Welcome back, everyone to one thousand one classic short stories and tales.

This is your host and storyteller, John Haggardorn.

It's time we checked in on

Bertie Worcester and seeing how he's doing with his butler, Jeeves, who he relies upon for all

kinds of advice. And now Jeeves in the springtime by P.G. Wodehouse.

Morning, Jeeves, I said. Good morning, sir,, Jeeves,' I said.

"'Good morning, sir,' said Jeeves.

"'He put the good old cup of tea softly on the table by my bed, and I took a refreshing sip.

"'Just right, as usual.

"'Not too hot, not too sweet, not too weak, not too strong, not too much milk, and not a drop

spilled in the saucer. A most amazing cove was Jeeves, so dashed competent in every respect.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, I made to say, take just one small instance.

Every other ballet I've ever had used to barge into my room in the morning, while I was still asleep, causing much misery.

But Jeeves seems to know when I'm awake by a sort of telepathy. He always floats in with the

cup exactly two minutes after I come to life. Makes a deuce of a lot of difference to a fellow's day.

How's the weather, Jeeves?

Exceptionally clement, sir.

Anything in the papers?

Some slight friction threatening them Balkans, sir.

Otherwise, nothing.

I say, Jeeves.

A man I met at the club last night told me to put my shirt on privateer for the two o'clock

...