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Updated: September 17, 2025
"Frightfully good of you, old chap," said Lord Dreever. "Sure you don't mind? I do bar walking. Right-ho! You keep straight on." He sat down in the tonneau by his aunt's side. The last Jimmy saw was a hasty vision of him engaged in earnest conversation with Lady Julia. He did not seem to be enjoying himself.
And, reminded apparently by the word "what" of the word "Wattle," he repeated the latter some sixteen times with a rising inflection. "Wattle, Wattle, Wattle," he concluded. "Right-ho. Push on." But the bearded bloke had shot his bolt. He stood there, licked at last; and, watching him closely, I could see that he was now at the crossroads.
But I have a feeling that it will slip up somewhere. However, I am in no position to cavil at even a 100 to 1 shot. I will adopt this policy of yours, Jeeves, though, as I say, with misgivings. At what hour would you suggest bonging the bell?" "Not before midnight, sir." "That is to say, some time after midnight." "Yes, sir." "Right-ho, then. At 12.30 on the dot, I will bong." "Very good, sir."
"I asked her if you had proposed to her, and she said, yes, you had." "Tuppy! You didn't?" "I did." "Have you no delicacy, no proper feeling?" "No." "Oh? Well, right-ho, of course, but I think you ought to have." "Delicacy be dashed. I wanted to be certain that it was not you who stole Angela from me. I now know it wasn't." So long as he knew that, I didn't so much mind him having no delicacy.
"I beg your pardon." "You were saying " "You were saying " "No, please go on." "Oh, right-ho." I straightened the tie, my habit when in this girl's society, and had at it: "With reference to yours of even date " She flushed again, and took a rather strained forkful of salmon. "You got my note?" "Yes, I got your note." "I gave it to Jeeves to give it to you." "Yes, he gave it to me.
He strolled to the door on his way to the kitchen in the next house that served as his office. "You'd better be careful with that rum jar, Jacko. Unless you're pretty certain there's no danger, I'd put a slab of gun-cotton against it where it is, and pop her off. No sense in running any risks carrying it back." "Right-ho! I'll have a look as soon as I go up. Are you coming, Mac?"
He touched Gussie on the arm, and Gussie, turning sharply and seeing a large bloke with a beard apparently about to bean him with a book, sprang back in an attitude of self-defence. "Perhaps, as time is getting on, Mr. Fink-Nottle, we had better " "Oh, ah," said Gussie, getting the trend. He relaxed. "The prizes, eh? Of course, yes. Right-ho. Yes, might as well be shoving along with it.
I'll get you to handle her yourself. I'm goin' to ride her, an' don't want no fool broncho-buster tearing her mouth out." "Right-ho, boss." Jim was smiling happily at the man's broad back as he stood facing out of the door. "But, if you've half a minute, I've got something else to get through me." "Eh?" McLagan turned. His Irish face was alight with sudden interest.
"Yes, I heard what you said, all right, but not what you were going to say." "Oh, I see." "Right-ho." So that was straightened out. Nevertheless, instead of proceeding she took time off once more. She stood twisting the fingers and scratching the gravel with her foot. When finally she spoke, it was to deliver an impressive boost: "Bertie, do you read Tennyson?" "Not if I can help."
You can come along till the morning. Then I can get a good look at you. If I don't like your looks, we'll still be able to put you off at West End; and if I do well right-ho!" "My looks!" exclaimed our young stranger, with a peculiar mellow laugh. "What's the joke?" demanded Charlie. "O! I only wondered what my looks had to do with it!"
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