The inimitable Jeeves

got a bit of writing to do.’
    ‘Writing?’
    ‘Poetry, if you must know. I wish the dickens,’ said young Bingo, not without some bitterness, ‘she had been christened something except Cynthia. There isn’t a dam’ word in the language it rhymes with. Ye gods, how I could have spread myself if she had only been called Jane!’

    Bright and early next morning, as I lay in bed blinking at the sunlight on the dressing-table and wondering when Jeeves was going to show up with a cup of tea, a heavy weight descended on my toes, and the voice of young Bingo polluted the air. The blighter had apparently risen with the lark.
    ‘Leave me,’ I said, ‘I would be alone. I can’t see anybody till I’ve had my tea.’
    ‘When Cynthia smiles,’ said young Bingo, ‘the skies are blue; the world takes on a roseate hue; birds in the garden trill and sing, and Joy is king of everything, when Cynthia smiles.’ He coughed, changing gears. ‘When Cynthia frowns -‘
    ‘What the devil are you talking about?’
    ‘I’m reading you my poem. The one I wrote to Cynthia last night. I’ll go on, shall I?’
    ‘No!’ . ‘No?’
    ‘No. I haven’t had my tea.’
    At this moment Jeeves came in with the good old beverage, and I sprang on it with a glad cry. After a couple of sips things looked a bit brighter. Even young Bingo didn’t offend the eye to quite such an extent. By the time I’d finished the first cup I was a new man, so much so that I not only permitted but encouraged the poor fish to read the rest of the bally thing, and even went so far as to criticize the scansion of the fourth line of the fifth verse. We were still arguing the point when the door burst open and in blew Claude and Eustace. One of the things which discourages me about rural life is the frightful earliness with which events begin to break loose. I’ve stayed at places in the country where they’ve jerked me out of the dreamless at about six-thirty to go for a jolly swim in the lake. At Twing, thank heaven, they know me, and let me breakfast in bed. The twins seemed pleased to see me. ‘Good old Bertie!’ said Claude.
    ‘Stout fellow!’ said Eustace. ‘The Rev. told us you had arrived. I thought that letter of mine would fetch you.’
    ‘You can always bank on Bertie,’ said Claude. ‘A sportsman to the finger-tips. Well, has Bingo told you about it?’
    ‘Not a word. He’s been - ‘
    ‘We’ve been talking,’ said Bingo hastily, ‘of other matters.’
    Claude pinched the last slice of thin bread-and-butter, and Eustace poured himself out a cup of tea.
    ‘It’s like this, Bertie,’ said Eustace, settling down cosily. ‘As I told you in my letter, there are nine of us marooned in this desert spot, reading with old Heppenstall. Well, of course, nothing is jollier than sweating up the Classics when it’s a hundred in the shade, but there does come a time when you begin to feel the need of a little relaxation; and, by Jove, there are absolutely no facilities for relaxation in this place whatever. And then Steggles got this idea. Steggles is one of our reading-party, and, between ourselves, rather a worm as a general thing. Still, you have to give him credit for getting this idea.’
    ‘What idea?’
    ‘Well, you know how many parsons there are round about here. There are about a dozen hamlets within a radius of six miles, and each hamlet has a church and each church has a parson and each parson preaches a sermon every Sunday. Tomorrow week - Sunday the twenty-third - we’re running off the great Sermon Handicap. Steggles is making the book. Each parson is to be clocked by a reliable steward of the course, and the one that preaches the longest sermon wins. Did you study the race-card I sent you?’
    ‘I couldn’t understand what it was all about.’
    ‘Why, you chump, it gives the handicaps and the current odds on each starter. I’ve got another one here, in case you’ve lost yours. Take a careful look at it. It gives you the thing in a nutshell. Jeeves, old son, do you want a sporting flutter?’
    ‘Sir?’ said Jeeves, who had just meandered in with my breakfast.
    Claude explained the scheme. Amazing the way Jeeves grasped it right off. But he merely smiled in a paternal sort of way.
    ‘Thank you, sir, I think not.’
    ‘Well, you’re with us, Bertie, aren’t you?’ said Claude, sneaking a roll and a slice of bacon. ‘Have you studied that card? Well, tell me, does anything strike you about it?’
    Of course it