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Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
114
Gussie
looked
up.
His
eye
was
dull.
He
clutched
the
thatch.
“Goodbye,
Bertie,”
he
said,
rising.
I
seemed
to
spot
an
error.
“You
mean
‘Hullo,’
don’t
you?”
“No,
I
don’t.
I
mean
goodbye.
I’m
off.”
“Off
where?”
“To
the
kitchen
garden.
To
drown
myself.”
“Don’t
be
an
ass.”
“I’m
not
an
ass....
Am
I
an
ass,
Jeeves?”
“Possibly
a
little
injudicious,
sir.”
“Drowning
myself,
you
mean?”
“Yes,
sir.”
“You
think,
on
the
whole,
not
drown
myself?”
“I
should
not
advocate
it,
sir.”
“Very
well,
Jeeves.
I
accept
your
ruling.
After
all,
it
would
be
unpleasant
for
Mrs.
Travers
to
find
a
swollen
body
floating
in
her
pond.”
“Yes,
sir.”
“And
she
has
been
very
kind
to
me.”
“Yes,
sir.”
“And
you
have
been
very
kind
to
me,
Jeeves.”
“Thank
you,
sir.”
“So
have
you,
Bertie.
Very
kind.
Everybody
has
been
very
kind
to
me.
Very,
very
kind.
Very
kind
indeed.
I
have
no
complaints
to
make.
All
right,
I’ll
go
for
a
walk
instead.”
I
followed
him
with
bulging
eyes
as
he
tottered
off
into
the
dark.
“Jeeves,”
I
said,
and
I
am
free
to
admit
that
in
my
emotion
I
bleated
like
a
lamb
drawing
itself
to
the
attention
of
the
parent
sheep,
“what
the
dickens
is
all
this?”
“Mr.
Fink-Nottle
is
not
quite
himself,
sir.
He
has
passed
through
a
trying
experience.”
I
endeavoured
to
put
together
a
brief
synopsis
of
previous
events.
“I
left
him
out
here
with
Miss
Bassett.”
“Yes,
sir.”
“I
had
softened
her
up.”
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