I own nothing, except the Georgehath family, Edward Binsley and Emily
Cooper. Also anyone else I dream up. If these are names of characters in
the novels, I was unaware at time of publishing, as I have not read all of
them yet.(This is actually the eighth deadly sin, ;-) )
Jeeves Under Cover
Chapter One
"I say Jeeves, it is a juicy morning!"
"Decidedly, sir. Will you be needing anything else with your breakfast?"
"Oh, no. I shouldn't think so. Why, what's up Jeeves?"
Jeeves coughed politely.
"I would like to take some time to recount your recent outings in my club book, sir."
I jumped. Not an easy thing to do when one is sitting down, but nevertheless, I jumped. This caused my morning cup of tea to wobble precariously on my lap. Jeeves slipped to the rescue, by lifting it to safety.
"I say, Jeeves! I thought you had those beastly pages about me in your dratted club book burnt?"
"Indeed, sir, but I feel it is only right to supply some material."
I spluttered with indignation at this. When your trusted retainer disposes of something, that is likely to blot ones career, you expect that that object will never rear it's ugly head again. I put this to the blighter.
"Jeeves! When ones trusted retainer burns unnecessary documents, one does not agree with having that trusted retainer write some more of the aforementioned document, understood?"
"Perfectly sir, but."
"No 'buts', Jeeves."
"Very good, sir. Please allow me to say however."
"No Jeeves. I do not allow you to say."
"As you wish, sir."
Jeeves began to slide from the room, and I noticed he still had my morning beverage. I felt I needed it rather, so I called out. However, Jeeves didn't stop, so groaning like the dickens, I untangled myself from the sheets and set after him.
I might at this point, put a word in about this 'Book'. Jeeves, you see, belongs to a club for Gentleman's Gentleman. The Junior Ganymede. It is the custom there that each member must fill in a few pages about their employer. Jeeves had done so about me, a subject about which I have always been skittish. I was right to be, as it was stolen. After much consternation, Jeeves recovered the novel, and 'removed' the pages about me, much to my joy. You see now why I was so concerned about it now.
As I entered the sitting room, I heard an all to familiar voice. It seemed that while caught in my meditations, a visitor had entered, and was even now in the kitchen with Jeeves.
I heard Jeeves try to restrain the guest from barging into my room, but even Jeeves, in all his greatness, cannot be expected to restrain this guest very long. For the guest, or rather, the un-wanted guest, was non- other than my Aunt Agatha.
Jeeves Under Cover
Chapter One
"I say Jeeves, it is a juicy morning!"
"Decidedly, sir. Will you be needing anything else with your breakfast?"
"Oh, no. I shouldn't think so. Why, what's up Jeeves?"
Jeeves coughed politely.
"I would like to take some time to recount your recent outings in my club book, sir."
I jumped. Not an easy thing to do when one is sitting down, but nevertheless, I jumped. This caused my morning cup of tea to wobble precariously on my lap. Jeeves slipped to the rescue, by lifting it to safety.
"I say, Jeeves! I thought you had those beastly pages about me in your dratted club book burnt?"
"Indeed, sir, but I feel it is only right to supply some material."
I spluttered with indignation at this. When your trusted retainer disposes of something, that is likely to blot ones career, you expect that that object will never rear it's ugly head again. I put this to the blighter.
"Jeeves! When ones trusted retainer burns unnecessary documents, one does not agree with having that trusted retainer write some more of the aforementioned document, understood?"
"Perfectly sir, but."
"No 'buts', Jeeves."
"Very good, sir. Please allow me to say however."
"No Jeeves. I do not allow you to say."
"As you wish, sir."
Jeeves began to slide from the room, and I noticed he still had my morning beverage. I felt I needed it rather, so I called out. However, Jeeves didn't stop, so groaning like the dickens, I untangled myself from the sheets and set after him.
I might at this point, put a word in about this 'Book'. Jeeves, you see, belongs to a club for Gentleman's Gentleman. The Junior Ganymede. It is the custom there that each member must fill in a few pages about their employer. Jeeves had done so about me, a subject about which I have always been skittish. I was right to be, as it was stolen. After much consternation, Jeeves recovered the novel, and 'removed' the pages about me, much to my joy. You see now why I was so concerned about it now.
As I entered the sitting room, I heard an all to familiar voice. It seemed that while caught in my meditations, a visitor had entered, and was even now in the kitchen with Jeeves.
I heard Jeeves try to restrain the guest from barging into my room, but even Jeeves, in all his greatness, cannot be expected to restrain this guest very long. For the guest, or rather, the un-wanted guest, was non- other than my Aunt Agatha.