John Christiansen squirmed. “Well, sir,” he said, “my pa didn’t want me to. On account of the nigras, you know. He didn’t want me to go to school with them.”

“Was it your idea? That is, did you ask your father to call me?”

“No, I didn’t do anything like that. He just called.”

“In other words, it was his idea?”

“Yeah. But—”

Harley Paton smiled warmly. “And you didn’t mind getting out of a little school, either, did you?”

“I gotta get back outside,” the boy said.

“Just one more question. If your father hadn’t brought it up—I mean, if he hadn’t told you to stay home—would you have come?”

“I guess so,” the boy said.

Harley Paton looked at Miss Angoff meaningfully.

“You better not say anything about my pa,” the boy said, “because he’s outside right now and he’s plenty sore.”

“I’m not saying anything about him, John. You may leave now.”

The boy turned and ran out the door.

After a few moments, Harley Paton said, “Well, we might as well get this over with,” and he started down the hall.

When he walked onto the stone steps, he looked suddenly very small and frail to Miss Angoff. Watching from her open window, watching the gathering crowd of children and the band of adults, and then turning her eyes to Harley Paton, she grew fearful.

Paton was thin almost to the point of emaciation. His tonsured head seemed too heavy for the stemmed neck, and his clothes hung loosely from his light and bony frame. It was the expression on his face that saved him from looking either comical or pathetic. And the warmth of his smile intensified this grace.

Now, however, he was not smiling. At his appearance, the children on their lunch period had quieted; and now they waited.

In precise, nearly accentless tones, Harley Paton said, “You wanted to speak with me?”

Adam Cramer stepped forward. “Yes. The people of Caxton want to know why you have allowed Negroes to mingle with their children in this school. We want an explanation.”

Bart Carey jerked his head around. “That’s right,” he said loudly.

“What about it?” others called.

Harley Paton waited for them to be still. He addressed himself to the young man. “Apparently you haven’t heard about the Supreme­ Court decision,” he said.

Rev. Lorenzo Niesen spat a stream of tobacco onto the grass. “Don’t hand us that stuff now,” he yelled.

“We’re quite aware of the decision,” Adam Cramer said.

“In that case, the question does not make sense and requires no answer.”

“The people think otherwise,” Adam Cramer said. “Why didn’t you refuse to open the school?”

“Because I chose to obey the law.”

The group of adults moved closer to the steps. “That’s a crock, Paton,” someone shouted. “You could’a shut down.”