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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
221
“Be
careful
how
you
chew,”
I
advised.
“It
sticketh
closer
than
a
brother....
Yes,
Jeeves?”
The
man
had
materialized
on
the
carpet.
Absolutely
noiseless,
as
usual.
“A
note
for
you,
sir.”
“A
note
for
me,
Jeeves?”
“A
note
for
you,
sir.”
“From
whom,
Jeeves?”
“From
Miss
Bassett,
sir.”
“From
whom,
Jeeves?”
“From
Miss
Bassett,
sir.”
“From
Miss
Bassett,
Jeeves?”
“From
Miss
Bassett,
sir.”
At
this
point,
Aunt
Dahlia,
who
had
taken
one
nibble
at
her
whatever-it-was-on-toast
and
laid
it
down,
begged
us--a
little
fretfully,
I
thought--for
heaven’s
sake
to
cut
out
the
cross-talk
vaudeville
stuff,
as
she
had
enough
to
bear
already
without
having
to
listen
to
us
doing
our
imitation
of
the
Two
Macs.
Always
willing
to
oblige,
I
dismissed
Jeeves
with
a
nod,
and
he
flickered
for
a
moment
and
was
gone.
Many
a
spectre
would
have
been
less
slippy.
“But
what,”
I
mused,
toying
with
the
envelope,
“can
this
female
be
writing
to
me
about?”
“Why
not
open
the
damn
thing
and
see?”
“A
very
excellent
idea,”
I
said,
and
did
so.
“And
if
you
are
interested
in
my
movements,”
proceeded
Aunt
Dahlia,
heading
for
the
door,
“I
propose
to
go
to
my
room,
do
some
Yogi
deep
breathing,
and
try
to
forget.”
“Quite,”
I
said
absently,
skimming
p.
l.
And
then,
as
I
turned
over,
a
sharp
howl
broke
from
my
lips,
causing
Aunt
Dahlia
to
shy
like
a
startled
mustang.
“Don’t
do
it!”
she
exclaimed,
quivering
in
every
limb.
“Yes,
but
dash
it----”
“What
a
pest
you
are,
you
miserable
object,”
she
sighed.
“I
remember
years
ago,
when
you
were
in
your
cradle,
being
left
alone
with
you
one
day
and
you
nearly
swallowed
your
rubber
comforter
and
started
turning
purple.
And
I,
ass
that
I
was,
took
it
out
and
saved
your
life.
Let
me
tell
you,
young
Bertie,
it
will
go
very
hard
with
you
if
you
ever
swallow
a
rubber
comforter
again
when
only
I
am
by
to
aid.”
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