Poor soul!
He ushered me into the class for which I had brought the book.
It was the hour for composition. “Ocean,” the subject.
When I was seated, the girl next me winked charmingly. She threw me a note within a minute, to which I promptly replied, “Morning Glory.” My note was answered “Miss Madge, 340 Mission Street.” I wrote her, “May I call on you to-morrow?” for which she wrote, “As you please.”
I was placed on the dangerous verge of clapping Byron’s poem into my “Ocean.” I manufactured one dozen of spelling errors.
“You should belong to some higher class. Take this slip to the principal!” the teacher said. “You have an imagination.” She wiped her spectacles slowly.
I left the room remarking, “Because I am a Japanese.”
I slipped away from the school altogether.
“One experience is plenty,” I declared.
26th—I went to Mission Street to call on Madge.