Right Ho, Jeeves

evening.”
    “You gibber, Jeeves.”
    “No, sir. It was essential that the ladies and gentlemen should be brought from the house, in order that, once out of doors, I could ensure that they remained there for the necessary period of time.”
    “How do you mean?”
    “My plan was based on psychology, sir.”
    “How?”
    “It is a recognized fact, sir, that there is nothing that so satisfactorily unites individuals who have been so unfortunate as to quarrel amongst themselves as a strong mutual dislike for some definite person. In my own family, if I may give a homely illustration, it was a generally accepted axiom that in times of domestic disagreement it was necessary only to invite my Aunt Annie for a visit to heal all breaches between the other members of the household. In the mutual animosity excited by Aunt Annie, those who had become estranged were reconciled almost immediately. Remembering this, it occurred to me that were you, sir, to be established as the person responsible for the ladies and gentlemen being forced to spend the night in the garden, everybody would take so strong a dislike to you that in this common sympathy they would sooner or later come together.”
    I would have spoken, but he continued:
    “And such proved to be the case. All, as you see, sir, is now well. After your departure on the bicycle, the various estranged parties agreed so heartily in their abuse of you that the ice, if I may use the expression, was broken, and it was not long before Mr. Glossop was walking beneath the trees with Miss Angela, telling her anecdotes of your career at the university in exchange for hers regarding your childhood; while Mr. Fink-Nottle, leaning against the sundial, held Miss Bassett enthralled with stories of your schooldays. Mrs. Travers, meanwhile, was telling Monsieur Anatole–-”
    I found speech.
    “Oh?” I said. “I see. And now, I suppose, as the result of this dashed psychology of yours, Aunt Dahlia is so sore with me that it will be years before I can dare to show my face here again—years, Jeeves, during which, night after night, Anatole will be cooking those dinners of his–-”
    “No, sir. It was to prevent any such contingency that I suggested that you should bicycle to Kingham Manor. When I informed the ladies and gentlemen that I had found the key, and it was borne in upon them that you were having that long ride for nothing, their animosity vanished immediately, to be replaced by cordial amusement. There was much laughter.”
    “There was, eh?”
    “Yes, sir. I fear you may possibly have to submit to a certain amount of good-natured chaff, but nothing more. All, if I may say so, is forgiven, sir.”
    “Oh?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    I mused awhile.
    “You certainly seem to have fixed things.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Tuppy and Angela are once more betrothed. Also Gussie and the Bassett; Uncle Tom appears to have coughed up that money for _Milady’s Boudoir_. And Anatole is staying on.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I suppose you might say that all’s well that ends well.”
    “Very apt, sir.”
    I mused again.
    “All the same, your methods are a bit rough, Jeeves.”
    “One cannot make an omelette without breaking eggs, sir.”
    I started.
    “Omelette! Do you think you could get me one?”
    “Certainly, sir.”
    “Together with half a bot. of something?”
    “Undoubtedly, sir.”
    “Do so, Jeeves, and with all speed.”
    I climbed into bed and sank back against the pillows. I must say that my generous wrath had ebbed a bit. I was aching the whole length of my body, particularly toward the middle, but against this you had to set the fact that I was no longer engaged to Madeline Bassett. In a good cause one is prepared to suffer. Yes, looking at the thing from every angle, I saw that Jeeves had done well, and it was with an approving beam that I welcomed him as he returned with the needful.
    He did not check up with this beam. A bit grave, he seemed to me to be looking, and I probed the matter with a kindly query:
    “Something on your mind, Jeeves?”
    “Yes, sir. I should have mentioned it earlier, but in the evening’s disturbance it escaped my memory, I fear I have been remiss, sir.”
    “Yes, Jeeves?” I said, champing contentedly.
    “In the matter of your mess-jacket, sir.”
    A nameless fear shot through me, causing me to swallow a mouthful of omelette the wrong way.
    “I am sorry to say, sir, that while I was ironing it this afternoon I was careless enough to