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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
244
“Jeeves!
You
haven’t
got
an
idea?”
“Yes,
madam.”
“That
great
brain
of
yours
has
really
clicked
as
ever
in
the
hour
of
need?”
“Yes,
madam.”
“Jeeves,”
said
Aunt
Dahlia
in
a
shaking
voice,
“I
am
sorry
I
spoke
so
abruptly.
I
was
not
myself.
I
might
have
known
that
you
would
not
come
simply
trying
to
make
conversation.
Tell
us
this
idea
of
yours,
Jeeves.
Join
our
little
group
of
thinkers
and
let
us
hear
what
you
have
to
say.
Make
yourself
at
home,
Jeeves,
and
give
us
the
good
word.
Can
you
really
get
us
out
of
this
mess?”
“Yes,
madam,
if
one
of
the
gentlemen
would
be
willing
to
ride
a
bicycle.”
“A
bicycle?”
“There
is
a
bicycle
in
the
gardener’s
shed
in
the
kitchen
garden,
madam.
Possibly
one
of
the
gentlemen
might
feel
disposed
to
ride
over
to
Kingham
Manor
and
procure
the
back-door
key
from
Mr.
Seppings.”
“Splendid,
Jeeves!”
“Thank
you,
madam.”
“Wonderful!”
“Thank
you,
madam.”
“Attila!”
said
Aunt
Dahlia,
turning
and
speaking
in
a
quiet,
authoritative
manner.
I
had
been
expecting
it.
From
the
very
moment
those
ill-judged
words
had
passed
the
fellow’s
lips,
I
had
had
a
presentiment
that
a
determined
effort
would
be
made
to
elect
me
as
the
goat,
and
I
braced
myself
to
resist
and
obstruct.
And
as
I
was
about
to
do
so,
while
I
was
in
the
very
act
of
summoning
up
all
my
eloquence
to
protest
that
I
didn’t
know
how
to
ride
a
bike
and
couldn’t
possibly
learn
in
the
brief
time
at
my
disposal,
I’m
dashed
if
the
man
didn’t
go
and
nip
me
in
the
bud.
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