L2-1-2

As time passed, I saw that Bartleby never went out to eat dinner.

Indeed, he never went anywhere.

At eleven o 'clock each morning, one of the men would bring Bartleby some ginger cakes.

Mm, he lives on them, I thought.

Poor fellow.

He is a little foolish at times, but he is useful to me.

Bartleby, I said one afternoon, please go to the post office and bring my mail.

I do not want to.

I walked back to my office, too shocked to think.

Let's see, the problem here is one of my workers named Bartleby will not do some of the things

I ask him to do.

One important thing about him, though, he is always in his office.

One Sunday I walked to my office to do some work.

When I placed the key in the door, I couldn't open it.

I stood a little surprised, then called, thinking someone might be inside.

There was.

Bartleby.

He came from his office and told me he did not want to let me in.

The idea of Bartleby living in my law office had a strange effect on me.

I slunk away much like a dog does when it has been shouted at with its tail between its

legs.

Was anything wrong?

I did not for a moment believe Bartleby would keep a woman in my office, but for some time

he must have eaten, dressed, and slept there.

How lonely and friendless Bartleby must be.

I decided to help him.

The next morning I called him to my office.

Bartleby, will you tell me anything about yourself?

I do not want to.

I sat down with him and said, you do not have to tell me about your personal history, but

when you finish writing that document...