"I just don't know what to say," Mrs. Parker gasped, finding her voice. "I'm so sorry. Please believe me, I had no idea-"

Director Dill nodded understandingly to her. "Of course," he said in a low voice. "It's not your fault. These are not tabulae rasae which you can mold like plastic."

"Pardon?" she said, not understanding the foreign words. She had a dun idea that it was-what was it? Latin?

Dill said, "You will always have a certain number who will not respond." Now he had raised his voice for the class to hear. "I'm going to play a game with you," he said, and at once the small faces showed anticipation. "Now, I don't want you to say a word; I want you to clap your hands over your mouths and be the way our police crews are when they're waiting to catch one of the enemy." The small hands flew up to cover mouths; eyes shone with ex­citement. "Our police are so quiet," Dill continued. "And they look around; they search and search to see where the enemy is. Of course, they don't let the enemy know they're about to pounce."

The class giggled with joy.

"Now," Dill said, folding his arms. "We look around." The children dutifully peered around. "Where's the en­emy? We count-one, two, three." Suddenly Dill threw up his arms and in a loud voice said, "And we point to the enemy. We point her out!"

Twenty hands pointed. In her chair in the back the small red-haired girl sat quietly, giving no reaction.

"What's your name?" Dill said, walking leisurely down the aisle until he stood near her desk.

The girl gazed silently up at Director Dill.

"Aren't you going to answer my question?" Dill said, smiling.

Calmly, the girl folded her small hands together on her desk. "Marion Fields," she said clearly. "And you haven't answered my questions."

Together, Director Dill and Mrs. Parker walked down the corridor of the school building.