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.