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    The Inimitable Jeeves
    The Inimitable Jeeves
    The Inimitable Jeeves
    Ebook273 pages4 hours

    The Inimitable Jeeves

    By P.G. Wodehouse

    4/5

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    First published together in 1923, “The Inimitable Jeeves” is a collection of short stories by P. G. Wodehouse featuring his famous characters Bertie Wooster and his wise valet, Jeeves. The stories were previously published in magazines before being collected together and most share the common theme of Bertie’s friend, Bingo Little, and his dramatic love life. The Inimitable Jeeves is the second collection of Jeeves stories, following “My Man Jeeves”, published in 1919, and appearing before “Carry On, Jeeves”, published in 1925. Many of Wodehouse’s most popular and hilarious tales appear in this timeless collection, such as “Aunt Agatha Takes the Count”, where Bertie’s intimidating Aunt Agatha tries to make him marry a boring, respectable young lady; “Comrade Bingo”, where Bingo shows he will do anything for his current love, including joining the Communist Party; and “The Great Sermon Handicap”, where Bertie, Bingo, and others bet on the length of the sermons of local parsons, which is considered to be one Wodehouse’s most entertaining stories. This popular collection from a master humorist shows why Bertie and Jeeves have remained such enduring and charming characters. This edition includes a biographical afterword.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDigireads.com Publishing
    Release dateJun 24, 2019
    ISBN9781420962888
    Author

    P.G. Wodehouse

    P.G. Wodehouse (1881-1975) nació en Surrey. Tras trabajar un tiempo como periodista en Inglaterra, se trasladó a los Estados Unidos. Escribió numerosas obras de teatro y comedias musicales, y más de noventa novelas. Creador de personajes inolvidables -Jeeves, Bertie Wooster, su tía Agatha, Ukridge, Psmith, Lord Emsworth, los lechuguinos del Club de los Zánganos, y tantos otros, sus obras se reeditan continuamente, como corresponde a uno de los grandes humoristas del siglo.

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    Reviews for The Inimitable Jeeves

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    • 4/5

      Aug 29, 2024

      Quality humor. Light reads. I do get tripped up with the historical vernacular / slang at times.

      Why does Jeeves put up with Bertie?
    • 4/5

      Jan 9, 2024

      The very first Jeeves book. Episodic, but in parts quite funny.
    • 3/5

      Feb 23, 2023

      Some good parts, but not my favorite Jeeves & Bertie book. Kind of repetitive.

      Listened to audiobook.
    • 4/5

      Jul 27, 2022

      One of Wodehouse's best. Given my current knowledge of the canon, I'd say it's in his top five books. Come for the laughs, stay for the metaphors!
    • 4/5

      Jul 27, 2022

      This one is lots of fun. Poor Bertie, it must be hard for such a nice guy to have such awfully demanding friends. And Jeeves, of course, is a wonder. Can his shrewd, calculating brain save Bertie again? This series’ humor is pitch perfect, and it continues to delight.
    • 4/5

      Jul 27, 2022

      One of the best Jeeves novels.
    • 4/5

      Jul 21, 2020

      This collection of Bertie’s antics are sure to amuse readers. One wonders how Bertie managed to get out of his many fixes before Jeeves was there to rescue him from his antics. The humor in these pages never seems dated and is just as funny as when they were first penned.
    • 3/5

      Jul 21, 2020

      I usually read Wodehouse's Wooster and Jeeves when I'm in a reading slump. The warm, sunny prose sets me right after a chapter and then I go off and read whatever I fancy.

      This time, however, I decided to finish the entire book. And I did enjoy it! It was so witty and if there's ever a man to write proper British banter, it would be Wodehouse. However, after some time, I found Bertie Wooster to be seriously irritating. I found myself rolling my eyes a lot at his general incompetence, which I know is the point, but some of the chapters were difficult to finish.

      I did appreciate the writing and how neatly Jeeves managed to wrap up everyone's loose ends by the end of each chapter but I need a little break from Wooster's gentlemanly exploits, bets and trifles.

      I think I'll save my next Wodehouse for a rainy day, when I don't know what to read. But I'll probably only read a chapter at a time. c:

      3.5 stars
    • 3/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      I enjoy the narration as much, if not more, than the story itself.

      I've been listening to these wildly out of order - it was fun to hear the backstory for some of the shenanigans in books I'd already heard :)
    • 4/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      What I enjoyed most about this novel was all the British expressions and the dry humor, not to mention how Jeeves has his employer wrapped around his little finger. I loved how he always managed to make Bertie get rid of clothing that Jeeves didn't like.
    • 5/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      My ultimate comfort read. Superb.
    • 5/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      I can certainly understand why people like these stories! I don't even know what I can say about them except that they're very fun, very good, and very well-written.It's not a novel so much as a series of short stories loosely strung together. And the short stories I previously read seem to slot into the middle of here somewhere. Although I could be wrong. They're certainly allowed to pop over to the States more than once.I think it's the voice that really carries this. The comedic situations and scrapes would be fine, but without the personality and the voice of the narrator, it just would not work even a tenth as well.I do keep hearing Hugh Laurie. (And Stephen Fry to a lesser extent.) But that's really just helping it. :)Writing this reminds me I need to track down the next book.
    • 4/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      Bertie Wooster is entangled in his friend Bingo's romantic life, and as always tries to help out, assisted by Jeeves. This is the book where Bertie attempts to soften Bingo's uncle's heart by taking on an unlikely impersonation, and it's also the book containing the famous 'Great Sermon Handicap'. Brilliantly funny in places.
    • 2/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      I found this first installment of Bertie and Jeeves to be rather tiresome. The adventures sometimes featured Aunt Agatha, a friend named Bingo who had an uncle that also figure prominently, and a string of female acquaintances of Bingo's. I wonder if part of the reason I grew tired of it is the similarity in plot of several of the stories that loosely belong sequentially together and the continued "introduction" to some of the characters. It was first serialized and later put into book form. Jeeves does have a way of handling most any situation. I listened to the audio version of the book. I suspect others might enjoy it more than I did. I'm not much into gambling, and that was central to several stories.
    • 5/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      Bertie Wooster and his manservant, Jeeves, embark on many adventures involving family and friends. Its guaranteed that hilarity will ensue. While Bertie is enmeshed in some crazy scheme, Jeeves undoubtedly will go behind the scenes to save the day. One never knows what sort of silly situation Bertie or his friends will end up in.

      Well-off Bertie is not exactly like anyone I’ve ever known. I did know a man who didn’t bother working as he had enough money to live on but he had a rather more modern lifestyle than Bertie does. After all, these stories were published around 1920.

      There is no comparison with the jaunty, succinct exchanges between Bertie and Jeeves. They are hilarious in that they convey so much with so few words.

      ‘Steggles is a bad man. From now on, Jeeves, we must watch Harold like hawks.’
      ‘Undoubtedly, sir.’
      ‘Ceaseless vigilance, what?’
      ‘Precisely, sir.’
      ‘You wouldn’t care to sleep in his room, Jeeves?’
      ‘No, sir, I should not.’
      ‘No, nor would I, if it comes to that. But dash it all,’ I said, ‘we’re letting ourselves get rattled! We’re losing our nerve. This won’t do. How can Steggles possibly get at Harold, even if he wants to?’
      There was no cheering young Bingo up. He’s one of those birds who simply leap at the morbid view, if you give them half a chance.
      ‘There are all sorts of ways of nobbling favourites,’ he said, in a sort of death-bed voice. ‘You ought to read some of these racing novels. In Pipped on the Post, Lord Jasper Mauleverer as near as a toucher outed Bonny Betsy by bribing the head lad to slip a cobra into her stable the night before the Derby!’
      ‘What are the chances of a cobra biting Harold, Jeeves?’
      ‘Slight, I should imagine, sir. And in such an event, knowing the boy as intimately as I do, my anxiety would be entirely for the snake.’
      ‘Still, unceasing vigilance, Jeeves.’
      ‘Most certainly, sir.’

      My favorite story in this collection is The Metropolitan Touch. Bertie’s friend Bingo Little thinks he’s in love and will do just about anything to make himself look worthy to the young lady of his affection. This includes taking over the directing of a Christmas play in a rural community. Of course he has no experience at directing plays. Absolutely brilliant! I seriously laughed out loud throughout the performance part.

      Even though Jeeves always saves the day, my favorite character is Bertie. I love his exasperation and his chirpy colloquialisms. “What the deuce?” “a corking reward,” and “it will be a frost” are just three examples.

      I’ve previously read Jeeves in the Morning and Carry On, Jeeves and while I love them both, I think I love this book even more! Do read this book if you enjoy old-style British humor.
    • 4/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      With short stories patched together as a book, the sameness of the Jeeves plots becomes glaringly obvious--something that's easier to ignore in the standard novels. Still, the writing and characters are as charming as always. 3.5 stars.
    • 3/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      I will not be able to do justice to this work as my binge reading of Wodehouse is damping my humour nerve due to my increased acquaintance with his methods and limiting plot twists. That said, book is not bad, and even had me laughing 4-5 places in whole, though with Wodehouse I have come to expect to be thrown in fits every other page. Forced circumstances contrived to bring out strange occurrences and and infallibility of Jeeves can get on nerve. In fact, by the end I was treating less like humour fiction and more like being in personal competition with Jeeves in solving the soup in which author inevitably falls. I am easily imagine story to be really cliched and yet funny motion picture.
    • 5/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      I’ve said it before (in my 3/21/14 review of My Man Jeeves, to be specific), and I’ll say it again: the prose of P. G. Wodehouse is delísh … the bee’s knees … or if “hell-brew” (p. 67) is your choice for metaphor, good to the last drop! How he does it, how he nails it with every word and never grows stale or hackneyed remains a complete mystery to me. I can only imagine what it must’ve cost him to remain so piquantly original in his wit—not just line after line, but book after book.

      In the vernacular peculiar to Wodehouse, people don’t just drop in for a spot of tea or a chat, they “toddle round” to the same end and “have a dash at it” (both on p. 11). They also “curvet” (p. 83); “scud off” (p. 84); “pop off” (p. 86); “whizz for” (p. 88); “pour [silently] in” (p. 89); “sally forth (p. 97); and “trickle round” (p. 210). One of Wodehouse’s characters doesn’t just look a bit down on his luck, but rather resembles “a sheep with a secret sorrow” (p. 30). When Bertie — the principal character, along with Jeeves, of almost all of Wodehouse’s books — himself runs into a little unexpected luck, the right words to express his pleasure come roiling out: “Well, then, dash it, I’m on velvet. Absolutely reclining on the good old plush!” (p. 36). And if you should happen to visit the same archly conservative Senior Liberal Club where Bingo and Bertie decide to meet one day, you may also conclude — if somewhat less colorfully — that it is indeed “the eel’s eyebrows” (p. 205).

      I could easily strike up the band all day with P. G.’s metaphors and similes, but I’d prefer to leave that little surprise to you, a possible reader of The Inimitable Jeeves (just for starters). Instead, I’ll strike up that same band with the opening paragraph of Chapter 10 (“Startling Dressiness of a Lift Attendant”):

      “The part which old George had written for the chump Cyril took up about two pages of typescript; bit it might have been Hamlet, the way that poor, misguided pinhead worked himself to the bone over it. I suppose, if I heard him read his lines once I did it a dozen times in the first couple of days. He seemed to think that my only feeling about the whole affair was one of enthusiastic admiration, and that he could rely on my support and sympathy. What with trying to imagine how Aunt Agatha was going to take this thing, and being woken up out of the dreamless in the small hours every other night to give my opinion of some new bit of business which Cyril had invented, I became more or less the good old shadow. And all the time Jeeves remained still pretty cold and distant about the purple socks. It’s this sort of thing that ages a chappie, don’t you know, and makes his youthful joie-de-vivre go a bit groggy in the knees” (p. 87).

      If I had to venture a guess as to what it is (other than his choice of vocabulary – or ‘vocab,’ as P. G. would no doubt have it) that Wodehouse employs in the way of literary device to achieve his comedic effect, I’d have to say that it’s his peculiar combination, often in close proximity if not in precise juxtaposition, of hyperbole and typical British understatement. This combination is a source of constant titillation to whatever cluster of sympathetic ganglia rides herd from a reader’s eye, via the brain, clear down to that same reader’s funny-bone.

      It takes a true master, however, to do this and not overdo it — and P. G. Wodehouse is just such a master.

      And as Wodehouse would no doubt write if he were reading this claptrap that passes for a review: “‘Sorry to interrupt the feast of reason and flow of soul and so forth, but—’” (p. 88).

      RRB
      04/18/14
      Brooklyn, New York, U.S.A.

    • 4/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      Thoroughly enjoyed it. The plot barely matters, its P.G. Wodehouse's way with words. I would rate it higher but this is my first stroll with Wodehouse and I want to leave room for his even better stuff.
    • 4/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      The adventures of Bingo Little, who just cannot help falling in love with pretty much every woman he meets. This one reads more like a series of connected short stories than a single novel, which probably contributes to me forgetting what it's about every time I put it down.
    • 4/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      reader good. story very frothy.
    • 1/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      I can't believe this but I must be the only person in the WORLD (well maybe there is one more person) who doesn't like P.G. Wodehouse. This is the second one I have read and I just find them dull. Wish I liked them!
    • 3/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      This is a collection of short stories with Bertie Wooster and his "gentleman" Jeeves. These entertaining stories surround Bertie supporting the love issues of his friend who falls in love every other day with someone new. if you'd like a good chuckle, read on.!
    • 5/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      "The Inimitable Jeeves" is a collection of short stories that shows Wodehouse's command of the form, but this volume, focusing as many of the stories do on the romantic escapades of Bingo Little, has a little bit more unity than others. As Bingo is almost as funny a feckless idiot (in the words of Aunt Agatha) as Bertie, it is thoroughly enjoyable. Best stories are "No Wedding Bells for Bingo" and, of course, "The Great Sermon Handicap" and "The Purity of the Turf."
    • 4/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      Wodehouse is truly a classic, and if you ever need a lift and want something funny to read, you cannot fail by choosing any Jeeves novel. Jeeves is Bertie’s butler. Bertie is the stereotypical British upper crust, living on inherited money, avoiding work at all costs, who thinks he’s brilliant, but really is dumber than a post, and who needs Jeeves to get him out of all sorts of bizarre scrapes. The common thread in this series of vignettes is Bertie’s friend Bingo, who manages to fall in love with every woman he meets, declaring each is perfect and the love of his life. My favorite is the time Bingo fell for the daughter of a revolutionary radical. In order to ingratiate himself with the girl and her family, Bingo bought a beard and disguised himself as a fellow comrade, denouncing his uncle, old Lord Bittlesham, in public. Of course, had Bingo actually married the girl, he would have been disinherited and forced to go to work, an unconscionable outcome. So in typical Jeeves fashion, the butler just mentions to a jealous suitor that Bingo is not what he appears to be. “I fear I may carelessly have disclosed Mr. Little’s (Bingo) identity to Mr. Butt (jealous suitor) . . .Indeed, now that I recall the incident, sir, I distinctly remember saying that Mr. Little’s work for the Cause really seemed to me to deserve something in the nature of public recognition.” The public unmasking that resulted led to the termination of the relationship between Bingo and the young lady. Bingo continues to make a fool of himself, requiring the assistance of Bertie (for money) and Jeeves (for intelligence). I find the series to be a savage indictment of the British upper crust who can’t seem to do anything without their butlers, far superior in ability, but who regardless think they are smarter than anyone, positive drones on society.

    • 4/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      This book is a collection of stories revolving around Bertie Wooster and the mishaps that happen in his life. I have previously watched and enjoyed the television series starring Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry and felt obliged to read at least one of the books that Jeeves and Wooster is based on.

      The plot was interesting throughout as the chapters were each separate stories but continued on from each other so you could easily read this in one session. It is only 253 pages long so I managed to read this in a day and was drawn in by the various events that take place.

      The characters were my favourite part of this book. Wooster, the protagonist, was a bit annoying to be honest, mostly because he seemed to just go along with everything that he was told, but Jeeves was definitely intriguing and held the reader's interest. I found him mysterious and funny in parts and felt that he interacted well with all of the side characters and added a lot to the development of the characters and plots.

      This book was originally published in 1923 and this is evident by the type of language that is used throughout. I found it difficult to get used to but got into it eventually and couldn't put it down! The individual stories tied together really well but I feel they could also be read separately.

      Overall I would give this book 4 out of 5 stars as I found the writing style difficult in parts and it was not as funny as I thought it would be, but this was an enjoyable read and I will definitely pick up some of the others in this series at some point.
    • 3/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      This is the first Jeeves & Wooster book I've actually read - although I have watched the TV series several times over. I really enjoyed it but I suspect that all the Jeeves and Wooster books are written along a similar formula. Still; some very amusing characters, plots and sub-plots which kept me entertained.
    • 3/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      I don't know what I was expecting from my first P. G. Wodehouse, but I can't say I was either disappointed or much surprised with this series of inter-connected short stories. The ongoing gag of Jeeves getting upset at Bertie for making what he considers to be sartorial faux-pas was amusing, as was Bertie's friend Bingo's insistence on falling helplessly in love with every girl he laid his eyes on. It's a kind of old-fashioned British humour that is comforting and elicited a few chuckles. I was warned that Wodehouse is best appreciated in short bursts, since the stories tend to get repetitious after a while, and though I heeded the warning, I still found the stories a bit tiresome after a while. I thought the audiobook was a good introduction because a proper British accent does go a long way sometimes. I have the second Jeeves book on my shelves, but I can't say I'm dying to get to it. I won't toss it out either, because sometimes blandness is just the kind of thing I'm in the mood for. That said, when it comes to 1920s British upper class humour, I think I'd rather read Vile Bodies all over again any day, though of course it's not nearly as relaxing.
    • 4/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      Wonderful. Even, dare I say it, inimitable! This is the first Jeeves and Wooster book I've read and honestly I can't say why it too me so long to get round to reading it.
    • 4/5

      Mar 21, 2020

      Once again, Bertie Wooster's bacon is saved by his valet Jeeves.

      Due to a healthy inheritance, Bertie is able to enjoy the good life, spending time at the clubs or various country homes or just going about town to all the good places. That is unless his Aunt Agatha commands he appearance/participation in some sort of event while trying to marry this confirmed bachelor off. Or when his good friend Bingo needs help with his latest love, which are ever changing. Or when Claude and Eustace, the twins, need watching.

      Jeeves' connections and talent for creative solutions come into play to resolve the current fix that has bound his master up. Even if Jeeves doesn't approve of the purple socks or the old Etonian Spats that Bertie has added to his sartorial style. Jeeves also prefers the quiet life.

      Good for smiles and laughs in the style of 1923 when Wodehouse wrote the series. A good, fun read.

    Book preview

    The Inimitable Jeeves - P.G. Wodehouse

    cover.jpg

    THE INIMITABLE JEEVES

    By P. G. WODEHOUSE

    The Inimitable Jeeves

    By P. G. Wodehouse

    Print ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-6287-1

    eBook ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-6288-8

    This edition copyright © 2019. Digireads.com Publishing.

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

    Cover Image: a detail of the cover for the American edition published in 1923 by G. H. Doran, New York.

    Please visit www.digireads.com

    CONTENTS

    Chapter 1. Jeeves Exerts the Old Cerebellum

    Chapter 2. No Wedding Bells for Bingo

    Chapter 3. Aunt Agatha Speaks Her Mind

    Chapter 4. Pearls Mean Tears

    Chapter 5. The Pride of the Woosters is Wounded

    Chapter 6. The Hero’s Reward

    Chapter 7. Introducing Claude and Eustace

    Chapter 8. Sir Roderick Comes to Lunch

    Chapter 9. A Letter of Introduction

    Chapter 10. Startling Dressiness of a Lift Attendant

    Chapter 11. Comrade Bingo

    Chapter 12. Bingo has a Bad Goodwood

    Chapter 13. The Great Sermon Handicap

    Chapter 14. The Purity of the Turf

    Chapter 15. The Metropolitan Touch

    Chapter 16. The Delayed Exit of Claude and Eustace

    Chapter 17. Bingo and the Little Woman

    Chapter 18. All’s Well

    Biographical Afterword

    Chapter 1. Jeeves Exerts the Old Cerebellum

    ‘Morning, Jeeves,’ I said.

    ‘Good morning, sir,’ said Jeeves.

    He put the good old cup of tea softly on the table by my bed, and I took a refreshing sip. Just right, as usual. Not too hot, not too sweet, not too weak, not too strong, not too much milk, and not a drop spilled in the saucer. A most amazing cove, Jeeves. So dashed competent in every respect. I‘ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I mean to say, take just one small instance. Every other valet I’ve ever had used to barge into my room in the morning while I was still asleep, causing much misery: but Jeeves seems to know when I’m awake by a sort of telepathy. He always floats in with the cup exactly two minutes after I come to life. Makes a deuce of a lot of difference to a fellow’s day.

    ‘How’s the weather, Jeeves?’

    ‘Exceptionally clement, sir.’

    ‘Anything in the papers?’

    ‘Some slight friction threatening in the Balkans, sir. Otherwise, nothing.’

    ‘I say, Jeeves, a man I met at the club last night told me to put my shirt on Privateer for the two o’clock race this afternoon. How about it?’

    ‘I should not advocate it, sir. The stable is not sanguine.’

    That was enough for me. Jeeves knows. How, I couldn’t say, but he knows. There was a time when I would laugh lightly, and go ahead, and lose my little all against his advice, but not now.

    ‘Talking of shirts,’ I said, ‘have those mauve ones I ordered arrived yet?’

    ‘Yes, sir. I sent them back.’

    ‘Sent them back?’

    ‘Yes, sir. They would not have become you.’

    Well, I must say I’d thought fairly highly of those shirtings, but I bowed to superior knowledge. Weak? I don’t know. Most fellows, no doubt, are all for having their valets confine their activities to creasing trousers and what not without trying to run the home; but it’s different with Jeeves. Right from the first day he came to me, I have looked on him as a sort of guide, philosopher, and friend.

    ‘Mr. Little rang up on the telephone a few moments ago, sir. I informed him that you were not yet awake.’

    ‘Did he leave a message?’

    ‘No, sir. He mentioned that he had a matter of importance to discuss with you, but confided no details.’

    ‘Oh, well, I expect I shall be seeing him at the club.’

    ‘No doubt, sir.’

    I wasn’t what you might call in a fever of impatience. Bingo Little is a chap I was at school with, and we see a lot of each other still. He’s the nephew of old Mortimer Little, who retired from business recently with a goodish pile. (You’ve probably heard of Little’s Liniment—It Limbers Up the Legs.) Bingo biffs about London on a pretty comfortable allowance given him by his uncle, and leads on the whole a fairly unclouded life. It wasn’t likely that anything which he described as a matter of importance would turn out to be really so frightfully important. I took it that he had discovered some new brand of cigarette which he wanted me to try, or something like that, and didn’t spoil my breakfast by worrying.

    After breakfast I lit a cigarette and went to the open window to inspect the day. It certainly was one of the best and brightest.

    ‘Jeeves.’ I said.

    ‘Sir?’ said Jeeves. He had been clearing away the breakfast things, but at the sound of the young master’s voice cheesed it courteously.

    ‘You were absolutely right about the weather. It is a juicy morning.’

    ‘Decidedly, sir.’

    ‘Spring and all that.’

    ‘Yes, sir.’

    ‘In the spring, Jeeves, a livelier iris gleams upon the burnished dove.’

    ‘So I have been informed, sir.’

    ‘Right ho! Then bring me my whangee, my yellowest shoes, and the old green Homburg. I’m going into the Park to do pastoral dances.’

    I don’t know if you know that sort of feeling you get on these days round about the end of April and the beginning of May, when the sky’s a light blue, with cotton-wool clouds, and there’s a bit of a breeze blowing from the west? Kind of uplifted feeling. Romantic, if you know what I mean. I’m not much of a ladies’ man, but on this particular morning it seemed to me that what I really wanted was some charming girl to buzz up and ask me to save her from assassins or something. So that it was a bit of an anti-climax when I merely ran into young Bingo Little, looking perfectly foul in a crimson satin tie decorated with horseshoes.

    ‘Hallo, Bertie,’ said Bingo.

    ‘My God, man!’ I gargled. ‘The cravat! The gent’s neckwear! Why? For what reason?’

    ‘Oh, the tie?’ He blushed. ‘I—er—I was given it.’

    ‘He seemed embarrassed, so I dropped the subject. We toddled along a bit, and sat down on a couple of chairs by the Serpentine.

    ‘Jeeves tells me you want to talk to me about something,’ I said.

    ‘Eh?’ said Bingo, with a start. ‘Oh yes, yes. Yes.’

    I waited for him to unleash the topic of the day, but he didn’t seem to want to get along. Conversation languished. He stared straight ahead of him in a glassy sort of manner.

    ‘I say, Bertie,’ he said, after a pause of about an hour and a quarter.

    ‘Hallo!’

    ‘Do you like the name Mabel?’

    ‘No.’

    ‘No?’

    ‘No.’

    ‘You don’t think there’s a kind of music in the word, like the wind rustling gently through the tree-tops?’

    ‘No.’

    He seemed disappointed for a moment; then cheered up.

    ‘Of course, you wouldn’t. You always were a fat-headed worm without any soul, weren’t you?’

    ‘Just as you say. Who is she? Tell me all.’

    For I realized now that poor old Bingo was going through it once again. Ever since I have known him—and we were at school together—he has been perpetually falling in love with someone, generally in the spring, which seems to act on him like magic. At school he had the finest collection of actresses’ photographs of anyone of his time; and at Oxford his romantic nature was a byword.

    You’d better come along and meet her at lunch,’ he said, looking at his watch.

    ‘A ripe suggestion,’ I said. ‘Where are you meeting her? At the Ritz?’

    ‘Near the Ritz.’

    He was geographically accurate. About fifty yards east of the Ritz there is one of those blighted tea-and-bun shops you see dotted about all over London, and into this, if you’ll believe me, young Bingo dived like a homing rabbit; and before I had time to say a word we were wedged in at a table, on the brink of a silent pool of coffee left there by an early luncher.

    I’m bound to say I couldn’t quite follow the development of the scenario. Bingo, while not absolutely rolling in the stuff, has always had a fair amount of the ready. Apart from what he got from his uncle, I knew that he had finished up the jumping season well on the right side of the ledger. Why, then, was he lunching the girl at this God-forsaken eatery? It couldn’t be because he was hard up.

    Just then the waitress arrived. Rather a pretty girl.

    ‘Aren’t we going to wait—?’ I started to say to Bingo, thinking it somewhat thick that, in addition to asking a girl to lunch with him in a place like this, he should fling himself on the foodstuffs before she turned up, when I caught sight of his face, and stopped.

    The man was goggling. His entire map was suffused with a rich blush. He looked like the Soul’s Awakening done in pink.

    ‘Hullo, Mabel!’ he said, with a sort of gulp.

    ‘Hallo!’ said the girl.

    ‘Mabel,’ said Bingo, ‘this is Bertie Wooster, a pal of mine.’

    ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said. ‘Nice morning.’

    ‘Fine,’ I said.

    ‘You see I’m wearing the tie,’ said Bingo.

    ‘It suits you beautiful,’ said the girl.

    Personally, if anyone had told me that a tie like that suited me, I should have risen and struck them on the mazzard, regardless of their age and sex; but poor old Bingo simply got all flustered with gratification, and smirked in the most gruesome manner.

    ‘Well, what’s it going to be today?’ asked the girl, introducing the business touch into the conversation.

    Bingo studied the menu devoutly.

    ‘I’ll have a cup of cocoa, cold veal and ham pie, slice of fruit cake, and a macaroon. Same for you, Bertie?’

    I gazed at the man, revolted. That he could have been a pal of mine all these years and think me capable of insulting the old tum with this sort of stuff cut me to the quick.

    ‘Or how about a bit of hot steak-pudding, with a sparkling limado to wash it down?’ said Bingo.

    You know, the way love can change a fellow is really frightful to contemplate. This chappie before me, who spoke in that absolutely careless way of macaroons and limado, was the man I had seen in happier days telling the head-waiter at Claridge’s exactly how he wanted the chef to prepare the sole frite au gourmet aux champignons, and saying he would jolly well sling it back if it wasn’t just right. Ghastly! Ghastly!

    A roll and butter and a small coffee seemed the only things on the list that hadn’t been specially prepared by the nastier-minded members of the Borgia family for people they had a particular grudge against, so I chose them, and Mabel hopped it.

    ‘Well?’ said Bingo rapturously.

    I took it that he wanted my opinion of the female poisoner who had just left us.

    ‘Very nice,’ I said.

    He seemed dissatisfied.

    ‘You don’t think she’s the most wonderful girl you ever saw?’ he said wistfully.

    ‘Oh, absolutely!’ I said, to appease the blighter. ‘Where did you meet her?’

    ‘At a subscription dance at Camberwell.’

    ‘What on earth were you doing at a subscription dance at Camberwell?’

    ‘Your man Jeeves asked me if I would buy a couple of tickets. It was in aid of some charity or other.’

    ‘Jeeves? I didn’t know he went in for that sort of thing.’

    ‘Well, I suppose he has to relax a bit every now and then. Anyway, he was there, swinging a dashed efficient shoe. I hadn’t meant to go at first, but I turned up for a lark. Oh, Bertie, think what I might have missed!’

    ‘What might you have missed?’ I asked, the old lemon being slightly clouded.

    ‘Mabel, you chump. If I hadn’t gone I shouldn’t have met Mabel.’

    ‘Oh, ah!’

    At this point Bingo fell into a species of trance, and only came out of it to wrap himself round the pie and the macaroon.

    ‘Bertie,’ he said, ‘I want your advice.’

    ‘Carry on.’

    ‘At least, not your advice, because that wouldn’t be much good to anybody. I mean, you’re a pretty consummate old ass, aren’t you? Not that I want to hurt your feelings, of course.’

    ‘No, no, I see that.’

    ‘What I wish you would do is to put the whole thing to that fellow Jeeves of yours, and see what he suggests. You’ve often told me that he has helped other pals of yours out of messes. From what you tell me, he’s by way of being the brains of the family.’

    ‘He’s never let me down yet.’

    ‘Then put my case to him.’

    ‘What case?’

    ‘My problem.’

    ‘What problem?’

    ‘Why, you poor fish, my uncle, of course. What do you think my uncle’s going to say to all this? If I sprang it on him cold, he’d tie himself in knots on the hearthrug.’

    ‘One of these emotional johnnies, eh?’

    ‘Somehow or other his mind has got to be prepared to receive the news. But how?’

    ‘Ah!’

    ‘That’s a lot of help, that ah! You see, I’m pretty well dependent on the old boy. If he cut off my allowance, I should be very much in the soup. So you put the whole binge to Jeeves and see if he can’t scare up a happy ending somehow. Tell him my future is in his hands, and that, if the wedding bells ring out, he can rely on me, even unto half my kingdom. Well, call it ten quid. Jeeves would exert himself with ten quid on the horizon, what?’

    ‘Undoubtedly,’ I said.

    I wasn’t in the least surprised at Bingo wanting to lug Jeeves into his private affairs like this. It was the first thing I would have thought of doing myself if I had been in a hole of any description. As I have frequently had occasion to observe, he is a bird of the ripest intellect, full of bright ideas. If anybody could fix things for poor old Bingo, he could.

    I stated the case to him that night after dinner.

    ‘Jeeves.’

    ‘Sir?’

    ‘Are you busy just now?’

    ‘No, sir.’

    ‘I mean, not doing anything in particular?’

    ‘No, sir. It is my practice at this hour to read some improving book; but, if you desire my services, this can easily be postponed, or, indeed, abandoned altogether.’

    ‘Well, I want your advice. It’s about Mr. Little.’

    ‘Young Mr. Little, sir, or the elder Mr. Little, his uncle, who lives in Pounceby Gardens?’

    Jeeves seemed to know everything. Most amazing thing. I’d been pally with Bingo practically all my life, and yet I didn’t remember having heard that his uncle lived anywhere in particular.

    ‘How did you know he lived in Pounceby Gardens?’ I said.

    ‘I am on terms of some intimacy with the elder Mr. Little’s cook, sir. In fact, there is an understanding.’

    I’m bound to say that this gave me a bit of a start. Somehow I’d never thought of Jeeves going in for that sort of thing.

    ‘Do you mean you’re engaged?’

    ‘It may be said to amount to that, sir.’

    ‘Well, well!’

    ‘She is a remarkably excellent cook, sir,’ said Jeeves, as though he felt called on to give some explanation. ‘What was it you wished to ask me about Mr. Little?’

    I sprang the details on him.

    ‘And that’s how the matter stands, Jeeves,’ I said. ‘I think we ought to rally round a trifle and help poor old Bingo put the thing through. Tell me about old Mr. Little. What sort of a chap is he?’

    ‘A somewhat curious character, sir. Since retiring from business he has become a great recluse, and now devotes himself almost entirely to the pleasures of the table.’

    ‘Greedy hog, you mean?’

    ‘I would not, perhaps, take the liberty of describing him in precisely those terms, sir. He is what is usually called a gourmet. Very particular about what he eats, and for that reason sets a high value on Miss Watson’s services.’

    ‘The cook?’

    ‘Yes, sir.’

    ‘Well, it looks to me as though our best plan would be to shoot young Bingo in on him after dinner one night. Melting mood, I mean to say, and all that.’

    ‘The difficulty is, sir, that at the moment Mr. Little is on a diet, owing to an attack of gout.’

    ‘Things begin to look wobbly.’

    ‘No, sir, I fancy that the elder Mr. Little’s misfortune may be turned to the younger Mr. Little’s advantage. I was speaking only the other day to Mr. Little’s valet, and he was telling me that it has become his principal duty to read to Mr. Little in the evenings. If I were in your place, sir, I should send young Mr. Little to read to his uncle.’

    ‘Nephew’s devotion, you mean? Old man touched by kindly action, what?’

    ‘Partly that, sir. But I would rely more on young Mr. Little’s choice of literature.’

    ‘That’s no good. Jolly old Bingo has a kind face, but when it comes to literature he stops at the Sporting Times.’

    ‘That difficulty may be overcome. I would be happy to select books for Mr. Little to read. Perhaps I might explain my idea a little further?’

    ‘I can’t say I quite grasp it yet.’

    ‘The method which I advocate is what, I believe, the advertisers call Direct Suggestion, sir, consisting as it does of driving an idea home by constant repetition. You may have had experience of the system?’

    ‘You mean they keep on telling you that some soap or other is the best, and after a bit you come under the influence and charge round the corner and buy a cake?’

    ‘Exactly, sir. The same method was the basis of all the most valuable propaganda during the recent war. I see no reason why it should not be adopted to bring about the desired result with regard to the subject’s views on class distinctions. If young Mr. Little were to read day after day to his uncle a series of narratives in which marriage with young persons of an inferior social status was held up as both feasible and admirable, I fancy it would prepare the elder Mr. Little’s mind for the reception of the information that his nephew wishes to marry a waitress in a tea-shop.’

    ‘Are there any books of that sort nowadays? The only ones I ever see mentioned in the papers are about married couples who find life grey, and can’t stick each other at any price.’

    ‘Yes, sir, there are a great many, neglected by the reviewers but widely read. You have never encountered All for Love, by Rosie M. Banks?’

    ‘No.’

    ‘Nor A Red, Red Summer Rose, by the same author?’

    ‘No.’

    ‘I have an aunt, sir, who owns an almost complete set of Rosie M. Banks’. I could easily borrow as many volumes as young Mr. Little might require. They make very light, attractive reading.’

    ‘Well, it’s worth trying.’

    ‘I should certainly recommend the scheme, sir.’

    ‘All right, then. Toddle round to your aunt’s tomorrow and grab a couple of the fruitiest. We can but have a dash at it.’

    ‘Precisely, sir.’

    Chapter 2. No Wedding Bells for Bingo

    Bingo reported three days later that Rosie M. Banks was the goods and beyond a question the stuff to give the troops. Old Little had jibbed somewhat at first at the proposed change of literary diet, he not being much of a lad for fiction and having stuck hitherto exclusively to the heavier monthly reviews; but Bingo had got chapter one of All for Love past his guard before he knew what was happening, and after that there was nothing to it. Since then they had finished A Red, Red Summer Rose, Madcap Myrtle and Only a Factory Girl, and were half-way through The Courtship of Lord Strathmorlick.

    Bingo told me all this in a husky voice over an egg beaten up in sherry. The only blot on the thing from his point of view was that it wasn’t doing a bit of good to the old vocal cords, which were beginning to show signs of cracking under the strain. He had been looking his symptoms up in a medical dictionary, and he thought he had got ‘clergyman’s throat’. But against this you had to set the fact that he was making an undoubted hit in the right quarter, and also that after the evening’s reading he always stayed on to dinner; and, from what he told me, the dinners turned out by old Little’s cook had to be tasted to be believed. There were tears in the old blighter’s eyes as he got on the subject of the clear soup. I suppose to

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