'It would perhaps be safest to drive carefully until we are out of
the school grounds, sir,' I said. 'I might run over one of the young
ladies, sir.'
'Well, what's the objection to that?' demanded Mr Wooster with
extraordinary bitterness.
'Or even Miss Tomlinson sir.'
'Don't!' said Mr Wooster wistfully. 'You make my mouth water!'
* * * * *
'Jeeves,' said Mr Wooster, when I brought him his whisky and siphon one
night about a week later, 'this is dashed jolly.'
'Sir?'
'Jolly. Cosy and pleasant, you know. I mean, looking at the clock and
wondering if you're going to be late with the good old drinks, and then
you coming in with the tray always on time, never a minute late, and
shoving it down on the table and biffing off, and the next night coming
in and shoving it down and biffing off, and the next night--I mean,
gives you a sort of safe, restful feeling. Soothing! That's the word.
Soothing!'
'Yes, sir. Oh, by the way, sir--'
'Well?'
'Have you succeeded in finding a suitable house yet, sir?'
'House? What do you mean, house?'
'I understood, sir, that it was your intention to give up the flat and
take a house of sufficient size to enable you to have your sister, Mrs
Scholfield, and her three young ladies to live with you.'
Mr Wooster shuddered strongly.
'That's off, Jeeves,' he said.
'Very good, sir,' I replied.