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Updated: June 27, 2025
I expected to find the fellow a wreck, but there he was, sitting up in bed, quite chirpy, reading Gingery stories. "What ho!" I said. "What ho!" said Motty. "What ho! What ho!" "What ho! What ho! What ho!" After that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation. "How are you feeling this morning?" I asked. "Topping!" replied Motty, blithely and with abandon.
By dinner-time I had almost forgotten blighted Motty's existence. I dined at the club and looked in at a show afterward, and it wasn't till fairly late that I got back to the flat. There were no signs of Motty, and I took it that he had gone to bed. It seemed rummy to me, though, that the parcel of nice books was still there with the string and paper on it.
But, what with brooding on Jeeves and brooding on Motty, I was in a pretty reduced sort of state. The more I examined the situation, the more blighted it became. There was nothing I could do. If I slung Motty out, he would report to his mother, and she would pass it on to Aunt Agatha, and I didn't like to think what would happen then.
He opened the door and, putting him into a deep chair in the study, laid the purse and keys on Peter's desk, writing on a scrap of paper with much difficulty: "mr. stirling $2.50 I took to pay the carriage. John Motty policeman 22 precinct," he laid it beside the keys and purse. Then he went back to his beat. And what was Peter doing all this time? Just what he now did.
The noise stopped; but as Tom looked sharply through the bushes, what should he see in a nook of the hedge but a brown pitcher, that might hold about a gallon and a half of liquor; and by-and-by a little wee teeny tiny bit of an old man, with a little motty of a cocked hat stuck upon the top of his head, a deeshy daushy leather apron hanging before him, pulled out a little wooden stool, and stood up upon it, and dipped a little piggin into the pitcher, and took out the full of it, and put it beside the stool, and then sat down under the pitcher, and began to work at putting a heel-piece on a bit of a brogue just fit for himself.
There was no doubt in the world that prison was just what the doctor ordered for Motty. It was the only thing that could have pulled him up. I was sorry for the poor blighter, but, after all, I reflected, a chappie who had lived all his life with Lady Malvern, in a small village in the interior of Shropshire, wouldn't have much to kick at in a prison.
"Jeeves, I believe you've hit it." "I fancy so, sir." "Why, this is really the best thing that could have happened. If this hadn't turned up to prevent him, young Motty would have been in a sanatorium by the time Lady Malvern got back." "Exactly, sir." The more I looked at it in that way, the sounder this prison wheeze seemed to me.
Everything is in the handsomest style, silver and goold plate at breakfast, lunch, and dinner; and his crest and motty, a beehive, with the Latn word Industria, meaning industry, on everything even on the chany juggs and things in my bedd-room. On Sunday we were favoured by a special outpouring from the Rev.
Rocky Todd, the pal I went to stay with, is a rummy sort of a chap who lives all alone in the wilds of Long Island, and likes it; but a little of that sort of thing goes a long way with me. Dear old Rocky is one of the best, but after a few days in his cottage in the woods, miles away from anywhere, New York, even with Motty on the premises, began to look pretty good to me.
I ought to have let you know, but of course we didn't know where you were. You were dodging all over the place like a snipe I mean, don't you know, dodging all over the place, and we couldn't get at you. Yes, Motty went off to Boston." "You're sure he went to Boston?" "Oh, absolutely."
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