Chapter XVI
THE DELAYED EXIT OF CLAUDE AND EUSTACE
The feeling I had when Aunt Agatha trapped me in my lair that morning and spilled the bad news was that my luck had broken at last. As a rule, you see, Iām not lugged into Family Rows. On the occasions when Aunt is calling to Aunt like mastodons bellowing across primeval swamps and Uncle Jamesās letter about Cousin Mabelās peculiar behaviour is being shot round the family circle (āPlease read this carefully and send it on to Janeā), the clan has a tendency to ignore me. Itās one of the advantages I get from being a bachelorāand, according to my nearest and dearest, practically a half-witted bachelor at that. āItās no good trying to get Bertie to take the slightest interestā is more or less the slogan, and Iām bound to say Iām all for it. A quiet life is what I like. And thatās why I felt that the Curse had come upon me, so to speak, when Aunt Agatha sailed into my sitting-room while I was having a placid cigarette and started to tell me about Claude and Eustace.
āThank goodness,ā said Aunt Agatha, āarrangements have at last been made about Eustace and Claude.ā
āArrangements?ā I said, not having the foggiest.
āThey sail on Friday for South Africa. Mr. Van Alstyne, a friend of poor Emilyās, has given them berths in his firm at Johannesburg, and we are hoping that they will settle down there and do well.ā
I didnāt get the thing at all.
āFriday? The day after to-morrow, do you mean?ā
āYes.ā
āFor South Africa?ā
āYes. They leave on the Edinburgh Castle.ā
āBut whatās the idea? I mean, arenāt they in the middle of their term at Oxford?ā
Aunt Agatha looked at me coldly.
āDo you positively mean to tell me, Bertie, that you take so little interest in the affairs of your nearest relatives that you are not aware that Claude and Eustace were expelled from Oxford over a fortnight ago?ā
āNo, really?ā
āYou are hopeless, Bertie. I should have thought that even you____ā
āWhy were they sent down?ā
āThey poured lemonade on the Junior Dean of their college.ā¦ I see nothing amusing in the outrage, Bertie.ā
āNo, no, rather not,ā I said hurriedly. āI wasnāt laughing. Choking. Got something stuck in my throat, you know.ā
āPoor Emily,ā went on Aunt Agatha, ābeing one of those doting mothers who are the ruin of their children, wished to keep the boys in London. She suggested that they might cram for the Army. But I was firm. The Colonies are the only place for wild youths like Eustace and Claude. So they sail on Friday. They have been staying for the last two weeks with your Uncle Clive in Worcestershire. They will spend to-morrow night in London and catch the boat-train on Friday morning.ā
āBit risky, isnāt it? I mean, arenāt they apt to cut loose a bit to-morrow night if theyāre left all alone in London?ā
āThey will not be alone. They will be in your charge.ā
āMine!ā
āYes. I wish you to put them up in your flat for the night, and see that they do not miss the train in the morning.ā
āOh, I say, no!ā
āBertie!ā
āWell, I mean, quite jolly coves both of them, but I donāt know. Theyāre rather nuts, you know____ Always glad to see them, of course, but when it comes to putting them up for the night____ā
āBertie, if you are so sunk in callous self-indulgence that you cannot even put yourself to this trifling inconvenience for the sake of____ā
āOh, all right,ā I said. āAll right.ā
It was no good arguing, of course. Aunt Agatha always makes me feel as if I had gelatine where my spine ought to be. Sheās 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, āJump to it, my lad,ā 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.
āOh, Jeeves,ā I said, āMr. Claude and Mr. Eustace will be staying here to-morrow night.ā
āVery good, sir.ā
āIām glad you think so. To me the outlook seems black and scaly. You know what those two lads are!ā
āVery high-spirited young gentlemen, sir.ā
āBlisters, Jeeves. Undeniable blisters. Itās a bit thick!ā
āWould there be anything further, sir?ā
At that, Iām bound to say, I drew myself up a trifle haughtily. We Woosters freeze like the dickens when we seek sympathy and meet with cold reserve. I knew what was up, of course. For the last day or so there had been a certain amount of coolness in the home over a pair of jazz spats which I had dug up while exploring in the Burlington Arcade. Some dashed brainy cove, probably the chap who invented those coloured cigarette-cases, had recently had the rather topping idea of putting out a line of spats on the same system. I mean to say, instead of the ordinary grey and white, you can now get them in your regimental or school colours. And, believe me, it would have taken a chappie of stronger fibre than I am to resist the pair of Old Etonian spats which had smiled up at me from inside the window. I was inside the shop, opening negotiations, before it had even occurred to me that Jeeves might not approve. And I must say he had taken the thing a bit hardly. The fact of the matter is, Jeeves, though in many ways the best valet in London, is too conservative. Hide-bound, if you know what I mean, and an enemy to Progress.
āNothing further, Jeeves,ā I said, with quiet dignity.
āVery good, sir.ā
He gave one frosty look at the spats and biffed off. Dash him!
ANYTHING MERRIER AND BRIGHTER THAN the Twins, when they curveted into the old flat while I was dressing for dinner the next night, I have never struck in my whole puff. Iām only about half a dozen years older than Claude and Eustace, but in some rummy manner they always make me feel as if I were well on in the grandfather class and just waiting for the end. Almost before I realised they were in the place, they had collared the best chairs, pinched a couple of my special cigarettes, poured themselves out a whisky-and-soda apiece, and started to prattle with the gaiety and abandon of two birds who had achieved their lifeās ambition instead of having come a most frightful purler and being under sentence of exile.
āHallo, Bertie, old thing,ā said Claude. āJolly decent of you to put us up.ā
āOh, no,ā I said. āOnly wish you were staying a good long time.ā
āHear that, Eustace? He wishes we were staying a good long time.ā
āI expect it will seem a good long time,ā said Eustace, philosophically.
āYou heard about the binge, Bertie? Our little bit of trouble, I mean?ā
āOh, yes. Aunt Agatha was telling me.ā
āWe leave our country for our countryās good,ā said Eustace.
āAnd let there be no moaning at the bar,ā said Claude, āwhen I put out to sea. What did Aunt Agatha tell you?ā
āShe said you poured lemonade on the Junior Dean.ā
āI wish the deuce,ā said Claude, annoyed, āthat people would get these things right. It wasnāt the Junior Dean. It was the Senior Tutor.ā
āAnd it wasnāt lemonade,ā said Eustace. āIt was soda-water. The dear old thing happened to be standing just under our window while I was leaning out with a siphon in my hand. He looked up, andāwell, it would have been chucking away the opportunity of a lifetime if I hadnāt let him have it in the eyeball.ā
āSimply chucking it away,ā agreed Claude.
āMight never have occurred again,ā said Eustace.
āHundred to one against it,ā said Claude.
āNow what,ā said Eustace, ādo you propose to do, Bertie, in the way of entertaining the handsome guests to-night?ā
āMy idea was to have a bite of dinner in the flat,ā I said. āJeeves is getting it ready now.ā
āAnd afterwards?ā
āWell, I thought we might chat of this and that, and then it struck me that you would probably like to turn in early, as your train goes about ten or something, doesnāt it?ā
The twins looked at each other in a pitying sort of way.
āBertie,ā said Eustace, āyouāve got the programme nearly right, but not qu...