rsonalities.

"Don't blink at me in that obscene way," she said. "I wonder, Bertie,"
she proceeded, gazing at me as I should imagine Gussie would have gazed
at some newt that was not up to sample, "if you have the faintest
conception how perfectly loathsome you look? A cross between an orgy
scene in the movies and some low form of pond life. I suppose you were
out on the tiles last night?"

"I attended a social function, yes," I said coldly. "Pongo Twistleton's
birthday party. I couldn't let Pongo down. _Noblesse oblige_."

"Well, get up and dress."

I felt I could not have heard her aright.

"Get up and dress?"

"Yes."

I turned on the pillow with a little moan, and at this juncture Jeeves
entered with the vital oolong. I clutched at it like a drowning man at a
straw hat. A deep sip or two, and I felt--I won't say restored, because a
birthday party like Pongo Twistleton's isn't a thing you get restored
after with a mere mouthful of tea, but sufficiently the old Bertram to be
able to bend the mind on this awful thing which had come upon me.

And the more I bent same, the less could I grasp the trend of the
scenario.

"What is this, Aunt Dahlia?" I inquired.

"It looks to me like tea," was her response. "But you know best. You're
drinking it."

If I hadn't been afraid of spilling the healing brew, I have little doubt
that I should have given an impatient gesture. I know I felt like it.

"Not the contents of this cup. All this. Your barging in and telling me
to get up and dress, and all that rot."

"I've barged in, as you call it, because my telegrams seemed to produce
no effect. And I told you to get up and dress because I want you to get
up and dress. I've come to take you back with me. I like your crust,
wiring that you would come next year or whenever it was. You're coming
now. I've got a job for you."

"But I don't want a job."

"What you want, my lad, and what you're going to get are two very
different things. There is man's work for you to do at Brinkley Court. Be
ready to the last button in twenty minutes."

"But I can't possibly be ready to any buttons in twenty minutes. I'm
feeling awful."

She seemed to consider.

"Yes," she said. "I suppose it's only humane to give you a day or two to
recover. All right, then, I shall expect you on the thirtieth at the
latest."

"But, dash it, what is all this? How do you mean, a job? Why a job? What
sort of a job?"

"I'll tell you if you'll only st