Right Ho, Jeeves

by P. G. Wodehouse

  -23-

  I remember Jeeves saying on one occasion--I forgot how the subject hadarisen--he may simply have thrown the observation out, as he doessometimes, for me to take or leave--that hell hath no fury like a womanscorned. And until tonight I had always felt that there was a lot in it.I had never scorned a woman myself, but Pongo Twistleton once scorned anaunt of his, flatly refusing to meet her son Gerald at Paddington andgive him lunch and see him off to school at Waterloo, and he never heardthe end of it. Letters were written, he tells me, which had to be seen tobe believed. Also two very strong telegrams and a bitter picture postcard with a view of the Little Chilbury War Memorial on it.

  Until tonight, therefore, as I say, I had never questioned the accuracyof the statement. Scorned women first and the rest nowhere, was how ithad always seemed to me.

  But tonight I revised my views. If you want to know what hell can reallydo in the way of furies, look for the chap who has been hornswoggled intotaking a long and unnecessary bicycle ride in the dark without a lamp.

  Mark that word "unnecessary". That was the part of it that really jabbedthe iron into the soul. I mean, if it was a case of riding to thedoctor's to save the child with croup, or going off to the local pub tofetch supplies in the event of the cellar having run dry, no one wouldleap to the handlebars more readily than I. Young Lochinvar, absolutely.But this business of being put through it merely to gratify one'spersonal attendant's diseased sense of the amusing was a bit too thick,and I chafed from start to finish.

  So, what I mean to say, although the providence which watches over goodmen saw to it that I was enabled to complete the homeward journeyunscathed except in the billowy portions, removing from my path allgoats, elephants, and even owls that looked like my Aunt Agatha, it wasa frowning and jaundiced Bertram who finally came to anchor at theBrinkley Court front door. And when I saw a dark figure emerging fromthe porch to meet me, I prepared to let myself go and uncork all that wasfizzing in the mind.

  "Jeeves!" I said.

  "It is I, Bertie."

  The voice which spoke sounded like warm treacle, and even if I had notrecognized it immediately as that of the Bassett, I should have knownthat it did not proceed from the man I was yearning to confront. For thisfigure before me was wearing a simple tweed dress and had employed myfirst name in its remarks. And Jeeves, whatever his moral defects, wouldnever go about in skirts calling me Bertie.

  The last person, of course, whom I would have wished to meet after a longevening in the saddle, but I vouchsafed a courteous "What ho!"

  There was a pause, during which I massaged the calves. Mine, of course, Imean.

  "You got in, then?" I said, in allusion to the change of costume.

  "Oh, yes. About a quarter of an hour after you left Jeeves went searchingabout and found the back-door key on the kitchen window-sill."

  "Ha!"

  "What?"

  "Nothing."

  "I thought you said something."

  "No, nothing."

  And I continued to do so. For at this juncture, as had so often happenedwhen this girl and I were closeted, the conversation once more went blueon us. The night breeze whispered, but not the Bassett. A bird twittered,but not so much as a chirp escaped Bertram. It was perfectly amazing, theway her mere presence seemed to wipe speech from my lips--and mine, forthat matter, from hers. It began to look as if our married life togetherwould be rather like twenty years among the Trappist monks.

  "Seen Jeeves anywhere?" I asked, eventually coming through.

  "Yes, in the dining-room."

  "The dining-room?"

  "Waiting on everybody. They are having eggs and bacon and champagne....What did you say?"

  I had said nothing--merely snorted. There was something about the thoughtof these people carelessly revelling at a time when, for all they knew, Iwas probably being dragged about the countryside by goats or chewed byelephants, that struck home at me like a poisoned dart. It was the sortof thing you read about as having happened just before the FrenchRevolution--the haughty nobles in their castles callously digging in andquaffing while the unfortunate blighters outside were suffering frightfulprivations.

  The voice of the Bassett cut in on these mordant reflections:

  "Bertie."

  "Hullo!"

  Silence.

  "Hullo!" I said again.

  No response. Whole thing rather like one of those telephone conversationswhere you sit at your end of the wire saying: "Hullo! Hullo!" unawarethat the party of the second part has gone off to tea.

  Eventually, however, she came to the surface again:

  "Bertie, I have something to say to you."

  "What?"

  "I have something to say to you."

  "I know. I said 'What?'"

  "Oh, I thought you didn't hear what I said."

  "Yes, I heard what you said, all right, but not what you were going tosay."

  "Oh, I see."

  "Right-ho."

  So that was straightened out. Nevertheless, instead of proceeding shetook time off once more. She stood twisting the fingers and scratchingthe gravel with her foot. When finally she spoke, it was to deliver animpressive boost:

  "Bertie, do you read Tennyson?"

  "Not if I can help."

  "You remind me so much of those Knights of the Round Table in the 'Idyllsof the King'."

  Of course I had heard of them--Lancelot, Galahad and all that lot, but Ididn't see where the resemblance came in. It seemed to me that she mustbe thinking of a couple of other fellows.

  "How do you mean?"

  "You have such a great heart, such a fine soul. You are so generous, sounselfish, so chivalrous. I have always felt that about you--that you areone of the few really chivalrous men I have ever met."

  Well, dashed difficult, of course, to know what to say when someone isgiving you the old oil on a scale like that. I muttered an "Oh, yes?" orsomething on those lines, and rubbed the billowy portions in someembarrassment. And there was another silence, broken only by a sharp howlas I rubbed a bit too hard.

  "Bertie."

  "Hullo?"

  I heard her give a sort of gulp.

  "Bertie, will you be chivalrous now?"

  "Rather. Only too pleased. How do you mean?"

  "I am going to try you to the utmost. I am going to test you as few menhave ever been tested. I am going----"

  I didn't like the sound of this.

  "Well," I said doubtfully, "always glad to oblige, you know, but I'vejust had the dickens of a bicycle ride, and I'm a bit stiff and sore,especially in the--as I say, a bit stiff and sore. If it's anything to befetched from upstairs----"

  "No, no, you don't understand."

  "I don't, quite, no."

  "Oh, it's so difficult.... How can I say it?... Can't you guess?"

  "No. I'm dashed if I can."

  "Bertie--let me go!"

  "But I haven't got hold of you."

  "Release me!"

  "Re----"

  And then I suddenly got it. I suppose it was fatigue that had made me soslow to apprehend the nub.

  "What?"

  I staggered, and the left pedal came up and caught me on the shin. Butsuch was the ecstasy in the soul that I didn't utter a cry.

  "Release you?"

  "Yes."

  I didn't want any confusion on the point.

  "You mean you want to call it all off? You're going to hitch up withGussie, after all?"

  "Only if you are fine and big enough to consent."

  "Oh, I am."

  "I gave you my promise."

  "Dash promises."

  "Then you really----"

  "Absolutely."

  "Oh, Bertie!"

  She seemed to sway like a sapling. It is saplings that sway, I believe.

  "A very parfait knight!" I heard her murmur, and there not being much tosay after that, I excused myself on the ground that I had got about twopecks of dust down my back and would like to go and get my maid to put meinto s
omething loose.

  "You go back to Gussie," I said, "and tell him that all is well."

  She gave a sort of hiccup and, darting forward, kissed me on theforehead. Unpleasant, of course, but, as Anatole would say, I can take afew smooths with a rough. The next moment she was legging it for thedining-room, while I, having bunged the bicycle into a bush, made for thestairs.

  I need not dwell upon my buckedness. It can be readily imagined. Talkabout chaps with the noose round their necks and the hangman about to lether go and somebody galloping up on a foaming horse, waving thereprieve--not in it. Absolutely not in it at all. I don't know that Ican give you a better idea of the state of my feelings than by sayingthat as I started to cross the hall I was conscious of so profound abenevolence toward all created things that I found myself thinking kindlythoughts even of Jeeves.

  I was about to mount the stairs when a sudden "What ho!" from my rearcaused me to turn. Tuppy was standing in the hall. He had apparently beendown to the cellar for reinforcements, for there were a couple of bottlesunder his arm.

  "Hullo, Bertie," he said. "You back?" He laughed amusedly. "You look likethe Wreck of the Hesperus. Get run over by a steam-roller or something?"

  At any other time I might have found his coarse badinage hard to bear.But such was my uplifted mood that I waved it aside and slipped him thegood news.

  "Tuppy, old man, the Bassett's going to marry Gussie Fink-Nottle."

  "Tough luck on both of them, what?"

  "But don't you understand? Don't you see what this means? It means thatAngela is once more out of pawn, and you have only to play your cardsproperly----"

  He bellowed rollickingly. I saw now that he was in the pink. As a matterof fact, I had noticed something of the sort directly I met him, but hadattributed it to alcoholic stimulant.

  "Good Lord! You're right behind the times, Bertie. Only to be expected,of course, if you will go riding bicycles half the night. Angela and Imade it up hours ago."

  "What?"

  "Certainly. Nothing but a passing tiff. All you need in these matters isa little give and take, a bit of reasonableness on both sides. We gottogether and talked things over. She withdrew my double chin. I concededher shark. Perfectly simple. All done in a couple of minutes."

  "But----"

  "Sorry, Bertie. Can't stop chatting with you all night. There is a ratherimpressive beano in progress in the dining-room, and they are waiting forsupplies."

  Endorsement was given to this statement by a sudden shout from theapartment named. I recognized--as who would not--Aunt Dahlia's voice:

  "Glossop!"

  "Hullo?"

  "Hurry up with that stuff."

  "Coming, coming."

  "Well, come, then. Yoicks! Hard for-rard!"

  "Tallyho, not to mention tantivy. Your aunt," said Tuppy, "is a bit aboveherself. I don't know all the facts of the case, but it appears thatAnatole gave notice and has now consented to stay on, and also your unclehas given her a cheque for that paper of hers. I didn't get the details,but she is much braced. See you later. I must rush."

  To say that Bertram was now definitely nonplussed would be but to statethe simple truth. I could make nothing of this. I had left Brinkley Courta stricken home, with hearts bleeding wherever you looked, and I hadreturned to find it a sort of earthly paradise. It baffled me.

  I bathed bewilderedly. The toy duck was still in the soap-dish, but I wastoo preoccupied to give it a thought. Still at a loss, I returned to myroom, and there was Jeeves. And it is proof of my fogged condish that myfirst words to him were words not of reproach and stern recrimination butof inquiry:

  "I say, Jeeves!"

  "Good evening, sir. I was informed that you had returned. I trust you hadan enjoyable ride."

  At any other moment, a crack like that would have woken the fiend inBertram Wooster. I barely noticed it. I was intent on getting to thebottom of this mystery.

  "But I say, Jeeves, what?"

  "Sir?"

  "What does all this mean?"

  "You refer, sir----"

  "Of course I refer. You know what I'm talking about. What has beenhappening here since I left? The place is positively stiff with happyendings."

  "Yes, sir. I am glad to say that my efforts have been rewarded."

  "What do you mean, your efforts? You aren't going to try to make out thatthat rotten fire bell scheme of yours had anything to do with it?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Don't be an ass, Jeeves. It flopped."

  "Not altogether, sir. I fear, sir, that I was not entirely frank withregard to my suggestion of ringing the fire bell. I had not reallyanticipated that it would in itself produce the desired results. I hadintended it merely as a preliminary to what I might describe as the realbusiness of the evening."

  "You gibber, Jeeves."

  "No, sir. It was essential that the ladies and gentlemen should bebrought from the house, in order that, once out of doors, I could ensurethat they remained there for the necessary period of time."

  "How do you mean?"

  "My plan was based on psychology, sir."

  "How?"

  "It is a recognized fact, sir, that there is nothing that sosatisfactorily unites individuals who have been so unfortunate as toquarrel amongst themselves as a strong mutual dislike for some definiteperson. In my own family, if I may give a homely illustration, it was agenerally accepted axiom that in times of domestic disagreement it wasnecessary only to invite my Aunt Annie for a visit to heal all breachesbetween the other members of the household. In the mutual animosityexcited by Aunt Annie, those who had become estranged were reconciledalmost immediately. Remembering this, it occurred to me that were you,sir, to be established as the person responsible for the ladies andgentlemen being forced to spend the night in the garden, everybody wouldtake so strong a dislike to you that in this common sympathy they wouldsooner or later come together."

  I would have spoken, but he continued:

  "And such proved to be the case. All, as you see, sir, is now well. Afteryour departure on the bicycle, the various estranged parties agreed soheartily in their abuse of you that the ice, if I may use the expression,was broken, and it was not long before Mr. Glossop was walking beneaththe trees with Miss Angela, telling her anecdotes of your career at theuniversity in exchange for hers regarding your childhood; while Mr.Fink-Nottle, leaning against the sundial, held Miss Bassett enthralledwith stories of your schooldays. Mrs. Travers, meanwhile, was tellingMonsieur Anatole----"

  I found speech.

  "Oh?" I said. "I see. And now, I suppose, as the result of this dashedpsychology of yours, Aunt Dahlia is so sore with me that it will be yearsbefore I can dare to show my face here again--years, Jeeves, duringwhich, night after night, Anatole will be cooking those dinners ofhis----"

  "No, sir. It was to prevent any such contingency that I suggested thatyou should bicycle to Kingham Manor. When I informed the ladies andgentlemen that I had found the key, and it was borne in upon them thatyou were having that long ride for nothing, their animosity vanishedimmediately, to be replaced by cordial amusement. There was muchlaughter."

  "There was, eh?"

  "Yes, sir. I fear you may possibly have to submit to a certain amount ofgood-natured chaff, but nothing more. All, if I may say so, is forgiven,sir."

  "Oh?"

  "Yes, sir."

  I mused awhile.

  "You certainly seem to have fixed things."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Tuppy and Angela are once more betrothed. Also Gussie and the Bassett;Uncle Tom appears to have coughed up that money for _Milady's Boudoir_.And Anatole is staying on."

  "Yes, sir."

  "I suppose you might say that all's well that ends well."

  "Very apt, sir."

  I mused again.

  "All the same, your methods are a bit rough, Jeeves."

  "One cannot make an omelette without breaking eggs, sir."

  I started.

  "Omelette! Do you think you could get m
e one?"

  "Certainly, sir."

  "Together with half a bot. of something?"

  "Undoubtedly, sir."

  "Do so, Jeeves, and with all speed."

  I climbed into bed and sank back against the pillows. I must say that mygenerous wrath had ebbed a bit. I was aching the whole length of my body,particularly toward the middle, but against this you had to set the factthat I was no longer engaged to Madeline Bassett. In a good cause one isprepared to suffer. Yes, looking at the thing from every angle, I sawthat Jeeves had done well, and it was with an approving beam that Iwelcomed him as he returned with the needful.

  He did not check up with this beam. A bit grave, he seemed to me to belooking, and I probed the matter with a kindly query:

  "Something on your mind, Jeeves?"

  "Yes, sir. I should have mentioned it earlier, but in the evening'sdisturbance it escaped my memory, I fear I have been remiss, sir."

  "Yes, Jeeves?" I said, champing contentedly.

  "In the matter of your mess-jacket, sir."

  A nameless fear shot through me, causing me to swallow a mouthful ofomelette the wrong way.

  "I am sorry to say, sir, that while I was ironing it this afternoon I wascareless enough to leave the hot instrument upon it. I very much fearthat it will be impossible for you to wear it again, sir."

  One of those old pregnant silences filled the room.

  "I am extremely sorry, sir."

  For a moment, I confess, that generous wrath of mine came bounding back,hitching up its muscles and snorting a bit through the nose, but, as wesay on the Riviera, _a quoi sert-il_? There was nothing to be gained byg.w. now.

  We Woosters can bite the bullet. I nodded moodily and speared anotherslab of omelette.

  "Right ho, Jeeves."

  "Very good, sir."