and when the lawyer awakened in the morning, it was to the singing of
a tiny music-box with a clock attachment set for seven o’clock.

The bath was ready; a clean shirt was there on the dresser, with studs
and buttons in place; collar and scarf were near; the suit of clothes
desired hung over a chair; the right pair of shoes, polished like a
mirror, was at hand, and on the mantel was a half-blown rose, with the
dew still upon it, for a boutonniere.

Downstairs, the breakfast, hot and savory, waited.

When the good man was ready to go to the office, silent as a shadow
stood Sam in the hallway, with overcoat, hat and cane in hand.

When the weather was threatening, an umbrella was substituted for the
cane. The door was opened, and the master departed.

When he returned at nightfall, on his approach the door swung wide.

Sam never took a vacation; he seemed not to either eat or sleep.

He was always near when needed; he disappeared when he should.

He knew nothing and he knew everything.

For weeks scarcely a word might pass between these men, they
understood each other so well.

The lawyer grew to have a great affection for his servant.