“We love it when there are lectures. We sit and stare at the poor dears, and try to make them dry up. There was a man last term who got hiccups. Oh, do you think Mr. Wooster will get hiccups?”

“We can but hope for the best, miss.”

“It would be such a lark, wouldn’t it?”

“Highly enjoyable, miss.”

“Well, I must be getting back. I want to get a front seat.”

And she scampered off. An engaging child. Full of spirits.

She had hardly gone when there was an agitated noise, and round the corner came Mr. Wooster. Perturbed. Deeply so.

“Jeeves!”