“Tired Nature’s sweet restorer, sir.”

“Exactly. Well, there you are, then.”

You know, there’s nothing like sleeping on a thing. Scarcely had I woken up next morning when I discovered that, while I slept, I had got the whole binge neatly into order and worked out a plan Foch might have been proud of. I rang the bell for Jeeves to bring me my tea.

I rang again. But it must have been five minutes before the man showed up with the steaming.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said, when I reproached him. “I did not hear the bell. I was in the sitting-room, sir.”

“Ah?” I said, sucking down a spot of the mixture. “Doing this and that, no doubt?”

“Dusting your new vase, sir.”