Thank You, Jeeves

'Cigarette, Jeeves?'

He produced the box, and I puffed in silence.

'Might I ask, sir, what you intend to do now?'

I came out of the reverie.

'Eh?'

'Now that your cottage is burned down, sir. Is it your purpose to take another in this neighbourhood?'

I shook the head.

'No, Jeeves, I shall return to the metrop.'

'To your former apartment, sir?'

'Yes.'

'But...'

I anticipated the question.

'I know what you are going to say, Jeeves. You are thinking of Mr Manglehoffer, of the Honourable Mrs Tinkler-Moulke and Lieutenant-Colonel J. J. Bustard. But circumstances have altered since I was compelled to take the firm stand I did in regard to their attitude towards the old banjolele. From now on, there will be no friction. My banjolele perished in the flames last night, Jeeves. I shall not buy another.'

'No, sir?'

'No, Jeeves. The zest has gone. I should not be able to twang a string without thinking of Brinkley. And the one thing I do not wish to do till further notice is think of that man of wrath.'

'You are not intending to retain him in your employment, then, sir?'

'Retain him in my employment? After what has occurred? After finishing first by the shortest of heads in the race with him and his carving knife? I do not so intend, Jeeves. Stalin, yes. Al Capone, certainly. But not Brinkley'

He coughed.

'Then, as there is a vacancy in your establishment, sir, I wonder if you would consider it a liberty if I were to offer my services?'

I upset the coffee-pot.

'You said – what, Jeeves?'

'I ventured to express the hope, sir, that you might be agreeable to considering my application for the post. I should endeavour to give satisfaction, as I trust I have done in the past.'

'But ...'

'I would not wish, in any case, to continue in the employment of his lordship, sir, now that he is about to be married. I yield to no one in my admiration for the many qualities of Miss Stoker, but it has never been my policy to serve in the household of a married gentleman.'

'Why not?'

'It is merely a personal feeling, sir.'

'I see what you mean. The psychology of the individual?'

'Precisely, sir.'

'And you really want to come back with me?'

'I should esteem it a great privilege, sir, if you would allow me to do so, sir, unless you are thinking of making other plans.'

It is not easy to find words in these supreme moments, if you know what I mean. What I mean is, you get a moment like this – supreme, as you might say – with the clouds all cleared away and the good old sun buzzing along on all six cylinders – and you feel ... well, I mean, dash it!

'Thank you, Jeeves,' I said.

'Not at all, sir.'

THE END