blow he had received, and feeling more than a little sore all over,
prepared the Etna, fetched the milk, and finally produced the finished
article.

Psmith sipped meditatively.

'How pleasant,' he said, 'after strife is rest. We shouldn't have
appreciated this simple cup of tea had our sensibilities remained
unstirred this afternoon. We can now sit at our ease, like warriors
after the fray, till the time comes for setting out to Comrade Waller's
once more.'

Mike looked up.

'What! You don't mean to say you're going to sweat out to Clapham
again?'

'Undoubtedly. Comrade Waller is expecting us to supper.'

'What absolute rot! We can't fag back there.'

'Noblesse oblige. The cry has gone round the Waller household, "Jackson
and Psmith are coming to supper," and we cannot disappoint them now.
Already the fatted blanc-mange has been killed, and the table creaks
beneath what's left of the midday beef. We must be there; besides,
don't you want to see how the poor man is? Probably we shall find him
in the act of emitting his last breath. I expect he was lynched by the
enthusiastic mob.'

'Not much,' grinned Mike. 'They were too busy with us. All right, I'll