Seated in the chair, his elbow on the small table, Walter Bates acted as though he were listening, but he kept his anxious bright eyes busy on individual faces in the two hundred odd visible to him. He had the perceptions of long experience with these same people. Years of presiding meekly over the stubborn deadlocking of the clever and resolute gave him insight and that special knowledge of character gained from disinterestedly watching men quarrelling about what they wanted. Most of them had become perfectly transparent to him.
Looking at Charles Ordway, he could see that Charley was being adroit. Fundamentally a simple person, he had learned in Hartford that safety lay in listening. There had been a time when he was argumentative, imagining that politics required talk. Now he shunned like death the loud exchange of gratuitous opinions. Observation or experience had taught him that no positive statement could ever be so innocent that, somewhere, it would not give offence. Only a few people—and those not important—might resent and remember; but the multitudinous roots of a political career were planted far and wide in popular goodwill. One root nipped was nothing; even a hundred hardly mattered; but if he just kept talking, good easy man, Hartford would suddenly see him no more. In this business here, Charles Ordway probably had nothing to lose by being against Doctor Bull; but since it had not been demonstrated that he would gain anything, it was better to sit in amiable grave vacancy until a secret ballot gave him expression. When the majority had been determined, it would be time enough to announce that he was with it. Walter Bates did not condemn him. Considering his own life, he saw in it nothing very brave or noble, either. After all Charley's motives were not malicious. He didn't want to hurt anybody—not even himself.
There were other faces in this blankness of waiting. Some-of them, like Howard Upjohn's, showed a distinctive earnest naïveté. Honestly attending, Howard thought that if he listened he would learn. He wore his funeral expression, reverent but watchful; yet he was his own man and would vote as it seemed to him that he ought. The truth was that anyone could convince him, with a little talk, that anything was right: but the formality would have to be gone through with, and it was a delicate one. The first person to make a point which Howard would not have thought of himself, a point whose logic and aptness came to him with the dazzle of unexpected or disregarded evidence, would also make a convert. Eric Cadbury hadn't managed it; perhaps, because he did not seem to be trying to, and Howard was still waiting, not missing a word, lest it be the one he wanted. It was apparent that Eric Cadbury was not going to try. He said: "I guess I've said my say, Walter. I hope that covers the facts."
He sat down without ceremony and Walter Bates struck lightly with the mallet.
"Mr. Chairman."
"Mr. Herring."
Matthew Herring had the advantage of being six or seven inches taller than Eric Cadbury. Since mounting the platform would be considered a suspicious affectation, height had its value in demanding attention on the floor. Turning from the chair, Matthew Herring's composed, parchment-coloured face was visible to everyone. He said: "You heard Eric Cadbury's summing up of the facts. The question, as I think you all agree, is whether or not these facts, stated without comment or prejudice, constitute just grounds for requesting the resignation of the Health Officer; and, in event of failing to get that, for demanding that the County Health Officer remove him. I need hardly say that in my opinion, they do."
He paused, deliberately and calmly looking around the hall. "I see that Doctor Bull does not consider this meeting of sufficient importance to warrant attendance. Since he has chosen to absent himself, it is necessary to conclude that there is nothing he cares to say in defence or explanation. Perhaps, however, that is just as well. I cannot conceive of an interpretation of facts like these which would in any way improve his position.
"Now it may be objected that Doctor Bull has not shown any wrong intent, or tried in any way to profit personally or irregularly through his office; and that a difference of opinion may therefore fairly exist on whether or not his negligence is actually criminal. This is a matter for the Grand Jury to determine; and the facts will be brought to their attention.
"What we have to determine is whether or not a man in Doctor Bull's responsible position can possibly be blameless in fact, whatever technicalities protect him in law, when he has admittedly neglected his duties. The disastrous results of this neglect, in illness, distress, and death, make the question not altogether academic. Nor is there anything in Doctor Bull's past behaviour to suggest that this was the single oversight in a long career of faithful attention to the public welfare. On the contrary! What zeal he has shown seems usually to have been by way of annoying individuals with whom he was not on good terms. Aside from such episodes, I think the general experience is that he has never been known to trouble to perform any duties which he found even slightly inconvenient. A similar carelessness and neglect has distinguished his work in connection with the School Committee. I think that examples of it are known to you all.
"Putting it as mildly as possible, I do not think that, Doctor Bull has shown himself to be a careful and conscientious official. I do not think that his personal attitude has ever been one of devotion to his profession, or to the well-being of the people it commits to his charge. Walter, I think we might open the matter to general discussion. I suggest—I move, in fact—that such discussion be limited to two minutes for each speaker, if there are speakers."
"You've heard Mr. Herring's motion. All in favour —Matthew,-" Walter Bates interposed, "could I trouble you to lend me your watch? Mine doesn't seem to be going—contrary minded —" He took the watch, laid it before him, and raised the mallet.
"No!" said Robert Newell loudly. "I move we limit all discussions to one minute!" He lowered his voice very little, saying ostensibly to James Clark beside him, "Be here the rest of the morning listening to these damn windbags."
"I think the ayes already have it, Robert," Walter Bates said. "Your motion wasn't in order, so I won't put it to vote.- All right. Do I hear —"
"My God!" groaned Robert Newell. "Old man Slade in person!" He took out his own watch.
"Mr. Chairman; People of New Winton —" Old man Slade's voice had a quality harsh and querulous. "You'd think he wasn't real," Robert Newell told Mr. Clark. "He ought to be stuffed and put in the library with that skunk Harry Weems gave them."
Mr. Slade clamped his mouth shut, his short grey beard wagging on his gnarled chin. "As I was saying," he resumed viciously, looking at the back of Robert Newell's head, "I think Mr. Herring left out one thing that has a lot of bearing. This town's always been a decent town and stood for decent living and morals. I think George Bull's been a blot on it long enough. He's an immoral, godless —"
"Hey, two minutes up, Walter!" Robert Newell raised his watch.
"I ain't going to stop until I finish," Mr. Slade said. "I ain't had anything like two minutes. Newell's had 'bout minute and a half."
"Please don't interrupt, Robert. You just make it longer."
"Now, those of us who've got sons and daughters growing up into Christian men and women"—a low, sardonic whistle, which might have been Grant Williams, and could have been read to the effect that Mr. Slade didn't know as much about his own daughter's growing up as he might have, rose and fell away, but Mr. Slade decided to ignore it—"well, what sort of an impression do their growing minds get when they see a man in Doc Bull's position doing the things he's well known to do. I ain't afraid to name names. Let him and Miss Cardmaker —"
From the back, Harry Weems called: "Ah, leave your names out of it, Slade. Tell us what you know, not what you think."
"I know, young fellow —" Mr. Slade said, turning about.
"If he don't," called Joel Parry, "I do. Ask Doc Bull where his car was last night. Ask him where his car had been plenty of nights before! I see Belle Rogers over there. Ask her what —"
Walter Bates began banging with the mallet. "Order!" he said. "Order! Sit down, Mr. Parry. You can't have t
he floor until you're properly recognized." He went on banging against the mounting uproar. "I want to say," he shouted as loud as he could, "that as chairman of this meeting, I think Mr. Herring left out what he did for good reasons. We aren't considering any private affairs of Doctor Bull's. I'm going to treat any more discussion of them as out of order. Mr. Slade, your time is up. Do I hear anyone address the chair?"
"Yes, you hear me, Walter," his wife said, standing up. "I don't believe you have any right to limit discussions just because you don't like them; but never mind that. I've been talking to Mrs. Ordway and Mrs. Vogel, and I think I can say I'm speaking for the mothers of —"
"Oh, God!" Robert Newell groaned. "Don't you interrupt me, Robert Newell! There's plenty that could be said about you, too. You just keep quiet! Those of us who have children sick at home due to Doctor Bull's ignorant incompetence aren't interested in your scoffing. You ought to be ashamed of yourself! New Winton ought to be just as ashamed of having you for a Selectman as having Doctor Bull for a doctor. We're good and tired of the one; you look out we don't get tired of the other—if we're not already, as I am. Now, I think we ought to take a vote, and never mind about all this speech-making. There's no reason to mix everybody up." She sat down. Walter Bates said: "Do I hear any others?" John Ely, rising, said: "Mr. Chairman, I think there's another thing ought to be gone into- —" He had to pause while continued conversation made it impossible to hear him; and he might have sat down, but Mrs. Ely gave him several sharp, confirming nods.
"Mr. Chairman —"
Walter Bates hammered again. "Mr. Ely has the floor! Please come to order —"
"I just wanted to say," Mr. Ely continued, his startled pale blue eyes turning in his whitish face, "I think another thing we ought to know about is Mrs. Talbot's being sent away. We all know Mary Talbot; known her since she was that high. When was she ever crazy? How did they get to send her away when her own cousin, Mrs. Darrow, and Clarence Upjohn will bear me out because he and Doctor Bull had a set-to about it, said herself she didn't really think she was anything but kind of upset. Now, it looks funny to some of us. First there's Mamie dying; and I guess everybody knows Doc Bull never came near her the whole day. I guess you might say he just let her die. Not three weeks later he finds a way to get rid of Mary Talbot. She won't be around reproaching him for killing her daughter. She won't —"
"Ah," said Robert Newell, "be your age, John!"
Mrs. Bates shrilled out. "You stay out of this! Everybody knows you don't care anything about this town's welfare—don't you hit that hammer at me, Walter, when you let him keep making his smart remarks! We have our own opinions about Mamie's death, and what happened to her mother. Any man who can treat a woman the way Robert Newell is well known to treat Alice wouldn't be expected to mind seeing another woman put in the asylum for life —"
The uproar regained its volume instantly. Whether they had come for this or not, it was only human to be gratified by so rich a type of the entertainment any town meeting under Walter Bates was always on the verge of presenting. In this case, while it would be generally felt that Emma Bates over-reached herself and had no right to make Alice Newell's probably hard and unhappy life a matter of what amounted to public record, still it was a show of gumption; you couldn't walk all over Emma Bates and get away with it!
Perfectly recognizing the complications to be expected in heating up some such side issue, Matthew Herring got to his feet, stood looking about the hall patiently.
"Mr. Chairman," he said when he could, "I think Mrs. Bates' first suggestion, that we ought to proceed with a vote, was sensible. I think the details of Doctor Bull's behaviour are familiar, and his attitude well enough understood —"
"What do you mean, Matthew?" said Henry Harris. "Do you mean that you believe that Doc Bull put Mrs. Talbot in the asylum to shut her up? If you don't mean that, better say so. People might think you did."
"In answer to Mr. Harris' interruption, I'll say that I don't mean that. That seems to be the opinion of Mr. Ely and some others; but those who hold it ought to know that Doctor Bull did not and could not act alone in such a matter. Sympathy, which I am sure everyone feels for Mrs. Talbot's misfortunes, is one thing; the assumption that Doctor Bull would behave so improperly is another, and I think, not justified. I will now ask the chairman to read to the meeting a resolution which will be offered for your adoption. In event of its being satisfactory to you, it will be forwarded to the proper—" He stopped, for one of the double doors at the back had been thrown open, admitting a long shaft of brilliant cold sunlight. There was a universal quick turning, a prompt amazing dead silence. At the back, the people standing parted; the door went banging shut, and George Bull came down the aisle. He had reached the centre of the hall, with no one moving and no one saying anything.
In this hush Henry Harris' voice arose abruptly, distinct and cheerful. "Well, George," he said, "late again!"
George Bull stood still. "Somebody knows why I'm late," he said. "Who cut the tyres on my car last night? He's here, all right. Is he man enough to stand up and say he did it? Well! I'm waiting!"
"Yeah," cried a voice, suddenly revived, "and where was your car when he cut 'em? You've been whoring around here long enough —"
"I'll take care of my business. I'll take care of where I go and what I do. Who doesn't like it?"
There was a stir now of general recovery, and, jumping to answer the challenge, a low growing murmur. "What are you going to do, George? Lick the whole town?" Robert Newell had faced about in his chair, grinning.
"Mr. Chairman," Matthew Herring said, "I think Doctor Bull is out of order."
"Sit down, Herring! First thing you know, you'll be out of order for a month."
"I have the floor at present, Doctor. I suggest that you sit down until you're recognized by the chair —"
"Do you want me to come and sit you down?"
Matthew Herring looked at him, unmoved. "You don't impress me with your threats, Doctor Bull. If you have anything to say, we are ready to listen to it; but I would advise you not to begin by attempting to bully the meeting. We have been patient for a long time; but I think the moment for a reckoning has finally come. You won't help yourself by —"
"So that's how you stand, is it? All right, Walter. Let me have this floor he's so worried about, and I'll tell you how I stand. I don't know who's doing all this grunting and groaning I hear, but let 'em keep still —" The murmur rose louder and he roared out:
"I came here to try to make you half-wits see sense. Are you going to let me try or aren't you?"
"Throw him out!"
"Well, well, Joel!" He wheeled about. "I'll be seeing you afterwards. Unless you think you'd better start running now —"
Walter Bates began to hammer again on the table, but the hubbub had risen beyond that. The roar had a sharp edge, angry, chattering, a score of voices shouting their separate answers together. "So you don't want to hear, huh? Well, you'll hear this, you jabbering baboons! I can shout louder than the lot of you!" George Bull's tremendous voice went up in thunder; and he was right, he could. "What I have to say to you is, you and Mat Herring's meeting can go to blazes. I'll see you all in hell before I'll oblige you by resigning! If you can get me out, if you have any case, and the sense to handle it, why, God damn you, do it!"
Turning, he went down the aisle, with people recoiling before him, people, outraged, yelling after him. At the closed door, he put a hand on Grant Williams' shoulder, spun him aside. The sunlight poured dazzling in, his great shadow dropped down the aisle, and he cut it off, closing the door behind him so that all the windows shook.
FOUR
l
HENRY HARRIS, standing up, said: "A man who loses his temper in a matter like this never makes a very favourable impression. Instead of helping, he hurts himself. When he cusses out his listeners, they resent it. They get all hot and start shouting back, and there you are. It's a pity."
He paused, letting his gaze move about. "Put
ting all that down for The Times, Miss Kimball?" he asked. "I hope you mention my name." He grinned at her a moment, and raising his voice a little, clear and sharp, said: "I've heard tell that they who draw the sword, shall perish by the sword. That means it's a risky thing to start a fight, because, once fighting's in the air, you can't tell where it'll stop. No, sir! Anything might happen. Well, I'll have to say what's on my mind anyway. Suppose Doc Bull's not perfect? Who is? Well, I don't want to start an argument now, Matthew, so I'll say I guess you're pretty near perfect. And Herbert Banning's perfect, of course. I'm not denying it. But you two aside, most of us just do the best we can, and usually it's not so good.
"You saw George Bull go out of here pretty mad. A lot of enthusiasts yelled him down. They don't want him to get a hearing. Those who are setting them on may be scared that, if they could hear George, they might get mixed up and think he wasn't so bad after all —
"You've heard people tell you he ought to have done this. He ought to have done that. Sure, he should. Sure, we all should have done God knows how many things we never did do. I can see now that I ought never to have let that camp site to the Interstate Company without making sure about the drainage first. I didn't bother. All I wanted was the rent money. Now, let me ask you, which one of you knows all about the drainage of any piece of land he might own back in the hills? Which one of you gives a damn? Which one of you wouldn't try to realize some money on it first chance he got without fooling around trying to make all kinds of crazy investigations?"
The Last Adam Page 23
