 Half an hour later, the door burst wide open and Mrs. Faraday, with Michael at her heels, stepped inside the schoolroom. Without hesitation, she strode to the desk. She was a trim, fine-looking person with straight, graying black hair squeezed into a knob at the back of her head. A new silence shrouded the room. Again, 20 pairs of eyes focused on the teacher. Michael's heart thumped as he watched. He knew that normally his mother was a quiet, soft-spoken person who took her Sandemanian faith seriously.