Joseph Lescinszky was a tailor in a small Middle West city, who lived in five small rooms over his shop, with his wife and seven children. He had plenty of patronage, for he was a good tailor, but he was unhappy, for one of the dreams long associated with his American citizenship had failed to materialize. His eldest son, Joseph Junior, was in the high school—a homely, awkward boy with great wistful eyes and an incurable shyness. He was a good student, but suffered constantly under the heartless, matter-of-fact ridicule of his American schoolmates. [Sidenote: Race Prejudice] This ridicule was but the echo of the attitude of the whole community toward the Polish family. They were the only foreigners in the place, and their appearance, habits and speech afforded unlimited amusement to everyone. Men who had had their suits made by the skillful, little, Polish tailor told funny stories in which his broken English figured as the chief point, and their sons and daughters in turn laughed at the shy and awkward children whom they met at school. No one realized how this ridicule embittered the life of the tailor until Miss Swainson came to Hovey to teach in the high school. She took her old cape to the tailor one day, thriftily planning to have it made into a coat for school wear; and over the making of the coat, tailor and teacher began to discuss Joseph and his school life. No teacher had ever talked to him about Joseph before, and the little Pole voiced his feelings tremblingly. “My Joseph does not like the school,” he confided. “He goes because I command him that he shall, but he has not his heart in it.” “He does very good work,” comforted Miss Swainson. “His lessons are always excellent.” “Ah, the lessons he gets with no trouble. But the boys, they like him not. They all time make fun on him, and my poor Joseph is not happy. He is Polack, they say. It is not true—we are Americans now; there is the paper,” and he pointed proudly to the naturalization paper, framed upon the wall. “We’ll see if we can’t make Joseph happy at school,” Miss Swainson promised. “I’ll see what I can do.” Now, Miss Swainson was one of the upright, downright people who go at things directly and openly. She began a campaign for the kinder treatment of Joseph Lescinszky, Junior. She had no doubt of her success. An opportunity for beginning her kindly efforts in Joseph’s behalf came soon. Joseph was always the butt for practical jokes, and Charlie Owen was his particular tormentor. Therefore, when Joseph was tripped, going to the dictionary, by Charlie’s projecting toes, she kept Charlie after school and had a serious talk with him. “Don’t you see what a contemptible thing it is for you to tease this bright boy just because he is of Polish blood?” she inquired warmly of smiling Charlie Owen.