The Jeeves Omnibus - Vol 2: (Jeeves & Wooster): No. 2 (87 page)

‘Oh, dash it, Jeeves!’ he said, manifestly overwrought. ‘I wish at least you’d put it on another table for a change.’

‘Sir?’ I said.

‘Every night, dash it all,’ proceeded Mr Wooster morosely, ‘you come in at exactly the same old time with the same old tray and put it on the same old table. I’m fed up, I tell you. It’s the bally monotony of it that makes it all seem so frightfully bally.’

I confess that his words filled me with a certain apprehension. I had heard gentlemen in whose employment I have been speak in very much die same way before, and it had almost invariably meant that they were contemplating matrimony. It disturbed me, therefore, I am free to admit, when Mr Wooster addressed me in this fashion. I had no desire to sever a connexion so pleasant in every respect as his and mine had been, and my experience is that when the wife
comes
in at the front door the valet of bachelor days goes out at the back.

‘It’s not your fault, of course,’ went on Mr Wooster, regaining a certain degree of composure. ‘I’m not blaming you. But, by Jove, I mean, you must acknowledge – I mean to say, I’ve been thinking pretty deeply these last few days, Jeeves, and I’ve come to the conclusion mine is an empty life. I’m lonely, Jeeves.’

‘You have a great many friends, sir.’

‘What’s the good of friends?’

‘Emerson,’ I reminded him, ‘says a friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of Nature, sir.’

‘Well, you can tell Emerson from me next time you see him that he’s an ass.’

‘Very good, sir.’

‘What I want – Jeeves, have you seen that play called I-forget-its-dashed-name?’

‘No, sir.’

‘It’s on at the What-d’you-call-it. I went last night. The hero’s a chap who’s buzzing along, you know, quite merry and bright, and suddenly a kid turns up and says she’s his daughter. Left over from act one, you know – absolutely the first he’d heard of it. Well, of course, there’s a bit of a fuss and they say to him “What-ho?” and he says, “Well, what about it?” and they say, “Well,
what
about it?” and he says, “Oh, all right, then, if that’s the way you feel!” and he takes the kid and goes off with her out into the world together, you know. Well, what I’m driving at, Jeeves, is that I envied that chappie. Most awfully jolly little girl, you know, clinging to him trustingly and what not. Something to look after, if you know what I mean. Jeeves, I wish I had a daughter. I wonder what the procedure is?’

‘Marriage is, I believe, considered the preliminary step, sir.’

‘No, I mean about adopting a kid. You can adopt kids, you know, Jeeves. But what I want to know is how you start about it.’

‘The process I should imagine, would be highly complicated and laborious, sir. It would cut into your spare time.’

‘Well, I’ll tell you what I could do, then. My sister will be back from India next week with her three little girls. I’ll give up this flat and take a house and have them all to live with me. By Jove, Jeeves, I think that’s rather a scheme, what? Prattle of childish voices, eh? Little feet pattering hither and thither, yes?’

I concealed my perturbation, but the effort to preserve my
sang-froid
tested my powers to the utmost. The course of action outlined by Mr Wooster meant the finish of our cosy bachelor establishment if it came
into
being as a practical proposition; and no doubt some men in my place would at this juncture have voiced their disapproval. I avoided this blunder.

‘If you will pardon my saying so, sir,’ I suggested, ‘I think you are not quite yourself after your influenza. If I might express the opinion, what you require is a few days by the sea. Brighton is very handy, sir.’

‘Are you suggesting that I’m talking through my hat?’

‘By no means, sir. I merely advocate a short stay at Brighton as a physical recuperative.’

Mr Wooster considered.

‘Well, I’m not sure you’re not right,’ he said at length. ‘I
am
feeling more or less an onion. You might shove a few things in a suitcase and drive me down in the car tomorrow.’

‘Very good, sir.’

‘And when we get back I’ll be in the pink and ready to tackle this pattering-feet wheeze.’

‘Exactly, sir.’

Well, it was a respite, and I welcomed it. But I began to see that a crisis had arisen which would require adroit handling. Rarely had I observed Mr Wooster more set on a thing. Indeed, I could recall no such exhibition of determination on his part since the time when he had insisted, against my frank disapproval, on wearing purple socks. However, I had coped successfully with that outbreak, and I was by no means unsanguine that I should eventually be able to bring the present affair to a happy issue. Employers are like horses. They require managing. Some gentlemen’s personal gentlemen have the knack of managing them, some have not. I, I am happy to say, have no cause for complaint.

For myself, I found our stay at Brighton highly enjoyable, and should have been willing to extend it, but Mr Wooster, still restless, wearied of the place by the end of two days, and on the third afternoon he instructed me to pack up and bring the car round to the hotel. We started back along the London road at about five on a fine summer’s day, and had travelled perhaps two miles when I perceived in the road before us a young lady, gesticulating with no little animation. I applied the brake and brought the vehicle to a standstill.

‘What,’ inquired Mr Wooster, waking from a reverie, ‘is the big thought at the back of this, Jeeves?’

‘I observed a young lady endeavouring to attract our attention with
signals
a little way down the road, sir,’ I explained. ‘She is now making her way towards us.’

Mr Wooster peered.

‘I see her. I expect she wants a lift, Jeeves.’

‘That was the interpretation which I placed upon her actions, sir.’

‘A jolly-looking kid,’ said Mr Wooster. ‘I wonder what she’s doing, biffing about the high road.’

‘She has the air to me, sir, of one who has been absenting herself without leave from her school, sir.’

‘Hallo-allo-allo!’ said Mr Wooster, as the child reached us. ‘Do you want a lift?’

‘Oh, I say, can you?’ said the child, with marked pleasure.

‘Where do you want to go?’

‘There’s a turning to the left about a mile farther on. If you’ll put me down there, I’ll walk the rest of the way. I say, thanks awfully. I’ve got a nail in my shoe.’

She climbed in at the back. A red-haired young person with a snub-nose and an extremely large grin. Her age, I should imagine, would be about twelve. She let down one of the spare seats, and knelt on it to facilitate conversation.

‘I’m going to get into a frightful row,’ she began. ‘Miss Tomlinson will be perfectly furious.’

‘No, really?’ said Mr Wooster.

‘It’s a half-holiday, you know, and I sneaked away to Brighton, because I wanted to go on the pier and put pennies in the slotmachines. I thought I could get back in time so that nobody would notice I’d gone, but I got this nail in my shoe, and now there’ll be a fearful row. Oh, well,’ she said, with a philosophy which, I confess, I admired, ‘it can’t be helped. What’s your car? A Sunbeam, isn’t it? We’ve got a Wolseley at home.’

Mr Wooster was visibly perturbed. As I have indicated, he was at this time in a highly malleable frame of mind, tender-hearted to a degree where the young of the female sex was concerned. Her sad case touched him deeply.

‘Oh, I say, this is rather rotten,’ he observed. ‘Isn’t there anything to be done? I say, Jeeves, don’t you think something could be done?’

‘It was not my place to make the suggestion, sir,’ I replied, ‘but, as you yourself have brought the matter up, I fancy the trouble is susceptible of adjustment. I think it would be a legitimate subterfuge were you to inform the young lady’s schoolmistress that you are an old friend of the young lady’s father. In this case you could inform Miss Tomlinson that you had been passing the school and had seen
the
young lady at the gate and taken her for a drive. Miss Tomlinson’s chagrin would no doubt in these circumstances be sensibly diminished if not altogether dispersed.’

‘Well, you
are
a sportsman!’ observed the young person, with considerable enthusiasm. And she proceeded to kiss me – in connexion with which I have only to say that I was sorry she had just been devouring some sticky species of sweetmeat.

‘Jeeves, you’ve hit it!’ said Mr Wooster. ‘A sound, even fruity, scheme. I say, I suppose I’d better know your name and all that, if I’m a friend of your father’s.’

‘My name’s Peggy Mainwaring, thanks awfully,’ said the young person. ‘And my father’s Professor Mainwaring. He’s written a lot of books. You’ll be expected to know that.’

‘Author of the well-known series of philosophical treatises, sir,’ I ventured to interject. ‘They have a great vogue, though, if the young lady will pardon my saying so, many of the Professor’s opinions strike me personally as somewhat empirical. Shall I drive on to the school, sir?’

‘Yes, carry on. I say, Jeeves, it’s a rummy thing. Do you know, I’ve never been inside a girl’s school in my life?’

‘Indeed, sir?’

‘Ought to be a dashed interesting experience, Jeeves, what?’

‘I fancy that you may find it so, sir,’ I said.

We drove on a matter of half a mile down a lane, and, directed by the young person, I turned in at the gates of a house of imposing dimensions, bringing the car to a halt at the front door. Mr Wooster and child entered, and presently a parlourmaid came out.

‘You’re to take the car round to the stables, please,’ she said.

‘Ah!’ I said. ‘Then everything is satisfactory, eh? Where has Mr Wooster gone?’

‘Miss Peggy has taken him off to meet her friends. And cook says she hopes you’ll step round to the kitchen later and have a cup of tea.’

‘Inform her that I shall be delighted. Before I take the car to the stables, would it be possible for me to have a word with Miss Tomlinson?’

A moment later I was following her into the drawing-room.

Handsome but strong-minded – that was how I summed up Miss Tomlinson at first glance. In some ways she recalled to mind Mr Wooster’s Aunt Agatha. She had the same penetrating gaze and that indefinable air of being reluctant to stand any nonsense.

‘I fear I am possibly taking a liberty, madam,’ I began, ‘but I am hoping that you will allow me to say a word with respect to my employer. I fancy I am correct in supposing that Mr Wooster did not tell you a great deal about himself?’

‘He told me nothing about himself, except that he was a friend of Professor Mainwaring.’

‘He did not inform you, then, that he was
the
Mr Wooster?’

‘
The
Mr Wooster?’

‘Bertram Wooster, madam.’

I will say for Mr Wooster that, mentally negligible though he no doubt is, he has a name that suggests almost infinite possibilities. He sounds, if I may elucidate my meaning, like Someone – especially if you have just been informed that he is an intimate friend of so eminent a man as Professor Mainwaring. You might not, no doubt, be able to say offhand whether he was Bertram Wooster the novelist, or Bertram Wooster the founder of a new school of thought; but you would have an uneasy feeling that you were exposing you ignorance if you did not give the impression of familiarity with the name. Miss Tomlinson, as I had rather foreseen, nodded brightly.

‘Oh,
Bertram
Wooster!’ she said.

‘He is an extremely retiring gentleman, madam, and would be the last to suggest it himself, but, knowing him as I do, I am sure that he would take it as a graceful compliment if you were to ask him to address the young ladies. He is an excellent extempore speaker.’

‘A very good idea,’ said Miss Tomlinson decidedly. ‘I am very much obliged to you for suggesting it. I will certainly ask him to talk to the girls.’

‘And should he make a pretence – through modesty – of not wishing –’

‘I shall insist.’

‘Thank you, madam. I am obliged. You will not mention my share in the matter? Mr Wooster might think I had exceeded my duties.’

I drove round to the stables and halted the car in the yard. As I got out, I looked at it somewhat intently. It was a good car, and appeared to be in excellent condition, but somehow I seemed to feel that something was going to go wrong with it – something serious – something that would not be able to be put right again for at least a couple of hours.

One gets these presentiments.

It may have been some half-hour later that Mr Wooster came into
the
stable-yard and I was leaning against the car enjoying a quiet cigarette.

‘No, don’t chuck it away, Jeeves,’ he said, as I withdrew the cigarette from my mouth. ‘As a matter of fact, I’ve come to touch you for a smoke. Got one to spare?’

‘Only gaspers, I fear, sir.’

‘They’ll do,’ responded Mr Wooster, with no little eagerness. I observed that his manner was a trifle fatigued and his eyes somewhat wild. ‘It’s a rummy thing, Jeeves, I seem to have lost my cigarette-case. Can’t find it anywhere.’

‘I am sorry to hear that, sir. It is not in the car.’

‘No? Must have dropped it somewhere, then.’ He drew at his gasper with relish. ‘Jolly creatures, small girls, Jeeves,’ he remarked, after a pause.

‘Extremely so, sir.’

‘Of course, I can imagine some fellows finding them a bit exhausting in – er –’

‘
En masse
, sir?’

‘That’s the word. A bit exhausting
en masse
.’

‘I must confess, sir, that that is how they used to strike me. In my younger days, at the outset of my career, sir, I was at one time page-boy in a school for young ladies.’

‘No, really? I never knew that before. I say, Jeeves – er – did the – er – dear little souls
giggle
much in your day?’

‘Practically without cessation, sir.’

‘Makes a fellow feel a bit of an ass, what? I shouldn’t wonder if they usedn’t to stare at you from time to time, too, eh?’

‘At the school where I was employed, sir, the young ladies had a regular game which they were accustomed to play when a male visitor arrived. They would stare fixedly at him and giggle, and there was a small prize for the one who made him blush first.’