Mr. Bickersteth is an agreeable gentleman, but not
bright."
"All right, then. After breakfast run down to the bank and get me some
money."
"Yes, sir."
"You know, you're a bit of a marvel, Jeeves."
"Thank you, sir."
"Right-o!"
"Very good, sir."
When I took dear old Bicky aside in the course of the morning and told
him what had happened he nearly broke down. He tottered into the
sitting-room and buttonholed old Chiswick, who was reading the comic
section of the morning paper with a kind of grim resolution.
"Uncle," he said, "are you doing anything special to-morrow afternoon?
I mean to say, I've asked a few of my pals in to meet you, don't you
know."
The old boy cocked a speculative eye at him.
"There will be no reporters among them?"
"Reporters? Rather not! Why?"
"I refuse to be badgered by reporters. There were a number of adhesive
young men who endeavoured to elicit from me my views on America while
the boat was approaching the dock. I will not be subjected to this
persecution again."
"That'll be absolutely all right, uncle. There won't be a newspaper-man
in the place."
"In that case I shall be glad to make the acquaintance of your
friends."
"You'll shake hands with them and so forth?"
"I shall naturally order my behaviour according to the accepted rules
of civilized intercourse."
Bicky thanked him heartily and came off to lunch with me at the club,
where he babbled freely of hens, incubators, and other rotten things.
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