Дживс, вы – гений! / Thank you, Jeeves!

“What!”

“Yes,” I said, “he told me that if I didn’t give up my banjolele he would resign. I accepted his proposal.”

“You’ve really let him go?”

“I have.”

“Well, well, well!”

“These things happen,” I said. “I’m not pretending I’m pleased, of course, but I can live without him. ‘Very good, Jeeves,’ I said to him. ‘So be it. I shall watch your future career with considerable interest.’ And that was that.”

We walked on for a bit in silence.

“So you’ve parted with Jeeves, have you?” said Chuffy. “Well, well, well! Any objection to my looking in and saying good-bye to him?”

“None whatsoever.”

“I’ve always admired his intellect.”

“Me too.”

“I’ll come after lunch.”

“As you wish,” I said.

* * *

I lunched at the Drones and spent the afternoon there. Then I went home. I had much to think of. We Woosters can be honest with ourselves. There never had been anyone like Jeeves.

Abruptly, I went into the sitting-room.

“Jeeves,” I said.” A word.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Jeeves,” I said, “about on our conversation this morning.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Jeeves,” I said, “I have been thinking things over. I have come to the conclusion that we have both been hasty. Let us forget the past. You may stay on.”

“It is very kind of you, sir, but… are you still proposing to continue the study of that instrument?”

“Yes, Jeeves, I am.”

“Then I fear, sir—”

It was enough. I nodded haughtily.

“Very good, Jeeves. That is all. I will, of course, give you an excellent recommendation.”

“Thank you, sir. It will not be necessary. This afternoon I entered the employment of Lord Chuffnell.”

I started.

“Did Chuffy come here this afternoon and steal you?”

“Yes, sir. I go with him to Chuffnell Regis in about a week’s time.”

“You do, do you? Well, it may interest you to know that I am going to Chuffnell Regis tomorrow.”

“Indeed, sir?”

“Yes. I have taken a cottage there. We shall meet there, Jeeves.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good, Jeeves.”

“Very good, sir.”

3

Meeting the Past

You know, the longer I live, the more I feel that the greatest thing in life is to be sure what you want and be yourself. When I had announced at the Drones, on my last day in the metropolis, that I was going to the country for an indeterminate period, practically everybody had begged me, with tears in their eyes, not to do such a foolish thing.

But I had acted according to my plan, and here I was, on the fifth morning of my visit, absolutely happy. The sun was shining. The sky was blue. And London seemed miles away—which it was, of course. I wouldn’t be exaggerating if I said that a great peace enveloped the soul.

As I stood there that morning, there was a nice little garden, containing a bush, a tree, a couple of flower beds[40 - flower beds – клумбы], a lily pond with a statue of a nude child, and to the right a hedge. Across this hedge, Brinkley[41 - Brinkley – Бринкли], my new servant, was chatting with our neighbour, Police Sergeant Voules.

There was another hedge straight ahead, with the garden gate in it, and over this the placid waters of the harbour. And of all the objects I noted the yacht. It was white in colour, and in size resembling a young liner.

And at this moment the summer stillness was broken by the horn, and I ran to the gate with all possible speed for fear some fiend in human shape was scratching my paint. I found a small boy in the front seat, and was about to give him a good lesson when I recognized Chuffy’s cousin, Seabury.

“Hallo,” he said.

“Hallo,” I replied.

He was a smallish, freckled kid with aeroplane ears. In my Rogues Gallery of repulsive small boys I suppose he would come about third—not quite so bad as my Aunt Agatha’s son, Young Thos., or Mr Blumenfeld’s Junior.

After staring at me for a moment, he spoke.

“You’re to come to lunch.”

“Is Chuffy back, then?”

“Yes.”