Stoner

"Well," he said, "we all know the matter before us. It is that of Professor Stoner's retirement." He sketched the regulations --voluntary retirement was possible at sixty-five; under this option, Stoner could if he wished retire either at the end of the current academic year, or at the end of either semester of the following year. Or he could, if it were agreed upon by the chairman of the department, the dean of the college, and the professor concerned, extend his retirement age to sixty-seven, at which time retirement was mandatory. Unless, of course, the person concerned were given a Distinguished Professorship and awarded a Chair, in which event--

"A most remote likelihood, I believe we can agree," Lomax said dryly.

Stoner nodded to Finch. "Most remote."

"I frankly believe," Lomax said to Finch, "it would be in the best interests of the department and college if Professor Stoner would take advantage of his opportunity to retire. There are certain curricular and personnel changes that I have long contemplated, which this retirement would make possible."

Stoner said to Finch, "I have no wish to retire before I have to, merely to accommodate a whim of Professor Lomax."

Finch turned to Lomax. Lomax said, "I'm sure that there is a great deal that Professor Stoner has not considered. He would have the leisure to do some of the writing that his"--he paused delicately--"his dedication to teaching has prevented him from doing. Surely the academic community would be edified if the fruit of his long experience were--"

Stoner interrupted, "I have no desire to begin a literary career at this stage in my life."

Lomax, without moving from his chair, seemed to bow to Finch. "I'm sure our colleague is too modest. Within two years I myself will be forced by regulations to vacate the chairmanship of the department. I certainly intend to put my declining years to good use; indeed, I look forward to the leisure of my retirement."

Stoner said, "I hope to remain a member of the department, at least until that auspicious occasion."

Lomax was silent for a moment. Then he said contemplatively to Finch, 'It has occurred to me several times during the past few years that Professor Stoner's efforts on behalf of the University have perhaps not been fully appreciated. It has occurred to me that a promotion to full professor might be a fitting climax to his retirement year. A dinner in honor of the occasion--a fitting ceremony. It should be most gratifying. Though it is late in the year, and though most of the promotions have already been declared, I am sure that, if I insisted, a promotion might be arranged for next year, in commemoration of an auspicious retirement."

Suddenly the game that he had been playing with Lomax-- and, in a curious way, enjoying--seemed trivial and mean. A tiredness came over him. He looked directly at Lomax and said wearily, "Holly, after all these years, I thought you knew me better than that. I've never cared a damn for what you thought you could 'give' me, or what you thought you could 'do' to me, or whatever." He paused; he was, indeed, more tired than he had thought. He continued with an effort, "That isn't the point; it has never been the point. You're a good man, I suppose; certainly you're a good teacher. But in some ways you're an ignorant son-of-a-bitch." He paused again. "I don't know what you hoped for. But I won't retire--not at the end of this year, nor the end of the next." He got up slowly and stood for a moment, gathering his strength. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I'm a little tired. I'll leave you to discuss whatever it is you have to discuss."

He knew that it would not end there, but he did not care. When, at the last general faculty meeting of the year, Lomax, in his departmental report to the faculty, announced the retirement at the end of the next year of Professor William Stoner, Stoner got to his feet and informed the faculty that Professor Lomax was in error, that the retirement would not be effective until two years after the time that Lomax had announced. At the beginning of the fall semester the new president of the University invited Stoner to his home for afternoon tea and spoke expansively of the years of his service, of the well-earned rest, of the gratitude they all felt; Stoner put on his most crochety manner, called the president "young man," and pretended not to hear, so that at last the young man ended by shouting in the most placatory tone he could manage.