“That's English for washing my face and combing my hair and putting my socks on, ain't it?”
“Well, sir, it means doing all you require, and being always in attendance when you change.”
“How much do you get for it?”
“Thirty shillings a week, sir.”
“Say, Pearson,” said Tembarom, with honest feeling, “I'll give you sixty shillings a week NOT to do it.”
Calmed though he had felt a few moments ago, it cannot be denied that Pearson was aghast. How could one be prepared for developments of such an order?
“Not to do it, sir!” he faltered. “But what would the servants think if you had no one to valet you?”
“That's so. What would they think?” But he evidently was not dismayed, for he smiled widely. “I guess the plainclothes man would throw a fit.”
But Pearson's view was more serious and involved a knowledge of not improbable complications. He knew “the hall” and its points of view.
“I couldn't draw my wages, sir,” he protested. “There'd be the greatest dissatisfaction among the other servants, sir, if I didn't do my duties. There's always a—a slight jealousy of valets and ladies'-maids. The general idea is that they do very little to earn their salaries. I've seen them fairly hated.”