Right Ho, Jeeves

It was with something of the emotions of one preparing a treat for a deserving child that I finished my tea and rolled over for that extra spot of sleep which just makes all the difference when there is man’s work to be done and the brain must be kept clear for it. And when I came downstairs an hour or so later, I knew how right I had been to formulate this scheme for Gussie’s bucking up. I ran into him on the lawn, and I could see at a glance that if ever there was a man who needed a snappy stimulant, it was he. All nature, as I have indicated, was smiling, but not Augustus Fink-Nottle. He was walking round in circles, muttering something about not proposing to detain us long, but on this auspicious occasion feeling compelled to say a few words. “Ah, Gussie,” I said, arresting him as he was about to start another lap. “A lovely morning, is it not?” Even if I had not been aware of it already, I could have divined from the abruptness with which he damned the lovely morning that he was not in merry mood. I addressed myself to the task of bringing the roses back to his cheeks. “I’ve got good news for you, Gussie.” He looked at me with a sudden sharp interest. “Has Market Snodsbury Grammar School burned down?” “Not that I know of.” “Have mumps broken out? Is the place closed on account of measles?”