The inimitable Jeeves

shot down to the footlights. Even from where I was sitting, I could see that these harsh words had hit the old Bassington-Bassington family pride a frightful wallop. He started to get pink in the ears, and then in the nose, and then in the cheeks, till in about a quarter of a minute he looked pretty much like an explosion in a tomato cannery on a sunset evening.
    ‘What the deuce do you mean?’
    ‘What the deuce do you mean?’ shouted old Blumenfield. ‘Don’t yell at me across the footlights!’
    ‘I’ve a dashed good mind to come down and spank that little brute!’
    ‘What!’
    ‘A dashed good mind!’
    Old Blumenfield swelled like a pumped-up tyre. He got rounder than ever.
    ‘See here, mister - I don’t know your darn name - !’
    ‘My name’s Bassington-Bassington, and the jolly old Bassington-Bassingtons - I mean the Bassington-Bassingtons aren’t accustomed -‘
    Old Blumenfield told him in a few brief words pretty much what he thought of the Bassington-Bassingtons and what they weren’t accustomed to. The whole strength of the company rallied round to enjoy his remarks. You could see them jutting out from the wings and protruding from behind trees.
    ‘You got to work good for my pop!’ said the stout child, waggling his head reprovingly at Cyril.
    ‘I don’t want any bally cheek from you!’ said Cyril, gurgling a bit.
    ‘What’s that?’ barked old Blumenfield. ‘Don’t you understand that this boy is my son?’
    ‘Yes, I do,’ said Cyril. ‘And you both have my sympathy!’
    ‘You’re fired!’ bellowed old Blumenfield, swelling a good bit more. ‘Get out of my theatre!’

    About half past ten next morning, just after I had finished lubricating the good old ulterior with a soothing cup of Oolong, Jeeves filtered into my bedroom, and said that Cyril was waiting to see me in the sitting-room.
    ‘How does he look, Jeeves?’
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘What does Mr Bassington-Bassington look like?’
    ‘It is hardly my place, sir, to criticize the facial peculiarities of your friends.’
    ‘I don’t mean that. I mean, does he appear peeved and what not?’
    ‘Not noticeably, sir. His manner is tranquil.’
    ‘That’s rum!’
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘Nothing. Show him in, will you?’
    I’m bound to say I had expected to see Cyril showing a few more traces of last night’s battle. I was looking for a bit of the overwrought soul and the quivering ganglions, if you know what I mean. He seemed pretty ordinary and quite fairly cheerful.
    ‘Hallo, Wooster, old thing!’
    ‘Cheero!’
    ‘I just looked in to say goodbye.’
    ‘Goodbye?’
    ‘Yes. I’m off to Washington in an hour.’ He sat down on the bed. ‘You know, Wooster, old top,’ he went on, ‘I’ve been thinking it all over, and really it doesn’t seem quite fair to the jolly old guv’nor, my going on the stage and so forth. What do you think?’
    ‘I see what you mean.’
    ‘I mean to say, he sent me over here to broaden my jolly old mind and words to that effect, don’t you know, and I can’t help thinking it would be a bit of a jar for the old boy if I gave him the bird and went on the stage instead. I don’t know if you understand me, but what I mean to say is, it’s a sort of question of conscience.’
    ‘Can you leave the show without upsetting everything?’
    ‘Oh, that’s all right. I’ve explained everything to old Blumenfield, and he quite sees my position. Of course, he’s sorry to lose me -said he didn’t see how he could fill my place and all that sort of thing - but, after all, even if it does land him in a bit of a hole, I think I’m right in resigning my part, don’t you?’
    ‘Oh, absolutely.’
    ‘I thought you’d agree with me. Well, I ought to be shifting. Awfully glad to have seen something of you, and all that sort of rot. Pip-pip!’
    ‘Toodle-oo!’
    He sallied forth, having told all those bally lies with the clear, blue, pop-eyed gaze of a young child. I rang for Jeeves. You know, ever since last night I had been exercising the old bean to some extent, and a good deal of light had dawned upon me.
    ‘Jeeves!’
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘Did you put that pie-faced infant up to bally-ragging Mr Bassington-Bassington?’
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘Oh, you know what I mean. Did you tell him to get Mr Bassington-Bassington sacked from the Ask Dad company?’
    ‘I would not take such a liberty, sir.’ He started to put out my clothes. ‘It is possible that young Master Blumenfield may have gathered from