The letter arrived on the morning of the sixteenth. I was pushing a bit of breakfast into the Wooster face at the moment; and, feeling fairly well fortified with coffee and kippers, I decided to break the news to Jeeves without delay. As Shakespeare says, if you’re going to do a thing you might just as well pop right at it and get it over. The man would be disappointed, of course, and possibly even chagrined; but, dash it all, a splash of disappointment here and there does a fellow good. Makes him realize that life is stern and life is earnest.
“Oh, Jeeves,” I said.
“Sir?”
“We have here a communication from Lady Wickham. She has written inviting me to Skeldings for the festives. So you will see about bunging the necessaries together? We repair thither on the twenty-third. Plenty of white ties, Jeeves, also a few hearty country suits for use in the daytime. We shall be there some little time, I expect.”
There was a pause. I could feel he was directing a frosty gaze at me, but I dug into the marmalade and refused to meet it.
“I thought I understood you to say, sir, that you proposed to visit Monte Carlo immediately after Christmas.”
“I know. But that’s all off. Plans changed.”
“Very good, sir.”
At this point the telephone bell rang, tiding over very nicely what had threatened to be an awkward moment. Jeeves unhooked the receiver.