"And they didn't do a thing but bring all their friends," says I. "Must be fifty of them down there. You'll have a thick book before you get through."
"I beg pardon," puts in Mr. Hubbard, leanin' forward int'rested, "but may I ask the nature of the book?"
"It—it's to be about our foreign-born citizens," says Eggy.
"Ah, I see!" says J. Q. "Pointing out the evils of unrestricted immigration, I presume?"
"Well—er—not exactly," says Eggy.
"Then I should advise you to make it so," says Mr. Hubbard. "In fact, if the subject were well handled, and the case put strongly enough to meet my views, I think I could assure its immediate publication."
"Oh, would you?" says Eggleston, real eager. "But—but what are your views as to our treatment of aliens?"
"My programme is quite simple," says Mr. Hubbard. "I would stop all immigration at once, absolutely. Then I would deport all persons of foreign birth who had not become citizens."
Eggy gasped. "But—but that would be unjust!" says he. "Why, it would be monstrous! Surely, you are not in earnest?"
Mr. Hubbard's eyelids narrow, his jaw stiffens, and he emphasizes each word by tappin' his knee. "I'd like to see it done to-morrow," says he. "Check this flood of immigration, and you solve half of our economic and industrial problems. Too long we have allowed this country to be a general dumping ground for the scum of Europe. Everyone admits that."