Thank You, Jeeves

AND so it was. A substantial form appeared against the summer sky. It entered. It took a seat. And, having taken a seat, it hauled out a handkerchief and started to mop the brow. A bit preoccupied, I divined, and my trained sense enabled me to recognize the symptoms. They were those of a man who had just been hobnobbing with Brinkley. That this diagnosis was correct was proved a moment later when, lowering the handkerchief for a space, he disclosed what had all the makings of a very sweetish black eye. Pauline, sighting this, uttered a daughterly yip. " What on earth has been happening, Father ? " Old Stoker breathed heavily. " I couldn't get at the fellow," he said, with a sort of wild regret in his voice. " What fellow ? " " I don't know who he was. Some lunatic in that Dower House. He stood there at the window, throwing potatoes at me. I had hardly knocked at the door, when he was there at the window, throwing potatoes. Wouldn't come out like a man and let me get at him. Just stood at the window, throwing potatoes."

I confess that, as I heard these words, a sort of reluctant admiration for this bloke Brinkley stole over me. We could never be friends, of course, but one had to admit that he was a man who could do the right and public-spirited thing when the occasion called. I took it that old Stoker's banging on the knocker had roused him from a morning-after reverie to the discovery that he had a pretty nasty headache, and that he had instantly started to take steps through the proper channels. All most satisfactory. " You can consider yourself dashed lucky," I said, pointing out the bright side, " that the fellow elected to deal with you at long range. | For close-quarters work he usually employs a carving knife or a chopper, and a good deal of clever footwork is called for." He had been so wrapped up in his own concerns till now that I don't think he had got on to the fact that Bertram was with him once more. At any rate, he stared quite a bit. " Ah, Stoker," I said airily, to help him out. He continued to goggle. "Are you Wooster ? " he asked, in what seemed to me a rather awed way. " Still Wooster, Stoker, old man," I said cheerily. " First, last, and all the time Bertram Wooster."

He was looking from Chuffy to Pauline and back again almost pleadingly, as if seeking comfort and support. " What the devil has he done to his face ? "

" Sunburn," I said. " Well, Stoker," I proceeded, anxious to get the main business of the day settled, " it's most convenient that you should have dropped in like this. I've been looking for you . . . well, that's putting it a bit loosely, perhaps, but, anyway, I'm glad to see you now, because I've been wanting to tell you that that idea of yours about your daughter and me getting married is off. Forget it, Stoker. Abandon it.

Wash it right out. Nothing to it, at all." It would be difficult to overpraise the magnificent courage and firmness with which I spoke. In fact, for a moment I rather wondered if I mightn't have overdone it a little, because I caught Pauline's eye and there was such a look of worshipping reverence in it that it seemed quite on the cards that, overcome by my glamour at this juncture, she might decide that I was her hero, after all, and switch back again from Chuffy to me. This thought caused me to go on a bit quickly to the next item on the agenda. " She's going to marry Chuffy-Lord Chuffnell -him," I said, indicating C. with a wave of the hand. " What 1 " " Yes. All set." Old Stoker gave a powerful snort. He was deeply moved. " Is this true ? " " Yes, father." "Oh! You intend to marry a man who calls

your father a pop-eyed old swindler, do you?" I was intrigued. " Did you call him a pop-eyed old swindler, Chuffy ? " Chuffy hitched up a lower jaw which had sagged a bit. " Certainly not," he said weakly. " You did," said Stoker. " When I told you I was not going to buy this house of yours." " Oh, well," said Chuffy. " You know how it is." Pauline intervened. She seemed to be feeling that the point was being wandered from. Women like to stick to the practical issue. " Anyway, I'm going to marry him, father." " You are not." " I am too. I love him." " And only yesterday you were in love with this damned sooty-faced imbecile here."

I drew myself up. We Woosters can make allowances for a father's chagrin, but there is a sharply defined limit. " Stoker," I said, " you forget yourself strangely. I must ask you to preserve the decencies of debate. And it isn't soot-It's boot polish." " I wasn't," cried Pauline.

" You said you were." " Well, I wasn't." Old Stoker got off another of his snorts. " The fact of the matter is, you don't know

your own mind, and I'm going to make it up for you." "I'm not going to marry Bertie, whatever you say." " Well, you're certainly not going to marry a fortune-hunting English lord." Chuffy took this fairly big. **