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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
184
There
may
be
something
in
this.
Jeeves
generally
knows.
Anyway,
be
that
as
it
may,
I
was
dashed
glad
I
had
had
the
shrewdness
to
keep
out
of
that
second
row.
It
might
be
unworthy
of
the
prestige
of
a
Wooster
to
squash
in
among
the
proletariat
in
the
standing-room-only
section,
but
at
least,
I
felt,
I
was
out
of
the
danger
zone.
So
thoroughly
had
Gussie
got
it
up
his
nose
by
now
that
it
seemed
to
me
that
had
he
sighted
me
he
might
have
become
personal
about
even
an
old
school
friend.
“If
there’s
one
thing
in
the
world
I
can’t
stand,”
proceeded
Gussie,
“it’s
a
pessimist.
Be
optimists,
boys.
You
all
know
the
difference
between
an
optimist
and
a
pessimist.
An
optimist
is
a
man
who--well,
take
the
case
of
two
Irishmen
walking
along
Broadway.
One
is
an
optimist
and
one
is
a
pessimist,
just
as
one’s
name
is
Pat
and
the
other’s
Mike....
Why,
hullo,
Bertie;
I
didn’t
know
you
were
here.”
Too
late,
I
endeavoured
to
go
to
earth
behind
the
chandler,
only
to
discover
that
there
was
no
chandler
there.
Some
appointment,
suddenly
remembered--possibly
a
promise
to
his
wife
that
he
would
be
home
to
tea--had
caused
him
to
ooze
away
while
my
attention
was
elsewhere,
leaving
me
right
out
in
the
open.
Between
me
and
Gussie,
who
was
now
pointing
in
an
offensive
manner,
there
was
nothing
but
a
sea
of
interested
faces
looking
up
at
me.
“Now,
there,”
boomed
Gussie,
continuing
to
point,
“is
an
instance
of
what
I
mean.
Boys
and
ladies
and
gentlemen,
take
a
good
look
at
that
object
standing
up
there
at
the
back--morning
coat,
trousers
as
worn,
quiet
grey
tie,
and
carnation
in
buttonhole--you
can’t
miss
him.
Bertie
Wooster,
that
is,
and
as
foul
a
pessimist
as
ever
bit
a
tiger.
I
tell
you
I
despise
that
man.
And
why
do
I
despise
him?
Because,
boys
and
ladies
and
gentlemen,
he
is
a
pessimist.
His
attitude
is
defeatist.
When
I
told
him
I
was
going
to
address
you
this
afternoon,
he
tried
to
dissuade
me.
And
do
you
know
why
he
tried
to
dissuade
me?
Because
he
said
my
trousers
would
split
up
the
back.”
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