children and four of undoubted white parentage trooped out into the
yard and gathered around the car, gazing curiously. The school-teacher
bade them run away and play and, in her role of hostess, approached the
car. "I am Miss Owens," she announced, "and I teach this school
because I have to earn a living. It is scarcely a task over which one
can enthuse, although I must admit that Japanese children are not
unintelligent and their parents dress them nicely and keep them clean."

"I suppose, Miss Owens," Farrel prompted her, having introduced himself
and the Parkers, "that you have to contend with the native Japanese
schools."

She pointed to a brown house half a mile away. Over it flew the flag
of Japan. "They learn ancestor worship and how to kow-tow to the
Emperor's picture down there, after they have attended school here,"
she volunteered. "Poor little tots! Their heads must ache with the
amount of instruction they receive. After they have learned here that
Columbus discovered America on October 12th, 1492, they proceed to that
Japanese school and are taught that the Mikado is a divinity and a
direct descendant of the Sun God. And I suppose, also, they are taught
that it is a fine, clean, manly thing to pack little, green, or decayed
strawberries at the bottom of a crate with nice big ones on top--in
defiance of a state law. Our weights and measures law and a few others
are very onerous to our people in La Questa."

"Do you mean to tell me, Miss Owens," Parker asked, "that you despair
of educating these little Japanese children to be useful American
citizens?"

"I do. The Buddhist school over yonder is teaching them to be Japanese