Soaking

Cronk returned to his quarters to find a bottle of bourbon in the usual place the servants left it upon the stand. Cronk pulled the cork out with his teeth, spit it out onto the floor, and took a healthy swig. The maids seemed to do their work well. His room was made up and fresh.

Cronk stretched to ease out the pain of his sore muscles. Walking to the bathroom, he was surprised to see that a large ceramic tub had replaced the smaller version that had been there. They must have read Cronk’s mind, as a soak was what he was thinking for his bruised body.

Disrobing, Cronk inspected his clothes, spying dried blood on the shirt. Unfortunately, Cronk knew of nothing that would remove the stain. Cronk shrugged. Thanks to the Lady Ellington, he had plenty of fresh clothes.

As the water poured into the tub, Cronk peaked into the mirror at the back of his head. Already, there was a scab forming where blood had been oozing out earlier.

Later, as he soaked, Cronk reviewed his day. He had made a mistake going into Sokritis’ office by himself. He wondered if Lady Elizabeth’s magic would have made a difference. Cronk would need to learn to trust others. He was used to relying upon his strength alone. Some things couldn’t be handled by strength.

After soaking a good thirty minutes in hot water, Cronk washed. After drying himself with three normal-sized towels (The staff haven’t had time to get everything his size yet), Cronk put on fresh clothes.

Cronk decided to take a walk outside. Walking by the workshop, Cronk wondered if Pretty Flower likes the pretty flower he had left for her.

He saw himself in front of the door. His ears didn’t pick up the clattering or pounding sounds he had heard earlier. He felt himself knocking upon the door. However, there was no answer. Cronk hadn’t realized that Lady Elizabeth had called Lorem to her study. He sighed, then turned and walked back into the house, entered his room, took another swig from his bottle, then sat down.

He spotted a few periodicals. Picking one up, he looked at the sketches. All Cronk could do was look at the sketch and try to figure what it was. He couldn’t understand the word’s Tabulating Machine.