Jeeves Stories by P. G. Wodehouse (best ereader for pdf and epub .TXT) 📕

such a splendid thing in my life.”

I was pleased and relieved. I had hoped the news wouldn’t upset her too much, but I had never expected it to go with such a roar as this.

“I’m proud of him,” she said.

“That’s fine.”

“If every young man in England went about hitting policemen in the stomach, it would be a better country to live in.”

I couldn’t follow her reasoning, but everything seemed to be all right; so after a few more cheery words I said goodbye and legged it.

“Jeeves,” I said, when I got back to the inn, “everything’s fine. But I am far from understanding why.”

“What actually occurred when you met Miss Sipperley, sir?”

“I told her Sippy was in the jug for assaulting the police. Upon which, she burst into hearty laughter, waved her trowel in a pleased manner, and said she was proud of him.”

“I think I can explain her apparently eccentric behaviour, sir. I am informed that Miss Sipperley has had a good deal of annoyance at the hands of the local constable during the past two weeks. This has doubtless resulted in a prejudice on her part against the force as a whole.”

“Really? How was that?”

“The constable has been somewhat overzealous in the performance of his duties, sir. On no fewer than three occasions in the last ten days he has served summonses upon Miss Sipperley⁠—for exceeding the speed limit in her car; for allowing her dog to appear in public without a collar; and for failing to abate a smoky chimney. Being in the nature of an autocrat, if I may use the term, in the village, Miss Sipperley has been accustomed to do these things in the past with impunity, and the constable’s unexpected zeal has made her somewhat ill-disposed to policemen as a class and, consequently, disposed to look upon such assaults as Mr. Sipperley’s in a kindly and broad-minded spirit.”

I saw his point.

“What an amazing bit of luck, Jeeves!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where did you hear all this?”

“My informant was the constable himself, sir. He is my cousin.”

I gaped at the man. I saw, so to speak, all.

“Good Lord, Jeeves! You didn’t bribe him?”

“Oh, no, sir. But it was his birthday last week, and I gave him a little present. I have always been fond of Egbert.”

“How much?”

“A matter of five pounds, sir.”

I felt in my pocket.

“Here you are,” I said. “And another fiver for luck.”

“Thank you very much, sir.”

“Jeeves,” I said, “you move in a mysterious way your wonders to perform. You don’t mind if I sing a bit, do you?”

“Not at all, sir,” said Jeeves.

Fixing It for Freddie

“Jeeves,” I said, looking in on him one afternoon on my return from the club, “I don’t want to interrupt you.”

“No, sir?”

“But I would like a word with you.”

“Yes, sir?”

He had been packing a few of the Wooster necessaries in the old kit-bag against our approaching visit to the seaside, and he now rose and stood bursting with courteous zeal.

“Jeeves,” I said, “a somewhat disturbing situation has arisen with regard to a pal of mine.”

“Indeed, sir?”

“You know Mr. Bullivant?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I slid into the Drones this morning for a bite of lunch, and found him in a dark corner of the smoking-room looking like the last rose of summer. Naturally I was surprised. You know what a bright lad he is as a rule. The life and soul of every gathering he attends.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Quite the little lump of fun, in fact.”

“Precisely, sir.”

“Well, I made inquiries, and he told me that he had had a quarrel with the girl he’s engaged to. You knew he was engaged to Miss Elizabeth Vickers?”

“Yes, sir. I recall reading the announcement in the Morning Post.”

“Well, he isn’t any longer. What the row was about he didn’t say, but the broad facts, Jeeves, are that she has scratched the fixture. She won’t let him come near her, refuses to talk on the phone, and sends back his letters unopened.”

“Extremely trying, sir.”

“We ought to do something, Jeeves. But what?”

“It is somewhat difficult to make a suggestion, sir.”

“Well, what I’m going to do for a start is to take him down to Marvis Bay with me. I know these birds who have been handed their hat by the girl of their dreams, Jeeves. What they want is complete change of scene.”

“There is much in what you say, sir.”

“Yes. Change of scene is the thing. I heard of a man. Girl refused him. Man went abroad. Two months later girl wired him: ‘Come back, Muriel.’ Man started to write out a reply, suddenly found that he couldn’t remember girl’s surname, so never answered at all, and lived happily ever after. It may well be, Jeeves, that after Freddie Bullivant has had a few weeks of Marvis Bay he will get completely over it.”

“Very possibly, sir.”

“And, if not, it is quite likely that, refreshed by sea air and good simple food, you will get a brainwave and think up some scheme for bringing these two misguided blighters together again.”

“I will do my best, sir.”

“I knew it, Jeeves, I knew it. Don’t forget to put in plenty of socks.”

“No, sir.”

“Also of tennis shirts not a few.”

“Very good, sir.”

I left him to his packing, and a couple of days later we started off for Marvis Bay, where I had taken a cottage for July and August.

I don’t know if you know Marvis Bay? It’s in Dorsetshire, and, while not what you would call a fiercely exciting spot, has many good points. You spend the day there bathing and sitting on the sands, and in the evening you stroll out on the shore with the mosquitoes. At nine p.m. you rub ointment on the wounds and go to bed. It was a simple, healthy life, and it seemed to suit poor old Freddie absolutely. Once the moon was up and the breeze sighing in the trees, you couldn’t drag him from that beach with rope. He became quite a popular pet with the mosquitoes. They would hang round