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Peter repeated. “All you have to do is sign up for it”
    “I don’t know if I can,” Marilyn said softly. ‘I asked my parents if I could take it, but they said they’d have to talk it over.”
    “Well, you can tell them for me that I promise not to put any crazy ideas in your head,” Balsam said, grinning.
    Suddenly the girl seemed to relax, and the two of than began slowly walking back down the hill toward town.
    “How did you know that was what my parents were worried about?” Marilyn asked suddenly, when they were halfway down the hill.
    Balsam tapped his head. “I’m a psychologist,” he said darkly. “I have ways of knowing things.”
    Marilyn looked at him sharply, then, as she realized he was kidding her, she laughed, a hesitant, hollow sound. Listening to it, Balsam was sure he knew the reason it sounded strange: this child rarely laughed.
    “You spend a lot of time in church, don’t you?” he said mildly.
    Marilyn nodded. “I like it there. It’s so cool, and quiet, and I can be by myself but not feel lonely, if you know what I mean.”
    “I know exactly what you mean,” Balsam replied. “I feel the same way.”
    Marilyn looked at him wonderingly, and for the firstlime in her life felt that there might actually be someone else in the world who understood how she felt
    “I usually pray to the Sorrowful Mother,” she said “For some reason, she always seems to make me fed better.”
    Balsam didn’t respond right away, and Marilyn glanced quickly at him to see if her words had put him off. But no, he merely seemed to be thinking about something, so she continued walking beside him in silence. It was a nice silence, she thought Not like the silences that so often fell over groups of her acquaintances as she approached.
    Had Peter Balsam been aware of the silence he probably would have broken it But he was thinking about what the girl had said, or, more accurately, of the way she had referred to the Blessed Virgin. The Sorrowful Mother, she had said. It had been a long time since Balsam had heard that appellation applied to the Holy Mother. He wondered briefly how she had happened to use it, but quickly decided not to question her about it. Not yet, at least The child seemed nervous, like a rabbit on the alert, ready to shy away at the least provocation. And Balsam felt that it was important that she not shy away. Important for him, and important for her.
    “Well,” he said finally as they approached the corner of Third Street, “this is where I get off.” He pointed down the street “I live down there,” he continued. “In the new apartment building.”
    A look of comprehension came over Marilyn’s face, and she bobbed her head. Peter suddenly realized that she had been afraid he was rejecting her. He smiled at her, saying, “Come over and see me if you want to.
Tm
always home, or most always, and my name’s on the mailbox.”
    “Oh,” Marilyn gasped. “I—I couldn’t do that—” she stammered.
    Balsam looked blank. “You couldn’t?” he asked. “Why on earth not?”
    Now Marilyn appeared totally flustered. “I—I don’t know,” she floundered. And suddenly Peter understood. There had never before been a teacher in Marilyn’s life who didn’t wear a habit or live in a convent. What he had just suggested was so totally beyond her experience as to be almost incomprehensible.
    “Well,” he said briefly. “Don’t worry about it And don’t forget to give my message to your parents. I think the psychology class is going to be very interesting, and I’d like to have you in it”
    As Marilyn looked dumbfounded, Peter smiled at her once more, and started down Third Street After he had gone a few yards, he turned and waved, and suddenly Marilyn waved back. Peter Balsam continued down the street toward his apartment
    For a few seconds longer, Marilyn watched the retreating figure of the new teacher, then continued home. Suddenly the world did not seem so bleak to her. She