was I? All right?"
"Superb, madam."
"I think I was in good voice."
"Very sonorous, madam."
"Well, it's nice to think our efforts were crowned with success. This will relieve young Bertie's mind. I use the word mind loosely. When do you expect him back?"
"Mr. Wooster is in residence, madam. Shrinking from confronting Mr. Waterbury, he prudently concealed himself. You will find him behind the piano."
I was already emerging, and my first act was to pay them both a marked tribute. Jeeves accepted it gracefully, Aunt Dahlia with another of those snorts. Having snorted, she spoke as follows.
"Easy enough for you to hand out the soft soap, but what I'd like to see is less guff and more action. If you were really grateful, you would play Santa Claus at my Christmas party."
I could see her point. It was well taken. I clenched the hands. I set the jaw. I made the great decision.
"Very well, aged relative."
"You will?"
"I will."
"That's my boy. What's there to be afraid of? The worst those kids will do is rub chocolate eclairs on your whiskers."
"Chocolate eclairs?" I said in a low voice.
"Or strawberry jam. It's a tribal custom. Pay no attention, by the way, to stories you may have heard of them setting fire to the curate's beard last year. It was purely accidental."
I had begun to go into my aspen act, when Jeeves spoke.
"Pardon me, madam."
"Yes, Jeeves?"
"If I might offer the suggestion, I think that perhaps a maturer artist than Mr. Wooster would give a more convincing performance."
"Don't tell me you're thinking of volunteering?"
"No, madam. The artist I had in mind was Sir Roderick Glossop. Sir Roderick has a fine presence and a somewhat deeper voice than Mr. Wooster. His Ho-ho-ho would be more dramatically effective, and I am sure that if you approached him, you could persuade him to undertake the role."
"Considering," I said, putting in my oar, "that he is always blacking up his face with burned cork."
"Precisely, sir. This will make a nice change."
Aunt Dahlia pondered.
"I believe you're right, Jeeves," she said at length. "It's tough on those children, for it means robbing them of the biggest laugh they've ever had, but they can't expect life to be one round of pleasure. Well, I don't think I'll have that drink after all. It's a bit early."
She buzzed off, and I turned to Jeeves, deeply moved. He had saved me from an ordeal at the thought of which the flesh crept, for I hadn't believed for a moment the aged r's story of the blaze in the curate's beard having been an accident. The younger element had probably sat up nights planning it out.
"Jeeves," I said, "you were saying something not long ago about going to Florida after Christmas."
"It was merely a suggestion, sir."
"You want to catch a tarpon, do you not?"
"I confess that it is my ambition, sir."
I sighed. It wasn't so much that it pained me to think of some tarpon, perhaps a wife and mother, being jerked from the society of its loved ones on the end of a hook. What gashed me like a knife was the thought of missing the Drones Club Darts Tournament, for which I would have been a snip this year. But what would you? I fought down my regret.
"Then will you be booking the tickets."
"Very good, sir."
I struck a graver note.
"Heaven help the tarpon that tries to pit its feeble cunning against you, Jeeves," I said. "Its efforts will be bootless."
Our Man in America
"Not guilty!" spectators pouring out of a Denver, Colorado, courtroom shouted to the waiting crowds in the street, and a great cheer, went up, for public sympathy during the trial had been solidly with the prisoner in the dock, a parrot charged with using obscene language in a public spot.
The bird, it seems, had been accustomed to sit outside its owner's house watching the passers-by, and one of these, a woman of strict views, had it arrested, claiming that every time she passed by it used what she delicately described as 'Waterfront language'.
The
"Superb, madam."
"I think I was in good voice."
"Very sonorous, madam."
"Well, it's nice to think our efforts were crowned with success. This will relieve young Bertie's mind. I use the word mind loosely. When do you expect him back?"
"Mr. Wooster is in residence, madam. Shrinking from confronting Mr. Waterbury, he prudently concealed himself. You will find him behind the piano."
I was already emerging, and my first act was to pay them both a marked tribute. Jeeves accepted it gracefully, Aunt Dahlia with another of those snorts. Having snorted, she spoke as follows.
"Easy enough for you to hand out the soft soap, but what I'd like to see is less guff and more action. If you were really grateful, you would play Santa Claus at my Christmas party."
I could see her point. It was well taken. I clenched the hands. I set the jaw. I made the great decision.
"Very well, aged relative."
"You will?"
"I will."
"That's my boy. What's there to be afraid of? The worst those kids will do is rub chocolate eclairs on your whiskers."
"Chocolate eclairs?" I said in a low voice.
"Or strawberry jam. It's a tribal custom. Pay no attention, by the way, to stories you may have heard of them setting fire to the curate's beard last year. It was purely accidental."
I had begun to go into my aspen act, when Jeeves spoke.
"Pardon me, madam."
"Yes, Jeeves?"
"If I might offer the suggestion, I think that perhaps a maturer artist than Mr. Wooster would give a more convincing performance."
"Don't tell me you're thinking of volunteering?"
"No, madam. The artist I had in mind was Sir Roderick Glossop. Sir Roderick has a fine presence and a somewhat deeper voice than Mr. Wooster. His Ho-ho-ho would be more dramatically effective, and I am sure that if you approached him, you could persuade him to undertake the role."
"Considering," I said, putting in my oar, "that he is always blacking up his face with burned cork."
"Precisely, sir. This will make a nice change."
Aunt Dahlia pondered.
"I believe you're right, Jeeves," she said at length. "It's tough on those children, for it means robbing them of the biggest laugh they've ever had, but they can't expect life to be one round of pleasure. Well, I don't think I'll have that drink after all. It's a bit early."
She buzzed off, and I turned to Jeeves, deeply moved. He had saved me from an ordeal at the thought of which the flesh crept, for I hadn't believed for a moment the aged r's story of the blaze in the curate's beard having been an accident. The younger element had probably sat up nights planning it out.
"Jeeves," I said, "you were saying something not long ago about going to Florida after Christmas."
"It was merely a suggestion, sir."
"You want to catch a tarpon, do you not?"
"I confess that it is my ambition, sir."
I sighed. It wasn't so much that it pained me to think of some tarpon, perhaps a wife and mother, being jerked from the society of its loved ones on the end of a hook. What gashed me like a knife was the thought of missing the Drones Club Darts Tournament, for which I would have been a snip this year. But what would you? I fought down my regret.
"Then will you be booking the tickets."
"Very good, sir."
I struck a graver note.
"Heaven help the tarpon that tries to pit its feeble cunning against you, Jeeves," I said. "Its efforts will be bootless."
Our Man in America
"Not guilty!" spectators pouring out of a Denver, Colorado, courtroom shouted to the waiting crowds in the street, and a great cheer, went up, for public sympathy during the trial had been solidly with the prisoner in the dock, a parrot charged with using obscene language in a public spot.
The bird, it seems, had been accustomed to sit outside its owner's house watching the passers-by, and one of these, a woman of strict views, had it arrested, claiming that every time she passed by it used what she delicately described as 'Waterfront language'.
The
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