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Updated: June 14, 2025
And that sour, surly look is all gone. Why, he's almost smilin'. "Well, well!" says I. "How's valetin' these days?" "Oh, it's you, is it?" says he. "Why, I'm getting along fine. Of course, I never could be quite so good at it as as Mr. Nivens was, but he is kind enough to say that I am doing very well. Really, though, it is quite simple.
"Are you crazy, or am I? Are you seriously suggesting that I become your valet?" Nivens shrugs his shoulders. "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.
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 "
Robert explode over something he's just read in the paper. "I say, Torchy," he sings out. "You remember Ham Adams? Well, what do you think he's gone and done now?" "Opened a correspondence school for valets?" says I. "Married!" says Mr. Robert. "A rich widow, too; a Mrs. Grenville Hawks." "Zippo!" says I. "Then he's passed the buck back on Nivens." "I er I beg pardon?" says Mr. Robert.
There is something in the cross-examination of great criminal lawyers like Nivens, of Mariposa, and in the counter examinations of presiding judges like Pepperleigh that thrills you to the core with the astuteness of it. They had Henry Mullins, the manager, on the stand for an hour and a half, and the excitement was so breathless that you could have heard a pin drop. Nivens took him on first.
I just think of the things I should like to have done for me, and well, I do them for him. It's rather interesting, you know." I expect I gawped some myself, hearing that from him. From Ham Adams, mind you! "Ye-e-e-es; must be," says I, sort of draggy. Then I shifts the subject. "How's Mr. Nivens gettin' along?" says I. "Ain't married yet, eh?"
Very often, too, Nivens, the lawyer, who was a sidesman, and Mullins, the manager of the Exchange Bank, who was the chairman of the vestry, would come and take a look, at the figures. But they never could make much of them, because the stipend part was not a matter that one could discuss.
Smith, "what was that figure for bacon?" "Fourteen million dollars," said Nivens. "Not enough," said Mr. Smith, "make it twenty. They'll stand for it, them farmers." Nivens changed it. "And what was that for hay?" "Two dollars a ton." "Shove it up to four," said Mr.
After all, you know, if you get a crowd of representative bank men together in any financial deal, you've got a pretty considerable leverage right away. In the second group were the lawyers, Nivens and Macartney and the rest about as level-headed a lot as you'd see anywhere.
"He only sent that in case you was sick," says I. "You see?" says Ham, turnin' to Nivens. "We've got to worry along the best we can until things brighten up. I may have to sell off some of these things." A cold near-smile flickers across Nivens' thin lips. "You hadn't thought of taking a position, had you, sir?" he asks insinuatin'. "Position!" echoes Ham. "Me?
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