"It occurred to me you'd find that the easiest way of settling your account with me, sir," says he. "Then, too, you could stay on here, almost as though nothing had happened. Quite likely I should go out a bit more than you do, sir. Well, here you'd be: your easy chair, your pictures, your favorite brands of cigars and Scotch. Oh, I assure you, you'll find me quite as gentlemanly about not locking them up as you have been, sir. I should make a few changes, of course; nothing radical, however. And, really, that little back room of mine is very cozy. What would come hardest for you, I suppose, would be the getting up at seven-thirty; but with a good alarm clock, sir, you—"
"Stop!" says Ham. "This—this is absurd. My head's swimming from it. And yet— Well, what if I refuse?"
Nivens lifts his black eyebrows significant.
"I should hope I would not be forced to bring proceedings, sir," says he. "Under the Wage Act, you know—"
"Yes, yes," groans Ham, slumpin' into a chair and restin' his chin on his hands. "I know. You could send me to jail. I should have thought of that. But I—I didn't know how to get along alone. I've never had to, you know, and—"
"Precisely, sir," says Nivens. "And allow me to suggest that another employer might not have the patience to show you your duties. But I shall be getting used to things myself, you know, and I sha'n't mind telling you. If you say so, sir, we'll begin at once."
Ham Adams gulps twice, like he was tryin' to swallow an egg, and then asks:
"Just how do—do you want to—to begin?"
"Why," says Nivens, "you might get my shaving things and lay them out in the bathroom. I think I ought to start by—er—dispensing with these"; and he runs a white hand over the butler siders that frames his ears.
Almost like he was walkin' in his sleep, Ham gets up. He was headed for the back of the suite, all right, starin' straight ahead of him, when of a sudden he turns and catches me watchin'. He stops, and a pink flush spreads from his neck up to his ears.