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belonged to an Insurance Company. They would have torn it
down long ago--so they had often assured him-were it not for
the fact that Simon's father, an old friend of the Company's
president, had expressed the desire that his son should live in the
house as long as he pleased. Now, doubtless, they were trying to
smoke him out with undesirable neighbors.... For a moment,
Simon sat quite calmly, pulling his lip and considering what
attitude he should take. The squat man with the bandaged head
-one of his legs was shorter than the other-was hopping about
with great agility, helping the truck-driver unload mattresses, bed–
springs, ancient dressers and even (Simon peered out through the
arched window and caught every detail) some painted orange
crates. But execrably painted, like the canvas wall of a side-show
tent. He decided, finally, upon consternation; and he had a moment
of bitterness. He was poor, patronized by fools, ignored by his
peers. This was indeed the last straw!
He jumped up, ran to his bedroom, seized his old opera cape
and the stick he had inherited from his great-grandfather. After
a moment's reflection, he also took his black Homburg hat. Thus
accoutred, what would he do? Throw himself into the lake?
Deliver a denunciation from the porch-steps? He hadn't the
vaguest idea. Perhaps, at bottom, he did not really believe that
these people were coming to live in his house. He was five feet
four inches tall, quite serious, quite consternated. Yet he gave
an almost joyful laugh, muttered
sic transit gloria,
and imagined
himself describing to his friends what a droll figure he made as
he ran to the foyer and opened the door.
He found himself face to face with the Negro. The three
women were still choreographically grouped on the sidewalk. The
empty truck had driven away. Simon dropped his stick, picked
it up, found the man's outstretched hand before him. He shook it.
"My name's Wiley Bey," said the Negro, in a very deep voice.
"Yes, of course."
"Wiley
Bey."
There was a moment of silence.
"I'm not moving in here to hide out," said the Negro. "They
can't scare me or the Temple with newspaper articles. I told the
man, if the government ask where I live, just tell them."
"Yes, of course, I see," muttered Simon again. He was in-
