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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
250
However,
in
respect
to
goats
and
elephants,
I
must
say
things
panned
out
unexpectedly
well.
Oddly
enough,
I
encountered
neither.
But
when
you
have
said
that
you
have
said
everything,
for
in
every
other
way
the
conditions
could
scarcely
have
been
fouler.
Apart
from
the
ceaseless
anxiety
of
having
to
keep
an
eye
skinned
for
elephants,
I
found
myself
much
depressed
by
barking
dogs,
and
once
I
received
a
most
unpleasant
shock
when,
alighting
to
consult
a
signpost,
I
saw
sitting
on
top
of
it
an
owl
that
looked
exactly
like
my
Aunt
Agatha.
So
agitated,
indeed,
had
my
frame
of
mind
become
by
this
time
that
I
thought
at
first
it
was
Aunt
Agatha,
and
only
when
reason
and
reflection
told
me
how
alien
to
her
habits
it
would
be
to
climb
signposts
and
sit
on
them,
could
I
pull
myself
together
and
overcome
the
weakness.
In
short,
what
with
all
this
mental
disturbance
added
to
the
more
purely
physical
anguish
in
the
billowy
portions
and
the
calves
and
ankles,
the
Bertram
Wooster
who
eventually
toppled
off
at
the
door
of
Kingham
Manor
was
a
very
different
Bertram
from
the
gay
and
insouciant
boulevardier
of
Bond
Street
and
Piccadilly.
Even
to
one
unaware
of
the
inside
facts,
it
would
have
been
evident
that
Kingham
Manor
was
throwing
its
weight
about
a
bit
tonight.
Lights
shone
in
the
windows,
music
was
in
the
air,
and
as
I
drew
nearer
my
ear
detected
the
sibilant
shuffling
of
the
feet
of
butlers,
footmen,
chauffeurs,
parlourmaids,
housemaids,
tweenies
and,
I
have
no
doubt,
cooks,
who
were
busily
treading
the
measure.
I
suppose
you
couldn’t
sum
it
up
much
better
than
by
saying
that
there
was
a
sound
of
revelry
by
night.
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