crossed the roof garden to the rustic stairway.

As she walked briskly up Albatross to Walnut, then to Fourth where she
took the car, and all the way down-town she was carefully rehearsing her
stories and the most effective modes of presenting them. She knew the
rooms of the Service League well, having been there on many occasions
while there was still war and there were service men by the hundreds to
be danced with. Half a dozen men and boys were lounging at the curbstone,
and they eyed her curiously, grimly, Eveley thought. She wondered if they
knew she had come there to inspire them with love of the great America
which they must learn to call home. She straightened her slim shoulders
at the thought, and walked into the building with quite a martial air, as
became one on this high mission bent.

A keen-eyed, quick-speaking woman met her at the elevator, and led her back
into what she called "your corner" of the room. Evidently the room was
divided into countless corners, for several groups were clustered together
in different sections. But Eveley gave them only a fleeting glance. Her
heart and soul were centered on the group before her, eight boys,
dark-eyed, dark-skinned, of fourteen years or thereabouts. They looked at
Eveley appraisingly, as we always look on those who come to do us good.
Eveley looked upon them with tender solicitude, as philanthropists have
looked on their subjects since the world was born.

The introductions over, the keen-eyed one hurried away and Eveley faced
her sub-Americans.

Then she smiled, a winsome smile before which stronger men than they have
fallen. But they were curiously unsmiling in response. Their eyes
remained appraising almost to the point of open suspicion. Perhaps her
very prettiness aroused the inherent opposition of the male creature to
female uplift.

Eveley began, however, bravely enough, and told them her first and
prettiest story of sacrifice and country love. They listened gravely, but
they were not thrilled. Struggling against a growing sense of
incompetence, Eveley talked on and on, one story after another, pretty
word following pretty word. But each word fell alike on stony ground.
They sat like graven images, except for the bright suspicious gleam of
the dark eyes.

Finally Eveley stopped, and turned to them. "What do you think about it?"
she demanded. "You want to be Americans, don't you? You want to learn
what being an American means, don't you?" Her eyes