the way over to Stover to see the Mainwarings’ Peke, though I don’t suppose there’s the slightest thing wrong with it. That dog is the worst hypochondriac.’
‘Well, you’re coming to dinner all right?’
‘Of course. I’m counting the minutes. My mouth’s watering already.’
Jill went out through the french window. Bill mopped his forehead. It had been a near thing.
‘You saved me there, Jeeves,’ he said. ‘But for your quick thinking all would have been discovered.’
‘I am happy to have been of service, m’lord.’
‘Another instant, and womanly intuition would have been doing its stuff, with results calculated to stagger humanity. You eat a lot of fish, don’t you, Jeeves?’
‘A good deal, m’lord.’
‘So Bertie Wooster has often told me. You sail into the sole and sardines like nobody’s business, he says, and he attributes your giant intellect to the effects of the phosphorus. A hundred times, he says, it has enabled you to snatch him from the soup at the eleventh hour. He raves about your great gifts.’
‘Mr Wooster has always been gratifyingly appreciative of my humble efforts on his behalf, m’lord.’
‘What beats me and has always beaten me is why he ever let you go. When you came to me that day and said you were at liberty, you could have bowled me over. The only explanation I could think of was that he was off his rocker … or more off his rocker than he usually is. Or did you have a row with him and hand in your portfolio?’
Jeeves seemed distressed at the suggestion.
‘Oh, no, m’lord. My relations with Mr Wooster continue uniformly cordial, but circumstances have compelled a temporary separation. Mr Wooster is attending a school which does not permit its student body to employ gentlemen’s personal gentlemen.’
‘A school?’
‘An institution designed to teach the aristocracy to fend for itself, m’lord. Mr Wooster, though his finances are still quite sound, feels that it is prudent to build for the future, in case the social revolution should set in with even greater severity. Mr Wooster … I can hardly mention this without some display of emotion … is actually learning to darn his own socks. The course he is taking includes boot-cleaning, sock-darning, bed-making and primary-grade cooking.’
‘Golly! Well, that’s certainly a novel experience for Bertie.’
‘Yes, m’lord. Mr Wooster doth suffer a sea change into something rich and strange. I quote the Bard of Stratford. Would your lordship care for another quick whisky and soda before joining Lady Carmoyle?’
‘No, we mustn’t waste a moment. As you were saying not long ago, time is of the … what, Jeeves?’
‘Essence, m’lord.’
‘Essence? You’re sure?’
‘Yes, m’lord.’
‘Well, if you say so, though I always thought an essence was a sort of scent. Right ho, then, let’s go.’
‘Very good, m’lord.’
6
----
IT WAS WITH her mind in something of a whirl that Mrs Spottsworth had driven away from the door of the Goose and Gherkin. The encounter with Captain C.G. Biggar had stirred her quite a good deal.
Mrs Spottsworth was a woman who attached considerable importance to what others of less sensitivity would have dismissed carelessly as chance happenings or coincidences. She did not believe in chance. In her lexicon there was no such word as coincidence. These things, she held, were
meant
. This unforeseen return into her life of the White Hunter could be explained, she felt, only on the supposition that some pretty adroit staff work had been going on in the spirit world.
It had happened at such a particularly significant moment. Only two days previously A.B. Spottsworth, chatting with her on the ouija board, had remarked, after mentioning that he was very happy and eating lots of fruit, that it was high time she thought of getting married again. No sense, A.B. Spottsworth had said, in her living a lonely life with all that money in the bank. A woman needs a mate,
‘Well, you’re coming to dinner all right?’
‘Of course. I’m counting the minutes. My mouth’s watering already.’
Jill went out through the french window. Bill mopped his forehead. It had been a near thing.
‘You saved me there, Jeeves,’ he said. ‘But for your quick thinking all would have been discovered.’
‘I am happy to have been of service, m’lord.’
‘Another instant, and womanly intuition would have been doing its stuff, with results calculated to stagger humanity. You eat a lot of fish, don’t you, Jeeves?’
‘A good deal, m’lord.’
‘So Bertie Wooster has often told me. You sail into the sole and sardines like nobody’s business, he says, and he attributes your giant intellect to the effects of the phosphorus. A hundred times, he says, it has enabled you to snatch him from the soup at the eleventh hour. He raves about your great gifts.’
‘Mr Wooster has always been gratifyingly appreciative of my humble efforts on his behalf, m’lord.’
‘What beats me and has always beaten me is why he ever let you go. When you came to me that day and said you were at liberty, you could have bowled me over. The only explanation I could think of was that he was off his rocker … or more off his rocker than he usually is. Or did you have a row with him and hand in your portfolio?’
Jeeves seemed distressed at the suggestion.
‘Oh, no, m’lord. My relations with Mr Wooster continue uniformly cordial, but circumstances have compelled a temporary separation. Mr Wooster is attending a school which does not permit its student body to employ gentlemen’s personal gentlemen.’
‘A school?’
‘An institution designed to teach the aristocracy to fend for itself, m’lord. Mr Wooster, though his finances are still quite sound, feels that it is prudent to build for the future, in case the social revolution should set in with even greater severity. Mr Wooster … I can hardly mention this without some display of emotion … is actually learning to darn his own socks. The course he is taking includes boot-cleaning, sock-darning, bed-making and primary-grade cooking.’
‘Golly! Well, that’s certainly a novel experience for Bertie.’
‘Yes, m’lord. Mr Wooster doth suffer a sea change into something rich and strange. I quote the Bard of Stratford. Would your lordship care for another quick whisky and soda before joining Lady Carmoyle?’
‘No, we mustn’t waste a moment. As you were saying not long ago, time is of the … what, Jeeves?’
‘Essence, m’lord.’
‘Essence? You’re sure?’
‘Yes, m’lord.’
‘Well, if you say so, though I always thought an essence was a sort of scent. Right ho, then, let’s go.’
‘Very good, m’lord.’
6
----
IT WAS WITH her mind in something of a whirl that Mrs Spottsworth had driven away from the door of the Goose and Gherkin. The encounter with Captain C.G. Biggar had stirred her quite a good deal.
Mrs Spottsworth was a woman who attached considerable importance to what others of less sensitivity would have dismissed carelessly as chance happenings or coincidences. She did not believe in chance. In her lexicon there was no such word as coincidence. These things, she held, were
meant
. This unforeseen return into her life of the White Hunter could be explained, she felt, only on the supposition that some pretty adroit staff work had been going on in the spirit world.
It had happened at such a particularly significant moment. Only two days previously A.B. Spottsworth, chatting with her on the ouija board, had remarked, after mentioning that he was very happy and eating lots of fruit, that it was high time she thought of getting married again. No sense, A.B. Spottsworth had said, in her living a lonely life with all that money in the bank. A woman needs a mate,
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