Harley Paton’s hands bunched into fists. He put them behind his back. “I don’t know who you are, young man,” he said, “but I think you know perfectly well that you’re talking nonsense.”

“Mr. Paton, the people of Caxton demand that you turn the Negro students out of this school at once,” Cramer said. “And if you haven’t got the courage to do that, then the people demand that you resign your post.”

“That’d show how you feel about it,” a woman said, from the back.

“That’s right!”

Phil Dongen stepped up. “Paton, let’s get one thing straight here and now. Are you for or against this integration?”

The principal looked over the lawn, at all the children, at the people in the group; he looked up and saw Miss Angoff, standing at the window, waiting, along with the others, for his answer.

“I am against integration of the races,” he said firmly, “but—I am for law and order. For that reason, I have no intention of either sending the new students home or shutting down the school. As for resigning my post—I don’t believe, Mr. Cramer, that you represent the people of Caxton. However, if you can prove to me at any time that fifty-one per cent of the people no longer want me, I will leave. Until then, I am in charge, and there will be no change in the routine.”

“That’s the man who’s taking care of your children!” Phil Dongen shouted.

“Fifty-one per cent,” Harley Paton repeated.

“You might just as well start packing, Harley! It’ll be more like one hundred per cent.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Don’t worry; just don’t worry!”

Harley Paton met the eyes of the group, stared levelly for a moment, then turned and went inside. He closed the door. He felt his heart rapping deep in his chest.

He walked to his office and watched the people on the lawn, the familiar people, the people he had seen a thousand times and, perhaps, had never seen at all, watched them form into a loose parade and march with placards high into the quiet street.

He barely heard the door. “Yes?”

It was Miss Angoff. She walked to his desk and stood there.

“Yes, what is it?”

She looked at him and he found that he could not decipher her expression. Unaccountably, however, he glanced away, down from her gaze.

“Why did you say that?” she asked.

He focused on the 8-ball. “Say what?”

“You were strong and you faced them, but you lied. Why?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s almost one, Miss Angoff, and—”

“I don’t care about that. Mr. Paton, I’ve been with the school for four years. That isn’t very long, I suppose, but even so, I feel a part of Caxton High. It means a great deal to me.”

Harley Paton nodded, realizing that he would have to say it now.