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 were fastened appealingly on a slender Russian lad, slouching in his chair at the end of the row. "You want to be an American, I know." Suddenly the slim lithe figure straightened, and the dark brows drew together in a frown. "What are you getting at?" came in a sharp tone. "I'm an American, ain't I? You don't take me for no German, do you?" "No, no, of course not," she apologized placatingly. "Oh, certainly not. I mean, you want to learn the things of America, so you can love this country, and make it yours. Then you will forget that other land from which you came, and know this for your own, now and forever." Eveley was arrested by the steady gleam of a pair of eyes in the middle of the row. There was open denial and disbelief written in every feature and line of his face. "Why?" came the terse query, as Eveley paused. Eveley gazed upon him in wonderment. "Wh-what did you say?" "I said, why?" "Well, why not?" she countered nervously. "This is your country now. You must love it best in all the world, and must grow to be like us,--one of us,--America for Americans only, you know." "You tell us to forget the land we came from," he said in an even impersonal voice. "Is that patriotism,--to forget the land of your birth? I thought patriotism was to remember your home-land,--holding it in your heart,--hoping to return to it again,--and make it better." "But--but that is not patriotism to this country," protested Eveley, aghast. "That is--disloyalty. If you wish to be always of your own land, and to love it best, you should stay there. If you come here, to get our training, our education, our development, our riches,--then this must be your country, and no other." "Why?" he asked again. "Why should we not come here and get all the good things you can give us, and learn what you can teach us, and take what money we can earn, and then go back with all these good things to make our own land bigger and better and richer? That is patriotism, I think." "No, no," protested Eveley again. "That is not loyalty. If you choose this country for your home, it must be first in your heart, and last also. This is your home-land now,--the land you believe in, the land of your love, America first." "But America was not first. The home-land was first."