Simon looked up when Zech returned. He looked at the paper and ink, realizing that he had never even gotten to the stage of using it. He had practiced with slates. And after school, he had never attempted to write anything. Would he even know how to use it? He approached the table, but when Zech held out the chair, he frowned. All of this was very strange. How could he sit down and begin to eat in a wealthy gentleman's house? How could he let the man help him into a chair? How was he even in the dining room and now below with the servants? If Meijer wanted what Hurley wanted, he wouldn't have to go through all this trouble. Hurley had never given him food, or let him into any other room but the bedroom - God forbid a servant should see him and talk. Hurley always reminded him of his place. He just couldn't figure out Meijer. "But ser... Mr. Meijer. Surely I should be servin' you, no offence..." He stood frozen in place, unable to decide how to act and not be offensive.