Thank You, Jeeves

I opened it, still fogged, and read the contents. I can't say I felt much clearer when I had done so.

'Rummy, Jeeves.'

'Sir?'

'This is a letter of invitation.'

'Indeed, sir?'

'Absolutely. Bidding me to the feast. 'Dear Mr Wooster,' writes Pop Stoker, 'I shall be frightfully bucked if you will come and mangle a spot of garbage on the boat to-night. Don't dress.' I give you the gist of the thing. Peculiar, Jeeves.'

'Certainly unforeseen, sir.'

'I forgot to tell you that among my visitors last night was this same Stoker. He bounded in, shouting that his daughter was on the premises, and searched the house.'

'Indeed, sir?'

'Well, of course, he didn't find any daughter, because she was already on her way back to the yacht, and he seemed conscious of having made rather an ass of himself. His manner on departing was chastened. He actually spoke to me civilly – a thing I'd have taken eleven to four on that he didn't know how to do. But does that explain this sudden gush of hospitality? I don't think so. Last night he seemed apologetic rather than matey. There was no indication whatever that he wished to start one of those great friendships.'

'I think it is possible that a conversation which I had this morning with the gentleman, sir ...'

'Ah! It was you, was it, who caused this pro-Bertram sentiment?'

'Immediately after breakfast, sir, Mr Stoker sent for me and inquired if I had once been in your employment. He said that he fancied that he recalled having seen me at your apartment in New York. On my replying in the affirmative, he proceeded to question me with regard to certain incidents in the past.'

'The cats in the bedroom?'

'And the hot-water bottle episode.'

'The purloined hat?'

'And also the matter of your sliding down pipes, sir.'

'And you said—?'

'I explained that Sir Roderick Glossop had taken a biased view of these occurrences, sir, and proceeded to relate their inner history.'

'And he—?'

'– seemed pleased, sir. He appeared to think that he had misjudged you. He said that he ought to have known better than to believe information proceeding from Sir Roderick – to whom he alluded as a bald-headed old son of a something which for the moment has escaped my memory. It was, I imagine, shortly after this that he must have written this letter inviting you to dinner, sir.'

I was pleased with the man. When Bertram Wooster finds the old feudal spirit flourishing, he views it with approval and puts that approval into words.

'Thank you, Jeeves.'

'Not at all, sir.'

'You have done well. Regarding the matter from one aspect, of course, it is negligible whether Pop Stoker thinks I'm a loony or not. I mean to say, a fellow closely connected by ties of blood with a man who used to walk about on his hands is scarcely in a position, where the question of sanity is concerned, to put on dog and set himself up as an ...'

'Arbiter elegentiarum, sir?'

'Quite. It matters little to me, therefore, from one point of view, what old Stoker thinks about my upper storey. One shrugs the shoulders. But, setting that aside, I admit that this change of heart is welcome. It has come at the right time. I shall accept his invitation. I regard it as ...'

'The amende honorable, sir?'

'I was going to say olive branch.'

'Or olive branch. The two terms are virtually synonymous. The French phrase I would be inclined to consider perhaps slightly the more exact in the circumstances – carrying with it, as it does, the implication of remorse, of the desire to make restitution. But if you prefer the expression 'olive branch', by all means employ it, sir.'

'Thank you, Jeeves.'

'Not at all, sir.'

'I suppose you know that you have made me completely forget what I was saying?'

'I beg your pardon, sir. I should not have interrupted. If I recollect, you were observing that it was your intention to accept Mr Stoker's invitation.'

'Ah, yes. Very well, then. I shall accept his invitation – whether as an olive branch or an amende honorable is wholly immaterial and doesn't matter a single, solitary damn, Jeeves....'

'No, sir.'

'And shall I tell you why I shall accept his invitation? Because it will enable me to get together with Miss Stoker and plead Chuffy's cause.'

'I understand, sir.'

'Not that it's going to be easy. I hardly know what line to take.'

'If I might make the suggestion, sir, I should imagine that the young lady would respond most satisfactorily to the statement that his lordship was in poor health.'

'She knows he's as fit as a fiddle.'

'Poor health induced since her parting from him by distress of mind.'

'Ah! I get you. Distraught?'

'Precisely, sir.'

'Contemplating self-destruction?'

'Exactly, sir.'

'Her gentle heart would be touched by that, you think?'

'Very conceivably, sir.'

'Then that is the vein I shall work. I see this invitation says dinner at seven. A bit on the early side, what?'

'I presume that the arrangements have been made with a view to the convenience of Master Dwight, sir. This would be the birthday party of which I informed you yesterday.'

'Of course, yes. With nigger minstrel entertainment to follow. They are coming all right, I take it?'

'Yes, sir. The Negroes will be present.'

'I wonder if there would be any chance of a word with the one who plays the banjo. There are certain points in his execution I would like to consult him about.'

'No doubt it could be arranged, sir.'

He seemed to speak with a certain reserve, and I could see that he felt that the conversation had taken an embarrassing turn. Probing the old sore, I mean.

Well, the best thing to do on these occasions, I've always found, is to be open and direct.

'I'm making great progress with the banjolele, Jeeves.'

'Indeed, sir?'

'Would you like me to play you 'What Is This Thing Called Love'?'

'No, sir.'

'Your views on the instrument are unchanged?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Ah, well! A pity we could not see eye to eye on that matter.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Still, it can't be helped. No hard feelings.'

'No, sir.'

'Unfortunate, though.'

'Most unfortunate, sir.'

'Well, tell old Stoker that I shall be there at seven prompt with my hair in a braid.'

'Yes, sir.'