Read Online That Day the Rabbi Left Town by Harry Kemelman - Free Book Online Page B

most of the time. My class doesn’t meet until eleven. It’s just that I thought the first day I ought to come in at the start of classes. I had no idea the train would be so crowded. The conductor didn’t even get around to collecting my ticket.”
    â€œYes, it’s happened to me on one or two occasions. See, I go to the Lerners’ for the weekend, so I have to take the train in Monday morning. It’s a drag. You ought to have a pied-à-terre here in the city in case of bad weather during the winter.”
    â€œI suppose—”
    â€œLook, Rabbi, I live in Brookline on Beacon Street. It’s a big apartment house, nothing fancy, but comfortable. A lot of the folks go down to Florida for the winter, and some of them let their apartments for the winter months. It’s right around the corner from Harvard Street, where there’s a kosher butcher shop and a synagogue, and it’s just across the street from the car stop. And usually the rent isn’t very high, I understand, because people don’t like to leave their apartments unprotected. Someone living in the apartment is like a caretaker. I was talking to one of the tenants just the other day—”
    â€œIt’s certainly worth considering.”
    â€œLook, if you like, I’ll keep my ears open and let you know if I hear of anything.”
    The rabbi smiled. “I like. I’d appreciate it.”

Chapter 11
    The office that had previously been occupied by half a dozen instructors of Freshman English was large as college offices go. It contained four desks and a couple of tables, all of them old and scarred by years of usage. The rabbi surveyed the room and its furniture and then selected the desk next to a window, which had the most comfortable-looking chair behind it, as his own. It was a large leather chair with a tufted back that tilted when he leaned back, and that could swivel from side to side. The drawers of the desk, he noted with satisfaction, were empty and relatively clean.
    The door opened and a young woman, under thirty, came in. She was thin and small with a narrow, freckled face and reddish-blond hair. “Oh, I didn’t know there was anyone in here, or I would have knocked,” she said.
    â€œQuite all right.”
    â€œYou must be the rabbi who is going to head up the new Judaica Department.”
    â€œI am Rabbi Small, David Small.”
    â€œDo I call you Rabbi Small or Professor Small?”
    â€œI’ll answer to either one,” he said, smiling.
    â€œI’m Sarah McBride, English Department.” She pointed to a desk on the other side of the room. “I used that desk last year. I left some papers in the top drawer. Maybe they’re still there.”
    â€œI think everything was brought upstairs to the English office,” he offered, “but take a look.”
    She strode to the desk and pulled out the drawer. “Nope. Gone. They’re probably upstairs as you say.” She leaned back on the desk, facing him. “You going to have a big department?”
    The rabbi shrugged. “It will depend on how much interest there is in the field. I’m starting with just me. I’m giving one course this year and I expect it will be small enough to meet in the office here, around a table, seminar style, perhaps. It will be an introductory course—”
    â€œWhen does it come?”
    â€œIt’s scheduled for Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at eleven.”
    â€œI’m free at eleven. Would you mind if I were to audit your course?”
    â€œNot at all. Happy to have you. Sarah McBride.” He savored the name and smiled. “Not Jewish, I presume.”
    She smiled. “No, not Jewish. Maybe quite the opposite.”
    â€œWhat do you mean that you’re opposite to being Jewish?” asked the rabbi, puzzled.
    â€œAnti-Semitic.” She smiled impishly.
    â€œAnd you want to audit my course …”
    â€œTo