Leave it to Jeeves

by P.G. Wodehouse

She sprang it on me before breakfast. There in seven words you have a complete character sketch of my Aunt Agatha.

He moves from point to point with as little uproar as a jelly fish.

Jeeves trickled in with the tray, like some silent stream meandering over its mossy bed;

and an hour before he had seen his aunt off to whatever hamlet it was that she was the curse

he floated noiselessly through the doorway like a healing zephyr.

I didn't want to murder the kid, and yet there didn't seem any other way of shifting him.

I laughed derisively. "For goodness' sake, don't start gargling now. This is serious." "I was laughing." "Oh, were you? Well, I'm glad to see you taking it in this merry spirit." "Derisively," I explained.