week. It was short notice, but banks have a habit of swallowing their
victims rather abruptly. Mike remembered the case of Wyatt, who had had
just about the same amount of time in which to get used to the prospect
of Commerce.

On the Monday morning a letter arrived from Psmith. Psmith was still
perturbed. 'Commerce,' he wrote, 'continues to boom. My pater referred
to Comrade Bickersdyke last night as a Merchant Prince. Comrade B. and
I do not get on well together. Purely for his own good, I drew him
aside yesterday and explained to him at great length the frightfulness
of walking across the bowling-screen. He seemed restive, but I was
firm. We parted rather with the Distant Stare than the Friendly Smile.
But I shall persevere. In many ways the casual observer would say that
he was hopeless. He is a poor performer at Bridge, as I was compelled
to hint to him on Saturday night. His eyes have no animated sparkle of
intelligence. And the cut of his clothes jars my sensitive soul to its
foundations. I don't wish to speak ill of a man behind his back, but I
must confide in you, as my Boyhood's Friend, that he wore a made-up tie
at dinner. But no more of a painful subject. I am working away at him
with a brave smile. Sometimes I think that I am succeeding. Then he
seems to slip back again. However,' concluded the letter, ending on an
optimistic note, 'I think that I shall make a man of him yet--some
day.'

Mike re-read this letter in the train that took him to London. By this
time Psmith would know that his was not the only case in which Commerce
was booming. Mike had written to him by return, telling him of the
disaster which had befallen the house of Jackson. Mike wished he could
have told him in person, for Psmith had a way of treating unpleasant
situations as if he were merely playing at them for his own amusement.