Right Ho, Jeeves
“Hullo, Bertie,” he said. “You back?” He laughed amusedly. “You look
like the Wreck of the Hesperus. Get run over by a steam-roller or
something?”
At any other time I might have found his coarse badinage hard to bear.
But such was my uplifted mood that I waved it aside and slipped him the
good news.
“Tuppy, old man, the Bassett’s going to marry Gussie Fink-Nottle.”
“Tough luck on both of them, what?”
“But don’t you understand? Don’t you see what this means? It means that
Angela is once more out of pawn, and you have only to play your cards
properly----”
He bellowed rollickingly. I saw now that he was in the pink. As a
matter of fact, I had noticed something of the sort directly I met him,
but had attributed it to alcoholic stimulant.
“Good Lord! You’re right behind the times, Bertie. Only to be expected,
of course, if you will go riding bicycles half the night. Angela and I
made it up hours ago.”
“What?”
“Certainly. Nothing but a passing tiff. All you need in these matters
is a little give and take, a bit of reasonableness on both sides. We
got together and talked things over. She withdrew my double chin. I
conceded her shark. Perfectly simple. All done in a couple of minutes.”
“But----”
“Sorry, Bertie. Can’t stop chatting with you all night. There is a
rather impressive beano in progress in the dining-room, and they are
waiting for supplies.”
Endorsement was given to this statement by a sudden shout from the
apartment named. I recognized--as who would not--Aunt Dahlia’s voice:
“Glossop!”
“Hullo?”
“Hurry up with that stuff.”
“Coming, coming.”
“Well, come, then. Yoicks! Hard for-rard!”
“Tallyho, not to mention tantivy. Your aunt,” said Tuppy, “is a bit
above herself. I don’t know all the facts of the case, but it appears
that Anatole gave notice and has now consented to stay on, and also
your uncle has given her a cheque for that paper of hers. I didn’t get
the details, but she is much braced. See you later. I must rush.”
To say that Bertram was now definitely nonplussed would be but to state
the simple truth. I could make nothing of this. I had left Brinkley
Court a stricken home, with hearts bleeding wherever you looked, and I
had returned to find it a sort of earthly paradise. It baffled me.
I bathed bewilderedly. The toy duck was still in the soap-dish, but I
was too preoccupied to give it a thought. Still at a loss, I returned
to my room, and there was Jeeves. And it is proof of my fogged condish
that my first words to him were words not of reproach and stern
recrimination but of inquiry:
“I say, Jeeves!”
“Good evening, sir. I was informed that you had returned. I trust you
had an enjoyable ride.”
At any other moment, a crack like that would have woken the fiend in
Bertram Wooster. I barely noticed it. I was intent on getting to the
bottom of this mystery.
“But I say, Jeeves, what?”
“Sir?”
“What does all this mean?”
“You refer, sir----”
“Of course I refer. You know what I’m talking about. What has been
happening here since I left? The place is positively stiff with happy
endings.”
“Yes, sir. I am glad to say that my efforts have been rewarded.”
“What do you mean, your efforts? You aren’t going to try to make out
that that rotten fire bell scheme of yours had anything to do with it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t be an ass, Jeeves. It flopped.”
“Not altogether, sir. I fear, sir, that I was not entirely frank with
regard to my suggestion of ringing the fire bell. I had not really
anticipated that it would in itself produce the desired results. I had
intended it merely as a preliminary to what I might describe as the
real business of the evening.”
“You gibber, Jeeves.”
“No, sir. It was essential that the ladies and gentlemen should be
brought from the house, in order that, once out of doors, I could
ensure that they remained there for the necessary period of time.”
“How do you mean?”
“My plan was based on psychology, sir.”
“How?”
“It is a recognized fact, sir, that there is nothing that so
satisfactorily unites individuals who have been so unfortunate as to
quarrel amongst themselves as a strong mutual dislike for some definite
person. In my own family, if I may give a homely illustration, it was a
generally accepted axiom that in times of domestic disagreement it was
necessary only to invite my Aunt Annie for a visit to heal all breaches
between the other members of the household. In the mutual animosity
excited by Aunt Annie, those who had become estranged were reconciled
almost immediately. Remembering this, it occurred to me that were you,
sir, to be established as the person responsible for the ladies and
gentlemen being forced to spend the night in the garden, everybody
would take so strong a dislike to you that in this common sympathy they
would sooner or later come together.”
I would have spoken, but he continued:
“And such proved to be the case. All, as you see, sir, is now well.
After your departure on the bicycle, the various estranged parties
agreed so heartily in their abuse of you that the ice, if I may use
the expression, was broken, and it was not long before Mr. Glossop
was walking beneath the trees with Miss Angela, telling her anecdotes
of your career at the university in exchange for hers regarding your
childhood; while Mr. Fink-Nottle, leaning against the sundial, held
Miss Bassett enthralled with stories of your schooldays. Mrs. Travers,
meanwhile, was telling Monsieur Anatole----”
I found speech.
“Oh?” I said. “I see. And now, I suppose, as the result of this dashed
psychology of yours, Aunt Dahlia is so sore with me that it will be
years before I can dare to show my face here again--years, Jeeves,
during which, night after night, Anatole will be cooking those dinners
of his----”
“No, sir. It was to prevent any such contingency that I suggested that
you should bicycle to Kingham Manor. When I informed the ladies and
gentlemen that I had found the key, and it was borne in upon them that
you were having that long ride for nothing, their animosity vanished
immediately, to be replaced by cordial amusement. There was much
laughter.”
“There was, eh?”
“Yes, sir. I fear you may possibly have to submit to a certain amount
of good-natured chaff, but nothing more. All, if I may say so, is
forgiven, sir.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, sir.”
I mused awhile.
“You certainly seem to have fixed things.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tuppy and Angela are once more betrothed. Also Gussie and the Bassett;
Uncle Tom appears to have coughed up that money for _Milady’s Boudoir_.
And Anatole is staying on.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I suppose you might say that all’s well that ends well.”
“Very apt, sir.”
I mused again.
“All the same, your methods are a bit rough, Jeeves.”
“One cannot make an omelette without breaking eggs, sir.”
I started.
“Omelette! Do you think you could get me one?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“Together with half a bot. of something?”
“Undoubtedly, sir.”
“Do so, Jeeves, and with all speed.”
I climbed into bed and sank back against the pillows. I must say that
my generous wrath had ebbed a bit. I was aching the whole length of my
body, particularly toward the middle, but against this you had to set
the fact that I was no longer engaged to Madeline Bassett. In a good
cause one is prepared to suffer. Yes, looking at the thing from every
angle, I saw that Jeeves had done well, and it was with an approving
beam that I welcomed him as he returned with the needful.
He did not check up with this beam. A bit grave, he seemed to me to be
looking, and I probed the matter with a kindly query:
“Something on your mind, Jeeves?”
“Yes, sir. I should have mentioned it earlier, but in the evening’s
disturbance it escaped my memory, I fear I have been remiss, sir.”
“Yes, Jeeves?” I said, champing contentedly.
“In the matter of your mess-jacket, sir.”
A nameless fear shot through me, causing me to swallow a mouthful of
omelette the wrong way.
“I am sorry to say, sir, that while I was ironing it this afternoon I
was careless enough to leave the hot instrument upon it. I very much
fear that it will be impossible for you to wear it again, sir.”
One of those old pregnant silences filled the room.
“I am extremely sorry, sir.”
For a moment, I confess, that generous wrath of mine came bounding
back, hitching up its muscles and snorting a bit through the nose, but,
as we say on the Riviera, _à quoi sert-il_? There was nothing to be
gained by g.w. now.
We Woosters can bite the bullet. I nodded moodily and speared another
slab of omelette.
“Right ho, Jeeves.”
“Very good, sir.”