PREFACE
 

THE question of how long an author is to be allowed to go on recording the adventures of any given character or characters is one that has frequently engaged the attention of thinking men. The publication of this book brings it once again into the foreground of national affairs.

It is now some fourteen summers since, an eager lad in my early thirties, I started to write Jeeves stories: and many people think this nuisance should now cease. Carpers say that enough is enough. Cavillers say the same. They look down the vista of the years and see these chronicles multiplying like rabbits, and the prospect appals them. But against this must be set the fact that writing Jeeves stories gives me a great deal of pleasure and keeps me out of the public-houses.

At what conclusion, then, do we arrive? The whole thing is undoubtedly very moot.

From the welter of recrimination and argument one fact emerges—that we have here the third volume of a series. And what I do feel very strongly is that, if a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing well and thoroughly. It is perfectly possible, no doubt, to read Very Good, Jeeves! as a detached effort—or, indeed, not to read it at all: but I like to think that this country contains men of spirit who will not rest content till they have dug down into the old oak chest and fetched up the sum necessary for the purchase of its two predecessors—The Inimitable Jeeves and Carry On, Jeeves! Only so can the best results be obtained. Only so will allusions in the present volume to incidents occurring in the previous volumes become intelligible, instead of mystifying and befogging.

We do you these two books at the laughable price of half-a-crown apiece, and the method of acquiring them is simplicity itself.

All you have to do is to go to the nearest bookseller, when the following dialogue will take place:
 

Yourself: Good morning, Mr. Bookseller.

Bookseller: Good morning, Mr. Everyman.

Yourself: I want The Inimitable Jeeves and Carry On, Jeeves!

Bookseller: Certainly, Mr. Everyman. You make the easy payment of five shillings, and they will be delivered at your door in a plain van.

Yourself: Good morning, Mr. Bookseller.

Bookseller: Good morning, Mr. Everyman.
 

Or take the case of a French visitor to London, whom, for want of a better name, we will call Jules St. Xavier Popinot. In this instance the little scene will run on these lines:
 

AU COIN DE LIVRES
 

Popinot: Bon jour, Monsieur le marchand de livres.

Marchand: Bon jour, Monsieur. Quel beau temps aujourdhui, n’est-ce-pas?

Popinot: Absolument. Eskervous avez le Jeeves Inimitable et le Continuez, Jeeves! du maitre Vodeouse?

Marchand: Mais certainement, Monsieur.

Popinot: Donnez-moi les deux, s’il vous plait.

Marchand: Oui, par exemple, morbleu. Et aussi la plume, l’encre, et la tante du jardinière?

Popinot: Je m’en fiche de cela. Je désire seulement le Vodeouse.

Marchand: Pas de chemises, de cravates, ou le tonic pour les cheveux?

Popinot: Seulement le Vodeouse, je vous assure.

Marchand: Parfaitement, Monsieur. Deux-et-six pour chaque bibelot—exactement cinq roberts.

Popinot: Bon jour, Monsieur.

Marchand: Bon jour, Monsieur.
 

As simple as that.

See that the name “Wodehouse” is on every label.
 

P. G. W.