My Man Jeeves

hauteur and what–not.
    "No, sir. His lordship has not yet returned."
    "Not returned? What do you mean?"
    "His lordship came in shortly after six–thirty, and, having dressed, went out again."
    At this moment there was a noise outside the front door, a sort of scrabbling noise, as if somebody were trying to paw his way through the woodwork. Then a sort of thud.
    "Better go and see what that is, Jeeves."
    "Very good, sir."
    He went out and came back again.
    "If you would not mind stepping this way, sir, I think we might be able to carry him in."
    "Carry him in?"
    "His lordship is lying on the mat, sir."
    I went to the front door. The man was right. There was Motty huddled up outside on the floor. He was moaning a bit.
    "He's had some sort of dashed fit," I said. I took another look. "Jeeves! Someone's been feeding him meat!"
    "Sir?"
    "He's a vegetarian, you know. He must have been digging into a steak or something. Call up a doctor!"
    "I hardly think it will be necessary, sir. If you would take his lordship's legs, while I——"
    "Great Scot, Jeeves! You don't think—he can't be——"
    "I am inclined to think so, sir."
    And, by Jove, he was right! Once on the right track, you couldn't mistake it. Motty was under the surface.
    It was the deuce of a shock.
    "You never can tell, Jeeves!"
    "Very seldom, sir."
    "Remove the eye of authority and where are you?"
    "Precisely, sir."
    "Where is my wandering boy to–night and all that sort of thing, what?"
    "It would seem so, sir."
    "Well, we had better bring him in, eh?"
    "Yes, sir."
    So we lugged him in, and Jeeves put him to bed, and I lit a cigarette and sat down to think the thing over. I had a kind of foreboding. It seemed to me that I had let myself in for something pretty rocky.
    Next morning, after I had sucked down a thoughtful cup of tea, I went into Motty's room to investigate. I expected to find the fellow a wreck, but there he was, sitting up in bed, quite chirpy, reading Gingery stories.
    "What ho!" I said.
    "What ho!" said Motty.
    "What ho! What ho!"
    "What ho! What ho! What ho!"
    After that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation.
    "How are you feeling this morning?" I asked.
    "Topping!" replied Motty, blithely and with abandon. "I say, you know, that fellow of yours—Jeeves, you know—is a corker. I had a most frightful headache when I woke up, and he brought me a sort of rummy dark drink, and it put me right again at once. Said it was his own invention. I must see more of that lad. He seems to me distinctly one of the ones!"
    I couldn't believe that this was the same blighter who had sat and sucked his stick the day before.
    "You ate something that disagreed with you last night, didn't you?" I said, by way of giving him a chance to slide out of it if he wanted to. But he wouldn't have it, at any price.
    "No!" he replied firmly. "I didn't do anything of the kind. I drank too much! Much too much. Lots and lots too much! And, what's more, I'm going to do it again! I'm going to do it every night. If ever you see me sober, old top," he said, with a kind of holy exaltation, "tap me on the shoulder and say, 'Tut! Tut!' and I'll apologize and remedy the defect."
    "But I say, you know, what about me?"
    "What about you?"
    "Well, I'm so to speak, as it were, kind of responsible for you. What I mean to say is, if you go doing this sort of thing I'm apt to get in the soup somewhat."
    "I can't help your troubles," said Motty firmly. "Listen to me, old thing: this is the first time in my life that I've had a real chance to yield to the temptations of a great city. What's the use of a great city having temptations if fellows don't yield to them? Makes it so bally discouraging for a great city. Besides, mother told me to keep my eyes open and collect impressions."
    I sat on the edge of the bed. I felt dizzy.
    "I know just how you feel, old dear," said Motty consolingly. "And, if my principles would permit it, I would simmer down for your sake. But duty first! This is the first time I've been let out alone, and I mean to make the most of it. We're only young once. Why interfere with life's morning? Young man, rejoice in thy youth! Tra–la! What ho!"
    Put like that, it did seem reasonable.
    "All my bally life, dear boy," Motty went on, "I've been cooped up in the ancestral home at Much Middlefold, in Shropshire, and till you've been cooped up in Much Middlefold you don't know what cooping is! The only time we get any excitement is when one of the