"Who wants a noisy little servant around?" Fred said helpfully. "And how
about that rock retaining-wall Cliff is always about to build for your
garden? And you really don't love housework, do you, Vicki?"
"I don't mind the chores," she said. "But it might be fun to have a big
fellow like that to shove around." She was trying valiantly to hold up
her end, but the vein in her temple was throbbing.
* * * * *
Well, the next forty-eight hours were more than interesting. Soth turned
out to be what the doctor ordered, literally and figuratively. After I'd
taken him on a tour of the place, I showed him how to work the automatic
devices--food preparation, laundry and cleaning. And after one lesson,
he served us faultless meals with a quiet efficiency that was actually
restful, even miraculously to Vicki.
She began relaxing in his presence and planning a few outside projects
"to get our money's worth" out of the behemoth. This was our earliest
joke about Soth, because he certainly was no expense or problem to
maintain. As the Ollie had promised, he thrived on our table scraps and
a pink concoction which he mixed by pouring a few drops of purple liquid
from a pocket vial into a gallon pitcher of water. The stuff would be
supplied by the Ollies at a cost of about a dollar eighty a week.
Saturday afternoon, Vicki bravely took over teaching him the amenities
of butlering and the intricacies of bed-making. After a short session in
the bedroom, she came out looking thoughtful.
"He's awfully real looking," she said. "And you can't read a darned
thing in his eyes. How far can you trust him, Cliff? You know--around
women?"
Fred looked at me with a raised eyebrow and said, "Well, let's find
out."
We sat down and called Soth into the living room. He came and stood
before us, erect, poised and motionless.