"They live in wretched little houses," Kay ventured to remark.

"Anything that will shelter a horse or a chicken is a palace to a Jap,
Kay. The furnishings of their houses are few and crude. They rise in
the morning, eat, labor, eat, and retire to sleep against another day
of toil. They are all growing rich in this valley, but have you seen
one of these aliens building a decent home, or laying out a flower
garden? Do you see anything inspiring or elevating to our nation due
to the influence of such a race?"

"Yonder is a schoolhouse," Mrs. Parker suggested. "Let us visit it."

"The American flag floats over that little red school-house, at any
rate," Parker defended.

William halted the car in the schoolhouse yard and Farrel got out and
walked to the schoolhouse door. An American school-teacher, a girl of
perhaps twenty, came to the door and met him with an inquiring look.
"May we come in?" Farrel pleaded. "I have some Eastern people with me
and I wanted to show them the sort of Americans you are hired to teach."

She smiled ruefully. "I am just about to let them out for recess," she
replied. "Your friends may remain in their car and draw their own
conclusions."

"Thank you." Don Mike returned to the car. "They're coming out for
recess," he confided. "Future American citizens and citizenesses.
Count 'em."

Thirty-two little Japanese boys and girls, three Mexican or Indian