The inimitable Jeeves

potato. You would have your head in a sack, and you would grope about trying to find Jeeves and making a noise like a cat; Jeeves also making a noise like a cat. Other competitors would be making noises like cows and pigs and dogs, and so on, and groping about for their potato-holders, who would also be making noises like cows and pigs and dogs and so on-‘
    I stopped the poor fish.
    ‘Jolly if you’re fond of animals,’ I said, ‘but on the whole -‘
    ‘Precisely, sir,’ said Jeeves. ‘I wouldn’t touch it.’
    ‘Too open, what?’
    ‘Exactly, sir. Very hard to estimate form.’
    ‘Carry on, Bingo. Where do we go from there?’
    ‘Mothers’ Sack Race.’
    ‘Ah! That’s better. This is where you know something.’
    ‘A gift for Mrs Penworthy, the tobacconist’s wife,’ said Bingo confidently. ‘I was in at her shop yesterday, buying cigarettes, and she told me she had won three times at fairs in Worcestershire. She only moved to these parts a short time ago, so nobody knows about her. She promised me she would keep herself dark, and I think we could get a good price.’
    ‘Risk a tenner each way, Jeeves, what?’
    ‘I think so, sir.’
    ‘Girls’ Open Egg and Spoon Race,’ read Bingo.
    ‘How about that?’
    ‘I doubt if it would be worthwhile to invest, sir,’ said Jeeves. ‘I am told it is a certainty for last year’s winner, Sarah Mills, who will doubtless start an odds-on favourite.’
    ‘Good, is she?’
    ‘They tell me in the village that she carries a beautiful egg, sir.’
    ‘Then there’s the Obstacle Race,’ said Bingo. ‘Risky, in my opinion. Like betting on the Grand National. Fathers’ Hat-Trimming Contest - another speculative event. That’s all except for the Choir-Boys’ Hundred Yards Handicap, for a pewter mug presented by the vicar - open to all whose voices have not broken before the second Sunday in Epiphany. Willie Chambers won last year, in a canter, receiving fifteen yards. This time he will probably be handicapped out of the race. I don’t know what to advise.’
    ‘If I might make a suggestion, sir.’
    I eyed Jeeves with interest. I don’t know that I’d ever seen him look so nearly excited.
    ‘You’ve got something up your sleeve?’
    ‘I have, sir.’
    ‘Red-hot?’
    ‘That precisely describes it, sir. I think I may confidently assert that we have the winner of the Choir-Boys’ Handicap under this very roof, sir. Harold, the page-boy.’
    ‘Page-boy? Do you mean the tubby little chap in buttons one sees bobbing about here and there? Why, dash it, Jeeves, nobody has a greater respect for your knowledge of form than I have, but I’m hanged if I can see Harold catching the judge’s eye. He’s practically circular, and every time I’ve seen him he’s been leaning up against something, half asleep.’
    ‘He receives thirty yards, sir, and could win from scratch. The boy is a flier.’
    ‘How do you know?’
    Jeeves coughed, and there was a dreamy look in his eye.
    ‘I was as much astonished as yourself, sir, when I first became aware of the lad’s capabilities. I happened to pursue him one morning with the intention of fetching him a clip on the side of the head -‘
    ‘Great Scott, Jeeves! You?’
    ‘Yes, sir. The boy is of an outspoken disposition, and had made an opprobrious remark respecting my personal appearance.’
    ‘What did he say about your appearance?’
    ‘I have forgotten, sir,’ said Jeeves, with a touch of austerity. ‘But it was opprobrious. I endeavoured to correct him, but he outdistanced me by yards and made good his escape.’
    ‘But, I say, Jeeves, this is sensational. And yet - if he’s such a sprinter, why hasn’t anybody in the village found it out? Surely he plays with the other boys?’
    ‘No, sir. As his lordship’s page-boy, Harold does not mix with the village lads.’
    ‘Bit of a snob, what?’
    ‘He is somewhat acutely alive to the existence of class distinctions, sir.’
    ‘You’re absolutely certain he’s such a wonder?’ said Bingo. ‘I mean, it wouldn’t do to plunge unless you’re sure.’
    ‘If you desire to ascertain the boy’s form by personal inspection, sir, it will be a simple matter to arrange a secret trial.’
    ‘I’m bound to say I should feel easier in my mind,’ I said.
    ‘Then if I may take a shilling from the money on your dressing-table -‘
    ‘What for?’
    ‘I propose to bribe the lad to speak slightingly of the second footman’s quint, sir. Charles is