IT WAS cool in the shadows, warm in the light, as the children went to school. On every side were mountains but at noon the town was all in the sun. Now, at morning, the walls and cob-bled pavement still held coolness from the night, although the sun was white and strong. Felice and Natalya skipped expertly over the cobbles, their already long, black hair gathered into small, tight buns at the back of their heads and shining as though oiled.  

Like many of the Mexican schools this one had been an old convent, and the faded, pastel masonry of the outside was weathered and broken in places, but inside the rooms were all neat and new with white, fresh plaster and varnished desks. The teacher, the Senorita Flores, was a hand-some young woman with fierce, dark eyes, who today wore a dark, tight-fitting dress with just the hint of a uniform to it. She was busy about her desk when Felice and Natalya came in, two more bright, olive-colored faces in the broken stream of children that entered the room. 

The children talked in subdued voices with occasional side-glances at Senorita Flores. Presently, after consulting her new, American wrist-watch, the Senorita rang a small bell on her desk and the children grew quiet. She rang it again and they rose and stood by their desks. When the silence was again sufficiently impressive, she rang the bell a third time and the children chanted, their bright, open faces eager in the windowed morning light. With bright, uplifted faces they chanted: "There is no God." The Senorita permitted a faint smile to curve her chiseled mouth. Then she rang the bell again and the children sat down to begin the day's work. 

They were very serious about it. For some time they had all been impressed by their teacher's presence and quiet, forceful way of speaking. They liked also her way of dress, so similar to that of the American tourists. The discipline in her class was always good and she had the reputation of being the most popular teacher. 

Now she walked quietly around the room while the children worked over an arithmetic test. Pausing near where Felice and Natalya sat, senorita Flores said: "And what are you doing these nice afternoons, Felice?" 

"Oh, we play with our dolls," Felice said, lookng at teacher with a clear, open gaze. 

"Yes, we play house," Natalya added shyly. 

Teacher passed on with a thin, not too approvng smile. Natalya looked at Felice and the little ;iris raised their eyebrows and puffed out their Leeks. 

The local superintendent came into the class luring the hour given to Civics and Government. He affected pince-nez such as he had seen American superintendents wear, with a long, black ribbon attached to them. The Senorita Flores put on a show for him by calling on Natalya and Felice, since they were the youngest in the class Ind its prodigies, being, respectively, eight and line years old. 

"Now, tell us all, Natalya," teacher said, "what s the highest authority?" 

"The State is the highest authority, teacher." 

"Why is the State higher than the family?" 

"Because without the State we would have nothing and would not even know what was right and what was wrong." 

"That is very good, Natalya," Senorita Flores said. "Now, Felice, tell us why the State is higher than God." 

"Because there is no God, teacher." 

"I want the whole class to repeat that," the Senorita Flores said. 

"The State is higher than God because there is no God," the class faithfully chanted. 

From the back of the class the superintendent beamed and the Senorita Flores felt a warm glow suffuse her heart. When the children went home for lunch, the superintendent came forward to congratulate the Senorita. 

"You have done remarkably well in such a short time," he said. "I daresay it is your own personality." He paused to smile and the Senorita, glancing sidewise, nevertheless permitted a smile to illumine her own handsome face. 

"They think you are wonderful," the superintendent said, "and I can hardly blame them," he gallantly added. 

"Oh, it is just that they are unusually intelligent," the Senorita Flores said, a little distrait at the stream of praise. "They are very receptive." 

"Ah, but you are too modest," the superintendent said. "Who else could have made such headway in such a short time against the centuries-old superstitions and fables these poor children have been subjected to?" 

Later that afternoon, when school was over for the day, the superintendent was walking across the Plaza in front of the cathedral when he saw Felice and Natalya coming out of the great, twin-spired building. 

"Well," he said in his best professional manner, "this is indeed a strange place to find you coming out of. What have you been doing in there?" 

"Oh, we have been to First Communion class, Senor," Natalya explained. 

"But only this morning I heard you say that there was no God?" 

"But that was in school, Senor," Natalya said. 

"Then you do believe there is a God?" The superintendent's voice rose querulously. 

"Oh, yes," Felice said. "In class, though, we say there is none because we are expected to and because we would not like to hurt the feelings of our teacher, the Senorita Flores." 

"Teacher is wonderful," Natalya said. The superintendent glanced quickly at her to see if the little girl were laughing at him. Her eyes were round and wide and innocent. He looked quickly back to Felice. Her eyes were also round and wide and innocent. 

"Teacher is wonderful," Felice said.