"I wouldn't have a face like that," proceeded the child, with a good
deal of earnestness, "not if you gave me a million dollars." He thought
for a moment, then corrected himself. "Two million dollars!" he added.

Just what occurred then I couldn't exactly say, but the next few
minutes were a bit exciting. I take it that Cyril must have made a dive
for the infant. Anyway, the air seemed pretty well congested with arms
and legs and things. Something bumped into the Wooster waistcoat just
around the third button, and I collapsed on to the settee and rather
lost interest in things for the moment. When I had unscrambled myself,
I found that Jeeves and the child had retired and Cyril was standing in
the middle of the room snorting a bit.

"Who's that frightful little brute, Wooster?"

"I don't know. I never saw him before to-day."

"I gave him a couple of tolerably juicy buffets before he legged it. I
say, Wooster, that kid said a dashed odd thing. He yelled out something
about Jeeves promising him a dollar if he called me--er--what he said."

It sounded pretty unlikely to me.

"What would Jeeves do that for?"

"It struck me as rummy, too."

"Where would be the sense of it?"