field after the Battle of Clapham Common. How are your injuries,
Comrade Jackson?'

'My back's hurting like blazes,' said Mike. 'And my ear's all sore
where that chap got me. Anything the matter with you?'

'Physically,' said Psmith, 'no. Spiritually much. Do you realize,
Comrade Jackson, the thing that has happened? I am riding in a tram. I,
Psmith, have paid a penny for a ticket on a tram. If this should get
about the clubs! I tell you, Comrade Jackson, no such crisis has ever
occurred before in the course of my career.'

'You can always get off, you know,' said Mike.

'He thinks of everything,' said Psmith, admiringly. 'You have touched
the spot with an unerring finger. Let us descend. I observe in the
distance a cab. That looks to me more the sort of thing we want. Let us
go and parley with the driver.'




17. Sunday Supper


The cab took them back to the flat, at considerable expense, and Psmith
requested Mike to make tea, a performance in which he himself was
interested purely as a spectator. He had views on the subject of
tea-making which he liked to expound from an armchair or sofa, but he
never got further than this. Mike, his back throbbing dully from the