"What do you think, Jeeves?" Bertie Wooster asked, an expectant expression plastered across his face.
Jeeves, raised his eyebrows slowly. It was a useful way, of giving himself a chance to think of a suitable response, to yet another one of his employers seemingly endless peccadilloes.
"Yes, sir," he drawled.
Peering disparagingly down his nose, then pressing his lips together, he paused, then taking a deep breath, enquired, "This is a present, from one of your nearest and dearest, I take it, sir?"
"Hardly! Jeeves, this," he announced, taking his latest acquisition off his head, and dangling it towards the other man, "Is the height of fashion, anyone who's anyone is wearing one of these."
"Really, sir?" he murmured, clearly unimpressed.
Bertie Wooster glanced peevishly at the other man, then turned back towards the mirror, checking that his hair was suitably tidy, "Not that I would expect you to be aware of such things," he said, airily, "These are very popular in Chicago at the moment,"
"I should imagine so, sir, they make the person wearing them very," he paused, eyeing the proffered item warily, "Obvious."
"Obvious? What are you going on about Jeeves, why on earth should a night cap be obvious."
"Oh, that's what it is, sir!" He replied, feigning relief, that the offending garment was unlikely to ever travel beyond the front door.
"Well, what did you think it was?" Bertie snorted, shaking his head in amusement at Jeeves, who chose to ignore his employers last remark, and instead idly contemplated a spot on the carpet.
"I wouldn't like to say, sir, I was still getting over the impact of the, erm," he paused, "Design of the thing."
"Probably a little bright and modern for your taste, aye Jeeves?"
Jeeves eyed the multi coloured, polka dotted apparition, that now lay discarded on the chair arm, considered various responses, then finally settled for silence.
Bertie Wooster eyed his manservant suspiciously, "Anyone who's anyone in Chicago is wearing one of those right now," he announced, then waited, pointedly, for a response.
"Really?" Jeeves drawled back, then cleared his throat, "I take it a high proportion of them are no longer able to object?"
Bertie blinked slowly back, a vacant expression inevitably replacing his previous one, there were odd occasions, when he suspected that Jeeves might not be playing with a straight bat - and he was beginning to get the feeling that this could well be one of them!
The strain of having to think, was clearly taking its toll, Bertie Wooster shuffled his feet, let out a loud sigh, and then marched towards his bedroom, announcing as he went, "Dining out tonight Jeeves."
"Very good, sir," Jeeves responded, then glancing down, reluctantly picked up the offending item by one of the strands, of it's luridly coloured pompom.
"What would you like me to do with THIS, sir?"
Wooster turned back, stared at the apparently forgotten night cap, then said, "Oh, I don't know," shrugged, then added, "Perhaps you could give it to somebody?"
Jeeves sighed, "I don't think I know anyone I dislike quite that much," then walked, slowly, towards the kitchen, holding the night cap at arms length, as if he was expecting it to explode at any minute.
Reaching the kitchen bin, he released the offending item into it, then turned away and sighed.
The kitchen door swung violently back, and Bertie Wooster appeared, wildly enthusing about something, then went back into the sitting room, talking at the top of his voice, the last words to reach Jeeves's ears were, "What do you think?"
Jeeves blinked wearily, and followed his employer out of the kitchen.
"I don't think it's my place to say, at this particular juncture, do you, sir?"