THE FRIENDLY
WITNESS
349
He was honestly shocked at the brazenness of Bowman's tele–
gram. The Mayor would rather have taken poison than deny the
gift-and, alas, there
was
a witness! Freed from the noose of
friendship, he allowed the most devastating criticism of Charlie
Bowman to enter his consciousness. Only a tasteless, crude, dis–
honorable man could have acted in such a manner. Driving up in
his golden Cadillac convertible, the benefactor had interrupted John–
son as he was in a hesitant but fascinating conversation with Mrs.
Morton. Rosy-cheeked, noisy with keys and change clattering in his
pockets, refreshed after a swim (he loved to loll and paddle in
water), Bowman plunged into this earnest conversation between
neighbors, flashed a roll of hundred dollar bills, peeled off five,
slapped Johnson on the back and-so painful to remember the
Mayor had forgot it until now-said with wild jocularity, "Now
that little Susie's taken care of, she'll look after my interests in
case her old man gets the big head and wants to put the skids on
me!" And Johnson, fatally pursuing the affectionate, reassuring tone
of their friendship, had, of all things, winked and said, "Nobody ever
heard of a town without one crooked lane and I guess the present
administration won't try to improve upon nature!"
How beautifully the sun had shone this very morning on Mrs.
Morton's house, melting the last ledges of snow on the window
sill. Of course, Johnson saw now, Mrs. Morton was the source of the
story about the gift and the evangelicals had somehow got wind of
it and used it for their own ends. The Mayor hurt in a hundred places,
as though his bruised pride had made even his flesh raw and sore. He
had no difficulty imagining the excitement going on now at his
expense, because Mrs. Morton, when the occasion demanded, was
capable of the most penetrating abuse. She had a ready way with the
telephone and, arising at dawn and breakfasting in bed, thought noth–
ing of opening up communications at eight or so in the morning.
"There's something despotic in her," the Mayor thought, remembering
the tales told about her deceased husband's endurances. (Had Mr.
Morton
really
had a mistress in Cincinnati, a woman in the notions
department at
Pogue's?)
But the Mayor found no peace in these
petty speculations. The truth was that the respect of Mrs. Morton and
her kind was more dear and precious to him than anything in the
world. Losing it would be the most killing deprivation, the loss of
