Quite the wrong sort of tone to adopt towards a fellow in the early morning, of course, but what can one do?
“Bertie, Lady Wickham tells me she has invited you to Skeldings for Christmas. Are you going?”
“Rather!”
“Well, mind you behave yourself. Lady Wickham is an old friend of mine.”
I was in no mood for this sort of thing over the telephone. Face to face, I’m not saying, but at the end of a wire, no.
“I shall naturally endeavour, Aunt Agatha,” I replied stiffly, “to conduct myself in a manner befitting an English gentleman paying a visit—”
“What did you say? Speak up. I can’t hear.”
“I said right-ho.”
“Oh? Well, mind you do. And