'There, Comrade Jackson,' he said, 'you have hit the bull's-eye, rung
the bell, and gathered in the cigar or cocoanut according to choice. He
_will_ go off to his club. And I shall do precisely the same.'

'How do you mean?'

'It is this way. My father, as you may have noticed during your stay at
our stately home of England, is a man of a warm, impulsive character.
He does not always do things as other people would do them. He has his
own methods. Thus, he has sent me into the City to do the hard-working,
bank-clerk act, but at the same time he is allowing me just as large an
allowance as he would have given me if I had gone to the 'Varsity.
Moreover, while I was still at Eton he put my name up for his clubs,
the Senior Conservative among others. My pater belongs to four
clubs altogether, and in course of time, when my name comes up for
election, I shall do the same. Meanwhile, I belong to one, the Senior
Conservative. It is a bigger club than the others, and your name comes
up for election sooner. About the middle of last month a great yell of
joy made the West End of London shake like a jelly. The three thousand
members of the Senior Conservative had just learned that I had been
elected.'

Psmith paused, and ate some porridge.

'I wonder why they call this porridge,' he observed with mild interest.
'It would be far more manly and straightforward of them to give it its
real name. To resume. I have gleaned, from casual chit-chat with my
father, that Comrade Bickersdyke also infests the Senior Conservative.
You might think that that would make me, seeing how particular I am
about whom I mix with, avoid the club. Error. I shall go there every