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I was halfway into some spiffing new pyjamas when I noticed Jeeves bumping about like a bumble-bee in a bottle."I say, Jeeves!" I hailed him. "Yes, sir?" Jeeves paused in his perambulations. "I say, Jeeves, what are you doing?" I asked, buttoning up my pyjama jacket. "I am locating one of your slippers, sir." His reply cast no rosy glow of understanding. My as yet unlined brow creased in confusion. "I say, Jeeves, why are you looking for one of my slippers? I'm about to lay my head down, you know." "Yes, sir. I am trying, sir, to complete a task which your Aunt, Mrs. Travers, entrusted to me before we took our rather hasty leave." Still no window into Jeeves' doings. "And what , Jeeves, was that?" I pulled myself up to my full height and used my most stern manner; Jeeves had to remember who was in charge around here. "Yes, sir. May I quote Mrs. Travers, sir?" "Oh, just get on with it." I may have sounded a touch sharp, but honestly ! "Of course, sir. Mrs. Travers requested, sir, that I, and I quote 'Locate one of his slippers and reacquaint the repellent little squint to its other use' sir." "I say, Jeeves!" I gaped, fish-like. "I say !" "Indeed, sir." He advanced upon me, holding one of my slippers. "Jeeves, you're not ...Jeeves! You are in my employ!" I felt a reminder was timely. "Yes, sir. And if you wish to dismiss me once we have finished here, then you are more than welcome to do so. Mrs. Travers has assured me of a place in her household should that happen." "Well I like that!" I dodged him around the bed. "Trying to bagsy my gentleman's gentleman! That is the limit! And this is ridiculous, Jeeves!" "At times, sir, high-spirited young gentlemen require a firm hand. I believe that this is one of those times. It is in the contract, sir." Jeeves' hand closed about my arm. "Contract? What contract?" I tried, with utmost dignity, to jerk from his unfortunately iron grasp. "The contract, sir, that you signed with me after your last fiasco." Oh, yes, that contract. I hadn't read the bally thing; I'd just signed it to keep Jeeves from leaving. "I am invoking section 3, sir. So, Bertram Wilberforce, you will answer for your atrocious behavior over the weekend." My stomach dropped unpleasantly as Jeeves towed me back around the bed, sat, and pulled me about to stand between his knees. "Jeeves," I took a stab at delaying the inevitable. "Wouldn't the old six of the best be more appropriate here?" I attempted charming and insouciant. I fear that I managed desperate. "You have earned a smacking, and a smacking you shall receive." Jeeves intoned as off came the spiffy pyjama trousers I'd only just put on. "But Jeeves," I began, but it ended in an undignified 'Uff' as I went down over one sturdy thigh. I glared at the counterpane and felt a right tit. I hadn't been smacked since I'd last put on short trousers, and not the lederhosen, and I'd have much preferred the relative dignity of the cane. I always forgot just what a large blighter Jeeves was until he gave me a good reason to remember. "But Jeeves," I tried one more bid for freedom. "I really don't think - " "When my young gentleman behaves in a way more suited to a lad in short trousers, then he will receive a smacking, Bertram. I will countenance only so much." I tried to ignore the warm and idiotically happy feeling that being called his and Bertram bloomed in my heart, especially as he'd chosen that moment to land his first blow. I regret to report that I was not stoic and I did not take it heroically. I shouted, howled, and bellowed from the first, behaving much like the shorts-clad lad Jeeves kept mentioning. Jeeves' arm laid warm and heavy across my back, keeping me from swimming directly off his thighs. "Ow! OW OW OW!" I bellowed in fine voice. "Indeed, Bertram," was all Jeeves' reply. "Enough! Enough!" I tried to stay his hand. Jeeves, the utter swine snorted at me. "That, Bertram Wilerforce, is my decision." The quelling tones issuing from my valet put paid to pulling rank. Ditto that I couldn't move enough to pull said rank. I concentrated on assuring him of my thorough-going penitence, hoping such a display would inspire him to mercy. My hopes were utterly dashed when I felt Jeeves shift a bit before cool leather rested against my frankly flaming bum. On a purely personal note, when one has already been thoroughly smacked, one does not want a slippering on top of it. I'd managed to keep it to a certain relatively stoic level of yowling previously, but at application of slipper to bum, the tears welled and dripped down my face. I hid my face in my arms and wept into the counterpane while Jeeves walloped his displeasure into me. The bloody slipper stung like a lorry-load of wasps, and I regret to say that I wailed. Loudly. Jeeves, of course, simply slippered on, implacable as a...whatsit...thingummy. Choking and gasping in a most undignified manner, I realized that Jeeves had stopped. I felt his hand, broad and warm, rub my back under my pyjama jacket while I sniveled and whimpered. He patted the back of my thigh in an extremely familiar and, dare I say, fond manner before he put me back on my feet. I shifted from foot-to-foot, trying not to indulge in a post-smacking wiggle, while he found my pyjama trousers and held them open for me. Getting the hint, I allowed him to help me to dress and squeaked when he hauled me into his lap. It seemed his normal propriety had gone for a walk. "Ow! Jeeves! Have a care!" I protested. His lap was not particularly soft. "Perhaps," Jeeves murmured darkly into my ear and patted where I was sorest. "A young man with such a sore backside should mind his tone." "Eep!" I answered, meekly. "There's a good lad." The murmured endearment made my heart warm again. I had dreamed (often) of Jeeves' arms wrapped around me in just such a way, although in my dreams my backside wasn't hot enough to roast chestnuts. "I am sorry...I never meant…" Jeeves sighed. "You never do mean to, Bertram. You'll sit down at your desk tomorrow and write your Aunt a letter of apology. "Yes, Jeeves." I sighed. "Do I get - " "No cushions. I believe the reminder will reinforce the lesson." "Yes, Jeeves." I sounded crushed. I had hoped for at least a cushion. We lapsed into a comfortable silence. Jeeves didn't seem inclined to let me up anytime soon, and I wasn't complaining. "Have you cleaned your teeth?" "Yes, Jeeves." I seemed incapable of saying anything else. "Then we'll get you to bed." "Jeeves...could you...would you...I…" I felt myself go pink. "I'll stay with you until you fall asleep, Bertram. " There was kindly warmth in his tone. "And...could I be just Bertie sometimes? Just here , in this room?" I rushed through it, sounding like a lovesick puppy. "I believe that can be arranged. Now, blow your nose and get into bed." I hastened to do as he bid, unwilling to invite any more of his ire. I'd had more than enough of that for one evening, thank you. I slid under the covers and settled on my stomach. Jeeves sat on my left side and brushed a gentle hand over my hair. Done in by the sturm und drang of the evening, I dropped off quickly, soothed by his calm presence. _____ Jeeves watched his young gentleman sleep, and allowed himself a satisfied smile. He knew now that he would never have to worry about his boy being lost to some fluff-brained girl or hard-edged woman. His Bertram would remain under his watchful eye, right where he belonged. He would simply have to keep a weather eye on young Mr. Wooster's antics.