Arctic regions -- Discovery and exploration -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
"You wouldn't be wanting a man about the place, would you, sir?" And
before Bennett could reply he continued eagerly, "I've been a bit of
most trades in my time, and I know how to take care of a garden like as
you have here; I'm a main good hand with plants and flower things, and I
could help around generally." Then, earnestly, "Let me stay, sir--it
won't cost--I wouldn't think of taking a cent from you, captain. Just
let me act as your orderly for a spell, sir. I'd sure give satisfaction;
will you, sir--will you?"
"Nonsense, Adler," returned Bennett; "stay, if you like. I presume I can
find use for you. But you must be paid, of course."
"Not a soomarkee," protested the other almost indignantly.
The next day Adler brought his chest down from the City and took up his
quarters with Bennett at Medford. Though Dr. Pitts had long since ceased
to keep horses, the stable still adjoined the house, and Adler swung his
hammock in the coachman's old room. Bennett could not induce him to room
in the house itself. Adler prided himself that he knew his place. After
their first evening's conversation he never spoke to Bennett until
spoken to first, and the resumed relationship of commander and
subordinate was inexpressibly dear to him. It was something to see Adler
waiting on the table in the "glass-room" in his blue jersey, standing at
attention at the door, happy in the mere sight of Bennett at his meals.
In the mornings, as soon as breakfast was ready, it was Adler's
privilege to announce the fact to Bennett, whom he usually found already
at work upon his writing. Returning thence to the dining-room, Adler
waited for his lord to appear. As soon as he heard Bennett's step in the
hall a little tremor of excitement possessed him. He ran to Bennett's
chair, drawing it back for him, and as soon as Bennett had seated
himself circled about him with all the pride and solicitude of a
motherly hen. He opened his napkin for him, delivered him his paper, and
pushed his cup of coffee a half-inch nearer his hand. Throughout the
duration of the meal he hardly took his eyes from Bennett's face,
watching his every movement with a glow of pride, his hands gently
stroking one another in an excess of satisfaction and silent enjoyment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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