“Bertie!”

“Well, I mean, quite jolly coves both of them, but I don’t know. They’re rather nuts, you know⁠—Always glad to see them, of course, but when it comes to putting them up for the night⁠—”

“Bertie, if you are so sunk in callous self-indulgence that you cannot even put yourself to this trifling inconvenience for the sake of⁠—”

“Oh, all right,” I said. “All right.”

It was no good arguing, of course. Aunt Agatha always makes me feel as if I had gelatine where my spine ought to be. She’s one of those forceful females. I should think Queen Elizabeth must have been something like her. When she holds me with her glittering eye and says, “Jump to it, my lad,” or words to that effect, I make it so without further discussion.

When she had gone, I rang for Jeeves to break the news to him.