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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
85
He
uttered
a
coarse
expression
which
I
wouldn’t
have
thought
he
would
have
known.
It
just
shows
that
you
can
bury
yourself
in
the
country
and
still
somehow
acquire
a
vocabulary.
No
doubt
one
picks
up
things
from
the
neighbours--the
vicar,
the
local
doctor,
the
man
who
brings
the
milk,
and
so
on.
“But,
dash
it,”
I
said,
“can’t
you
see
what
this
is
going
to
do
for
you?
It
will
send
your
stock
up
with
a
jump.
There
you
will
be,
up
on
that
platform,
a
romantic,
impressive
figure,
the
star
of
the
whole
proceedings,
the
what-d’you-call-it
of
all
eyes.
Madeline
Bassett
will
be
all
over
you.
She
will
see
you
in
a
totally
new
light.”
“She
will,
will
she?”
“Certainly
she
will.
Augustus
Fink-Nottle,
the
newts’
friend,
she
knows.
She
is
acquainted
with
Augustus
Fink-Nottle,
the
dogs’
chiropodist.
But
Augustus
Fink-Nottle,
the
orator--that’ll
knock
her
sideways,
or
I
know
nothing
of
the
female
heart.
Girls
go
potty
over
a
public
man.
If
ever
anyone
did
anyone
else
a
kindness,
it
was
I
when
I
gave
this
extraordinary
attractive
assignment
to
you.”
He
seemed
impressed
by
my
eloquence.
Couldn’t
have
helped
himself,
of
course.
The
fire
faded
from
behind
his
horn-rimmed
spectacles,
and
in
its
place
appeared
the
old
fish-like
goggle.
“’Myes,”
he
said
meditatively.
“Have
you
ever
made
a
speech,
Bertie?”
“Dozens
of
times.
It’s
pie.
Nothing
to
it.
Why,
I
once
addressed
a
girls’
school.”
“You
weren’t
nervous?”
“Not
a
bit.”
“How
did
you
go?”
“They
hung
on
my
lips.
I
held
them
in
the
hollow
of
my
hand.”
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