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In the High Valley. Coolidge Susan
Читать онлайн.Название In the High Valley
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Автор произведения Coolidge Susan
Жанр Зарубежная классика
Издательство Public Domain
"Yes, certainly, if Mr. Graves will take charge of you. But first speak to this young lady, who is the sister of Mr. Young, who was so kind about playing ship-coil with you yesterday, and tell her you are glad she is able to be on deck. Then you can go, Amy."
Amy turned a pair of beautiful, long-lashed, gray eyes on Imogen.
"I'm glad you're better, Miss Young. Mamma and I were sorry you were so sick," she said, with a frank politeness that was charming. "It must be very disagreeable."
"Haven't you been sick, then?" said Imogen, holding fast the little hand that was put in hers.
"No, I'm never sick now. I was, though, the first time we came over, and I behaved awfully. Do you recollect, mamma?"
"Only too well," said her mother, laughing. "You were like a caged bird, beating yourself against the bars in desperation."
Amy lingered a moment, while a dimple played in her pink cheek as if she were moved by some amusing remembrance.
"Ah, there's Mr. Graves," she said. "I must go. I'll come back presently and tell you about the rainbows, mamma."
"I suppose most of these people on board are Americans," said Imogen after a little pause. "It's always easy to tell them, don't you think?"
"Not always. Yes, I suppose a good many of them are – or call themselves so."
"What do you mean by 'call themselves so'? That girl is one, I am sure," indicating a pretty, stylish young person, who was talking rather too loudly for good taste with the ship's doctor.
"Yes, I imagine she is."
"And those people over there," pointing to a large, red-bearded man who lay back in a sea-chair reading a novel, by the side of a fat wife who read another, while their little boy raced up and down the deck quite unheeded, and amused himself by pulling the rugs off the knees of the sicker passengers. "They are Americans, I know! Did you ever see such creatures? The idea of letting that child make a nuisance of himself like that! No one but an American would allow it. I've always heard that children in the States do exactly as they please, and the grown people never interfere with them in the least."
"General rules are dangerous things," said her neighbor, with an odd little smile. "Now, as it happens, I know all about those people. They call themselves Americans because they have lived in Buffalo for ten years and are naturalized; but he was born in Scotland and she in Wales, and the child doesn't belong exactly to any country, for he happened to be born at sea. You see you can't always tell."
"Do you mean, then, that they are English, after all?" cried Imogen, disconcerted and surprised.
"Oh, no. Every body is an American who has taken the oath of allegiance. Those Polish Jews over there are Americans, and that Italian couple also, and the big party of Germans who are sitting between the boats. The Germans have a large shop in New York, and go out every year to buy goods and tell their relations how superior the United States are to Breslau. They are all Americans, though you would scarcely suppose it to look at them. America is like a pudding, – plums from one part of the world, and spice from another, and flour and sugar and flavoring from somewhere else, but all known by the name of pudding."
"How very, very odd. Somehow I never thought of it before in that light. Are there no real Americans, then? Are they all foreigners who have been naturalized?"
"Oh, no. It is not so bad as that. There are a great many 'real Americans.' I am one, for example."
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