moth-millers did not speck them.

"I do admire your Mexican friends," Grandma admitted grudgingly,
"keeping so nice in such a hullabaloo."

"They are admire-able in lots of ways," Rose-Ellen answered. "I
never knew anyone I liked much better than Nico. And the
Mexicans are the very best in all the art work at the vacation
school. I think the Japanese learn quickest."

"Do folks treat 'em nice?" asked Grandma.

"In the school," Rose-Ellen told her. "But outside school they
act like even Nico had smallpox. They make me sick!"

Rose-Ellen spoke both indignantly and sorrowfully. That very day
the three girls had come out of the church together, and had
paused to look over the neat picket fence of the yard next the
church. It seemed a sweet little yard, smelling of newly cut
grass and flowers. Trees rose high above the small house, and
inside the fence were tall spires of delphinium, bluer than the
sky.


[Illustration: Looking over the fence]


"The flowers iss so pretty," said Nico.

"And on the porch behind of the vines is a chicken in a gold