I WILL FEAR NO EVIL by Robert A. Heinlein

“So am I, Eunice. Now shut up.”

“Yes, sir.” (Unh! Eunice, nobody ever tells me anything.) (Shut up, twin, and pay attention to what you’re doing!)

Joan Eunice reached for the intercom by her bed, tapped it for Cunningham, then reached for Roberto’s hand.

“Yes, Miss?”

“Cunningham, I want breakfast for four, served in my lounge.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Placed in my lounge, rather, with warmers and coolers. No service. I have no idea when Mr. Salomon and Dr. Garcia will wake up, but I want to be hostessish and ready to serve them myself when they do. But Winnie and I want to eat.” She winked at the doctor, squeezed his hand.

“Certainly, Miss.”

“They need their sleep. Tell me, Cunningham—you’ve known me a long time. Have you ever pinned one on?”

“Pardon me, Miss?”

“Go on a luau, get so fried you can’t find the floor with both feet. Drunk and disorderly.”

“I have sometimes—in the past—come down with that ailment.”

“Then you know what a delicate condition we are in—Winnie and myself at least and I have reason to believe that the gentlemen will not be in much better shape. But there was excellent excuse.”

“I heard about the trouble, Miss. Too bad.”

“Cunningham, I did not mean Charlie. This may be callous of me. . . but he was a bully who picked a fight, and lost.”

“Oh. If I may say so, Miss, he was not liked belowstairs. Uh, we really did not like having him in the house.”

“I know. I would have put a stop to it long ago except that he worked for Mr. Salomon, not me—and I owe Mr. Salomon a great deal. No, the ‘excellent excuse’ was something else. We were celebrating an engagement.”

Cunningham said cautiously, “Should I offer congratu­lations, Miss?”

“Yes, but not to me. Dr. Garcia is marrying Winifred.”

“Oh! That’s fine, Miss. But we’ll miss her.”

“I am hoping that we will not have to miss her. This is a big house, Cunningham, much too large for one person. Or for two whenever Mr. Salomon can be persuaded to honor us. Not often enough, that is to say—but the Counselor is afraid that he will cause gossip about me.”

“Uh, may I speak plainly, Miss?’

“Any time you don’t, Cunningham, I shall be offended.”

“Mr. Salomon is a fine gentleman. But if he worries about that—well, it’s silly, that’s all I can say. The staff do not gossip about his presence. They respect him.”

“Perhaps you can tell him, he won’t listen to me. But today I’m simply concerned that he sleep as late as possible. He must go to Washington tonight; you know. When you bring up breakfast, don’t go past his door; go around the other way. You can’t disturb me or Winnie; we are awake. And be certain that Hubert doesn’t come fussing around until Mr. Salomon sends for him.”

“He won’t, Miss; he never does.”

“He used to, sometimes, when he was tending me—be a touch noisy when he thought I should be up. So keep him off this floor. Keep everyone off this floor until I call you—that includes all cleaning, everything. Except, of course, that I want you to bring up breakfast—with whatever help you need—promptly.”

“Yes, Miss. Perhaps coffee and juice at once?”

“No, we don’t want to be disturbed twice; my ears might fall off. You’ll find evidence of the debacle in my lounge—a case lot of empty magnums. Remove them—quietly—for Heaven’s sake don’t bang one against another; I can hear an ant stomp this morning. Pencil ready? We need a simple, nourishing breakfast. At least four cups of coffee each, double orders of orange juice, half grapefruits, either pinks or the big Arizonas, scrambled eggs, poached eggs, some link sausages and breakfast steaks. Better include cold cuts and sliced cheeses. Oh, toast and muffins and jam and such. Flatbread. And a big pitcher of ice-cold milk for cereal, I think this is a cereal morning. Some decent, quiet, well ­brought-up cereal that doesn’t snap, crackle, or pop. That’s all. Unless you know a remedy for a hangover.”

“Well, Miss, when I was tending Mr. Armbrust before I went to work for you, I used to mix something that he thought well of.”

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