That Day the Rabbi Left Town by Harry Kemelman Page B

there’ll be a lot of speeches.”
    â€œI don’t mind, if you think you’ll enjoy it.”
    Although the time of his visits to the Clark house was after most of the faculty had gone home, nevertheless, he had been observed, and some who taught extension classes had seen him leaving. In a curious way, he sensed that it had given him a new importance. When he talked about some of the people he had met—for after the Sloan party, he had squired Matilda Clark to other affairs—his colleagues were inclined to listen. For example, when the press reported on the changes Harvey Challenger was planning for the public library system and his colleagues in the English Department were discussing them, he was able to say, “The man is an idiot.”
    â€œYou know him?”
    â€œI met him at a party.”
    But it was more than that. Seemingly, it was not the important people he met through Matilda Clark, but his friendship with the lady herself, that was giving him importance. It occurred to him that perhaps it was assumed that she had influence with the Board of Trustees. He decided to test it.
    At his next meeting with her, he remarked that he had been offered a job in the Midwest, and that he was thinking of taking it.
    â€œOh, you mustn’t do that. You mustn’t leave Windermere.”
    â€œI’m not doing very well here. I’m only an assistant professor, and I don’t even have tenure after all the years I’ve been here.”
    â€œWhy, that’s terrible. I’ll tell you what: I’ll speak to Charlie Dobson.”
    â€œCharlie Dobson? Who’s he?”
    â€œHe has that big Cadillac agency on Commonwealth Avenue, and he’s on the Board of Trustees.” She reflected for a moment and then said, “The next quarterly meeting of the Board is in a couple of weeks, so I’ll go to see him tomorrow. He’ll need a little time to contact the others, you know.”
    Among the many announcements that were made following the meeting of the Board was one that Assistant Professor Malcolm Kent had been promoted to associate professor and granted tenure.
    With his promotion and its accompanying tenure, he no longer worried that his lack of academic background might be discovered. Even if by some fluke it were found that he had no degree, would the college dare to admit it after he had taught there for so many years and was now an associate professor? It would reflect on the academic standing of all the students who had passed under his hand.
    Since he now taught a couple of sections in the survey course, he was able to move into the regular English office, although he retained a desk in the Freshman English office. His colleagues there were older, nearer his own age, and he spent considerable time there, participating in the conversation.
    His colleagues there considered him something of a bore since he was always talking about the important people he knew, but they were careful not to show their distaste because he was thought to have influence with the trustees, and a disparaging word from him might affect their chances of promotion. It was thought that this influence was because of his friendship with Matilda Clark, whom none of them knew, but all were aware that she had clout.
    Since getting his promotion, he had no doubt of it himself, and was careful to keep the friendship alive. Hardly a day went by that he did not contrive to see her, if only for a few minutes to drop off a magazine or a newspaper clipping that he thought might interest her. And she seemed equally anxious to see him. He was someone she could prattle to, or even sit silently with as she watched a video.
    Once as they were having tea and talking about a reception they had attended the day before, he asked, “Do these friends of yours ever ask you about me?”
    â€œOf course they do.”
    â€œAnd what do you tell them?”
    She giggled. “I tell them you’re my