Usual Disclaimer.
Chapter Fourteen
A few days later, I got my break. Jeeves was in the kitchen, so, like a sneaking thief I shot to the telephone. Within minutes I had told Emily, and was back in my chair, reading the paper.
Jeeves streamed in, eyed me, and set the coffee down, and drifted out again.
As you may have gathered, things were somewhat strained at the flat. But, in two hours time, I would be biffing down to Market Snodsbury, and re- uniting with the reason of my entire being.
Jeeves had floated back in. He looked at me suspiciously. I had been staring with the love-light in my eyes into the middle distance.
"I will be leaving soon, Jeeves. Is everything packed?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then I shall set off immediately."
"Very good, sir."
So in a matter of minutes, I was in the car, and beetling off toward my beloved.
I arrived late on in the evening. As I pulled up outside, the door opened, and an angel came flying at me down the steps.
I hopped out of the old two-seater, just in time to be smothered by a young person of the female persuasion, with short, blonde hair.
"Oh Bertie! I've missed you so terribly! Daddy didn't hurt you much did he? Oh, I'm so glad you're here!"
Well, it's all very nice to have the girl of your dreams snuggling her head against your shoulder, but you can't have a conversation with her. However, trying to prise her off seemed cruel, and as I found, difficult. She wouldn't let go.
So, we stood for a while on Aunt Dahlia's driveway, Emily with her arms apparently surgically attached to my neck, and me with my chin resting on top of her head, eyes on stalks looking for sign of any of her dashed relatives.
Suddenly, I heard a door open, and a booming voice cut through the air.
"Bertie! Stop squeezing the life out of poor Emily, and come in here!"
Emily leapt from me, as if I was a plague victim. She looked like an angel who'd been caught dancing with Mephistopheles at the annual ball. Or possibly, Gussie Fink-Nottle, dressed in horns and a pair of red tights, it makes very little difference.
Aunt Dahlia erupted into fits of helpless laughter on the doorstep. I was just about to silence her with a reproachful word, when Angela, my cousin, peered round the door and, after observing Emily, said in a cold voice;
"You're quite right, Emily. Men are all the same, I mean, take . . ."
At this point, she burst into tears, and ran back inside.
And, so I arrived at Brinkley Court, Market Snodsbury.
Several things occurred, then. Aunt Dahlia stopped laughing, and, after eyeing me with rather a lot of un-deserved menace, whipped inside. Emily turned to look me right in the eyeball, stepped forward, took my hand and whispered 'sorry' in my ear, before leading me inside too.
Once in, we followed the noises of crying and comforting. These lead us to the morning room, where Angela was sobbing gently, while my dearest Aunt was cursing some poor unfortunate to high heaven. I just hoped it wasn't me.
"What is it, Mrs Travers?"
The sweet voice of the perfect-wife-for-B.Wooster sounded out.
Aunt Dahlia raised her head in a Joan of Arc sort of way.
"It's that fiend, Tuppy Glossop."
At this, Angela began sobbing all over again. I saw all.
You have to understand that my cousin Angela is affianced to this Glossop man. I, personally, took a dim view of him when he forced me into a swimming pool in full eveningwear, but that is another story.
This Glossop has upset dear Angela more than once, and now a further rift within the lute, didn't look to good.
"What's happened, Aged A?"
This time, Angela glared at the floor, and said, between gritted teeth;
"The other day, I'd bought a new dress, and when Tuppy saw me in it, he said that he thought it didn't suit me at all, and that I ought to slim down a bit to fit into it! And then, I asked him whom he knew who was thinner than me, and do you know what he said Bertie? He told me that there was at least one nice girl he knew who was far slimmer than me!!!"
I reeled. This was terrible. What had possessed the man? Angela may not be the paramount of feminine slimness, but was undoubtedly a very attractive sort of girl. I could not possibly compare her to the immortal beauty of Emily, but there was no question of Angela not being pretty. She was a bit freckly, true, but when Tuppy had declared his love for my cousin I hadn't thought that two or three freckles would do any harm.
And here the man was, proclaiming the poor girl a bit on the large side, an opinion that no other person of Angela's acquaintance had held, and, which was a tad worse, letting on to his preference for some other young female. All very disturbing.
Well, what can one do after that? We just tooled off to our rooms to dress for dinner. And dinner, when it happened, was pretty sombre. Tuppy had been banished to an hotel, and even Anatole's cooking couldn't cheer Angela up.
Chapter Fourteen
A few days later, I got my break. Jeeves was in the kitchen, so, like a sneaking thief I shot to the telephone. Within minutes I had told Emily, and was back in my chair, reading the paper.
Jeeves streamed in, eyed me, and set the coffee down, and drifted out again.
As you may have gathered, things were somewhat strained at the flat. But, in two hours time, I would be biffing down to Market Snodsbury, and re- uniting with the reason of my entire being.
Jeeves had floated back in. He looked at me suspiciously. I had been staring with the love-light in my eyes into the middle distance.
"I will be leaving soon, Jeeves. Is everything packed?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then I shall set off immediately."
"Very good, sir."
So in a matter of minutes, I was in the car, and beetling off toward my beloved.
I arrived late on in the evening. As I pulled up outside, the door opened, and an angel came flying at me down the steps.
I hopped out of the old two-seater, just in time to be smothered by a young person of the female persuasion, with short, blonde hair.
"Oh Bertie! I've missed you so terribly! Daddy didn't hurt you much did he? Oh, I'm so glad you're here!"
Well, it's all very nice to have the girl of your dreams snuggling her head against your shoulder, but you can't have a conversation with her. However, trying to prise her off seemed cruel, and as I found, difficult. She wouldn't let go.
So, we stood for a while on Aunt Dahlia's driveway, Emily with her arms apparently surgically attached to my neck, and me with my chin resting on top of her head, eyes on stalks looking for sign of any of her dashed relatives.
Suddenly, I heard a door open, and a booming voice cut through the air.
"Bertie! Stop squeezing the life out of poor Emily, and come in here!"
Emily leapt from me, as if I was a plague victim. She looked like an angel who'd been caught dancing with Mephistopheles at the annual ball. Or possibly, Gussie Fink-Nottle, dressed in horns and a pair of red tights, it makes very little difference.
Aunt Dahlia erupted into fits of helpless laughter on the doorstep. I was just about to silence her with a reproachful word, when Angela, my cousin, peered round the door and, after observing Emily, said in a cold voice;
"You're quite right, Emily. Men are all the same, I mean, take . . ."
At this point, she burst into tears, and ran back inside.
And, so I arrived at Brinkley Court, Market Snodsbury.
Several things occurred, then. Aunt Dahlia stopped laughing, and, after eyeing me with rather a lot of un-deserved menace, whipped inside. Emily turned to look me right in the eyeball, stepped forward, took my hand and whispered 'sorry' in my ear, before leading me inside too.
Once in, we followed the noises of crying and comforting. These lead us to the morning room, where Angela was sobbing gently, while my dearest Aunt was cursing some poor unfortunate to high heaven. I just hoped it wasn't me.
"What is it, Mrs Travers?"
The sweet voice of the perfect-wife-for-B.Wooster sounded out.
Aunt Dahlia raised her head in a Joan of Arc sort of way.
"It's that fiend, Tuppy Glossop."
At this, Angela began sobbing all over again. I saw all.
You have to understand that my cousin Angela is affianced to this Glossop man. I, personally, took a dim view of him when he forced me into a swimming pool in full eveningwear, but that is another story.
This Glossop has upset dear Angela more than once, and now a further rift within the lute, didn't look to good.
"What's happened, Aged A?"
This time, Angela glared at the floor, and said, between gritted teeth;
"The other day, I'd bought a new dress, and when Tuppy saw me in it, he said that he thought it didn't suit me at all, and that I ought to slim down a bit to fit into it! And then, I asked him whom he knew who was thinner than me, and do you know what he said Bertie? He told me that there was at least one nice girl he knew who was far slimmer than me!!!"
I reeled. This was terrible. What had possessed the man? Angela may not be the paramount of feminine slimness, but was undoubtedly a very attractive sort of girl. I could not possibly compare her to the immortal beauty of Emily, but there was no question of Angela not being pretty. She was a bit freckly, true, but when Tuppy had declared his love for my cousin I hadn't thought that two or three freckles would do any harm.
And here the man was, proclaiming the poor girl a bit on the large side, an opinion that no other person of Angela's acquaintance had held, and, which was a tad worse, letting on to his preference for some other young female. All very disturbing.
Well, what can one do after that? We just tooled off to our rooms to dress for dinner. And dinner, when it happened, was pretty sombre. Tuppy had been banished to an hotel, and even Anatole's cooking couldn't cheer Angela up.