Deane and reread it.

DEAR DICK:--

Your letter telling of transfer to the Moro Province has
just come. I had to study the map to find out where it is!
If it means advancement I am glad--though we had all hoped
that when you left Sorsogon it would be to come home.

Your letters are so funny, so interesting. You write such
nice things about the natives that I am becoming fond of
them too. But the other day I read an article written by a
cynical woman who has lived in the Islands only a few
months. I read part of it to father, the part which says
that "the Filipinos are a worthless, shiftless, lazy people;
improvident, untrustworthy and immoral!" After I had read
that he thought a moment and then said:

"Well, Deane, people are just about the same as that around
here!"

Everything is going about as usual around Crampville. They
are tearing down the old watering trough in the square--it
is a nuisance to automobiles. They had some trouble over on
the South Side last week among the foreigners but Father
Jennings smoothed things out. He told me that he has a
harder time keeping them contented since you left. I learned
from him that you used to spend a good deal of your time
among them, that they idolized you.... Why did you never
talk to me about such things, Dick?

Bruce is earning a great reputation but insists on staying
in Crampville. He has been called to Albany twice during the
month to perform some special operation. He finds time to
run in on us nearly every day.

Susan and Ellis do not change: they are quite the happiest
couple we have--though they both do miss you terribly.

You never mention the native girls. Are they attractive,
lovely? Do not let one of them fascinate you. We need you
here, Dick,--Susan and Ellis, Father Jennings, the
foreigners--all of us.

DEANE.

His deft fingers fumbled as he folded the letter and locked it in the
drawer. Vainly smoothing at the lock of hair which always stuck out
from the crown of his head, he stared vacantly at the lamp shade,
oblivious to the entrance of the silent, morose Matak, who carried the
bottle of boiled drinking water into the bedroom and then went out for
the night.

A hoarse ghekko lizard croaked its raucous six-song from a rafter