I enter a large, rectangular room, nearly empty except for a bench and some camp chairs at rear. 2 young black men are cleaning the floor. The soap and cleaning rags are on the seats of 2 chairs which are pushed together in such a way that the seat of one overlaps the seat of the other, and forms a sort of table. The cleaners slap the wet rags against the floor, squirting soapy water in all directions, and I am concerned lest the flying water mar several books I am carrying. On my first visit to this room I spilled a small quantity of some white, shredded material (like fine macaroni) on the floor which, the cleaners told me, made no difference whatever. On my next trip I had a flat, rectangular paste-board box full of small crackers and small cakes of various shapes and colors. I tried to shake these out of one end of box, but apparently the opening was too small to permit free passage. Presently it occurred to me to tear out the cellophane "window," thus making a large opening.