious? I don’t follow you, Jeeves.”
“A certain amount of risk would enter into it, in my opinion, sir.
It is not always a simple matter to gauge the effect of alcohol on
a subject unaccustomed to such stimulant. I have known it to have
distressing results in the case of parrots.”
“Parrots?”
“I was thinking of an incident of my earlier life, sir, before I
entered your employment. I was in the service of the late Lord
Brancaster at the time, a gentleman who owned a parrot to which he was
greatly devoted, and one day the bird chanced to be lethargic, and his
lordship, with the kindly intention of restoring it to its customary
animation, offered it a portion of seed cake steeped in the ’84 port.
The bird accepted the morsel gratefully and consumed it with every
indication of satisfaction. Almost immediately afterwards, however,
its manner became markedly feverish. Having bitten his lordship in the
thumb and sung part of a sea-chanty, it fell to the bottom of the cage
and remained there for a considerable period of time with its legs in
the air, unable to move. I merely mention this, sir, in order to----”
I put my finger on the flaw. I had spotted it all along.
“But Gussie isn’t a parrot.”
“No, sir, but----”
“It is high time, in my opinion, that this question of what young
Gussie really is was threshed out and cleared up. He seems to think
he is a male newt, and you now appear to suggest that he is a parrot.
The truth of the matter being that he is just a plain, ordinary poop
and needs a snootful as badly as ever man did. So no more discussion,
Jeeves. My mind is made up. There is only one way of handling this
difficult case, and that is the way I have outlined.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Right ho, Jeeves. So much for that, then. Now here’s something else:
You noticed that I said I was going to put this project through
tomorrow, and no doubt you wondered why I said tomorrow. Why did I,
Jeeves?”
“Because you feel that if it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well
it were done quickly, sir?”
“Partly, Jeeves, but not altogether. My chief reason for fixing
the date as specified is that tomorrow, though you have doubtless
forgotten, is the day of the distribution of prizes at Market Snodsbury
Grammar School, at which, as you know, Gussie is to be the male star
and master of the revels. So you see we shall, by lacing that juice,
not only embolden him to propose to Miss Bassett, but also put him so
into shape that he will hold that Market Snodsbury audience spellbound.”
“In fact, you will be killing two birds with one stone, sir.”
“Exactly. A very neat way of putting it. And now here is a minor point.
On second thoughts, I think the best plan will be for you, not me, to
lace the juice.”
“Sir?”
“Jeeves!”
“I beg your pardon, sir.”
“And I’ll tell you why that will be the best plan. Because you are in
a position to obtain ready access to the stuff. It is served to Gussie
daily, I have noticed, in an individual jug. This jug will presumably
be lying about the kitchen or somewhere before lunch tomorrow. It will
be the simplest of tasks for you to slip a few fingers of gin in it.”
“No doubt, sir, but----”
“Don’t say ‘but,’ Jeeves.”
“I fear, sir----”
“‘I fear, sir’ is just as bad.”
“What I am endeavouring to say, sir, is that I am sorry, but I am
afraid I must enter an unequivocal _nolle prosequi_.”
“Do what?”
“The expression is a legal one, sir, signifying the resolve not to
proceed with a matter. In other words, eager though I am to carry out
your instructions, sir, as a general rule, on this occasion I must
respectfully decline to co-operate.”
“You won’t do it, you mean?”
“Precisely, sir.”
I was stunned. I began to understand how a general must feel when he
has ordered a regiment to charge and has been told that it isn’t in the
mood.
“Jeeves,” I said, “I had not expected this of you.”
“No, sir?”
“No, indeed. Naturally, I realize that lacing Gussie’s orange juice
is not one of those regular duties for which you receive the monthly
stipend, and if you care to stand on the strict letter of the contract,
I suppose there is nothing to be done about it. But you will permit me
to observe that this is scarcely the feudal spirit.”
“I am sorry, sir.”
“It is quite all right, Jeeves, quite all right. I am not angry, only a
little hurt.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Right ho, Jeeves.”
-14-
Investigation proved that the friends Angela had gone to spend the day
with were some stately-home owners of the name of Stretchley-Budd,
hanging out in a joint called Kingham Manor, about eight miles distant
in the direction of Pershore. I didn’t know these birds, but their
fascination must have been considerable, for she tore herself away
from them only just in time to get back and dress for dinner. It was,
accordingly, not until coffee had been consumed that I was able to get
matters moving. I found her in the drawing-room and at once proceeded
to put things in train.
It was with very different feelings from those which had animated the
bosom when approaching the Bassett twenty-four hours before in the same
manner in this same drawing-room that I headed for where she sat. As
I had told Tuppy, I have always been devoted to Angela, and there is
nothing I like better than a ramble in her company.
And I could see by the look of her now how sorely in need she was of my
aid and comfort.
Frankly, I was shocked by the unfortunate young prune’s appearance. At
Cannes she had been a happy, smiling English girl of the best type,
full of beans and buck. Her face now was pale and drawn, like that of
a hockey centre-forward at a girls’ school who, in addition to getting
a fruity one on the shin, has just been penalized for “sticks”. In any