The Servant Problem | Page 5

want evaluated, I'll get started right away."
"I'll take you around again personally--after we have breakfast."
Again he was consigned to the living room while she performed the necessary culinary operations, and again she served him by tray. Clearly she did not want him in the kitchen, or anywhere near it. He was not much of a one for mysteries, but this one was intriguing him more and more by the minute.
Breakfast over, she told him to wait on the front porch while she did the dishes, and instructed Zarathustra to keep him company. She had two voices: the one she used in addressing Zarathustra contained overtones of summer, and the one she used in addressing Philip contained overtones of fall. "Some day," Philip told the little dog, "that chip she carries on her shoulder is going to fall off of its own accord, and by then it will be too late--the way it was too late for me when I found out that the person I'd been running away from all my life was myself in wolf's clothing."
"Ruf," said Zarathustra, looking up at him with benign golden eyes. "Ruf-ruf!"
* * * * *
Presently Judith re-appeared, sans apron, and the three of them set forth into the golden October day. It was Philip's first experience in evaluating an entire village, but he had a knack for estimating the worth of property, and by the time noon came around, he had the job half done. "If you people had made even half an effort to keep your places up," he told Judith over cold-cut sandwiches and coffee in her living room, "we could have asked for a third again as much. Why in the world did you let everything go to pot just because you were moving some place else?"
She shrugged. "It's hard to get anyone to do housework these days--not to mention gardening. Besides, in addition to the servant problem, there's another consideration--human nature. When you've lived in a shack all your life and you suddenly acquire a palace, you cease caring very much what the shack looks like."
"Shack!" Philip was indignant. "Why, this house is lovely! Practically every house you've shown me is lovely. Old, yes--but oldness is an essential part of the loveliness of houses. If Pfleugersville is on the order of most housing developments I've seen, you and your neighbors are going to be good and sorry one of these fine days!"
"But Pfleugersville isn't on the order of most housing developments you've seen. In fact, it's not a housing development at all. But let's not go into that. Anyway, we're concerned with Valleyview, not Pfleugersville."
"Very well," Philip said. "This afternoon should wind things up so far as the appraising goes."
* * * * *
That evening, after a coffee-less supper--both the gas and the water had been turned off that afternoon--he totaled up his figures. They made quite a respectable sum. He looked across the coffee table, which he had commandeered as a desk, to where Judith, with the dubious help of Zarathustra, was sorting out a pile of manila envelopes which she had placed in the middle of the living-room floor. "I'll do my best to sell everything," he said, "but it's going to be difficult going till we get a few families living here. People are reluctant about moving into empty neighborhoods, and businessmen aren't keen about opening up business places before the customers are available. But I think it'll work out all right. There's a plaza not far from here that will provide a place to shop until the local markets are functioning, and Valleyview is part of a centralized school district." He slipped the paper he had been figuring on into his brief case, closed the case and stood up. "I'll keep in touch with you."
Judith shook her head. "You'll do nothing of the sort. As soon as you leave, I'm moving to Pfleugersville. My business here is finished."
"I'll keep in touch with you there then. All you have to do is give me your address and phone number."
She shook her head again. "I could give you both, but neither would do you any good. But that's beside the point. Valleyview is your responsibility now--not mine."
Philip sat back down again. "You can start explaining any time," he said.
"It's very simple. The property owners of Valleyview signed all of their houses and places of business over to me. I, in turn, have signed all of them over to you--with the qualification, of course, that after selling them you will be entitled to no more than your usual commission." She withdrew a paper from one of the manila envelopes. "After selling them," she went on, "you are to divide the proceeds equally among the four charities specified in this contract." She handed him the paper. "Do you understand