Carry On, Jeeves

by P. G. Wodehouse

'A matter of five pounds, sir.'

I felt in my pocket.

'Here you are,' I said. 'And another fiver for luck.'

'Thank you very much, sir.'

'Jeeves,' I said, 'you move in a mysterious way your wonders to perform. You don't mind if I sing a bit, do you?'

'Not at all, sir,' said Jeeves.

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[8—Fixing it for Freddie]

'Jeeves,' I said, looking in on him one afternoon on my return from the club, 'I don't want to interrupt you.'