As regarded the future he was pretty solid, owing to the fact that he had a moneyed aunt tucked away somewhere in Illinois. It’s a curious thing how many of my pals seem to have aunts and uncles who are their main source of supply. There is Bicky for one, with his uncle the Duke of Chiswick; Corky, who, until things went wrong, looked to Alexander Worple, the bird specialist, for sustenance. And I shall be telling you a story shortly of a dear old friend of mine, Oliver Sipperley, who had an aunt in Yorkshire. These things cannot be mere coincidence. They must be meant. What I’m driving at is that Providence seems to look after the chumps of this world; and, personally, I’m all for it. I suppose the fact is that, having been snootered from infancy upwards by my own aunts, I like to see that it is possible for these relatives to have a better and a softer side.
However, this is more or less of a side-track. Coming back to Rocky, what I was saying was that he had this aunt in Illinois; and, as he had been named Rockmetteller after her (which in itself, you might say, entitled him to substantial compensation) and was her only nephew, his position looked pretty sound. He told me that when he did come into the money he meant to do no work at all, except perhaps an occasional poem recommending the young man with life opening out before him with all its splendid possibilities to light a pipe and shove his feet up on the mantelpiece.
And this was the man who was prodding me in the ribs in the grey dawn!
‘Read this, Bertie!’ babbled old Rocky.
I could just see that he was waving a letter or something equally foul in my face. ‘Wake up and read this!’
I can’t read before I’ve had my morning tea and a cigarette. I groped for the bell.
Jeeves came in, looking as fresh as a dewy violet. It’s a mystery to me how he does it.
‘Tea, Jeeves.’
‘Very good, sir.’
I found that Rocky was surging round with his beastly letter again.
‘What is it?’ I said. ‘What on earth’s the matter?’
‘Read it!’
‘I can’t. I haven’t had my tea.’
‘Well, listen then.’
‘Who’s it from?’
‘My aunt.’
At this point I fell asleep again. I woke to hear him saying:
‘So what on earth am I to do?’
Jeeves flowed in with the tray, like some silent stream meandering over its mossy bed; and I saw daylight.
‘Read it again, Rocky, old top,’ I said. ‘I want Jeeves to hear it. Mr Todd’s aunt has written him a rather rummy letter, Jeeves, and we want your advice.’
‘Very good, sir.’
He stood in the middle of the room, registering devotion to the cause, and Rocky started again:
‘My dear Rockmetteller,
‘I have been thinking things over for a long while, and I have come to the conclusion that I have been very thoughtless to wait so long before doing what I have made up my mind to do now.’
‘What do you make of that, Jeeves?’
‘It seems a little obscure at present, sir, but no doubt it becomes clearer at a later point in the communication.’
‘Proceed, old scout,’ I said, champing my bread and butter.
‘You know how all my life I have longed to visit New York and see for myself the wonderful gay life of which I have read so much. I fear that now it will be impossible for me to fulfil my dream. I am old and worn out. I seem to have no strength left in me.’
‘Sad, Jeeves, what?’
‘Extremely, sir.’
‘Sad nothing!’ said Rocky. ‘It’s sheer laziness. I went to see her last Christmas and she was bursting with health. Her doctor told me himself that there was nothing wrong with her whatever. But she will insist that she’s a hopeless invalid, so he has to agree with her. She’s got a fixed idea that the trip to New York would kill her; so, though it’s been her ambition all her life to come here, she stays where she is.’
‘Rather like the chappie whose heart was “in the Highlands a-chasing of the deer”, Jeeves?’
‘The cases are in some respects parallel, sir.’
‘Carry on, Rocky, dear boy.’
‘So I have decided that, if I cannot enjoy all the marvels of the city myself, I can at least enjoy them through you. I suddenly thought of this yesterday after reading a beautiful poem in the Sunday paper about a young man who had longed all his life for a certain thing and won it in the end only when he was too old to enjoy it. It was very sad, and it touched me.’
‘A thing,’ interpolated Rocky bitterly, ‘that I’ve not been able to do in ten years.’
‘As you know, you will have my money when I am gone; but until now I have never been able to see my way to giving you an allowance. I have now decided to do so – on one condition. I have written to a firm of lawyers in New York, giving them instructions to pay you quite a substantial sum each month. My one condition is that you live in New York and enjoy yourself as I have always wished to do. I want you to be my representative, to spend this money for me as I should do myself. I want you to plunge into the gay, prismatic life of New York. I want you to be the life and soul of brilliant supper parties.
‘Above all, I want you – indeed, I insist on this – to write me letters at least once a week, giving me a full description of all you are doing and all that is going on in the city, so that I may enjoy at second-hand what my wretched health prevents my enjoying for myself. Remember that I shall expect full details, and that no detail is too trivial to interest.
Your affectionate Aunt,
Isabel Rockmetteller.’
‘What about it?’ said Rocky.
‘What about it?’ I said.
‘Yes. What on earth am I going to do?’
It was only then that I really got on to the extremely rummy attitude of the chappie, in view of the fact that a quite unexpected mess of good cash had suddenly descended on him from a blue sky. To my mind it was an occasion for the beaming smile and the joyous whoop; yet here the man was, looking and talking as if Fate had swung on his solar plexus. It amazed me.
‘Aren’t you bucked?’ I said.
‘Bucked!’
‘If I were in your place I should be frightfully braced. I consider this pretty soft for you.’
He gave a kind of yelp, stared at me for a moment, and then began to talk of New York in a way that reminded me of Jimmy Mundy, the reformer bloke. Jimmy had just come to New York on a hit-the-trail campaign, and I had popped in at Madison Square Garden a couple of days before, for half an hour or so, to hear him. He had certainly told New York some pretty straight things about itself, having apparently taken a dislike to the place, but, by Jove, you know, dear old Rocky made him look like a publicity agent for the old metrop!
‘Pretty soft!’ he cried. ‘To have to come and live in New York! To have to leave my little cottage and take a stuffy, smelly, overheated hole of an apartment in this Heaven-forsaken, festering Gehenna. To have to mix night after night with a mob who think that life is a sort of St Vitus’s dance, and imagine that they’re having a good time because they’re making enough noise for six and drinking too much for ten. I loathe New York, Bertie. I wouldn’t come near the place if I hadn’t got to see editors occasionally. There’s a blight on it. It’s got moral delirium tremens. It’s the limit. The very thought of staying more than a day in it makes me sick. And you call this thing pretty soft for me!’
I felt rather like Lot’s friends must have done when they dropped in for a quiet chat and their genial host began to criticize the Cities of the Plain. I had no idea old Rocky could be so eloquent.
‘It would kill me to have to live in New York,’ he went on. ‘To have to share the air with six million people! To have to wear stiff collars and decent clothes all the time! To –’ He started. ‘Good Lord! I suppose I should have to dress for dinner in the evenings. What a ghastly notion!’
I was shocked, absolutely shocked.
‘My dear chap!’ I said, reproachfully.
&nbs
p; ‘Do you dress for dinner every night, Bertie?’
‘Jeeves,’ I said coldly. ‘How many suits of evening clothes have we?’
‘We have three suits of full evening dress, sir; two dinner jackets –’
‘Three.’
‘For practical purposes two only, sir. If you remember, we cannot wear the third. We have also seven white waistcoats.’
‘And shirts?’
‘Four dozen, sir.’
‘And white ties?’
‘The first two shallow shelves in the chest of drawers are completely filled with our white ties, sir.’
I turned to Rocky.
‘You see?’
The chappie writhed like an electric fan.
‘I won’t do it! I can’t do it! I’ll be hanged if I’ll do it! How on earth can I dress up like that? Do you realize that most days I don’t get out of my pyjamas till five in the afternoon, and then I just put on an old sweater?’
I saw Jeeves wince, poor chap. This sort of revelation shocked his finest feelings.
‘Then, what are you going to do about it?’ I said.
‘That’s what I want to know.’
‘You might write and explain to your aunt.’
‘I might – if I wanted her to get round to her lawyer’s in two rapid leaps and cut me out of her will.’
I saw his point.
‘What do you suggest, Jeeves?’ I said.
Jeeves cleared his throat respectfully.
‘The crux of the matter would appear to be, sir, that Mr Todd is obliged by the conditions under which the money is delivered into his possession to write Miss Rockmetteller long and detailed letters relating to his movements, and the only method by which this can be accomplished, if Mr Todd adheres to his expressed intention of remaining in the country, is for Mr Todd to induce some second party to gather the actual experiences which Miss Rockmetteller wishes reported to her, and to convey these to him in the shape of a careful report, on which it would be possible for him, with the aid of his imagination, to base the suggested correspondence.’
Having got which off the old diaphragm, Jeeves was silent. Rocky looked at me in a helpless sort of way. He hasn’t been brought up on Jeeves as I have, and he isn’t on to his curves.
‘Could he put it a little clearer, Bertie?’ he said. ‘I thought at the start it was going to make sense, but it kind of flickered. What’s the idea?’
‘My dear old man, perfectly simple. I knew we could stand on Jeeves. All you’ve got to do is to get somebody to go round the town for you and take a few notes, and then you work the notes up into letters. That’s it, isn’t it, Jeeves?’
‘Precisely, sir.’
The light of hope gleamed in Rocky’s eyes. He looked at Jeeves in a startled way, dazed by the man’s vast intellect.
‘But who would do it?’ he said. ‘It would have to be a pretty smart sort of man, a man who would notice things.’
‘Jeeves!’ I said. ‘Let Jeeves do it.’
‘But would he?’
‘You would do it, wouldn’t you, Jeeves?’
For the first time in our long connexion I observed Jeeves almost smile. The corner of his mouth curved quite a quarter of an inch, and for a moment his eye ceased to look like a meditative fish’s.
‘I should be delighted to oblige, sir. As a matter of fact, I have already visited some of New York’s places of interest on my evening out, and it would be most enjoyable to make a practice of the pursuit.’
‘Fine! I know exactly what your aunt wants to hear about, Rocky. She wants an earful of cabaret stuff. The place you ought to go to first, Jeeves, is Reigelheimers’s. It’s on Forty-second Street. Anybody will show you the way.’
Jeeves shook his head.
‘Pardon me, sir. People are no longer going to Reigelheimer’s. The place at the moment is Frolics on the Roof.’
‘You see?’ I said to Rocky. ‘Leave it to Jeeves. He knows.’
It isn’t often that you find an entire group of your fellow-humans happy in this world; but our little circle was certainly an example of the fact that it can be done. We were all full of beans. Everything went absolutely right from the start.
Jeeves was happy, partly because he loves to exercise his giant brain, and partly because he was having a corking time among the bright lights. I saw him one night at the Midnight Revels. He was sitting at a table on the edge of the dancing floor, doing himself remarkably well with a fat cigar. His face wore an expression of austere benevolence, and he was making notes in a small book.
As for the rest of us, I was feeling pretty good, because I was fond of old Rocky and glad to be able to do him a good turn. Rocky was perfectly contented, because he was still able to sit on fences in his pyjamas and watch worms. And, as for the aunt, she seemed tickled to death. She was getting Broadway at pretty long range, but it seemed to be hitting her just right. I read one of her letters to Rocky, and it was full of life.
But then Rocky’s letters, based on Jeeve’s notes, were enough to buck anybody up. It was rummy when you came to think of it. There was I, loving the life, while the mere mention of it gave Rocky a tired feeling; yet here is a letter I wrote home to a pal of mine in London:
Dear Freddie,
Well, here I am in New York. It’s not a bad place. I’m not having a bad time. Everything’s not bad. The cabarets aren’t bad. Don’t know when I shall be back. How’s everybody? Cheerio!
Yours,
Bertie.
P.S. – Seen old Ted lately?
Not that I cared about old Ted; but if I hadn’t dragged him in I couldn’t have got the confounded thing on to the second page.
Now here’s old Rocky on exactly the same subject:
Dearest Aunt Isabel,
How can I ever thank you enough for giving me the opportunity to live in this astounding city! New York seems more wonderful every day.
Fifth Avenue is at its best, of course, just now. The dresses are magnificent!
Wads of stuff about the dresses. I didn’t know Jeeves was such an authority.
I was out with some of the crowd at the Midnight Revels the other night. We took in a show first, after a little dinner at a new place on Forty-third Street. We were quite a gay party. Georgie Cohan looked in about midnight and got off a good story about Willie Collier. Fred Stone could only stay a minute, but Doug. Fairbanks did all sorts of stunts and made us roar. Ed. Wynn was there, and Laurette Taylor showed up with a party. The show at the Revels is quite good. I am enclosing a programme.
Last night a few of us went round to Frolics on the Roof –
And so on and so forth, yards of it. I suppose it’s the artistic temperament or something. What I mean is, it’s easier for a chappie who’s used to writing poems and that sort of tosh to put a bit of a punch into a letter than it is for a fellow like me. Anyway, there’s no doubt that Rocky’s correspondence was hot stuff. I called Jeeves in and congratulated him.
‘Jeeves, you’re a wonder!’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘How you notice everything at these places beats me. I couldn’t tell you a thing about them, except that I’ve had a good time.’
‘It’s just a knack, sir.’
‘Well, Mr Todd’s letters ought to brace Miss Rockmetteller all right, what?’
‘Undoubtedly, sir,’ agreed Jeeves.
And, by Jove, they did! They certainly did, by George! What I mean to say is, I was sitting in the apartment one afternoon, about a month after the thing had started, smoking a cigarette and resting the old bean, when the door opened and the voice of Jeeves burst the silence like a bomb.
It wasn’t that he spoke loud. He has one of those soft, soothing voices that slide through the atmosphere like the note of a far-off sheep. It was what he said that made me leap like a young gazelle.
‘Miss Rockmetteller!’
And in came a large, solid female.
The situation floored me. I’m not denying it. Hamlet must have felt much as I
did when his father’s ghost bobbed up in the fairway. I’d come to look on Rocky’s aunt as such a permanency at her own home that it didn’t seem possible that she could really be here in New York. I stared at her. Then I looked at Jeeves. He was standing there in an attitude of dignified detachment, the chump, when, if ever he should have been rallying round the young master, it was now.
Rocky’s aunt looked less like an invalid than anyone I’ve ever seen, except my Aunt Agatha. She had a good deal of Aunt Agatha about her, as a matter of fact. She looked as if she might be deucedly dangerous if put upon; and something seemed to tell me that she would certainly regard herself as put upon if she ever found out the game which poor old Rocky had been pulling on her.
‘Good afternoon,’ I managed to say.
‘How do you do?’ she said. ‘Mr Cohan?’
‘Er – no.’
‘Mr Fred Stone?’
‘Not absolutely. As a matter of fact, my name’s Wooster – Bertie Wooster.’
She seemed disappointed. The fine old name of Wooster appeared to mean nothing in her life.
‘Isn’t Rockmetteller home?’ she said. ‘Where is he?’
She had me with the first shot. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I couldn’t tell her that Rocky was down in the country, watching worms.
There was the faintest flutter of sound in the background. It was the respectful cough with which Jeeves announces that he is about to speak without having been spoken to.
‘If you remember, sir, Mr Todd went out in the automobile with a party earlier in the afternoon.’
‘So he did, Jeeves; so he did,’ I said, looking at my watch. ‘Did he say when he would be back?’
‘He gave me to understand, sir, that he would be somewhat late in returning.’
He vanished; and the aunt took the chair which I’d forgotten to offer her. She looked at me in rather a rummy way. It was a nasty look. It made me feel as if I were something the dog had brought in and intended to bury later on, when he had time. My own Aunt Agatha, back in England, has looked at me in exactly the same way many a time, and it never fails to make my spine curl.
‘You seem very much at home here, young man. Are you a great friend of Rockmetteller’s?’
The Jeeves Omnibus Vol. 2: Right Ho, Jeeves / Joy in the Morning / Carry On, Jeeves Page 57
