LEAVE IT TO JEEVES
Jeeves—my man, you know—is a most chap. So capable. Honestly, I shouldn’t know what to do without him. On lines he’s like those who sadly over the marble at the Pennsylvania Station in the place marked “Inquiries.” You know the Johnnies I mean. You go up to them and say: “When’s the next train for Melonsquashville, Tennessee?” and they reply, without stopping to think, “Two-forty-three, ten, at San Francisco.” And they’re right every time. Well, Jeeves you just the same of omniscience.
As an of what I mean, I meeting Monty Byng in Bond Street one morning, looking the last word in a check suit, and I I should be happy till I had one like it. I the address of the tailors out of him, and had them on the thing the hour.
“Jeeves,” I said that evening. “I’m a check like that one of Mr. Byng’s.”
“Injudicious, sir,” he said firmly. “It will not you.”
“What rot! It’s the thing I’ve for years.”
“Unsuitable for you, sir.”
Well, the long and the of it was that the thing came home, and I put it on, and when I of myself in the I nearly swooned. Jeeves was perfectly right. I looked a a music-hall and a bookie. Yet Monty had looked in the same stuff. These are just Life’s mysteries, and that’s all there is to it.
But it isn’t only that Jeeves’s about is infallible, though, of course, that’s the main thing. The man everything. There was the of that on the “Lincolnshire.” I now how I got it, but it had the of being the real, red-hot tabasco.
“Jeeves,” I said, for I’m of the man, and like to do him a good turn when I can, “if you want to make a of money have something on Wonderchild for the ‘Lincolnshire.’”
He his head.
“I’d not, sir.”
“But it’s the goods. I’m going to put my shirt on him.”
“I do not it, sir. The animal is not to win. Second place is what the is after.”
Perfect piffle, I thought, of course. How the Jeeves know anything about it? Still, you know what happened. Wonderchild till he was on the wire, and then Banana Fritter came along and him out. I home and for Jeeves.
“After this,” I said, “not another step for me without your advice. From now on the of the establishment.”
“Very good, sir. I shall to give satisfaction.”
And he has, by Jove! I’m a on brain myself; the old bean would appear to have been more for ornament than for use, don’t you know; but give me five minutes to talk the thing over with Jeeves, and I’m game to any one about anything. And that’s why, when Bruce Corcoran came to me with his troubles, my act was to ring the and put it up to the with the forehead.
“Leave it to Jeeves,” I said.
I got to know Corky when I came to New York. He was a of my Gussie, who was in with a of people Washington Square way. I don’t know if I told you about it, but the why I left England was I was sent over by my Aunt Agatha to try to stop Gussie marrying a girl on the stage, and I got the whole thing so mixed up that I that it would be a for me to stop on in America for a of going and having long about the thing with aunt. So I sent Jeeves out to a apartment, and settled for a of exile. I’m to say that New York’s a place to be in. Everybody was good to me, and there to be of going on, and I’m a bird, so was fine. Chappies me to other chappies, and so on and so forth, and it wasn’t long I of the right sort, some who rolled in in houses up by the Park, and others who with the mostly around Washington Square—artists and and so forth. Brainy coves.
Corky was one of the artists. A portrait-painter, he called himself, but he hadn’t painted any portraits. He was on the side-lines with a over his shoulders, waiting for a to into the game. You see, the catch about portrait-painting—I’ve looked into the thing a bit—is that you can’t start painting portraits till people come along and ask you to, and they won’t come and ask you to until you’ve painted a first. This makes it of difficult for a chappie. Corky managed to along by an occasional picture for the papers—he had a gift for when he got a good idea—and doing and chairs and for the advertisements. His of income, however, was from the ear of a rich uncle—one Alexander Worple, who was in the business. I’m a as to what is, but it’s something the is on, for Mr. Worple had an large out of it.
Now, a great many think that having a rich uncle is a soft snap: but, according to Corky, such is not the case. Corky’s uncle was a of cove, who looked like for ever. He was fifty-one, and it as if he might go to par. It was not this, however, that old Corky, for he was not and had no to the man going on living. What Corky at was the way the above Worple used to him.
Corky’s uncle, you see, didn’t want him to be an artist. He didn’t think he had any in that direction. He was always him to Art and go into the and start at the and work his way up. Jute had a of with him. He to almost a to it. And what Corky said was that, while he didn’t know what they did at the of the business, told him that it was something too for words. Corky, moreover, in his as an artist. Some day, he said, he was going to make a hit. Meanwhile, by using the and persuasiveness, he was his uncle to up very a small allowance.
He wouldn’t have got this if his uncle hadn’t had a hobby. Mr. Worple was in this respect. As a rule, from what I’ve observed, the American captain of doesn’t do anything out of hours. When he has put the cat out and locked up the office for the night, he just into a of from which he only to start being a captain of again. But Mr. Worple in his time was what is as an ornithologist. He had a book called American Birds, and was another, to be called More American Birds. When he had that, the was that he would a third, and keep on till the supply of American gave out. Corky used to go to him about once every three months and let him talk about American birds. Apparently you do what you liked with old Worple if you gave him his on his subject, so these little used to make Corky’s all right for the time being. But it was for the chap. There was the suspense, you see, and, from that, birds, when and in the of a cold bottle, him stiff.
To complete the character-study of Mr. Worple, he was a man of temper, and his was to think that Corky was a and that step he took in any direction on his own account, was just another proof of his idiocy. I should Jeeves very much the same about me.
So when Corky into my one afternoon, a girl in of him, and said, “Bertie, I want you to meet my fiancée, Miss Singer,” the of the which me was the one which he had come to me about. The very I spoke were, “Corky, how about your uncle?”
The gave one of those laughs. He was looking and worried, like a man who has done the all right but can’t think what the to do with the body.
“We’re so scared, Mr. Wooster,” said the girl. “We were that you might a way of it to him.”
Muriel Singer was one of those very quiet, girls who have a way of looking at you with their big as if they you were the thing on earth and that you hadn’t got on to it yet yourself. She sat there in a of way, looking at me as if she were saying to herself, “Oh, I do this great man isn’t going to me.” She gave a a of feeling, him want to her hand and say, “There, there, little one!” or to that effect. She me that there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. She was like one of those innocent-tasting American drinks which into your so that, you know what you’re doing, you’re starting out to the world by if necessary and on your way to tell the large man in the that, if he looks at you like that, you will his off. What I is, she me and dashing, like a old knight-errant or something of that kind. I that I was with her in this thing to the limit.
“I don’t see why your uncle shouldn’t be most bucked,” I said to Corky. “He will think Miss Singer the wife for you.”
Corky to up.
“You don’t know him. Even if he did like Muriel he wouldn’t admit it. That’s the of pig-headed guy he is. It would be a of with him to kick. All he would would be that I had gone and taken an step without his advice, and he would Cain automatically. He’s always done it.”
I the old bean to meet this emergency.
“You want to work it so that he makes Miss Singer’s without that you know her. Then you come along——”
“But how can I work it that way?”
I saw his point. That was the catch.
“There’s only one thing to do,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“Leave it to Jeeves.”
And I the bell.
“Sir?” said Jeeves, of himself. One of the about Jeeves is that, unless you watch like a hawk, you very see him come into a room. He’s like one of those in India who themselves into thin air and through space in a of way and the parts again just where they want them. I’ve got a who’s what they call a Theosophist, and he says he’s often nearly the thing himself, but couldn’t it off, to having in his on the of animals in anger and pie.
The moment I saw the man there, attention, a weight to roll off my mind. I like a child who his father in the offing. There was something about him that gave me confidence.
Jeeves is a man, with one of those dark, faces. His with the light of pure intelligence.
“Jeeves, we want your advice.”
“Very good, sir.”
I Corky’s painful case into a well-chosen words.
“So you see what it amount to, Jeeves. We want you to some way by which Mr. Worple can make Miss Singer’s without on to the that Mr. Corcoran already her. Understand?”
“Perfectly, sir.”
“Well, try to think of something.”
“I have of something already, sir.”
“You have!”
“The I would cannot fail of success, but it has what may to you a drawback, sir, in that it a financial outlay.”
“He means,” I to Corky, “that he has got a of an idea, but it’s going to cost a bit.”
Naturally the chap’s dropped, for this to dish the whole thing. But I was still under the of the girl’s melting gaze, and I saw that this was where I started in as a knight-errant.
“You can count on me for all that of thing, Corky,” I said. “Only too glad. Carry on, Jeeves.”
“I would suggest, sir, that Mr. Corcoran take of Mr. Worple’s to ornithology.”
“How on earth did you know that he was of birds?”
“It is the way these New York are constructed, sir. Quite our London houses. The the rooms are of the nature. With no wish to overhear, I have sometimes Mr. Corcoran himself with a on the I have mentioned.”
“Oh! Well?”
“Why should not the lady a small volume, to be entitled—let us say—The Children’s Book of American Birds, and it to Mr. Worple! A limited be published at your expense, sir, and a great of the book would, of course, be over to Mr. Worple’s own larger on the same subject. I should the of a presentation copy to Mr. Worple, on publication, by a in which the lady to be allowed to make the of one to she so much. This would, I fancy, produce the result, but as I say, the would be considerable.”
I like the of a dog on the stage when the has just off his without a hitch. I had on Jeeves all along, and I had that he wouldn’t let me down. It me sometimes why a man with his is satisfied to around pressing my and what-not. If I had Jeeves’s brain, I should have a at being Prime Minister or something.
“Jeeves,” I said, “that is ripping! One of your very best efforts.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The girl an objection.
“But I’m sure I couldn’t a book about anything. I can’t good letters.”
“Muriel’s talents,” said Corky, with a little “lie more in the direction of the drama, Bertie. I didn’t mention it before, but one of our for being a as to how Uncle Alexander will the news is that Muriel is in the of that Choose your Exit at the Manhattan. It’s unreasonable, but we that that might Uncle Alexander’s natural to like a steer.”
I saw what he meant. Goodness there was in our family when I to into a years ago. And the of my Aunt Agatha’s in the of Gussie and the girl was still fresh in my mind. I don’t know why it is—one of these it, I suppose—but and aunts, as a class, are always against the drama, or otherwise. They don’t able to it at any price.
But Jeeves had a solution, of course.
“I it would be a matter, sir, to some author who would be to do the of the for a small fee. It is only necessary that the lady’s name should appear on the title page.”
“That’s true,” said Corky. “Sam Patterson would do it for a hundred dollars. He a novelette, three stories, and ten thousand of a for one of the all-fiction under different names every month. A little thing like this would be nothing to him. I’ll after him right away.”
“Fine!”
“Will that be all, sir?” said Jeeves. “Very good, sir. Thank you, sir.”
I always used to think that had to be fellows, with the matter; but I’ve got their number now. All a publisher has to do is to at intervals, while a of and and do the work. I know, I’ve been one myself. I sat tight in the old with a fountain-pen, and in season a topping, book came along.
I to be at Corky’s place when the copies of The Children’s Book of American Birds up. Muriel Singer was there, and we were talking of in when there was a at the door and the parcel was delivered.
It was some book. It had a red with a of some on it, and the girl’s name in gold letters. I opened a copy at random.
“Often of a morning,” it said at the top of page twenty-one, “as you through the fields, you will the sweet-toned, of the linnet. When you are older you must read all about him in Mr. Alexander Worple’s book—American Birds.”
You see. A for the uncle right away. And only a pages later there he was in the again in with the yellow-billed cuckoo. It was great stuff. The more I read, the more I the who had it and Jeeves’s in us on to the wheeze. I didn’t see how the uncle fail to drop. You can’t call a the world’s authority on the yellow-billed without a in him.
“It’s a cert!” I said.
“An cinch!” said Corky.
And a day or two later he up the Avenue to my to tell me that all was well. The uncle had Muriel a so with the milk of that if he hadn’t Mr. Worple’s Corky would have to him the author of it. Any time it Miss Singer to call, said the uncle, he would be to make her acquaintance.
Shortly after this I had to go out of town. Divers sportsmen had me to pay visits to their country places, and it wasn’t for months that I settled in the city again. I had been a lot, of course, about Corky, it all out right, and so forth, and my in New York, to into a of little restaurant which I go to when I don’t for the lights, I Muriel Singer there, by herself at a table near the door. Corky, I took it, was out telephoning. I up and passed the time of day.
“Well, well, well, what?” I said.
“Why, Mr. Wooster! How do you do?”
“Corky around?”
“I your pardon?”
“You’re waiting for Corky, aren’t you?”
“Oh, I didn’t understand. No, I’m not waiting for him.”
It to me that there was a of something in her voice, a of thingummy, you know.
“I say, you haven’t had a with Corky, have you?”
“A row?”
“A spat, don’t you know—little misunderstanding—faults on sides—er—and all that of thing.”
“Why, makes you think that?”
“Oh, well, as it were, what? What I is—I you with him you to the theatre.”
“I’ve left the stage now.”
Suddenly the whole thing on me. I had what a long time I had been away.
“Why, of course, I see now! You’re married!”
“Yes.”
“How perfectly topping! I wish you all of happiness.”
“Thank you, so much. Oh Alexander,” she said, looking past me, “this is a friend of mine—Mr. Wooster.”
I round. A with a of and a red of healthy was there. Rather a Johnnie, he looked, though peaceful at the moment.
“I want you to meet my husband, Mr. Wooster. Mr. Wooster is a friend of Bruce’s, Alexander.”
The old boy my hand warmly, and that was all that me from the in a heap. The place was rocking. Absolutely.
“So you know my nephew, Mr. Wooster,” I him say. “I wish you would try to a little into him and make him this playing at painting. But I have an idea that he is down. I noticed it that night he came to dinner with us, my dear, to be to you. He and more serious. Something to have him. Perhaps you will give us the of your company at dinner to-night, Mr. Wooster? Or have you dined?”
I said I had. What I needed then was air, not dinner. I that I wanted to into the open and think this thing out.
When I my I Jeeves moving about in his lair. I called him.
“Jeeves,” I said, “now is the time for all good men to come to the of the party. A b.-and-s. of all, and then I’ve a of news for you.”
He came with a and a long glass.
“Better have one yourself, Jeeves. You’ll need it.”
“Later on, perhaps, thank you, sir.”
“All right. Please yourself. But you’re going to a shock. You my friend, Mr. Corcoran?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And the girl who was to into his uncle’s by the book on birds?”
“Perfectly, sir.”
“Well, she’s slid. She’s married the uncle.”
He took it without blinking. You can’t Jeeves.
“That was always a to be feared, sir.”
“You don’t to tell me that you were it?”
“It my mind as a possibility.”
“Did it, by Jove! Well, I think, you might have us!”
“I liked to take the liberty, sir.”
Of course, as I saw after I had had a bite to eat and was in a of mind, what had wasn’t my fault, if you come to it. I couldn’t be to that the scheme, in itself a cracker-jack, would into the as it had done; but all the same I’m to admit that I didn’t the idea of meeting Corky again until time, the great healer, had been able to in a of work. I cut Washington Square out for the next months. I gave it the complete miss-in-baulk. And then, just when I was to think I might safely in that direction and up the threads, so to speak, time, of the wheeze, and the most and put the on it. Opening the paper one morning, I read that Mrs. Alexander Worple had presented her husband with a son and heir.
I was so sorry for old Corky that I hadn’t the to touch my breakfast. I told Jeeves to drink it himself. I was over. Absolutely. It was the limit.
I what to do. I wanted, of course, to to Washington Square and the by the hand; and then, it over, I hadn’t the nerve. Absent the touch. I gave it him in waves.
But after a month or so I to again. It me that it was playing it a low-down on the chap, him like this just when he wanted his to him most. I pictured him in his studio with no company but his thoughts, and the of it got me to such an that I into a taxi and told the driver to go all out for the studio.
I in, and there was Corky, up at the easel, painting away, while on the model sat a severe-looking female of middle age, a baby.
A has to be for that of thing.
“Oh, ah!” I said, and started to out.
Corky looked over his shoulder.
“Halloa, Bertie. Don’t go. We’re just for the day. That will be all this afternoon,” he said to the nurse, who got up with the and it into a which was in the fairway.
“At the same hour to-morrow, Mr. Corcoran?”
“Yes, please.”
“Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon.”
Corky there, looking at the door, and then he to me and to it off his chest. Fortunately, he to take it for that I all about what had happened, so it wasn’t as as it might have been.
“It’s my uncle’s idea,” he said. “Muriel doesn’t know about it yet. The portrait’s to be a for her on her birthday. The nurse takes the kid out to a breather, and they it here. If you want an of the of fate, Bertie, with this. Here’s the I have had to paint a portrait, and the is that egg that has in and me out of my inheritance. Can you it! I call it the thing in to me to my afternoons into the of a little who to all and purposes has me the ear with a and all I possess. I can’t to paint the portrait if I did my uncle would stop my allowance; yet every time I look up and catch that kid’s eye, I agonies. I tell you, Bertie, sometimes when he me a and then away and is sick, as if it him to look at me, I come an of the entire page of the papers as the latest sensation. There are moments when I can almost see the headlines: ‘Promising Young Artist Beans Baby With Axe.’”
I his silently. My for the old was too for words.
I away from the studio for some time after that, it didn’t right to me to on the chappie’s sorrow. Besides, I’m to say that nurse me. She me so of Aunt Agatha. She was the same gimlet-eyed type.
But one Corky called me on the ’phone.
“Bertie.”
“Halloa?”
“Are you doing anything this afternoon?”
“Nothing special.”
“You couldn’t come here, you?”
“What’s the trouble? Anything up?”
“I’ve the portrait.”
“Good boy! Stout work!”
“Yes.” His voice doubtful. “The is, Bertie, it doesn’t look right to me. There’s something about it—My uncle’s in an hour to it, and—I don’t know why it is, but I of I’d like your support!”
I to see that I was myself in for something. The co-operation of Jeeves to me to be indicated.
“You think he’ll cut up rough?”
“He may.”
I my mind to the red-faced I had met at the restaurant, and to picture him up rough. It was only too easy. I spoke to Corky on the telephone.
“I’ll come,” I said.
“Good!”
“But only if I may Jeeves!”
“Why Jeeves? What’s Jeeves got to do with it? Who wants Jeeves? Jeeves is the who the that has led——”
“Listen, Corky, old top! If you think I am going to that uncle of yours without Jeeves’s support, you’re mistaken. I’d sooner go into a of wild and bite a lion on the of the neck.”
“Oh, all right,” said Corky. Not cordially, but he said it; so I for Jeeves, and the situation.
“Very good, sir,” said Jeeves.
That’s the of he is. You can’t him.
We Corky near the door, looking at the picture, with one hand up in a of way, as if he it might on him.
“Stand right where you are, Bertie,” he said, without moving. “Now, tell me honestly, how it you?”
The light from the big window right on the picture. I took a good look at it. Then I a nearer and took another look. Then I to where I had been at first, it hadn’t so from there.
“Well?” said Corky, anxiously.
I a bit.
“Of course, old man, I only saw the kid once, and then only for a moment, but—but it was an of kid, wasn’t it, if I rightly?”
“As as that?”
I looked again, and me to be frank.
“I don’t see how it have been, old chap.”
Poor old Corky ran his through his in a of way. He groaned.
“You’re right quite, Bertie. Something’s gone with the thing. My private is that, without it, I’ve that that Sargent and those pull—painting the of the sitter. I’ve got through the appearance, and have put the child’s on canvas.”
“But a child of that age have a like that? I don’t see how he have managed it in the time. What do you think, Jeeves?”
“I it, sir.”
“It—it of at you, doesn’t it?”
“You’ve noticed that, too?” said Corky.
“I don’t see how one help noticing.”
“All I to do was to give the little a expression. But, as it out, he looks positively dissipated.”
“Just what I was going to suggest, old man. He looks as if he were in the middle of a spree, and every minute of it. Don’t you think so, Jeeves?”
“He has a air, sir.”
Corky was starting to say something when the door opened, and the uncle came in.
For about three all was joy, jollity, and goodwill. The old boy hands with me, Corky on the back, said that he didn’t think he had such a day, and his leg with his stick. Jeeves had himself into the background, and he didn’t notice him.
“Well, Bruce, my boy; so the portrait is finished, is it—really finished? Well, it out. Let’s have a look at it. This will be a for your aunt. Where is it? Let’s——”
And then he got it—suddenly, when he wasn’t set for the punch; and he on his heels.
“Oosh!” he exclaimed. And for a minute there was one of the I’ve up against.
“Is this a practical joke?” he said at last, in a way that set about sixteen through the room at once.
I it was up to me to old Corky.
“You want to a away from it,” I said.
“You’re perfectly right!” he snorted. “I do! I want to so away from it that I can’t see the thing with a telescope!” He on Corky like an tiger of the who has just a of meat. “And this—this—is what you have been your time and my money for all these years! A painter! I wouldn’t let you paint a house of mine! I gave you this commission, that you were a worker, and this—this—this from a is the result!” He the door, his and to himself. “This ends it! If you wish to continue this of to be an artist you want an for idleness, yourself. But let me tell you this. Unless you report at my office on Monday morning, prepared to all this and start in at the of the to work your way up, as you should have done a dozen years ago, not another cent—not another cent—not another—Boosh!”
Then the door closed, and he was no longer with us. And I out of the shelter.
“Corky, old top!” I faintly.
Corky was at the picture. His was set. There was a look in his eye.
“Well, that it!” he brokenly.
“What are you going to do?”
“Do? What can I do? I can’t on here if he off supplies. You what he said. I shall have to go to the office on Monday.”
I couldn’t think of a thing to say. I how he about the office. I don’t know when I’ve been so uncomfortable. It was like trying to make to a who’s just been to twenty years in quod.
And then a voice the silence.
“If I might make a suggestion, sir!”
It was Jeeves. He had from the and was at the picture. Upon my word, I can’t give you a idea of the of Corky’s uncle Alexander when in action than by saying that he had me for the moment that Jeeves was there.
“I wonder if I have to mention to you, sir, a Mr. Digby Thistleton, with I was once in service? Perhaps you have met him? He was a financier. He is now Lord Bridgnorth. It was a saying of his that there is always a way. The time I him use the was after the failure of a which he promoted.”
“Jeeves,” I said, “what on earth are you talking about?”
“I mentioned Mr. Thistleton, sir, his was in some respects a case to the present one. His failed, but he did not despair. He put it on the market again under the name of Hair-o, to produce a full of in a months. It was advertised, if you remember, sir, by a picture of a billiard-ball, and after taking, and such a that Mr. Thistleton was soon to the for services to his Party. It to me that, if Mr. Corcoran looks into the matter, he will find, like Mr. Thistleton, that there is always a way. Mr. Worple himself the of the difficulty. In the of the moment he the portrait to an from a supplement. I the a very valuable one, sir. Mr. Corcoran’s portrait may not have pleased Mr. Worple as a of his only child, but I have no that would it as a for a series of drawings. If Mr. Corcoran will allow me to make the suggestion, his has always been for the humorous. There is something about this picture—something and vigorous, which the attention. I sure it would be popular.”
Corky was at the picture, and making a of dry, noise with his mouth. He overwrought.
And then he to laugh in a wild way.
“Corky, old man!” I said, him tenderly. I the was hysterical.
He to about all over the floor.
“He’s right! The man’s right! Jeeves, you’re a life-saver! You’ve on the idea of the age! Report at the office on Monday! Start at the of the business! I’ll the if I like it. I know the man who the of the Sunday Star. He’ll eat this thing. He was telling me only the other day how hard it was to a good new series. He’ll give me anything I ask for a like this. I’ve got a gold-mine. Where’s my hat? I’ve got an for life! Where’s that hat? Lend me a fiver, Bertie. I want to take a taxi to Park Row!”
Jeeves paternally. Or, rather, he had a of about the mouth, which is the nearest he to smiling.
“If I might make the suggestion, Mr. Corcoran—for a title of the series which you have in mind—‘The Adventures of Baby Blobbs.’”
Corky and I looked at the picture, then at each other in an way. Jeeves was right. There be no other title.
“Jeeves,” I said. It was a later, and I had just looking at the of the Sunday Star. “I’m an optimist. I always have been. The older I get, the more I agree with Shakespeare and those Johnnies about it always being the and there’s a and what you on the you make up on the roundabouts. Look at Mr. Corcoran, for instance. There was a fellow, one would have said, clear up to the in the soup. To all he had got it right in the neck. Yet look at him now. Have you these pictures?”
“I took the of at them them to you, sir. Extremely diverting.”
“They have a big hit, you know.”
“I it, sir.”
I against the pillows.
“You know, Jeeves, you’re a genius. You ought to be a on these things.”
“I have nothing to complain of in that respect, sir. Mr. Corcoran has been most generous. I am out the suit, sir.”
“No, I think I’ll wear the with the red stripe.”
“Not the with the red stripe, sir.”
“But I myself in it.”
“Not the with the red stripe, sir.”
“Oh, all right, have it your own way.”
“Very good, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Of course, I know it’s as as being henpecked; but then Jeeves is always right. You’ve got to that, you know. What?
