“Jeeves,” I said that night when I got home, “stand by.”
“Burnish the old brain and be alert and vigilant. I suspect that Mr. Little will be calling round shortly for sympathy and assistance.”
“Well, you might call it that. He’s in love. For about the fifty-third time. I ask you, Jeeves, as man to man, did you ever see such a chap?”
“Mr. Little is certainly warm-hearted, sir.”
“Warm-hearted! I should think he has to wear asbestos vests. Well, stand by, Jeeves.”
And sure enough, it wasn’t ten days before in rolled the old ass, bleating for volunteers to step one pace forward and come to the aid of the party.
“Bertie,” he said, “if you are a pal of mine, now is the time to show it.”
“Proceed, old gargoyle,” I replied. “You have our ear.”
“You remember giving me lunch at the Senior Liberal some days ago. We were waited on by a----”
“I wish you wouldn’t talk of her like that, dash it all. She’s an angel.”
“For goodness sake don’t bustle me. Let me tell the story in my own way. I love her, as I was saying, and I want you, Bertie, old boy, to pop round to my uncle and do a bit of diplomatic work. That allowance of mine must be restored, and dashed quick, too. What’s more, it must be increased.”
“But look here,” I said, being far from keen on the bally business, “why not wait awhile?”
“Well, you know what generally happens when you fall in love. Something goes wrong with the works and you get left. Much better tackle your uncle after the whole thing’s fixed and settled.”
“It _is_ fixed and settled. She accepted me this morning.”
“Good Lord! That’s quick work. You haven’t known her two weeks.”
“Not in this life, no,” said young Bingo. “But she has a sort of idea that we must have met in some previous existence. She thinks I must have been a king in Babylon when she was a Christian slave. I can’t say I remember it myself, but there may be something in it.”
“Great Scott!” I said. “Do waitresses really talk like that?”
“How should _I_ know how waitresses talk?”
“Well, you ought to by now. The first time I ever met your uncle was when you hounded me on to ask him if he would rally round to help you marry that girl Mabel in the Piccadilly bun-shop.”
Bingo started violently. A wild gleam came into his eyes. And before I knew what he was up to he had brought down his hand with a most frightful whack on my summer trousering, causing me to leap like a young ram.