Explore "The Aunt and the Sluggard" by P. G. Wodehouse on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Now that it's all over, I may as well admit that there was a time during the rather funny affair of Rockmetteller Todd when I thought that Jeeves was going to let me down. The man had the appearance of being baffled.
Jeeves is my man, you know. Officially he pulls in his weekly wages for pressing my clothes and all that sort of thing; but actually he's more like what the poet Johnnie called some bird of his acquaintance who was apt to rally round him in times of need -- a guide, don't you know; philosopher, if I remember rightly, and -- I rather fancy -- friend. I rely on him at every turn.