h is two towns, one
being certain well-defined and delimited areas where languages and
Braces live amid conditions far removed from the American notion of
what is endurable, and the other the "better part of town," sometimes
smugly called "the residence section," where white Americans have homes.

Conover and Pastor Drury compared notes. They were of one mind as to the
conditions which Conover had found, conditions not surprising to the
minister, who knew more about Delafield than any of his own people
suspected.

One afternoon they met J.W. on the street, and he led them into a candy
store for hot chocolate.

As they sipped the chocolate they talked; J.W., as usual, saying
whatever he happened to think of.

"Say, Mr. Conover," he remarked, "I notice in all your talk about the
foreigner in America you haven't once referred to the idea of the
melting pot. Don't you think that's just what America is? All these
people coming here and getting Americanized and assimilated and all
that?"

"I'd think America was the melting pot if I could see more signs of the
melting," Conover answered. "But look at Delafield; how much does the
melting pot melt here?"

Then he looked across the store. "Do you know the proprietor, Mr.
Farwell?" he asked.

"Yes, indeed; Nick and I are good friends," answered J.W.

"Then I wish you'd introduce me," returned Conover.

"Oh, Nick," J.W. called, "will you come over here a minute?"

Nick came, wiping his hands on his apron.

"Nick," said J.W., doing the honors, "you know Mr. Drury, the pastor of
our church. And this is Mr. Conover from Philadelphia, a very good
friend of ours. He's been looking around town, and wants to ask you
something."

Nick's brisk and cheerful manner was at its best, for he liked J.W.,
besides liking the trade he brought.

"Sure," said he, "I tell him anything if I know it. Glad for the
chance."

"Mr. Dulas," said Conover--he had taken note of the name on the window,
"you know the East Side pretty well, do you? Then, you know that many
Italians live just north of Linden Street, and there's a block or so of
Polish homes between Linden and the next street south?"

"Sure I do," said Nick, confidently, "I live on other side of them
myself. See 'em every day."

"Very well," Conover went on. "What I want to know is this: how do the
Italians and the Poles get along together?"

"They don't have nothing much to do with one another," Nick replied.
"It's like this,