Jenkins followed his boss, five feet behind as always, quiet as a ghost. It seemed the fool was being lead less by the ringing of the bells and more by his nose. They came upon the double doors that separated the dining room from the rest of the house.

“Would you look at this,” Mr. Gates proclaimed in a great bellow, “Geoff knows how to eat like a man!”

Jenkins nodded at to that astute proclamation. “Indeed, sir, that he does.”

What a feast, he thought to himself, it must of taken days to cook. He wanted nothing more than to sit at the table, next to his boss who sat himself to the left of the head of the table. But Jenkins knew what would happen if he did. He knew that according to his boss ‘the help’ shouldn’t dine with the ‘master.’ He really was a pompous ass.

But he was his boss, he told himself with a barely audible sigh.