"Neutroids don't talk." The priest stared at him for a time, then nodded slowly, as if approving something. "You can rest assured," he said quietly, "that I'll say nothing of this visit, that I'll speak to no one about this creature." Norris looked up to see his wife watching them from the doorway. "Get Peony," he said. "It's true then?" Paulson asked. "I'll let you see for yourself." Anne brought the small child-thing into the room and set her on the floor. Peony saw the visitor, chattered with fright, and bounded upon the back of the sofa to sit and scold. She was playing her game well, Norris thought. The priest watched her with quiet interest. "Hello, little one." Peony babbled gibberish. Paulson kept his eyes on her every movement. Suddenly he said, "I just saw your daddy, Peony. He wanted me to talk to you." Her babbling ceased. The spell of the game was ended. Her eyes went sober. Then she looked at Norris and pouted. "I don't want any candy. I wanna go home." Norris let out a deep breath. "I didn't say she couldn't talk," he pointed out sullenly. "I didn't say you did," said Paulson. "You invited me to see for myself." Anne confronted the clergyman. "What do you want?" she demanded. "The child's death? Did you come to assure yourself that she'd be turned over to the lab? I know your kind! You'd do anything to get rid of neutroids!" "I came only to assure myself that O'Reilley's sane," Paulson told her. "I don't believe you," she snapped. He stared at her in wounded surprise; then he chuckled. "People used to trust the cloth. Ah, well. Listen, my child, you have us wrong. We say it's evil to create the creatures. We say _also_ that it's evil to destroy them after they're made. Not murder, exactly, but--mockery of life, perhaps. It's the entire institution that's evil. Do you understand? As for this small creature of O'Reilley's--well, I hardly know what to make of her, but I certainly wouldn't wish her--uh--d-e-a-d." Peony was listening solemnly to the conversation. Somehow Norris sensed a disinterested friend, if not an ally, in the priest. He looked at his wife. Her eyes were still suspicious. "Tell me, Father," Norris asked, "if you were in my position, what would you do?" Paulson fumbled with a button of his coat and stared at the floor while he pondered. "I wouldn't be in your position, young man. But if I were, I think I'd withhold her from my superiors. I'd also quit my job and go away." It wasn't what Norris wanted to hear. But his wife's expression suddenly changed; she looked at the priest with a new interest. "And give Peony back to O'Reilley," she added. "I shouldn't be giving you advice," he said unhappily. "I'm duty-bound to ask O'Reilley to give up his business and have nothing further to do with neutroids." "But Peony's _human_," Anne argued. "She's _different_." "I fail to agree." "What!" Anne confronted him again. "What makes _you_ human?" "A soul, my child."