And he went off to serve a customer who had just entered.

“There you have that side,” said Conover to the minister and J.W.  “The need of English as an Americanizing force, and the meed of it as a medium of communication between the different foreign groups.  Looks as though we’ve got to bear down hard on English, don’t you think?”

“As Nick says, ‘Sure I do,’” Mr. Drury assented.  “It will come out all right with the children, I hope; they’re getting the English.  But it makes things hard just now.”

“What can the church do?” J.W. put in.  “Should it undertake to teach English, as that preacher taught Phil Khamis, you remember, Mr. Drury; or Americanization, or what?”

“I think it should do something else first,” said Conover.  “Why should we Americans try to make Europeans understand us, unless we first try to understand them?  Isn’t ours the first move?”

“But this is the country they’re going to live in,” returned J.W.  “They can’t expect us to adjust ourselves to European ways.  They’ve got to do the adjusting, haven’t they?”

“Why?” Conover came back.  “Because we were here first?  But the Indian was here before us.  We told him he needn’t do any adjusting at all, and see what we’ve made of him.  Maybe these Europeans can add enriching elements to our American culture.”

“I guess so, but”—­and J.W. was evidently at a loss—­“but they’ve got to obey our laws, you know, and fit into our civilization.  The Indian was different.  We couldn’t make Indians of ourselves, and he wouldn’t become civilized.”

“Americanized, you mean?” and Conover laughed a little at the irony of it.

“No, no; not that.  But he wouldn’t meet us half way, even,” J.W. said.

“I think,” suggested Pastor Drury, “that what Mr. Conover means is that we’d better be a little less stiff to newcomers than the Indian was to us.  Am I right?”

“Exactly right,” returned Conover.  “Europe is in a general way the mother-land of us all.  But many of her children were late in getting here.  The earlier ones have made their contributions; why may not the later ones also bring gifts for our common treasure?”

“Well, what in particular do you mean?” asked J.W., who was finding himself adrift.  He had been quite willing in the Institute days to be an admirer of Phil Khamis, and to forget that Phil was of alien birth; but this was something more complicated.

“Particulars are not so simple,” Conover said.  “But, for instance:  some European peoples have a fine musical appreciation.  Some delight in oratory.  Some are mystical and dreamy.  Some are very children in their love of color.  Some are almost artists in their feeling for beauty in their work.  Some do not enjoy rough play, and others cannot endure to be quiet.  Some have inherited a passionate love of country, and great traditions of patriotism.”

“We can’t value all these things in just the way they do, but at least we can believe that such interests and instincts are worth something to America.  Then our Americanization work will be not only more intelligent but far more sympathetic.”