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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
208
I
ladled
out
a
portion
of
salmon,
and
we
fell
into
pleasant
conversation,
chatting
of
this
servants’
ball
at
the
Stretchley-Budds
and
speculating
idly,
I
recall,
as
to
what
Seppings,
the
butler,
would
look
like,
doing
the
rumba.
It
was
not
till
I
had
cleaned
up
the
first
platter
and
was
embarking
on
a
second
that
the
subject
of
Gussie
came
up.
Considering
what
had
passed
at
Market
Snodsbury
that
afternoon,
it
was
one
which
I
had
been
expecting
her
to
touch
on
earlier.
When
she
did
touch
on
it,
I
could
see
that
she
had
not
yet
been
informed
of
Angela’s
engagement.
“I
say,
Bertie,”
she
said,
meditatively
chewing
fruit
salad.
“This
Spink-Bottle.”
“Nottle.”
“Bottle,”
insisted
the
aunt
firmly.
“After
that
exhibition
of
his
this
afternoon,
Bottle,
and
nothing
but
Bottle,
is
how
I
shall
always
think
of
him.
However,
what
I
was
going
to
say
was
that,
if
you
see
him,
I
wish
you
would
tell
him
that
he
has
made
an
old
woman
very,
very
happy.
Except
for
the
time
when
the
curate
tripped
over
a
loose
shoelace
and
fell
down
the
pulpit
steps,
I
don’t
think
I
have
ever
had
a
more
wonderful
moment
than
when
good
old
Bottle
suddenly
started
ticking
Tom
off
from
the
platform.
In
fact,
I
thought
his
whole
performance
in
the
most
perfect
taste.”
I
could
not
but
demur.
“Those
references
to
myself----”
“Those
were
what
I
liked
next
best.
I
thought
they
were
fine.
Is
it
true
that
you
cheated
when
you
won
that
Scripture-knowledge
prize?”
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