-16-
Sunshine was gilding the grounds of Brinkley Court and the ear detected amarked twittering of birds in the ivy outside the window when I woke nextmorning to a new day. But there was no corresponding sunshine in BertramWooster's soul and no answering twitter in his heart as he sat up in bed,sipping his cup of strengthening tea. It could not be denied that toBertram, reviewing the happenings of the previous night, the Tuppy-Angelasituation seemed more or less to have slipped a cog. With every desire tolook for the silver lining, I could not but feel that the rift betweenthese two haughty spirits had now reached such impressive proportionsthat the task of bridging same would be beyond even my powers.
I am a shrewd observer, and there had been something in Tuppy's manner ashe booted that plate of ham sandwiches that seemed to tell me that hewould not lightly forgive.
In these circs., I deemed it best to shelve their problem for the nonceand turn the mind to the matter of Gussie, which presented a brighterpicture.
With regard to Gussie, everything was in train. Jeeves's morbid scruplesabout lacing the chap's orange juice had put me to a good deal oftrouble, but I had surmounted every obstacle in the old Wooster way. Ihad secured an abundance of the necessary spirit, and it was now lying inits flask in the drawer of the dressing-table. I had also ascertainedthat the jug, duly filled, would be standing on a shelf in the butler'spantry round about the hour of one. To remove it from that shelf, sneakit up to my room, and return it, laced, in good time for the midday mealwould be a task calling, no doubt, for address, but in no sense anexacting one.
It was with something of the emotions of one preparing a treat for adeserving child that I finished my tea and rolled over for that extraspot of sleep which just makes all the difference when there is man'swork to be done and the brain must be kept clear for it.
And when I came downstairs an hour or so later, I knew how right I hadbeen to formulate this scheme for Gussie's bucking up. I ran into him onthe lawn, and I could see at a glance that if ever there was a man whoneeded a snappy stimulant, it was he. All nature, as I have indicated,was smiling, but not Augustus Fink-Nottle. He was walking round incircles, muttering something about not proposing to detain us long, buton this auspicious occasion feeling compelled to say a few words.
"Ah, Gussie," I said, arresting him as he was about to start another lap."A lovely morning, is it not?"
Even if I had not been aware of it already, I could have divined from theabruptness with which he damned the lovely morning that he was not inmerry mood. I addressed myself to the task of bringing the roses back tohis cheeks.
"I've got good news for you, Gussie."
He looked at me with a sudden sharp interest.
"Has Market Snodsbury Grammar School burned down?"
"Not that I know of."
"Have mumps broken out? Is the place closed on account of measles?"
"No, no."
"Then what do you mean you've got good news?"
I endeavoured to soothe.
"You mustn't take it so hard, Gussie. Why worry about a laughably simplejob like distributing prizes at a school?"
"Laughably simple, eh? Do you realize I've been sweating for days andhaven't been able to think of a thing to say yet, except that I won'tdetain them long. You bet I won't detain them long. I've been timing myspeech, and it lasts five seconds. What the devil am I to say, Bertie?What do you say when you're distributing prizes?"
I considered. Once, at my private school, I had won a prize for Scriptureknowledge, so I suppose I ought to have been full of inside stuff. Butmemory eluded me.
Then something emerged from the mists.
"You say the race is not always to the swift."
"Why?"
"Well, it's a good gag. It generally gets a hand."
"I mean, why isn't it? Why isn't the race to the swift?"
"Ah, there you have me. But the nibs say it isn't."
"But what does it mean?"
"I take it it's supposed to console the chaps who haven't won prizes."
"What's the good of that to me? I'm not worrying about them. It's theones that have won prizes that I'm worrying about, the little blighterswho will come up on the platform. Suppose they make faces at me."
"They won't."
"How do you know they won't? It's probably the first thing they'll thinkof. And even if they don't--Bertie, shall I tell you something?"
"What?"
"I've a good mind to take that tip of yours and have a drink."
I smiled. He little knew, about summed up what I was thinking.
"Oh, you'll be all right," I said.
He became fevered again.
"How do you know I'll be all right? I'm sure to blow up in my lines."
"Tush!"
"Or drop a prize."
"Tut!"
"Or something. I can feel it in my bones. As sure as I'm standing here,something is going to happen this afternoon which will make everybodylaugh themselves sick at me. I can hear them now. Like hyenas....Bertie!"
"Hullo?"
"Do you remember that kids' school we went to before Eton?"
"Quite. It was there I won my Scripture prize."
"Never mind about your Scripture prize. I'm not talking about yourScripture prize. Do you recollect the Bosher incident?"
I did, indeed. It was one of the high spots of my youth.
"Major-General Sir Wilfred Bosher came to distribute the prizes at thatschool," proceeded Gussie in a dull, toneless voice. "He dropped a book.He stooped to pick it up. And, as he stooped, his trousers split up theback."
"How we roared!"
Gussie's face twisted.
"We did, little swine that we were. Instead of remaining silent andexhibiting a decent sympathy for a gallant officer at a peculiarlyembarrassing moment, we howled and yelled with mirth. I loudest of any.That is what will happen to me this afternoon, Bertie. It will be ajudgment on me for laughing like that at Major-General Sir WilfredBosher."
"No, no, Gussie, old man. Your trousers won't split."
"How do you know they won't? Better men than I have split their trousers.General Bosher was a D.S.O., with a fine record of service on thenorth-western frontier of India, and his trousers split. I shall be amockery and a scorn. I know it. And you, fully cognizant of what I am infor, come babbling about good news. What news could possibly be good to meat this moment except the information that bubonic plague had broken outamong the scholars of Market Snodsbury Grammar School, and that they wereall confined to their beds with spots?"
The moment had come for me to speak. I laid a hand gently on hisshoulder. He brushed it off. I laid it on again. He brushed it off oncemore. I was endeavouring to lay it on for the third time, when he movedaside and desired, with a certain petulance, to be informed if I thoughtI was a ruddy osteopath.
I found his manner trying, but one has to make allowances. I was tellingmyself that I should be seeing a very different Gussie after lunch.
"When I said I had good news, old man, I meant about Madeline Bassett."
The febrile gleam died out of his eyes, to be replaced by a look ofinfinite sadness.
"You can't have good news about her. I've dished myself there completely."
"Not at all. I am convinced that if you take another whack at her, allwill be well."
And, keeping it snappy, I related what had passed between the Bassett andmyself on the previous night.
"So all you have to do is play a return date, and you cannot fail toswing the voting. You are her dream man."
He shook his head.
"No."
"What?"
"No use."
"What do you mean?"
"Not a bit of good trying."
"But I tell you she said in so many words----"
"It doesn't make any difference. She may have loved me once. Last nightwill have killed all that."
"Of course it won't."
"It will. She despises me now."
"Not a bit
of it. She knows you simply got cold feet."
"And I should get cold feet if I tried again. It's no good, Bertie. I'mhopeless, and there's an end of it. Fate made me the sort of chap whocan't say 'bo' to a goose."
"It isn't a question of saying 'bo' to a goose. The point doesn't ariseat all. It is simply a matter of----"
"I know, I know. But it's no good. I can't do it. The whole thing is off.I am not going to risk a repetition of last night's fiasco. You talk in alight way of taking another whack at her, but you don't know what itmeans. You have not been through the experience of starting to ask thegirl you love to marry you and then suddenly finding yourself talkingabout the plumlike external gills of the newly-born newt. It's not athing you can do twice. No, I accept my destiny. It's all over. And now,Bertie, like a good chap, shove off. I want to compose my speech. I can'tcompose my speech with you mucking around. If you are going to continueto muck around, at least give me a couple of stories. The little hellhounds are sure to expect a story or two."
"Do you know the one about----"
"No good. I don't want any of your off-colour stuff from the Drones'smoking-room. I need something clean. Something that will be a help tothem in their after lives. Not that I care a damn about their afterlives, except that I hope they'll all choke."
"I heard a story the other day. I can't quite remember it, but it wasabout a chap who snored and disturbed the neighbours, and it ended, 'Itwas his adenoids that adenoid them.'"
He made a weary gesture.
"You expect me to work that in, do you, into a speech to be delivered toan audience of boys, every one of whom is probably riddled with adenoids?Damn it, they'd rush the platform. Leave me, Bertie. Push off. That's allI ask you to do. Push off.... Ladies and gentlemen," said Gussie, in alow, soliloquizing sort of way, "I do not propose to detain thisauspicious occasion long----"
It was a thoughtful Wooster who walked away and left him at it. More thanever I was congratulating myself on having had the sterling good sense tomake all my arrangements so that I could press a button and set thingsmoving at an instant's notice.
Until now, you see, I had rather entertained a sort of hope that when Ihad revealed to him the Bassett's mental attitude, Nature would have donethe rest, bracing him up to such an extent that artificial stimulantswould not be required. Because, naturally, a chap doesn't want to have tosprint about country houses lugging jugs of orange juice, unless it isabsolutely essential.
But now I saw that I must carry on as planned. The total absence of pep,ginger, and the right spirit which the man had displayed during theseconversational exchanges convinced me that the strongest measures wouldbe necessary. Immediately upon leaving him, therefore, I proceeded to thepantry, waited till the butler had removed himself elsewhere, and nippedin and secured the vital jug. A few moments later, after a wary passageof the stairs, I was in my room. And the first thing I saw there wasJeeves, fooling about with trousers.
He gave the jug a look which--wrongly, as it was to turn out--I diagnosedas censorious. I drew myself up a bit. I intended to have no rot from thefellow.
"Yes, Jeeves?"
"Sir?"
"You have the air of one about to make a remark, Jeeves."
"Oh, no, sir. I note that you are in possession of Mr. Fink-Nottle'sorange juice. I was merely about to observe that in my opinion it wouldbe injudicious to add spirit to it."
"That is a remark, Jeeves, and it is precisely----"
"Because I have already attended to the matter, sir."
"What?"
"Yes, sir. I decided, after all, to acquiesce in your wishes."
I stared at the man, astounded. I was deeply moved. Well, I mean,wouldn't any chap who had been going about thinking that the old feudalspirit was dead and then suddenly found it wasn't have been deeply moved?
"Jeeves," I said, "I am touched."
"Thank you, sir."
"Touched and gratified."
"Thank you very much, sir."
"But what caused this change of heart?"
"I chanced to encounter Mr. Fink-Nottle in the garden, sir, while youwere still in bed, and we had a brief conversation."
"And you came away feeling that he needed a bracer?"
"Very much so, sir. His attitude struck me as defeatist."
I nodded.
"I felt the same. 'Defeatist' sums it up to a nicety. Did you tell himhis attitude struck you as defeatist?"
"Yes, sir."
"But it didn't do any good?"
"No, sir."
"Very well, then, Jeeves. We must act. How much gin did you put in thejug?"
"A liberal tumblerful, sir."
"Would that be a normal dose for an adult defeatist, do you think?"
"I fancy it should prove adequate, sir."
"I wonder. We must not spoil the ship for a ha'porth of tar. I think I'lladd just another fluid ounce or so."
"I would not advocate it, sir. In the case of Lord Brancaster'sparrot----"
"You are falling into your old error, Jeeves, of thinking that Gussie isa parrot. Fight against this. I shall add the oz."
"Very good, sir."
"And, by the way, Jeeves, Mr. Fink-Nottle is in the market for bright,clean stories to use in his speech. Do you know any?"
"I know a story about two Irishmen, sir."
"Pat and Mike?"
"Yes, sir."
"Who were walking along Broadway?"
"Yes, sir."
"Just what he wants. Any more?"
"No, sir."
"Well, every little helps. You had better go and tell it to him."
"Very good, sir."
He passed from the room, and I unscrewed the flask and tilted into thejug a generous modicum of its contents. And scarcely had I done so, whenthere came to my ears the sound of footsteps without. I had only justtime to shove the jug behind the photograph of Uncle Tom on themantelpiece before the door opened and in came Gussie, curveting like acircus horse.
"What-ho, Bertie," he said. "What-ho, what-ho, what-ho, and againwhat-ho. What a beautiful world this is, Bertie. One of the nicest Iever met."
I stared at him, speechless. We Woosters are as quick as lightning, and Isaw at once that something had happened.
I mean to say, I told you about him walking round in circles. I recordedwhat passed between us on the lawn. And if I portrayed the scene withanything like adequate skill, the picture you will have retained of thisFink-Nottle will have been that of a nervous wreck, sagging at the knees,green about the gills, and picking feverishly at the lapels of his coatin an ecstasy of craven fear. In a word, defeatist. Gussie, during thatinterview, had, in fine, exhibited all the earmarks of one licked to acustard.
Vastly different was the Gussie who stood before me now. Self-confidenceseemed to ooze from the fellow's every pore. His face was flushed, therewas a jovial light in his eyes, the lips were parted in a swashbucklingsmile. And when with a genial hand he sloshed me on the back before Icould sidestep, it was as if I had been kicked by a mule.
"Well, Bertie," he proceeded, as blithely as a linnet without a thing onhis mind, "you will be glad to hear that you were right. Your theory hasbeen tested and proved correct. I feel like a fighting cock."
My brain ceased to reel. I saw all.
"Have you been having a drink?"
"I have. As you advised. Unpleasant stuff. Like medicine. Burns yourthroat, too, and makes one as thirsty as the dickens. How anyone can mopit up, as you do, for pleasure, beats me. Still, I would be the last todeny that it tunes up the system. I could bite a tiger."
"What did you have?"
"Whisky. At least, that was the label on the decanter, and I have noreason to suppose that a woman like your aunt--staunch, true-blue,British--would deliberately deceive the public. If she labels herdecanters Whisky, then I consider that we know where we are."
"A whisky and soda, eh? You couldn't have done better."
"Soda?" said Gussie thoughtfully. "I knew there was something I hadfo
rgotten."
"Didn't you put any soda in it?"
"It never occurred to me. I just nipped into the dining-room and drankout of the decanter."
"How much?"
"Oh, about ten swallows. Twelve, maybe. Or fourteen. Say sixteenmedium-sized gulps. Gosh, I'm thirsty."
He moved over to the wash-stand and drank deeply out of the water bottle.I cast a covert glance at Uncle Tom's photograph behind his back. For thefirst time since it had come into my life, I was glad that it was solarge. It hid its secret well. If Gussie had caught sight of that jug oforange juice, he would unquestionably have been on to it like a knife.
"Well, I'm glad you're feeling braced," I said.
He moved buoyantly from the wash-hand stand, and endeavoured to slosh meon the back again. Foiled by my nimble footwork, he staggered to the bedand sat down upon it.
"Braced? Did I say I could bite a tiger?"
"You did."
"Make it two tigers. I could chew holes in a steel door. What an ass youmust have thought me out there in the garden. I see now you were laughingin your sleeve."
"No, no."
"Yes," insisted Gussie. "That very sleeve," he said, pointing. "And Idon't blame you. I can't imagine why I made all that fuss about a pottyjob like distributing prizes at a rotten little country grammar school.Can you imagine, Bertie?"
"Exactly. Nor can I imagine. There's simply nothing to it. I just shin upon the platform, drop a few gracious words, hand the little blighterstheir prizes, and hop down again, admired by all. Not a suggestion ofsplit trousers from start to finish. I mean, why should anybody split histrousers? I can't imagine. Can you imagine?"
"No."
"Nor can I imagine. I shall be a riot. I know just the sort of stuffthat's needed--simple, manly, optimistic stuff straight from theshoulder. This shoulder," said Gussie, tapping. "Why I was so nervousthis morning I can't imagine. For anything simpler than distributing afew footling books to a bunch of grimy-faced kids I can't imagine. Still,for some reason I can't imagine, I was feeling a little nervous, but nowI feel fine, Bertie--fine, fine, fine--and I say this to you as an oldfriend. Because that's what you are, old man, when all the smoke hascleared away--an old friend. I don't think I've ever met an older friend.How long have you been an old friend of mine, Bertie?"
"Oh, years and years."
"Imagine! Though, of course, there must have been a time when you were anew friend.... Hullo, the luncheon gong. Come on, old friend."
And, rising from the bed like a performing flea, he made for the door.
I followed rather pensively. What had occurred was, of course, so muchvelvet, as you might say. I mean, I had wanted a braced Fink-Nottle--indeed, all my plans had had a braced Fink-Nottle as their end and aim--but I found myself wondering a little whether the Fink-Nottle nowsliding down the banister wasn't, perhaps, a shade too braced. Hisdemeanour seemed to me that of a man who might quite easily throw breadabout at lunch.
Fortunately, however, the settled gloom of those round him exercised arestraining effect upon him at the table. It would have needed a far moreplastered man to have been rollicking at such a gathering. I had told theBassett that there were aching hearts in Brinkley Court, and it nowlooked probable that there would shortly be aching tummies. Anatole, Ilearned, had retired to his bed with a fit of the vapours, and the mealnow before us had been cooked by the kitchen maid--as C3 a performer asever wielded a skillet.
This, coming on top of their other troubles, induced in the company apretty unanimous silence--a solemn stillness, as you might say--whicheven Gussie did not seem prepared to break. Except, therefore, for oneshort snatch of song on his part, nothing untoward marked the occasion,and presently we rose, with instructions from Aunt Dahlia to put onfestal raiment and be at Market Snodsbury not later than 3.30. Thisleaving me ample time to smoke a gasper or two in a shady bower besidethe lake, I did so, repairing to my room round about the hour of three.
Jeeves was on the job, adding the final polish to the old topper, and Iwas about to apprise him of the latest developments in the matter ofGussie, when he forestalled me by observing that the latter had only justconcluded an agreeable visit to the Wooster bedchamber.
"I found Mr. Fink-Nottle seated here when I arrived to lay out yourclothes, sir."
"Indeed, Jeeves? Gussie was in here, was he?"
"Yes, sir. He left only a few moments ago. He is driving to the schoolwith Mr. and Mrs. Travers in the large car."
"Did you give him your story of the two Irishmen?"
"Yes, sir. He laughed heartily."
"Good. Had you any other contributions for him?"
"I ventured to suggest that he might mention to the young gentlemen thateducation is a drawing out, not a putting in. The late Lord Brancasterwas much addicted to presenting prizes at schools, and he invariablyemployed this dictum."
"And how did he react to that?"
"He laughed heartily, sir."
"This surprised you, no doubt? This practically incessant merriment, Imean."
"Yes, sir."
"You thought it odd in one who, when you last saw him, was well up inGroup A of the defeatists."
"Yes, sir."
"There is a ready explanation, Jeeves. Since you last saw him, Gussie hasbeen on a bender. He's as tight as an owl."
"Indeed, sir?"
"Absolutely. His nerve cracked under the strain, and he sneaked into thedining-room and started mopping the stuff up like a vacuum cleaner.Whisky would seem to be what he filled the radiator with. I gather thathe used up most of the decanter. Golly, Jeeves, it's lucky he didn't getat that laced orange juice on top of that, what?"
"Extremely, sir."
I eyed the jug. Uncle Tom's photograph had fallen into the fender, and itwas standing there right out in the open, where Gussie couldn't havehelped seeing it. Mercifully, it was empty now.
"It was a most prudent act on your part, if I may say so, sir, to disposeof the orange juice."
I stared at the man.
"What? Didn't you?"
"No, sir."
"Jeeves, let us get this clear. Was it not you who threw away that o.j.?"
"No, sir. I assumed, when I entered the room and found the pitcher empty,that you had done so."
We looked at each other, awed. Two minds with but a single thought.
"I very much fear, sir----"
"So do I, Jeeves."
"It would seem almost certain----"
"Quite certain. Weigh the facts. Sift the evidence. The jug was standingon the mantelpiece, for all eyes to behold. Gussie had been complainingof thirst. You found him in here, laughing heartily. I think that therecan be little doubt, Jeeves, that the entire contents of that jug are atthis moment reposing on top of the existing cargo in that alreadybrilliantly lit man's interior. Disturbing, Jeeves."
"Most disturbing, sir."
"Let us face the position, forcing ourselves to be calm. You inserted inthat jug--shall we say a tumblerful of the right stuff?"
"Fully a tumblerful, sir."
"And I added of my plenty about the same amount."
"Yes, sir."
"And in two shakes of a duck's tail Gussie, with all that lapping aboutinside him, will be distributing the prizes at Market Snodsbury GrammarSchool before an audience of all that is fairest and most refined in thecounty."
"Yes, sir."
"It seems to me, Jeeves, that the ceremony may be one fraught withconsiderable interest."
"Yes, sir."
"What, in your opinion, will the harvest be?"
"One finds it difficult to hazard a conjecture, sir."
"You mean imagination boggles?"
"Yes, sir."
I inspected my imagination. He was right. It boggled.