Very Good, Jeeves

by P. G. Wodehouse

  Miss Mapleton was her calm masterful self again in a second.

  ‘One of the men appears to have fallen through the conservatory roof,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you will endeavour at the eleventh hour to justify your existence, officer, by proceeding there and making investigations.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘And try not to bungle matters this time.’

  ‘No, ma’am.’

  ‘Please hurry, then. Do you intend to stand there gaping all night?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am. Yes, ma’am.’

  It was pretty to hear him.

  ‘It is an odd coincidence, Mr Wooster,’ said Miss Mapleton, becoming instantly matey once more as the outcast removed himself. ‘I had just finished writing a letter to your aunt when you arrived. I shall certainly reopen it to tell her how gallantly you have behaved to-night. I have not in the past entertained a very high opinion of the modern young man, but you have caused me to alter it. To track these men unarmed through a dark garden argues courage of a high order. And it was most courteous of you to think of calling upon me. I appreciate it. Are you making a long stay in Bingley?’

  This was another one I could answer.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Afraid not. Must be in London to-morrow.’

  ‘Perhaps you could lunch before your departure?’

  ‘Afraid not. Thanks most awfully. Very important engagement that I can’t get out of. Eh, Jeeves?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Have to catch the ten-thirty train, what?’

  ‘Without fail, sir.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ said Miss Mapleton. ‘I had hoped that you would be able to say a few words to my girls. Some other time perhaps?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘You must let me know when you are coming to Bingley again.’

  ‘When I come to Bingley again,’ I said, ‘I will certainly let you know.’

  ‘If I remember your plans correctly, sir, you are not likely to be in Bingley for some little time, sir.’

  ‘Not for some considerable time, Jeeves,’ I said.

  * * *

  The front door closed. I passed a hand across the brow.

  ‘Tell me all, Jeeves,’ I said.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘I say, tell me all. I am fogged.’

  ‘It is quite simple, sir. I ventured to take the liberty, on my own responsibility, of putting into operation the alternative scheme which, if you remember, I wished to outline to you.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘It occurred to me, sir, that it would be most judicious for me to call at the back door and desire an interview with Miss Mapleton. This, I fancied, would enable me, while the maid had gone to convey my request to Miss Mapleton, to introduce the young lady into the house unobserved.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘Yes, sir. She proceeded up the back stairs and is now safely in bed.’

  I frowned. The thought of the kid Clementina jarred upon me.

  ‘She is, is she?’ I said. ‘A murrain on her, Jeeves, and may she be stood in the corner next Sunday for not knowing her Collect. And then you saw Miss Mapleton?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And told her that I was out in the garden, chivvying burglars with my bare hands?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And had been on my way to call upon her?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And now she’s busy adding a postscript to her letter to Aunt Agatha, speaking of me in terms of unstinted praise.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  I drew a deep breath. It was too dark for me to see the superhuman intelligence which must have been sloshing about all over the surface of the man’s features. I tried to, but couldn’t make it.

  ‘Jeeves,’ I said, ‘I should have been guided by you from the first.’

  ‘It might have spared you some temporary unpleasantness, sir.’

  ‘Unpleasantness is right. When that lantern shone up at me in the silent night, Jeeves, just as I had finished poising the pot, I thought I had unshipped a rib. Jeeves!’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘That Antibes expedition is off.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it, sir.’

  ‘If young Bobbie Wickham can get me into a mess like this in a quiet spot like Bingley-on-Sea, what might she not be able to accomplish at a really lively resort like Antibes?’

  ‘Precisely, sir. Miss Wickham, as I have sometimes said, though a charming—’

  ‘Yes, yes, Jeeves. There is no necessity to stress the point. The Wooster eyes are definitely opened.’

  I hesitated.

  ‘Jeeves.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Those plus-fours.’

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘You may give them to the poor.’

  ‘Thank you very much, sir.’

  I sighed.

  ‘It is my heart’s blood, Jeeves.’

  ‘I appreciate the sacrifice, sir. But, once the first pang of separation is over, you will feel much easier without them.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘I am convinced of it, sir.’

  ‘So be it, then, Jeeves,’ I said, ‘so be it.’

  8 THE LOVE THAT PURIFIES

  THERE IS A ghastly moment in the year, generally about the beginning of August, when Jeeves insists on taking a holiday, the slacker, and legs it off to some seaside resort for a couple of weeks, leaving me stranded. This moment had now arrived, and we were discussing what was to be done with the young master.

  ‘I had gathered the impression, sir,’ said Jeeves, ‘that you were proposing to accept Mr Sipperley’s invitation to join him at his Hampshire residence.’

  I laughed. One of those bitter, rasping ones.

  ‘Correct, Jeeves. I was. But mercifully I was enabled to discover young Sippy’s foul plot in time. Do you know what?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘My spies informed me that Sippy’s fiancée, Miss Moon, was to be there. Also his fiancée’s mother, Mrs Moon, and his fiancée’s small brother, Master Moon. You see the hideous treachery lurking behind the invitation? You see the man’s loathsome design? Obviously my job was to be the task of keeping Mrs Moon and little Sebastian Moon interested and amused while Sippy and his blighted girl went off for the day, roaming the pleasant woodlands and talking of this and that. I doubt if anyone has ever had a narrower escape. You remember little Sebastian?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘His goggle eyes? His golden curls?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I don’t know why it is, but I’ve never been able to bear with fortitude anything in the shape of a kid with golden curls. Confronted with one, I feel the urge to step on him or drop things on him from a height.’

  ‘Many strong natures are affected in the same way, sir.’

  ‘So no chez Sippy for me. Was that the front-door bell ringing?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Somebody stands without.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Better go and see who it is.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  He oozed off, to return a moment later bearing a telegram. I opened it, and a soft smile played about the lips.

  ‘Amazing how often things happen as if on a cue, Jeeves. This is from my Aunt Dahlia, inviting me down to her place in Worcestershire.’

  ‘Most satisfactory, sir.’

  ‘Yes. How I came to overlook her when searching for a haven, I can’t think. The ideal home from home. Picturesque surroundings. Company’s own water, and the best cook in England. You have not forgotten Anatole?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘And above all, Jeeves, at Aunt Dahlia’s there should be an almost total shortage of blasted kids. True, there is her son Bonzo, who, I take it, will be home for the holidays, but I don’t mind Bonzo. Buzz off and send a wire, accepting.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And then shove a few necessaries together, including golf-clubs and tennis racquet.’
<
br />   ‘Very good, sir. I am glad that matters have been so happily adjusted.’

  I think I have mentioned before that my Aunt Dahlia stands alone in the grim regiment of my aunts as a real good sort and a chirpy sportsman. She is the one, if you remember, who married old Tom Travers and, with the assistance of Jeeves, lured Mrs Bingo Little’s French cook, Anatole, away from Mrs B. L. and into her own employment. To visit her is always a pleasure. She generally has some cheery birds staying with her, and there is none of that rot about getting up for breakfast which one is sadly apt to find at country-houses.

  It was, accordingly, with unalloyed lightness of heart that I edged the two-seater into the garage at Brinkley Court, Worc., and strolled round to the house by way of the shrubbery and the tennis-lawn, to report arrival. I had just got across the lawn when a head poked itself out of the smoking-room window and beamed at me in an amiable sort of way.

  ‘Ah, Mr Wooster,’ it said. ‘Ha, ha!’

  ‘Ho, ho!’ I replied, not to be outdone in the courtesies.

  It had taken me a couple of seconds to place this head. I now perceived that it belonged to a rather moth-eaten septuagenarian of the name of Anstruther, an old friend of Aunt Dahlia’s late father. I had met him at her house in London once or twice. An agreeable cove, but somewhat given to nervous breakdowns.

  ‘Just arrived?’ he asked, beaming as before.

  ‘This minute,’ I said, also beaming.

  ‘I fancy you will find our good hostess in the drawing-room.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, and after a bit more beaming to and fro I pushed on.

  Aunt Dahlia was in the drawing-room, and welcomed me with gratifying enthusiasm. She beamed, too. It was one of those big days for beamers.

  ‘Hullo, ugly,’ she said. ‘So here you are. Thank heaven you were able to come.’

  It was the right tone, and one I should be glad to hear in others of the family circle, notably my Aunt Agatha.

  ‘Always a pleasure to enjoy your hosp., Aunt Dahlia,’ I said cordially. ‘I anticipate a delightful and restful visit. I see you’ve got Mr Anstruther staying here. Anybody else?’

  ‘Do you know Lord Snettisham?’

  ‘I’ve met him, racing.’

  ‘He’s here, and Lady Snettisham.’

  ‘And Bonzo, of course?’

  ‘Yes. And Thomas.’

  ‘Uncle Thomas?’

  ‘No, he’s in Scotland. Your cousin Thomas.’

  ‘You don’t mean Aunt Agatha’s loathly son?’

  ‘Of course I do. How many cousin Thomases do you think you’ve got, fathead? Agatha has gone to Homburg and planted the child on me.’

  I was visibly agitated.

  ‘But, Aunt Dahlia! Do you realize what you’ve taken on? Have you an inkling of the sort of scourge you’ve introduced into your home? In the society of young Thos., strong men quail. He is England’s premier fiend in human shape. There is no devilry beyond his scope.’

  ‘That’s what I have always gathered from the form book,’ agreed the relative. ‘But just now, curse him, he’s behaving like something out of a Sunday School story. You see, poor old Mr Anstruther is very frail these days, and when he found he was in a house containing two small boys he acted promptly. He offered a prize of five pounds to whichever behaved best during his stay. The consequence is that, ever since, Thomas has had large white wings sprouting out of his shoulders.’ A shadow seemed to pass across her face. She appeared embittered. ‘Mercenary little brute!’ she said. ‘I never saw such a sickeningly well-behaved kid in my life. It’s enough to make one despair of human nature.’

  I couldn’t follow her.

  ‘But isn’t that all to the good?’

  ‘No, it’s not.’

  ‘I can’t see why. Surely a smug, oily Thos. about the house is better than a Thos., raging hither and thither and being a menace to society? Stands to reason.’

  ‘It doesn’t stand to anything of the kind. You see, Bertie, this Good Conduct prize has made matters a bit complex. There are wheels within wheels. The thing stirred Jane Snettisham’s sporting blood to such an extent that she insisted on having a bet on the result.’

  A great light shone upon me. I got what she was driving at.

  ‘Ah!’ I said. ‘Now I follow. Now I see. Now I comprehend. She’s betting on Thos., is she?’

  ‘Yes. And naturally, knowing him, I thought the thing was in the bag.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I couldn’t see myself losing. Heaven knows I have no illusions about my darling Bonzo. Bonzo is, and has been from the cradle, a pest. But to back him to win a Good Conduct contest with Thomas seemed to me simply money for jam.’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘When it comes to devilry, Bonzo is just a good, ordinary selling-plater. Whereas Thomas is a classic yearling.’

  ‘Exactly. I don’t see that you have any cause to worry, Aunt Dahlia. Thos. can’t last. He’s bound to crack.’

  ‘Yes. But before that the mischief may be done.’

  ‘Mischief?’

  ‘Yes. There is dirty work afoot, Bertie,’ said Aunt Dahlia gravely. ‘When I booked this bet, I reckoned without the hideous blackness of the Snettishams’ souls. Only yesterday it came to my knowledge that Jack Snettisham had been urging Bonzo to climb on the roof and boo down Mr Anstruther’s chimney.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes. Mr Anstruther is very frail, poor old fellow, and it would have frightened him into a fit. On coming out of which, his first action would have been to disqualify Bonzo and declare Thomas the winner by default.’

  ‘But Bonzo did not boo?’

  ‘No,’ said Aunt Dahlia, and a mother’s pride rang in her voice. ‘He firmly refused to boo. Mercifully, he is in love at the moment, and it has quite altered his nature. He scorned the tempter.’

  ‘In love? Who with?’

  ‘Lilian Gish. We had an old film of hers at the Bijou Dream in the village a week ago, and Bonzo saw her for the first time. He came out with a pale, set face, and ever since has been trying to lead a finer, better life. So the peril was averted.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘Yes. But now it’s my turn. You don’t suppose I am going to take a thing like that lying down, do you? Treat me right, and I am fairness itself: but try any of this nobbling of starters, and I can play that game, too. If this Good Conduct contest is to be run on rough lines, I can do my bit as well as anyone. Far too much hangs on the issue for me to handicap myself by remembering the lessons I learned at my mother’s knee.’

  ‘Lot of money involved?’

  ‘Much more than mere money. I’ve betted Anatole against Jane Snettisham’s kitchen-maid.’

  ‘Great Scott! Uncle Thomas will have something to say if he comes back and finds Anatole gone.’

  ‘And won’t he say it!’

  ‘Pretty long odds you gave her, didn’t you? I mean, Anatole is famed far and wide as a hash-slinger without peer.’

  ‘Well, Jane Snettisham’s kitchen-maid is not to be sneezed at. She is very hot stuff, they tell me, and good kitchen-maids nowadays are about as rare as original Holbeins. Besides, I had to give her a shade the best of the odds. She stood out for it. Well, anyway, to get back to what I was saying, if the opposition are going to place temptations in Bonzo’s path, they shall jolly well be placed in Thomas’s path, too, and plenty of them. So ring for Jeeves and let him get his brain working.’

  ‘But I haven’t brought Jeeves.’

  ‘You haven’t brought Jeeves?’

  ‘No. He always takes his holiday at this time of year. He’s down at Bognor for the shrimping.’

  Aunt Dahlia registered deep concern.

  ‘Then send for him at once! What earthly use do you suppose you are without Jeeves, you poor ditherer?’

  I drew myself up a trifle – in fact, to my full height. Nobody has a greater respect for Jeeves than I have, but the Wooster pride was stung.

  ‘Jeeves isn’t the only one
with brains,’ I said coldly. ‘Leave this thing to me, Aunt Dahlia. By dinner-time to-night I shall hope to have a fully matured scheme to submit for your approval. If I can’t thoroughly encompass this Thos., I’ll eat my hat.’

  ‘About all you’ll get to eat if Anatole leaves,’ said Aunt Dahlia in a pessimistic manner which I did not like to see.

  I was brooding pretty tensely as I left the presence. I have always had a suspicion that Aunt Dahlia, while invariably matey and bonhomous and seeming to take pleasure in my society, has a lower opinion of my intelligence than I quite like. Too often it is her practice to address me as ‘fathead’, and if I put forward any little thought or idea or fancy in her hearing it is apt to be greeted with the affectionate but jarring guffaw. In our recent interview she had hinted quite plainly that she considered me negligible in a crisis which, like the present one, called for initiative and resource. It was my intention to show her how greatly she had underestimated me.

  To let you see the sort of fellow I really am, I got a ripe, excellent idea before I had gone half-way down the corridor. I examined it for the space of one and a half cigarettes, and could see no flaw in it, provided – I say, provided old Mr Anstruther’s notion of what constituted bad conduct squared with mine.

  The great thing on these occasions, as Jeeves will tell you, is to get a toe-hold on the psychology of the individual. Study the individual, and you will bring home the bacon. Now, I had been studying young Thos. for years, and I knew his psychology from caviare to nuts. He is one of those kids who never let the sun go down on their wrath, if you know what I mean. I mean to say, do something to annoy or offend or upset this juvenile thug, and he will proceed at the earliest possible opp. to wreak a hideous vengeance upon you. Only the previous summer, for instance, it having been drawn to his attention that the latter had reported him for smoking, he had marooned a Cabinet Minister on an island in the lake, at Aunt Agatha’s place in Hertfordshire – in the rain, mark you, and with no company but that of one of the nastiest-minded swans I have ever encountered. Well, I mean!

  So now it seemed to me that a few well-chosen taunts, or jibes, directed at his more sensitive points, must infallibly induce in this Thos. a frame of mind which would lead to his working some sensational violence upon me. And, if you wonder that I was willing to sacrifice myself to this frightful extent in order to do Aunt Dahlia a bit of good, I can only say that we Woosters are like that.