I was jerked from the dreamless by a sound like the rolling of distant
thunder, and, the mists of sleep clearing away, was enabled to diagnose
this and trace it to its source. It was my aunt Agatha's dog, McIntosh,
scratching at the door.
The above, an Aberdeen terrier of weak intellect, had been left in my
charge by the old relative while she went off to Aix-les-Bains to take
the cure, and I had never been able to make it see eye to eye with me
on the subject of early rising. Although a glance at my watch informed
me that it was barely ten, here was the animal absolutely up and about.
I pressed the bell, and presently in shimmered Jeeves, complete with
tea tray and preceded by dog, which leaped upon the bed, licked me
smartly in the right eye, and immediately curled up and fell into a
deep slumber. And where the sense is in getting up at some ungodly hour
of the morning and coming scratching at people's doors, when you intend
at the first opportunity to go to sleep again, beats me.
But could you make a dog see that? Not in a million years. Every day
for the last five weeks this loony hound had pursued the same policy,
and I confess I was getting a bit fed.
There were one or two letters on the tray, and, having slipped a
refreshing half cupful into the abyss, I felt equal to dealing with
them. The one on top was from my aunt Agatha.
"Ha!" I said.
"Sir?"
"I said 'Ha,' Jeeves. And I meant 'Ha.' I was registering relief. My
aunt Agatha returns this evening. She will be at her town residence
between the hours of six and seven, and she expects to find McIntosh
waiting for her on the mat."
"Indeed, sir? I shall miss the little fellow."
"I, too, Jeeves. Despite his habit of rising with the milk and
being hearty before breakfast, there is sterling stuff in McIntosh.
Nevertheless, I cannot but feel relieved at the prospect of shooting
him back to the old home. It has been a guardianship fraught with
anxiety.
"You know what my aunt Agatha is. She lavishes on that dog a love which
might better be bestowed on a nephew; and if the slightest thing had
gone wrong with him while I was _in loco parentis_, if he had developed
rabies or staggers, I should have been blamed!"
"Very true, sir."
"And, as you are aware, London is not big enough to hold Aunt Agatha
and anybody she happens to be blaming."