"That 'it is always the most ignorant immigrant that makes the best citizen.'"
"I certainly don't see that," Hamilton replied.
"He absorbs Americanism more quickly," the other explained. "For example, there's no class hatred idea to be fought down, no anarchistic tendencies, no desire to turn liberty into license. The ignorant immigrant comes to work, he gets a job immediately, he finds that there is good pay and steady employment for a man who does work. There's not one in ten thousand of that kind that does not prosper from the day he lands. But you'll hear all sorts of ideas and suggestions in Washington. When do you go?"
"I'm leaving to-night, sir," the boy answered. "I thought it might please the Bureau if I were there a day ahead of time."
"They'll be willing enough," the supervisor answered "I imagine every added helper is of value now, with all these schedules piling in. I'll drop a note to the Director to-night, telling him of your work; your schedules are in good shape, and I think you've done very well to cover your district in the time. I wish you all sorts of luck, and write to me once in a while from Washington so that I can hear what you're doing and how you're getting along."
Hamilton thanked the supervisor heartily, and after a word or two of farewell returned to the house of a friend where he was to dine before starting on the night train for Washington. Immediately on reaching there he went directly to the Census Bureau, sent in his card, and the Director's secretary, a keen young fellow, came out to see him.
"I think I've heard Mr. Burns speak about you, Mr. Noble," he said, looking at the card he held in his hand. "The Director is very busy right now, but he said when you came you were to go down to Mr. Cullern; I'd take you there myself but I'm needed here."
"Well, there's really no necessity, Mr. Russet," the boy replied, "tell me where it is and I'll find my way."
"Show this gentleman to Mr. Cullern," he said. Then, turning with a smile to the boy, he said, "You'll be all right, I guess."
Hamilton thanked him, and the secretary hurried back through the swinging half length door to the inner office. Following the messenger, Hamilton found himself on the main floor with hundreds of machines clicking on every side of him. The chief of the floor looked at the card, turned it over, read what had been penciled on the back, and said promptly: