Wherein Bertie Dines and Is Acquainted with a Young Gentleman of Scottish Origin

[bertiewwooster]

Dinner was a quiet affair for me that evening.  Or at least it was until I met a young fellow by the name of Laurie (short for Lawrence) who proved to be as spiffing a dinner companion as a chap could ask for.  A Scottish bird, you see, with all the pipe-smoking ginger-hairedness one would expect of that breed.  And, let me tell you, the johnnie

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[bertiewwooster]

Well, I was blowed if I knew what that meant, but I gave Jeeves a nod as he oiled off to fold my clothes properly

[jr_ganymede]

Jeeves cannot come to a conclusion

[bertiewwooster]

Though my grey matter was still troubled, I enjoyed my bath nonetheless, and it was a contented Bertram who emerged some time later clad in pyjamas and once again wrapped in my dressing gown. Rather than let the sandman work his magic right away, however, I settled down in an armchair with a contemplative cigarette and one of the detective novels of earlier mention.

I could sense, rather than hear Jeeves shimmering about the place behind me, doing whatever it was the chap does in the evenings. A little grin curled about the Wooster mouth. Not to say that everything was oojah-cum-spiff on that count, not in the least, but I had done some thinking and felt a bit more at ease with myself. At any rate, I could now properly steel my backbone and charge ahead. Or hang back, as is more accurate, but either way, I could do it properly now.

[jr_ganymede]

Jeeves does indeed shimmer, and even allows himself a few cursory glances in Bertram's direction from time to time. It's more than he's allowed himself in the last few years. As the night draws to a close, he lets the curtains down and goes briefly to his own room, unneeded for now.

[bertiewwooster]

It wasn't long before I retired to bed as well (I presumed that Jeeves had done so, but I suppose I could have been wrong.) Diverting though the adventures of Sam Westingham undoubtedly were, it wasn't quite enough to silence the thoughts bouncing noisily about on the inside of my skull.

Unusually for me, sleep was dashed slow in coming that eve. I was, you see, plunged deep in thought. Extraordinary how I kept doing that as of even date. It just shows what life is like now. I don't suppose in the old days I would have been plunged in thought more than about once a month. But there was naught to be done for it, so I simply waited, counting the sheep which danced before my tired peepers before I drifted off.