I thought about it a good deal as I walked home, and I was hoping he wouldn't roll round with his hard-luck story too early in the morning. He had the air of one who intends to charge in at about six-thirty.
Jeeves was waiting up for me when I got back.
'A pleasant dinner, sir?' he said.
'Magnificent, Jeeves.'
'I am glad to hear that, sir. Mr George Travers rang up on the telephone shortly after you had left. He was extremely desirous that you should join him at Harrogate, sir. He leaves for that town by an early train tomorrow.'
My Uncle George is a festive old bird who has made a habit for years of doing himself a dashed sight too well, with the result that he's always got Harrogate or Buxton hanging over him like the sword of what's-his-name. And he hates going there alone.
'It can't be done,' I said. Uncle George is bad enough in London, and I wasn't going to let myself be cooped up with him in one of these cure-places.
'He was extremely urgent, sir.'
'No, Jeeves,' I said firmly. 'I am always anxious to oblige, but Uncle George—no, no! I mean to say, what?'
'Very good, sir,' said Jeeves.