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the cooperation of the Bishop, but his visit to the
obispado
had not
been a success. The Bishop had heard him out politely enough, but
had perhaps been diverted from Bradshaw's exposition of his program
by the sight of a Phi Beta Kappa medal depending from the moorings
of a chain at Bradshaw's trouser belt. During the interview the Bishop'S
bright black eyes wandered to this enigmatic amulet. Clearly, he
feared this Greek bearing gifts. A Mason doubtless. Were not all the
American Presidents Masons? They would surely select a lodge–
brother for such a mission. Yet the cleric had expressed a general
benevolence to Bradshaw's somewhat vague purposes, but at the men–
tion of the cooperation given by Senor Orquienz had stiffened some–
what in manner and said something inaudible to the secretary who
stood at his elbow. But Bradshaw on the whole was pleased with his
visit (he had hoped merely to neutralize the Church rather than en–
list its cooperation; after all, he could hardly expect this feudal in–
stitution to look happily on Bradshaw's program, which was to cram
the Bishop's flock into greasy overalls-the Mother Hubbards, one
might say, of industrial society). On the other hand, he had felt a
pleasurable, undergraduate kind of
enfant terrible
naughtiness when
he learned later that he had been the subject of an actual sermon
at San Rafael y Todos Los Angeles in which the faithful had been
warned agai!Ilst
iluminismo,
apparently some pernicious form of Free–
masonry, and that his mission and Point IV-the object of his
most laborious explanation to the Bishop-had regrettably taken on
some sinister numerological significance-in impious competition,
it seems, with the Santa Trinidad.
He had heard of this, of course, from Senor Orquienz, who true
to his period type, professed a progressive Wellsian contempt for re–
ligion. This, Bradshaw thought, explained the Bishop's evident dis–
taste at the mention of the man's name; in any case, Senor Orquienz
was far too useful for Bradshaw to quibble over his character. Ac–
tually, he had become rather fond of the man, once he had decided
to be amused at his pathetic efforts to resemble George Follinsbee
Babbitt.
For his part, Senor Orquienz was quite unaware that Babbitt
was as dead as Cotton Mather or Buffalo Bill, that he had, in fact,
been slain by Bradshaw's generation. He quite simply assumed that
Bradshaw's mission was concerned with making money. What else?
