indeedsir_backup | Art for The Code of the Woosters

I was reading Code not long ago, and I had the idea to try illustrating at least one scene from each chapter, as drawing practice. I figured it would be a good way to get back into things after my latest dry spell. Well, it didn't quite go as planned. I got tired of it, and was busy with other things, so I only ended up doing seven pictures, two of which I didn't like enough to include here.

This one is partly a redoing of this old picture.

Jeeves was trying to get me to go on a Round-the-World cruise, and I would have none of it. But in spite of my firm statements to this effect, scarcely a day passed without him bringing me a sheaf or nosegay of those illustrated folders which the Ho-for-the-open-spaces birds send out in the hope of drumming up custom.

I bet you won't believe me if I say the hardest thing to do in this one was the plaid on Spode's ulster, but it's true. It's a long story, I won't bore you.

'...What are you doing now, young man?'
'Stealing umbrellas, apparently', said the Dictator. 'I notice he's got yours.'
And I was on the point of denying the accusation hotly--I had, indeed, already opened my lips to do so--when there suddenly struck me like a blow on the upper maxillary from a sock stuffed with wet sand the realization that there was a lot in it.

Before anyone points it out, I know Jeeves's legs are too long here. It seems I have a hell of a hard time gauging a figure's proportions when they're in an uncolored state, and only realize my error after it's too late to fix things.

Something had whispered to me on seeing those bally envelopes that here we were again, and here we were.
The sound of familiar footsteps had brought Jeeves floating out from the back premises. A glance was enough to tell him that all was not well with ye employer.
'Are you ill, sir?' he inquired solicitously.
I sank into a c. and passed an agitated h. over the b.
'Not ill, Jeeves, but all of a twitter. Read these.'
He ran his eye over the dossier...

That grave, dreamy look had come into her face. She massaged the dog Bartholomew's spine with a pensive foot.
'Come on', I said, chafing at the delay. 'Slip it across.'

Didn't bother with coloring this one. Maybe I should have, since all the others were colored, but I didn't feel like it. ;P

With a quick, impulsive movement, like that of a man trying to rid himself of a dead fish, he thrust it at Stiffy, who received it with a soft, tender squeal of ecstasy.
'I brought it', he said dully.
'Oh, Harold!'
'I brought your gloves, too. You left them behind. At least, I've brought one of them. I couldn't find the other.'

More art to come soon. I have at least 4 more pictures ready for posting, and there's a watercolor that's been waiting a long time to get painted.