'I know just how you feel, old dear,' said Motty consolingly. 'And,
if my principles would permit it, I would simmer down for your sake.
But duty first! This is the first time I've been let out alone, and I
mean to make the most of it. We're only young once. Why interfere with
life's morning? Young man, rejoice in thy youth! Tra-la! What ho!'
Put like that, it did seem reasonable.
'All my bally life, dear boy,' Motty went on, 'I've been cooped up in
the ancestral home at Much Middlefold, in Shropshire, and till you've
been cooped up in Much Middlefold you don't know what cooping is. The
only time we get any excitement is when one of the choir-boys is caught
sucking chocolate during the sermon. When that happens, we talk about
it for days. I've got about a month of New York, and I mean to store
up a few happy memories for the long winter evenings. This is my only
chance to collect a past, and I'm going to do it. Now tell me, old
sport, as man to man, how does one get in touch with that very decent
bird Jeeves? Does one ring a bell or shout a bit? I should like to
discuss the subject of a good stiff b-and-s with him.'
* * * * *
I had had a sort of vague idea, don't you know, that if I stuck close
to Motty and went about the place with him, I might act as a bit of a
damper on the gaiety. What I mean is, I thought that if, when he was
being the life and soul of the party, he were to catch my reproving eye
he might ease up a trifle on the revelry. So the next night I took him
along to supper with me. It was the last time. I'm a quiet, peaceful
sort of bloke who has lived all his life in London, and I can't stand
the pace these swift sportsmen from the rural districts set. What I
mean to say is, I'm all for rational enjoyment and so forth, but I
think a chappie makes himself conspicuous when he throws soft-boiled
eggs at the electric fan. And decent mirth and all that sort of thing
are all right, but I do bar dancing on tables and having to dash all
over the place dodging waiters, managers, and chuckers-out, just when
you want to sit still and digest.
Directly I managed to tear myself away that night and get home, I made
up my mind that this was jolly well the last time that I went about
with Motty. The only time I met him late at night after that was once
when I passed the door of a fairly low-down sort of restaurant and had
to step aside to dodge him as he sailed through the air _en route_ for
the opposite pavement, with a muscular sort of looking fellow peering
out after him with a kind of gloomy satisfaction.
In a way, I couldn't help sympathizing with the chap. He had about
four weeks to have the good time that ought to have been spread over
about ten years, and I didn't wonder at his wanting to be pretty busy.
I should have been just the same in his place. Still, there was no
denying that it was a bit thick. If it hadn't been for the thought of
Lady Malvern and Aunt Agatha in the background, I should have regarded
Motty's rapid work with an indulgent smile. But I couldn't get rid of
the feeling that, sooner or later, I was the lad who was scheduled
to get it behind the ear. And what with brooding on this prospect,
and sitting up in the old flat waiting for the familiar footstep, and
putting it to bed when it got there, and stealing into the sick-chamber
next morning to contemplate the wreckage, I was beginning to lose
weight. Absolutely becoming the good old shadow, I give you my honest
word. Starting at sudden noises and what-not.
And no sympathy from Jeeves. That was what cut me to the quick. The man
was still thoroughly pipped about the hat and tie, and simply wouldn't
rally round. One morning I wanted comforting so much that I sank the
pride of the Woosters and appealed to the fellow direct.
'Jeeves,' I said, 'this is getting a bit thick!'
'Sir?'
'You know what I mean. This lad seems to have chucked all the
principles of a well-spent boyhood. He has got it up his nose!'
'Yes, sir.'
'Well, I shall get blamed, don't you know. You know what my Aunt Agatha
is.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Very well, then.'