Thank You, Jeeves

'And that went well?'

'Very well, indeed, sir. Except that Master Seabury said that he betted Master Dwight had never heard negro minstrels before. From a remark passed shortly afterwards by her ladyship, I gathered that Master Dwight had then thrown a potato at Master Seabury; and for a while a certain unpleasantness seemed to threaten.'

I clicked my tongue.

'I wish somebody would muzzle those kids and chain them up. They'll queer the whole thing.'

'The imbroglio was fortunately short-lived, sir. I left the whole company on what appeared to be the most amicable terms. Master Dwight protested that his hand had slipped, and the apology was gracefully received.'

'Well, bustle back and see if you can hear some more.'

'Very good, sir.'

I finished my sandwiches and half-bot, and lit a cigarette, wishing that I had told Jeeves to bring me some coffee. But you don't have to tell Jeeves things like that. In due course, up he rolled with the steaming cupful.

'Luncheon has just concluded, sir.'

'Ah! Did you see Miss Stoker?'

'Yes, sir. I informed her that you desired a word with her, and she will be here shortly.'

'Why not now?'

'His lordship engaged her in conversation immediately after I had given her your message.'

'Had you told him to come here, too?'

'Yes, sir.'

'No good, Jeeves. I see a flaw. They will arrive together.'

'No, sir. On observing his lordship making in this direction, I can easily detain him for a moment on some matter.'

'Such as—?'

'I have long been desirous of canvassing his lordship's views as to the desirability of purchasing some new socks.'

'H'm! You know what you are when you get on to the subject of socks, Jeeves. Don't get carried away and keep him talking for an hour. I want to get this thing over.'

'I quite understand, sir.'

'When did you see Miss Stoker?'

'About a quarter of an hour ago, sir.'

'Funny, she doesn't turn up. I wonder what they're talking about?'

'I could not say, sir.'

'Ah!'

I had observed a gleam of white among the bushes. The next moment, the girl appeared. She was looking more beautiful than ever, her eyes, in particular, shining like twin stars. Nevertheless, I did not waver in my view that I was jolly glad it was Chuffy who, if all went well, was going to marry her, and not me. Odd, how a girl may be a perfect knock-out, and yet one can still feel that to be married to her would give one the absolute pip. That's Life, I suppose.

'Hallo, Bertie,' said Pauline. 'What's all this about your having a headache? You seem to have been doing yourself pretty well, in spite of it.'

'I found I could peck a bit. You had better take these things back, Jeeves.'

'Very good, sir.'

'And you won't forget that, if his lordship should want me, I'm here.'

'No, sir.'

He gathered up the plate, cup and bottle and disappeared. And whether I was sorry to see him go or not, I couldn't have said. I was feeling a good deal worked up. Taut, if you know what I mean. On edge. Tense. The best idea I can give you of my emotions at this juncture is to say that they rather resembled those I had once felt when starting to sing 'Sonny Boy' at Beefy Bingham's Church Lads entertainment down in the East End.

Pauline had grabbed my arm, and was beginning to make some species of communication.

'Bertie,' she was saying ...

But at this point I caught sight of Chuffy's head over a shrub, and I felt that the moment had come to act. It was one of those things that want doing quickly or not at all. I waited no longer. Folding the girl in my arms, I got home on her right eyebrow. It wasn't one of my best, I will admit, but it was a kiss within the meaning of the act, and I fancied that it ought to produce results.

And so, no doubt, it would have done, had the fellow who entered left at this critical point been Chuffy. But it wasn't. What with only being able to catch a fleeting glimpse of a Homburg hat through the foliage, I appeared to have made an unfortunate floater. The bloke who now stood before us was old Pop Stoker, and I confess I found myself a prey to a certain embarrassment.

It was, you must admit, not a little awkward. Here was an anxious father who combined with a strong distaste for Bertram Wooster the notion that his daughter was madly in love with him: and the first thing he saw when he took an after-luncheon saunter was the two of us locked in a close embrace. It was enough to give any parent the jitters, and I was not surprised that his demeanour was that of stout Cortez staring at the Pacific. A fellow with fifty millions in his kick doesn't have to wear the mask. If he wants to give any selected bloke a nasty look, he gives him a nasty look. He was giving me one now. It was a look that had both alarm and anguish in it, and I realized that Pauline's statement regarding his views had been accurate.

Fortunately, the thing did not go beyond looks. Say what you like against civilization, it comes in dashed handy in a crisis like this. It may be a purely artificial code that keeps a father from hoofing his daughter's kisser when they are fellow guests at a house, but at this moment I felt that I could do with all the purely artificial codes that were going.

There was just one instant when his foot twitched and it seemed as if what you might call the primitive J. Washburn Stoker was about to find self-expression. Then civilization prevailed. With one more of those looks he collected Pauline, and the next moment I was alone and at liberty to think the thing over.

And it was as I was doing so with the help of a soothing cigarette that Chuffy bounded into my little sylvan glade. He too appeared to have something on his mind, for he was noticeably pop-eyed.

'Look here, Bertie,' he began without preamble, 'what's all this I hear?'

'What's all what you hear, old man?'

'Why didn't you tell me you had been engaged to Pauline Stoker?'

I raised an eyebrow. It seemed to me that a touch of the iron hand would not be out of place. If you see a fellow's going to be austere with you, there's nothing like jumping in and being austere with him first.

'I fail to understand you, Chuffnell,' I said stiffly. 'Did you expect me to send you a post card?'

'You could have told me this morning.'

'I saw no reason to do so. How did you hear about it, anyhow?'

'Sir Roderick Glossop happened to mention it.'

'Oh, he did, did he? Well, he's an authority on the subject. He was the bird who broke it off.'

'What do you mean?'

'He happened to be in New York at the time, and it was the work of a moment with him to tap old Stoker on the chest and urge him to give me the push. The whole thing didn't last more than forty-eight hours from kick-off to finish.'

Chuffy eyed me narrowly.

'You swear that?'

'Certainly.'

'Only forty-eight hours?'

'Less.'

'And there's nothing between you now?'

His demeanour was not matey, and I began to perceive that in arranging that Stoker and not he should be the witness of the recent embrace the guardian angel of the Woosters had acted dashed shrewdly.

'Nothing.'

'You're sure?'

'Nothing whatever. So charge in, Chuffy, old man,' I said, patting his shoulder in an elder-brotherly manner. 'Follow the dictates of the old heart and fear nothing. The girl is potty about you.'

'Who told you that?'

'She did.'

'Herself?'

'In person.'

'She does really love me?'

'Passionately, I gathered.'

A look of relief came into the old egg's care-worn face. He passed a hand over the forehead and generally relaxed.

'Well, that's all right, then. Sorry, if I appeared a bit rattled for a moment. When a fellow's just got engaged to a girl, it's rather a jar to find that she was engaged to somebody else about two months before.'