over.

From the porch the cluster of adobe houses added a picturesque
touch of color and contrast to the waste of gray valley. Near at
hand they proved the enchantment lent by distance. They were
old, crumbling, broken down, squalid. A few goats climbed around
upon them; a few mangy dogs barked announcement of visitors; and
then a troop of half-naked, dirty, ragged children ran out. They
were very shy, and at first retreated in affright. But kind
words and smiles gained their confidence, and then they followed
in a body, gathering a quota of new children at each house.
Madeline at once conceived the idea of doing something to better
the condition of these poor Mexicans, and with this in mind she
decided to have a look indoors. She fancied she might have been
an apparition, judging from the effect her presence had upon the
first woman she encountered. While Florence exercised what
little Spanish she had command of, trying to get the women to
talk, Madeline looked about the miserable little rooms. And
there grew upon her a feeling of sickness, which increased as she
passed from one house to another. She had not believed such
squalor could exist anywhere in America. The huts reeked with
filth; vermin crawled over the dirt floors. There was absolutely
no evidence of water, and she believed what Florence told her--
that these people never bathed. There was little evidence of
labor. Idle men and women smoking cigarettes lolled about, some
silent, others jabbering. They did not resent the visit of the
American women, nor did they show hospitality. They appeared
stupid. Disease was rampant in these houses; when the doors were
shut there was no ventilation, and even with the doors open
Madeline felt choked and stifled. A powerful penetrating odor