The Kitchen Intimate

Milt had intended to be a silent but deft servitor. When he had heard
that he was to come to supper with the returned Mr. Geoffrey Saxton, he
had first been panic-shaken, then resolved. He'd "let old iron-face
Saxton do the high and mighty. Let him stand around and show off his
clothes and adjectives, way he did at Flathead Lake." But he, Milt,
would be "on the job." He'd help get supper, and calmly ignore Jeff's
rudeness.

Only--Jeff wasn't rude. He greeted Milt with, "Ah, Daggett! This is so
nice!" And Milt had no chance to help. It was Jeff who anticipated him
and with a pleasant, "Let me get that--I'm kitchen-broke," snatched up
the cold ham and salad. It was Jeff who found the supper plates, while
Milt was blunderingly wondering how any one family could use a "whole
furniture-store-full of different kinds of china." It was Jeff who
sprang to help Claire wheel in the tea-wagon, and so captured the chance
to speak to her for which Milt had been maneuvering these five minutes.

When they were settled, Jeff glowed at him, and respectfully offered, "I
thought of you so often, Daggett, on a recent little jaunt of mine.
You'd have been helpful."

"Where was that?" asked Milt suspiciously (wondering, and waiting to
see, whether you could take cold ham in your fingers).

"Oh, in Alaska."

"In--Alaska?" Milt was dismayed.

"Yes, just a business trip there. There's something I wish you'd advise
me about."

He was humble. And Milt was uneasy. He grumbled, "What's that?"