ht softening.

"A very excellent idea," said Aunt Dahlia. "One of the best. Nip round to
the garage at once."

After Tuppy had gone, some extremely flattering things were said about
his intelligence and resource, and there was a disposition to draw rather
invidious comparisons between him and Bertram. Painful for me, of course,
but the ordeal didn't last long, for it couldn't have been more than five
minutes before he was with us again.

Tuppy seemed perturbed.

"I say, it's all off."

"Why?"

"The garage is locked."

"Unlock it."

"I haven't the key."

"Shout, then, and wake Waterbury."

"Who's Waterbury?"

"The chauffeur, ass. He sleeps over the garage."

"But he's gone to the dance at Kingham."

It was the final wallop. Until this moment, Aunt Dahlia had been able to
preserve her frozen calm. The dam now burst. The years rolled away from
her, and she was once more the Dahlia Wooster of the old yoicks-and-tantivy
days--the emotional, free-speaking girl who had so often risen in
her stirrups to yell derogatory personalities at people who were heading
hounds.

"Curse all dancing chauffeurs! What on earth does a chauffeur want to
dance for? I mistrusted that man from the start. Something told me he was
a dancer. Well, this finishes it. We're out here till breakfast-time. If
those blasted servants come back before eight o'clock, I shall be vastly
surprised. You won't get Seppings away from a dance till you throw him
out. I know him. The jazz'll go to his head, and he'll stand clapping and
demanding encores till his hands blister. Damn all dancing butlers! What
is Brinkley Court? A respectable English country house or a crimson
dancing school? One might as well be living in the middle of the Russian
Ballet. Well, all right. If we must stay out here, we must. We shall all
be frozen stiff, except"--here she directed at me not one of her
friendliest glances----"except dear old Attila, who is, I observe, well and
warmly clad. We will resign ourselves to the prospect of freezing to
death like the Babes in the Wood, merely expressing a dying wish that our
old pal Attila will see that we are covered with leaves. No doubt he will
also toll that fire bell of his as a mark of respect--And what might you
want, my good man?"

She broke off, and stood glaring at Jeeves. During the latter portion of
her address, he had been standing by in a respectful manner, endeavouring
to catch the speaker's eye.

"If I might m