They were clad in pyjamas, and appeared to be feeling the
dressing-gown cord acutely.
The sudden light dazed both sides momentarily. The defence was the
first to recover, Mike, with a swing, upsetting Stone, and Psmith,
having seized and emptied Jellicoe's jug over Spiller, getting to work
again with the cord in a manner that roused the utmost enthusiasm of
the spectators.
[Illustration: PSMITH SEIZED AND EMPTIED JELLICOE'S JUG OVER SPILLER]
Agility seemed to be the leading feature of Psmith's tactics. He was
everywhere--on Mike's bed, on his own, on Jellicoe's (drawing a
passionate complaint from that non-combatant, on whose face he
inadvertently trod), on the floor--he ranged the room, sowing
destruction.
The enemy were disheartened; they had started with the idea that this
was to be a surprise attack, and it was disconcerting to find the
garrison armed at all points. Gradually they edged to the door, and a
final rush sent them through.
"Hold the door for a second," cried Psmith, and vanished. Mike was
alone in the doorway.
It was a situation which exactly suited his frame of mind; he stood
alone in direct opposition to the community into which Fate had
pitchforked him so abruptly. He liked the feeling; for the first time
since his father had given him his views upon school reports that
morning in the Easter holidays, he felt satisfied with life.
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