The Servant Problem | Page 5

icily. "I do hope you found
the yard in order."
[Illustration]
The yellow dress she was wearing did not match the tone of her voice,
and the frilly blue apron tied round her waist belied the frostiness of her
gray-green eyes. Nevertheless, her rancor was real. "Sorry," he said. "I
didn't know your back yard was out of bounds." Then, "If you'll give
me a list of the places you 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