Flannery O'Connor Complete Short Stories Read Online Free Page B

fellows would vote for Hawk on account of you know what he said about teachers’ salaries. Seems like you would now. Why not? Don’t you want more money?”
    â€œMore money!” Rayber laughed. “Don’t you know that with a rotten governor I’d lose more money than he’d give me?” He realized that he was finally on the barber’s level. “Why, he dislikes too many different kinds of people,” he said. “He’d cost me twice as much as Darmon.”
    â€œSo what if he would?” the barber said. “I ain’t one to pinch money when it does some good. I’ll pay for quality any day.”
    â€œThat’s not what I meant!” Rayber began. “That’s not. . . .”
    â€œThat raise Hawk’s promised don’t apply to teachers like him anyway,” somebody said from the back of the room. A fat man with an air of executive assurance came over near Rayber. “He’s a college teacher, ain’t he?”
    â€œYeah,” the barber said, “that’s right. He wouldn’t get Hawk’s raise; but say, he wouldn’t get one if Darmon was elected neither.”
    â€œAhh, he’d get something. All the schools are supporting Darmon. They stand to get their cut—free textbooks or new desks or something. That’s the rules of the game.”
    â€œBetter schools,” Rayber sputtered, “benefit everybody.”
    â€œSeems like I been hearin’ that a long time,” the barber said.
    â€œYou see,” the man explained, “you can’t put nothing over on the schools. That’s the way they throw it off—benefits everybody.”
    The barber laughed.
    â€œIf you ever thought . . .” Rayber began.
    â€œMaybe there’d be a new desk at the head of the room for you,” the man chortled. “How about that, Joe?” He nudged the barber.
    Rayber wanted to lift his foot under the man’s chin. “You ever heard about reasoning?” he muttered.
    â€œListen,” the man said, “you can talk all you want. What you don’t realize is, we’ve got an issue here. How’d you like a couple of black faces looking at you from the back of your classroom?”
    Rayber had a blind moment when he felt as if something that wasn’t there was bashing him to the ground. George came in and began washing basins. “Willing to teach any person willing to learn—black or white,” Rayber said. He wondered if George had looked up.
    â€œAll right,” the barber agreed, “but not mixed up together, huh? How’d you like to go to a white school, George?” he shouted.
    â€œWouldn’t like that,” George said. “We needs sommo powders. These here the las’ in this box.” He dusted them out into the basin.
    â€œGo get some then,” the barber said.
    â€œThe time has come,” the executive went on, “just like Hawkson said, when we got to sit on the lid with both feet and a mule.” He went on to review Hawkson’s Fourth of July speech.
    Rayber would like to have pushed him into the basin. The day was hot and full enough of flies without having to spend it listening to a fat fool. He could see the courthouse square, blue-green cool, through the tinted glass window. He wished to hell the barber would hurry. He fixed his attention on the square outside, feeling himself there where, he could tell from the trees, the air was moving slightly. A group of men sauntered up the courthouse walk. Rayber looked more closely and thought he recognized Jacobs. But Jacobs had a late afternoon class. It was Jacobs, though. Or was it. If it were, who was he talking to? Blakeley? Or was that Blakeley. He squinted. Three colored boys in zoot suits strolled by on the sidewalk. One dropped down on the pavement so that only his head was visible to Rayber, and the other two lounged over him, leaning against the barbershop window and