Stiff Upper Lip Jeeves

had had of the local Dead End kids had told me how tough a bunch they were and how sedulously they should be avoided by the man who knew what was good for him.
    ‘I shall nip over to Brinkley in the car and have lunch with Uncle Tom. You at my side, I hope?’
    ‘Impossible, I fear, sir. I have promised to assist Mr. Butterfield in the tea tent.’
    ‘Then you can tell me all about it.’
    ‘Very good, sir.’
    ‘If you survive.’
    ‘Precisely, sir.’
    It was a nice easy drive to Brinkley, and I got there well in advance of the luncheon hour. Aunt Dahlia wasn’t there, having, as foreshadowed, popped up to London for the day, and Uncle Tom and I sat down alone to a repast in Anatole’s best vein. Over the Supreme de Foie Gras au Champagne and the Neige aux Perles des Alpes I placed him in possession of the facts relating to the black amber statuette thing, and his relief at learning that Pop Bassett hadn’t got a thousand-quid objet d’art for a fiver was so profound and the things he said about Pop B. so pleasing to the ear that by the time I started back my dark mood had become sensibly lightened and optimism had returned to its throne.
    After all, I reminded myself, it wasn’t as if Gussie was going to be indefinitely under Madeline’s eye. In due season he would buzz back to London and there would be able to tuck into the beefs and muttons till his ribs squeaked, confident that not a word of his activities would reach her. The effect of this would be to refill him with sweetness and light, causing him to write her loving letters which would carry him along till she emerged from this vegetarian phase and took up stamp collecting or something. I know the other sex and their sudden enthusiasms. They get these crazes and wallow in them for awhile, but they soon become fed up and turn to other things. My Aunt Agatha once went in for politics, but it only took a few meetings at which she got the bird from hecklers to convince her that the cagey thing to do was to stay at home and attend to her fancy needlework, giving the whole enterprise a miss.
    It was getting on for what is called the quiet evenfall when I anchored at Totleigh Towers. I did my usual sneak to my room, and I had been there a few minutes when Jeeves came in.
    ‘I saw you arrive, sir,’ he said, ‘and I thought you might be in need of refreshment.’

I assured him that his intuition had not led him astray, and he said he would bring me a whisky-and-s. immediately.
    ‘I trust you found Mr. Travers in good health, sir.’
    I was able to reassure him there.
    ‘He was a bit low when I blew in, but on receipt of my news about the what-not blossomed like a flower. It would have done you good to have heard what he had to say about Pop Bassett. And talking of Pop Bassett, how did the school treat go off?’
    ‘I think the juvenile element enjoyed the festivities, sir.’
    ‘How about you?’
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘You were all right? They didn’t put your head in a sack and prod you with sticks?’
    ‘No, sir. My share in the afternoon’s events was confined to assisting in the tea tent.’
    ‘You speak lightly, Jeeves, but I’ve known some dark work to take place in school treat tea tents.’
    ‘It is odd that you should say that, sir, for it was while partaking of tea that a lad threw a hard-boiled egg at Sir Watkyn.’
    ‘And hit him?’
    ‘On the left cheek-bone, sir. It was most unfortunate.’
    I could not subscribe to this.
    ‘I don’t know why you say “unfortunate”. Best thing that could have happened, in my opinion. The very first time I set eyes on Pop Bassett, in the picturesque environment of Bosher Street police court, I remember saying to myself that there sat a man to whom it would do all the good in the world to have hard-boiled eggs thrown at him. One of my crowd on that occasion, a lady accused of being drunk and disorderly and resisting the police, did on receipt of her sentence, throw her boot at him, but with a poor aim, succeeding only in beaning the magistrate’s clerk. What’s the boy’s name?’
    ‘I could not say, sir. His actions were cloaked in anonymity.’
    ‘A pity. I would have liked to reward him by sending camels bearing apes, ivory and peacocks to his address. Did you see anything of Gussie in the course of the afternoon?’
    ‘Yes, sir. Mr. Fink-Nottle, at Miss Bassett’s insistence, played a large part in the proceedings and was, I am sorry to say, somewhat roughly handled by the younger