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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
137
I
got
down
to
the
agenda
in
my
debonair
way.
“What
ho,
Angela,
old
girl.”
“Hullo,
Bertie,
darling.”
“Glad
you’re
back
at
last.
I
missed
you.”
“Did
you,
darling?”
“I
did,
indeed.
Care
to
come
for
a
saunter?”
“I’d
love
it.”
“Fine.
I
have
much
to
say
to
you
that
is
not
for
the
public
ear.”
I
think
at
this
moment
poor
old
Tuppy
must
have
got
a
sudden
touch
of
cramp.
He
had
been
sitting
hard
by,
staring
at
the
ceiling,
and
he
now
gave
a
sharp
leap
like
a
gaffed
salmon
and
upset
a
small
table
containing
a
vase,
a
bowl
of
potpourri,
two
china
dogs,
and
a
copy
of
Omar
Khayyám
bound
in
limp
leather.
Aunt
Dahlia
uttered
a
startled
hunting
cry.
Uncle
Tom,
who
probably
imagined
from
the
noise
that
this
was
civilization
crashing
at
last,
helped
things
along
by
breaking
a
coffee-cup.
Tuppy
said
he
was
sorry.
Aunt
Dahlia,
with
a
deathbed
groan,
said
it
didn’t
matter.
And
Angela,
having
stared
haughtily
for
a
moment
like
a
princess
of
the
old
régime
confronted
by
some
notable
example
of
gaucherie
on
the
part
of
some
particularly
foul
member
of
the
underworld,
accompanied
me
across
the
threshold.
And
presently
I
had
deposited
her
and
self
on
one
of
the
rustic
benches
in
the
garden,
and
was
ready
to
snap
into
the
business
of
the
evening.
I
considered
it
best,
however,
before
doing
so,
to
ease
things
along
with
a
little
informal
chitchat.
You
don’t
want
to
rush
a
delicate
job
like
the
one
I
had
in
hand.
And
so
for
a
while
we
spoke
of
neutral
topics.
She
said
that
what
had
kept
her
so
long
at
the
Stretchley-Budds
was
that
Hilda
Stretchley-Budd
had
made
her
stop
on
and
help
with
the
arrangements
for
their
servants’
ball
tomorrow
night,
a
task
which
she
couldn’t
very
well
decline,
as
all
the
Brinkley
Court
domestic
staff
were
to
be
present.
I
said
that
a
jolly
night’s
revelry
might
be
just
what
was
needed
to
cheer
Anatole
up
and
take
his
mind
off
things.
To
which
she
replied
that
Anatole
wasn’t
going.
On
being
urged
to
do
so
by
Aunt
Dahlia,
she
said,
he
had
merely
shaken
his
head
sadly
and
gone
on
talking
of
returning
to
Provence,
where
he
was
appreciated.
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