Notes: Please be aware that there is a rather old fashioned depiction of a black person in this section.
About half-past ten next morning, just after I had finished lubricating the good old interior with a soothing cup of Oolong, Jeeves filtered into my bedroom, and said that Cyril was waiting to see me in the sitting-room.
“How does he look, Jeeves?”
“Sir?”
“What does Mr. Bassington-Bassington look like?”
“It is hardly my place, sir, to criticise the facial peculiarities of your friends.”
“I don’t mean that. I mean, does he appear peeved and what not?”
“Not noticeably, sir. His manner is tranquil.”
“That’s rum!”
“Sir?”
“Nothing. Show him in, will you?”
I’m bound to say I had expected to see Cyril showing a few more traces of last night’s battle. I was looking for a bit of the overwrought soul and the quivering ganglions, if you know what I mean. He seemed pretty ordinary and quite fairly cheerful.
“Hallo, Wooster, old thing!”
“Cheero!”
“I just looked in to say good-bye.”
“Good-bye?”
“Yes. I’m off to Washington in an hour.” He sat down on the bed. “You know, Wooster, old top,” he went on, “I’ve been thinking it all over, and really it doesn’t seem quite fair to the jolly old guv’nor, my going on the stage and so forth. What do you think?”
“I see what you mean.”
“I mean to say, he sent me over here to broaden my jolly old mind and words to that effect, don’t you know, and I can’t help thinking it would be a bit of a jar for the old boy if I gave him the bird and went on the stage instead. I don’t know if you understand me, but what I mean to say is, it’s a sort of question of conscience.”
“Can you leave the show without upsetting everything?”
“Oh, that’s all right. I’ve explained everything to old Blumenfield, and he quite sees my position. Of course, he’s sorry to lose me—said he didn’t see how he could fill my place and all that sort of thing—but, after all, even if it does land him in a bit of a hole, I think I’m right in resigning my part, don’t you?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“I thought you’d agree with me. Well, I ought to be shifting. Awfully glad to have seen something of you, and all that sort of rot. Pip-pip!”
“Toodle-oo!”
He sallied forth, having told all those bally lies with the clear, blue, pop-eyed gaze of a young child. I rang for Jeeves. You know, ever since last night I had been exercising the old bean to some extent, and a good deal of light had dawned upon me.
“Jeeves!”
“Sir?”
“Did you put that pie-faced infant up to bally-ragging Mr. Bassington-Bassington?”
“Sir?”
“Oh, you know what I mean. Did you tell him to get Mr. Bassington-Bassington sacked from the ‘Ask Dad’ company?”
“I would not take such a liberty, sir.” He started to put out my clothes. “It is possible that young Master Blumenfield may have gathered from casual remarks of mine that I did not consider the stage altogether a suitable sphere for Mr. Bassington-Bassington.”
“I say, Jeeves, you know, you’re a bit of a marvel.”
“I endeavour to give satisfaction, sir.”
“And I’m frightfully obliged, if you know what I mean. Aunt Agatha would have had sixteen or seventeen fits if you hadn’t headed him off.”
“I fancy there might have been some little friction and unpleasantness, sir. I am laying out the blue suit with the thin red stripe, sir. I fancy the effect will be pleasing.”
It’s a rummy thing, but I had finished breakfast and gone out and got as far as the lift before I remembered what it was that I had meant to do to reward Jeeves for his really sporting behaviour in this matter of the chump Cyril. It cut me to the heart to do it, but I had decided to give him his way and let those purple socks pass out of my life. After all, there are times when a cove must make sacrifices. I was just going to nip back and break the glad news to him, when the lift came up, so I thought I would leave it till I got home.
The coloured chappie in charge of the lift looked at me, as I hopped in, with a good deal of quiet devotion and what not.
“I wish to thank yo’, suh,” he said, “for yo’ kindness.”
“Eh? What?”
“Misto’ Jeeves done give me them purple socks, as you told him. Thank yo’ very much, suh!”
I looked down. The blighter was a blaze of mauve from the ankle-bone southward. I don’t know when I’ve seen anything so dressy.
“Oh, ah! Not at all! Right-o! Glad you like them!” I said.
Well, I mean to say, what? Absolutely!
Will write soon,
Bertie