play called I-forget-its-dashed-name?”
“No, sir.”
“It’s on at the What-d’you-call-it. I went last night. The hero’s a chap who’s buzzing along, you know, quite merry and bright, and suddenly a kid turns up and says she’s his daughter. Left over from act one, you know—absolutely the first he’d heard of it. Well, of course, there’s a bit of a fuss and they say to him, ‘What-ho?’ and he says, ‘Well, what about it?’ and they say, ‘Well, what about it?’ and he says, ‘Oh, all right, then, if that’s the way you feel!’ and he takes the kid and goes off with her out into the world together, you know. Well, what I’m driving at, Jeeves, is that I envied that chappie. Most awfully jolly little girl, you know, clinging to him trustingly and whatnot. Something to look after, if you know what I mean. Jeeves, I wish I had a daughter. I wonder what the procedure is?”
“Marriage is, I believe, considered the preliminary step, sir.”
“No, I mean about adopting a kid. You can adopt kids, you know, Jeeves. But what I want to know is how you start about it.”
“The process, I should imagine, would be highly complicated and laborious, sir. It would cut into your spare time.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what I could do, then. My sister will be back from India next week with her three little girls. I’ll give up this flat and take a house and have them all to live with me. By Jove, Jeeves,