Free My Man Jeeves by P. G. Wodehouse

know."
    The old boy cocked a speculative eye at him.
    "There will be no reporters among them?"
    "Reporters? Rather not! Why?"
    "I refuse to be badgered by reporters. There were a number of adhesive young men who endeavoured to elicit from me my views on America while the boat was approaching the dock. I will not be subjected to this persecution again."
    "That'll be absolutely all right, uncle. There won't be a newspaper–man in the place."
    "In that case I shall be glad to make the acquaintance of your friends."
    "You'll shake hands with them and so forth?"
    "I shall naturally order my behaviour according to the accepted rules of civilized intercourse."
    Bicky thanked him heartily and came off to lunch with me at the club, where he babbled freely of hens, incubators, and other rotten things.
    After mature consideration we had decided to unleash the Birdsburg contingent on the old boy ten at a time. Jeeves brought his theatre pal round to see us, and we arranged the whole thing with him. A very decent chappie, but rather inclined to collar the conversation and turn it in the direction of his home–town's new water–supply system. We settled that, as an hour was about all he would be likely to stand, each gang should consider itself entitled to seven minutes of the duke's society by Jeeves's stop–watch, and that when their time was up Jeeves should slide into the room and cough meaningly. Then we parted with what I believe are called mutual expressions of goodwill, the Birdsburg chappie extending a cordial invitation to us all to pop out some day and take a look at the new water–supply system, for which we thanked him.
    Next day the deputation rolled in. The first shift consisted of the cove we had met and nine others almost exactly like him in every respect. They all looked deuced keen and businesslike, as if from youth up they had been working in the office and catching the boss's eye and what–not. They shook hands with the old boy with a good deal of apparent satisfaction—all except one chappie, who seemed to be brooding about something—and then they stood off and became chatty.
    "What message have you for Birdsburg, Duke?" asked our pal.
    The old boy seemed a bit rattled.
    "I have never been to Birdsburg."
    The chappie seemed pained.
    "You should pay it a visit," he said. "The most rapidly–growing city in the country. Boost for Birdsburg!"
    "Boost for Birdsburg!" said the other chappies reverently.
    The chappie who had been brooding suddenly gave tongue.
    "Say!"
    He was a stout sort of well–fed cove with one of those determined chins and a cold eye.
    The assemblage looked at him.
    "As a matter of business," said the chappie—"mind you, I'm not questioning anybody's good faith, but, as a matter of strict business—I think this gentleman here ought to put himself on record before witnesses as stating that he really is a duke."
    "What do you mean, sir?" cried the old boy, getting purple.
    "No offence, simply business. I'm not saying anything, mind you, but there's one thing that seems kind of funny to me. This gentleman here says his name's Mr. Bickersteth, as I understand it. Well, if you're the Duke of Chiswick, why isn't he Lord Percy Something? I've read English novels, and I know all about it."
    "This is monstrous!"
    "Now don't get hot under the collar. I'm only asking. I've a right to know. You're going to take our money, so it's only fair that we should see that we get our money's worth."
    The water–supply cove chipped in:
    "You're quite right, Simms. I overlooked that when making the agreement. You see, gentlemen, as business men we've a right to reasonable guarantees of good faith. We are paying Mr. Bickersteth here a hundred and fifty dollars for this reception, and we naturally want to know——"
    Old Chiswick gave Bicky a searching look; then he turned to the water–supply chappie. He was frightfully calm.
    "I can assure you that I know nothing of this," he said, quite politely. "I should be