Right Ho, Jeeves

on my head. No, you wouldn’t find me grousing if I were a male newt.”
    “But if you were a male newt, Madeline Bassett wouldn’t look at you. Not with the eye of love, I mean.”
    “She would, if she were a female newt.”
    “But she isn’t a female newt.”
    “No, but suppose she was.”
    “Well, if she was, you wouldn’t be in love with her.”
    “Yes, I would, if I were a male newt.”
    A slight throbbing about the temples told me that this discussion had reached saturation point.
    “Well, anyway,” I said, “coming down to hard facts and cutting out all this visionary stuff about vibrating tails and what not, the salient point that emerges is that you are booked to appear at a fancy-dress ball. And I tell you out of my riper knowledge of fancy-dress balls, Gussie, that you won’t enjoy yourself.”
    “It isn’t a question of enjoying yourself.”
    “I wouldn’t go.”
    “I must go. I keep telling you she’s off to the country tomorrow.”
    I gave it up.
    “So be it,” I said. “Have it your own way…. Yes, Jeeves?”
    “Mr. Fink-Nottle’s cab, sir.”
    “Ah? The cab, eh?… Your cab, Gussie.”
    “Oh, the cab? Oh, right. Of course, yes, rather…. Thanks, Jeeves … Well, so long, Bertie.”
    And giving me the sort of weak smile Roman gladiators used to give the Emperor before entering the arena, Gussie trickled off. And I turned to Jeeves. The moment had arrived for putting him in his place, and I was all for it.
    It was a little difficult to know how to begin, of course. I mean to say, while firmly resolved to tick him off, I didn’t want to gash his feelings too deeply. Even when displaying the iron hand, we Woosters like to keep the thing fairly matey.
    However, on consideration, I saw that there was nothing to be gained by trying to lead up to it gently. It is never any use beating about the b.
    “Jeeves,” I said, “may I speak frankly?”
    “Certainly, sir.”
    “What I have to say may wound you.”
    “Not at all, sir.”
    “Well, then, I have been having a chat with Mr. Fink-Nottle, and he has been telling me about this Mephistopheles scheme of yours.”
    “Yes, sir?”
    “Now let me get it straight. If I follow your reasoning correctly, you think that, stimulated by being upholstered throughout in scarlet tights, Mr. Fink-Nottle, on encountering the adored object, will vibrate his tail and generally let himself go with a whoop.”
    “I am of opinion that he will lose much of his normal diffidence, sir.”
    “I don’t agree with you, Jeeves.”
    “No, sir?”
    “No. In fact, not to put too fine a point upon it, I consider that of all the dashed silly, drivelling ideas I ever heard in my puff this is the most blithering and futile. It won’t work. Not a chance. All you have done is to subject Mr. Fink-Nottle to the nameless horrors of a fancy-dress ball for nothing. And this is not the first time this sort of thing has happened. To be quite candid, Jeeves, I have frequently noticed before now a tendency or disposition on your part to become—what’s the word?”
    “I could not say, sir.”
    “Eloquent? No, it’s not eloquent. Elusive? No, it’s not elusive. It’s on the tip of my tongue. Begins with an ‘e’ and means being a jolly sight too clever.”
    “Elaborate, sir?”
    “That is the exact word I was after. Too elaborate, Jeeves—that is what you are frequently prone to become. Your methods are not simple, not straightforward. You cloud the issue with a lot of fancy stuff that is not of the essence. All that Gussie needs is the elder-brotherly advice of a seasoned man of the world. So what I suggest is that from now onward you leave this case to me.”
    “Very good, sir.”
    “You lay off and devote yourself to your duties about the home.”
    “Very good, sir.”
    “I shall no doubt think of something quite simple and straightforward yet perfectly effective ere long. I will make a point of seeing Gussie tomorrow.”
    “Very good, sir.”
    “Right ho, Jeeves.”
    But on the morrow all those telegrams started coming in, and I confess that for twenty-four hours I didn’t give the poor chap a thought, having problems of my own to contend with.

    -3-
    The first of the telegram arrived shortly after noon, and Jeeves brought it in with the before-luncheon snifter. It was from my Aunt Dahlia, operating from Market Snodsbury, a small town of sorts a mile or two along the main road as you leave her country seat.
    It ran as follows:
    _Come at