Decision by Allen Drury

nearly everything.”
    “Still a good boy,” he said wryly.
    “Always,” she agreed. And added with a sudden mischievous little grin, “Have you ever had any desire not to be?”
    “Never,” he said with mock solemnity, a restless little excitement stirring again. “Miss Tillson wouldn’t let me. To say nothing of my mother.”
    “I hope not,” she said, laughing with genuine amusement. “So that’s your story… And now you’re on the Court—and you’ve achieved your life’s ambition—and so where do you go from here?”
    “Nowhere. I’m on the Court, it’s where I’ve always wanted to be, it’s where I expect I’ll stay for the rest of my life.”
    “No presidential ambitions?”
    “None, and that’s the truth.”
    “Chief Justice?”
    “Off the record, it would be nice, but essentially, aside from five thousand dollars a year more and a little better chance of getting your name in the history books, we’re all on about the same level. It’s nothing I’ll look for. If it comes someday it’ll come, and if it doesn’t I’m going to be quite content where I am. I won’t lobby for it.”
    “A contented man in Washington,” she said. “There’s a rarity. Maybe I’ll suggest that for the title of my piece: ‘He’ll Be Happy Where He Is.’”
    “It’s true,” he said, and for the first time the full impact of his appointment hit him and he realized with a sudden deep satisfaction that, yes, it was true. He had achieved everything he wanted now. The years opened before him full of dignity and service.
    “What would you like to have said of you when you retire?” she asked. “I always find that’s usually a good question with which to conclude an interview. People reveal a lot about themselves when they write their own obituaries. After all, with a little luck and good health you’ll be on the Bench for—good Lord, thirty years or more. It’s awesome.”
    He laughed.
    “Yes, it is, isn’t it? Frightening, too… Well… I’d like it said of me that I tried always to help the people of this land who need help—to uphold the law, and peaceful orderly process, in all disputes—to strengthen the law and make it fairer, insofar as one Justice can do that—to work amicably and well with my brethren—and Mary-Hannah and any of her sisters who may join us in the future—in trying to bring justice to our judgments and to all who appeal to us for help. I’d like it to be said that I was a fair, decent, honorable and worthy judge—that I had some consistent view of social betterment and social progress for America—and that I did what I could, as effectively as I could, to advance that view in a tough and difficult time in the life of our country…”
    He paused and smiled. “Is that enough, or do you want more?”
    “If you manage all that,” she said, smiling too, “you’ll be doing very well. I just want to say, quite seriously,” she added, putting away pen and notebook, closing her handbag, “that as one American citizen I am personally very pleased with your appointment. I think you’re a real liberal and a fine person and I feel genuinely good about having you on the Court. I really do.”
    “Well, thank you,” he said, surprised and pleased. “I know you journalists are chary with personal accolades, so I appreciate that doubly.” He hesitated and then yielded to impulse, something he almost never did, for he had become a thoughtful and careful man. “As you know,” he said, and something in his tone made her look at him with a sudden close attention, “we almost never give interviews on the Court, but if you want to stop by sometime just to check and see how things are going—talk about the country or the world or whatever—feel free. I’ll be glad to see you.”
    For a moment she did not reply, continuing to study him with the same grave expression. He felt with sudden panic that he had said too much, gone too far, been very foolish. But she showed him