The Jeeves Omnibus by P. G. Wodehouse

rope, having first made sure that the coast was clear. I couldn’t dive, you see, because of the splash.’
    I was chewing the lip in some chagrin.
    ‘What the devil did he mean, “mentally negligible”?’
    ‘Oh, you know. Loopy.’
    ‘Tchah!’
    ‘Eh?’
    ‘I said “Tchah!”’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Why?’ I was a good deal moved. ‘Well, wouldn’t you say “Tchah!” if your late man was going about the place telling people you were mentally negligible …’
    ‘But with a heart of gold.’
    ‘Never mind the heart of gold. The point is that my man, my late man, a fellow I have always looked on more as some sort of an uncle than a personal attendant, is shooting to and fro bellowing out at the top of his voice that I am mentally negligible and filling my bedroom with girls –’
    ‘Bertie! Are you annoyed?’
    ‘Annoyed!’
    ‘You sound annoyed. And I can’t see why. I should have thought you would have been only too glad of the chance of helping me get to the man I love. Having this heart of gold I hear so much about.’
    ‘The point is not whether I have a heart of gold. Heaps of people have hearts of gold and yet would be upset at finding girls in their bedrooms in the small hours. What you don’t seem to realize, what you and this Jeeves of yours have omitted to take into your calculations, is that I have a reputation to keep up, an unspotted name to maintain in its pristine purity. This cannot be done by entertaining girls who come in, in the middle of the night, without so much as a by-your-leave and coolly pinch your heliotrope pyjamas –’
    ‘You didn’t expect me to sleep in a wet swimming suit?’
    ‘– and leap into your bed –’
    She uttered an exclamation.
    ‘I know what this reminds me of. I’ve been trying to think ever since you came in. The story of the Three Bears. You must have been told it as a kid. “There’s somebody in my bed …” Wasn’t that what the Big Bear said?’
    I frowned doubtfully.
    ‘As I recollect it, it was something about porridge. “Who’s been eating my porridge?”’
    ‘I’m sure there was a bed in it.’
    ‘Bed? Bed? I can’t remember any bed. On the subject of the porridge, however, I am absolutely … But we are wandering from the point once more. What I was saying was that a reputable bachelor like myself, who has never had his licence so much as endorsed, can scarcely be blamed for looking askance at girls in heliotrope pyjamas in his bed …’
    ‘You said they suited me.’
    ‘They do suit you.’
    ‘You said I looked fine in them.’
    ‘You do look fine in them, but once more you are refusing to meet the issue squarely. The point is –’
    ‘How many points is that? I seem to have counted about a dozen.’
    ‘There is only one point, and I am endeavouring to make it clear. In a nutshell, what will people say when they find you here?’
    ‘But they won’t find me here.’
    ‘You think so? Ha! What about Brinkley?’
    ‘Who’s he?’
    ‘My man.’
    ‘Your late man?’
    I clicked the tongue.
    ‘My new man. At nine tomorrow morning he will bring me tea.’
    ‘Well, you’ll like that.’
    ‘He will bring it to this room. He will approach the bed. He will place it on the table.’
    ‘What on earth for?’
    ‘To facilitate my getting at the cup and sipping.’
    ‘Oh, you mean he will put the tea on the table. You said he would put the bed on the table.’
    ‘I never said anything of the sort.’
    ‘You did. Distinctly.’
    I tried to reason with the girl.
    ‘My dear child,’ I said, ‘I must really ask you to use your intelligence. Brinkley is not a juggler. He is a well-trained gentleman’s gentleman, and would consider it a liberty to put beds on tables. And why should he put beds on tables? The idea would never occur to him. He –’
    She interrupted my reasoning.
    ‘But wait a minute. You keep babbling about Brinkley, but there isn’t a Brinkley.’
    ‘There is a Brinkley. One Brinkley. And one Brinkley coming