Then, like a cold drizzle, came certainty that the news was slipping all through the city. A stranger, dark and dramatic, bent over Neil’s lonely table at the cafeteria which he frequented these days and muttered, “You don’t know me; I’m supposed to be a Greek fruit-dealer, but I’m part colored, like you. But I’ve kept my mouth shut about it. You take my tip and do the same, Brother.”
The openest insult came from Ed Fleeron, who was now mayor of Grand Republic, in succession to William Stopple. He owned a big cut-rate drugstore which sold sandwiches, rubber bathing-caps, gritty candy, velocipedes, electric fans, and some drugs, all in dirty piles incompetently attended by girls who should have been back on the farm.
Mayor Fleeron came like a one-man parade into Neil’s living-room, when Vestal was away, and blurted, “I’m the mayor of this city, and a neighbor of yours—unfortunately!”
Neil was adequately angry. “Oh, are you, Ed? I thought you lived in Swede Hollow.”
“I don’t want any of your lip, Kingsblood! I’m the mayor of this city–-”
“Still?”
“–-and I tell you we don’t want any of you niggers horning into decent white neighborhoods, corrupting the kids and frightening the women.”
“And bringing down real-estate values? That’s the usual line, Ed.”
“Yes, and it’s a damn good line, too, and you’ll hear a lot more about it, and if my policemen get awful interested in you and your actions, don’t come bellyaching to me, as mayor!”
“Before I’d come to you for—Oh, all right. Get out!”
Mayor Fleeron’s chronic rival, Ex-Mayor Stopple, who as agent for Berthold Eisenherz had been the original developer of Sylvan Park, came calling the next evening. But his was the affable racket.
He did not mention Negroes; he chirped, “Neil—Mrs. Kingsblood—I’ve got a customer that’s crazy to move out here to the Park and likes the look of your house, and same time, I have a lovely little house in Canoe Heights, right near that wonderful fellow, Lucian Firelock.” He did not suggest that this would also make it near to Dr. Ash Davis, and not far from Sugar Gowse. “While it isn’t as elaborate as this house, it has a much better view—talk about your magic beauty, why, say, that view across the South End is simply breath-taking. If I could persuade you folks to think about a swap, with something to boot, I could get you a nice offer for this place, and I guess you like to make a profit ‘bout as much as most folks, ha, ha, ha.”
Neil said, “No. This is our home.”
Vestal said, “Certainly not. It’s a silly idea. Why Canoe Heights? There’s a terrible mixed population there—Jews and Italians and even–-Oh. I see.”
Mr. Stopple put it gently: “Do you think this is a time for you to be haughty, Mrs. Kingsblood? And the price won’t be anything like so good, next time. But I’ll hold the offer open for a few days. Good night.”