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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
160
“What?”
“I’ve
a
good
mind
to
take
that
tip
of
yours
and
have
a
drink.”
I
smiled.
He
little
knew,
about
summed
up
what
I
was
thinking.
“Oh,
you’ll
be
all
right,”
I
said.
He
became
fevered
again.
“How
do
you
know
I’ll
be
all
right?
I’m
sure
to
blow
up
in
my
lines.”
“Tush!”
“Or
drop
a
prize.”
“Tut!”
“Or
something.
I
can
feel
it
in
my
bones.
As
sure
as
I’m
standing
here,
something
is
going
to
happen
this
afternoon
which
will
make
everybody
laugh
themselves
sick
at
me.
I
can
hear
them
now.
Like
hyenas....
Bertie!”
“Hullo?”
“Do
you
remember
that
kids’
school
we
went
to
before
Eton?”
“Quite.
It
was
there
I
won
my
Scripture
prize.”
“Never
mind
about
your
Scripture
prize.
I’m
not
talking
about
your
Scripture
prize.
Do
you
recollect
the
Bosher
incident?”
I
did,
indeed.
It
was
one
of
the
high
spots
of
my
youth.
“Major-General
Sir
Wilfred
Bosher
came
to
distribute
the
prizes
at
that
school,”
proceeded
Gussie
in
a
dull,
toneless
voice.
“He
dropped
a
book.
He
stooped
to
pick
it
up.
And,
as
he
stooped,
his
trousers
split
up
the
back.”
“How
we
roared!”
Gussie’s
face
twisted.
“We
did,
little
swine
that
we
were.
Instead
of
remaining
silent
and
exhibiting
a
decent
sympathy
for
a
gallant
officer
at
a
peculiarly
embarrassing
moment,
we
howled
and
yelled
with
mirth.
I
loudest
of
any.
That
is
what
will
happen
to
me
this
afternoon,
Bertie.
It
will
be
a
judgment
on
me
for
laughing
like
that
at
Major-General
Sir
Wilfred
Bosher.”
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