“We have got a parlourmaid.”

“I’ve never seen her. A sort of bloke who looked like a provincial undertaker waited at table the night before last.”

“That was the local greengrocer, who comes to help out when desired. The parlourmaid is away on her holiday⁠—or was till last night. She returned about ten minutes before Jeeves made his call, and Anatole, I take it, was in such a state of elation and devotion and whatnot on seeing her again that the contents of the Mint wouldn’t have bribed him to part from her.”

“But look here, Bingo,” I said, “this is all rot. I see the solution right off. I’m surprised that a bloke of Jeeves’s mentality overlooked it. Aunt Dahlia must engage the parlourmaid as well as Anatole. Then they won’t be parted.”

“I thought of that, too. Naturally.”

“I bet you didn’t.”