Right Ho, Jeeves

It can be readily imagined. Talk about chaps with the noose round their necks and the hangman about to let her go and somebody galloping up on a foaming horse, waving the reprieve—not in it. Absolutely not in it at all. I don’t know that I can give you a better idea of the state of my feelings than by saying that as I started to cross the hall I was conscious of so profound a benevolence toward all created things that I found myself thinking kindly thoughts even of Jeeves.
    I was about to mount the stairs when a sudden “What ho!” from my rear caused me to turn. Tuppy was standing in the hall. He had apparently been down to the cellar for reinforcements, for there were a couple of bottles under his arm.
    “Hullo, Bertie,” he said. “You back?” He laughed amusedly. “You look like the Wreck of the Hesperus. Get run over by a steam-roller or something?”
    At any other time I might have found his coarse badinage hard to bear. But such was my uplifted mood that I waved it aside and slipped him the good news.
    “Tuppy, old man, the Bassett’s going to marry Gussie Fink-Nottle.”
    “Tough luck on both of them, what?”
    “But don’t you understand? Don’t you see what this means? It means that Angela is once more out of pawn, and you have only to play your cards properly–-”
    He bellowed rollickingly. I saw now that he was in the pink. As a matter of fact, I had noticed something of the sort directly I met him, but had attributed it to alcoholic stimulant.
    “Good Lord! You’re right behind the times, Bertie. Only to be expected, of course, if you will go riding bicycles half the night. Angela and I made it up hours ago.”
    “What?”
    “Certainly. Nothing but a passing tiff. All you need in these matters is a little give and take, a bit of reasonableness on both sides. We got together and talked things over. She withdrew my double chin. I conceded her shark. Perfectly simple. All done in a couple of minutes.”
    “But–-”
    “Sorry, Bertie. Can’t stop chatting with you all night. There is a rather impressive beano in progress in the dining-room, and they are waiting for supplies.”
    Endorsement was given to this statement by a sudden shout from the apartment named. I recognized—as who would not—Aunt Dahlia’s voice:
    “Glossop!”
    “Hullo?”
    “Hurry up with that stuff.”
    “Coming, coming.”
    “Well, come, then. Yoicks! Hard for-rard!”
    “Tallyho, not to mention tantivy. Your aunt,” said Tuppy, “is a bit above herself. I don’t know all the facts of the case, but it appears that Anatole gave notice and has now consented to stay on, and also your uncle has given her a cheque for that paper of hers. I didn’t get the details, but she is much braced. See you later. I must rush.”
    To say that Bertram was now definitely nonplussed would be but to state the simple truth. I could make nothing of this. I had left Brinkley Court a stricken home, with hearts bleeding wherever you looked, and I had returned to find it a sort of earthly paradise. It baffled me.
    I bathed bewilderedly. The toy duck was still in the soap-dish, but I was too preoccupied to give it a thought. Still at a loss, I returned to my room, and there was Jeeves. And it is proof of my fogged condish that my first words to him were words not of reproach and stern recrimination but of inquiry:
    “I say, Jeeves!”
    “Good evening, sir. I was informed that you had returned. I trust you had an enjoyable ride.”
    At any other moment, a crack like that would have woken the fiend in Bertram Wooster. I barely noticed it. I was intent on getting to the bottom of this mystery.
    “But I say, Jeeves, what?”
    “Sir?”
    “What does all this mean?”
    “You refer, sir–-”
    “Of course I refer. You know what I’m talking about. What has been happening here since I left? The place is positively stiff with happy endings.”
    “Yes, sir. I am glad to say that my efforts have been rewarded.”
    “What do you mean, your efforts? You aren’t going to try to make out that that rotten fire bell scheme of yours had anything to do with it?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Don’t be an ass, Jeeves. It flopped.”
    “Not altogether, sir. I fear, sir, that I was not entirely frank with regard to my suggestion of ringing the fire bell. I had not really anticipated that it would in itself produce the desired results. I had intended it merely as a preliminary to what I might describe as the real business of the