Booth Tarkington

“ You got always used to speak what you want to, ain't you? Here, if you want to cuss somebody, you cuss him. In Chermany, if you want to cuss der Kaiser, you'd cuss him. In Chermany you expect a man can open his mout' to speak what he feels like? What am I a Forty-Eighter for, you Brudie?”
“I DON'T know,” the youth said sullenly. “I wish you'd stayed there and been a reg'lar German!”
Old Alberger laughed again. “In America you stand up for Chermany; in Chermany you'd stand up for America——”
“You think I would?” Albert interrupted hotly. ”

“ Albert Alberger on the morning of his ninetieth birthday. “I'm a Forty-Eighter, and don't you fergit it, Brudie! Don't you once ever fergit it for one second ever once at all!”
He spoke with vigor, addressing his grandson, the youngest Mr. Albert Alberger. “I got good enough eyesight yet,” the old man went on, tapping with his cane upon the little oblong of cardboard which had dropped from his grandson's pocket to the floor. “I got good enough eyesight to see it's a caller's card. So much airs you got to go pudding on!”
“That isin't 'airs,'” Albert protested. “Ever'body has their cards.” ”

“ Henry's complaint proved clearly that Anita had something better to think of than answering letters from Maple Street noodles. For, when he looked at Henry Wilkins, Fifth, Albert suddenly agreed with his grandfather, at least about the male population of the pretentious thoroughfare. Henry was a slim youth, as beautiful and cold as the moon. ”

“ It's because you're gone crazy you say so: nobody can't make Maple Streeters Americans. Maple Streeters iss monkey-shines, and monkey-shines ain't Americans. I'm a Forty-Eighter and I'm a Sixty-Two-er! I been an American sixty-eight years; dot's long enough to know who besides me iss Americans, ain't it? You been goin' by Maple Street till you're crazy ”

“ The three stood in a broad, old-fashioned hall—a hall with a white-and-black tiled door, black walnut newel and staircase, dismaying draperies, antlers with hats on them; all haunted by a faint smell of apples. ”

“ Henry Glotz is buildin' a house on Maple Street right now. He goes with them people a good deal.”
Albert the First was but the more embittered. “Dot's fine!” he returned. “Glotz, he's gittin' monkey-shines in his noodle, too, is he? You want to know what Maple Street iss?”
“Oh, I guess I know', papa.”
“No, you don't!” the old man said sharply. “You ain't seen it like I haf. You ain't no Forty-Eighter and you ain't no Sixty-Two-er, neither! Listen, Albert, I tell you! I tell you what Maple Street iss.” ”

“ He was additionally annoyed when, before he could pursue the subject, the lady he escorted was hailed from the rear, and an exquisite youth appeared, panting.
“I've just been to your house, 'Nita,” said Henry Wilkins, Fifth, adjusting his step to his cousin's, but not to Albert's. “Aunt Marjie told me you'd gone walking, and I've been running all over this end of town to find you. Why don't you leave word at the house which way you're going when you know I'm in town?”
Anita looked startled; and a slight agitation became audible in her voice, though all she said was, “Why, Henry Wilkins!” ”

“ You want Brudie turning into a noodle? Fine he'll be arount Albergers!'
“Look at dot fine glass o' peoble iss Albergers' customers; fine family trade; peoble wit' good sense and good senses' manners. How long you t'ink dose peoble goin' to haf any respects fer Albergers' if Albergers' cuts up shines wit' yella gluffs and goes chasin' after Maple Streeters? You raised Brudie good, Albert; but I tell you, you let him turn into a Maple Street noodle and he ain't fit to be in Albergers'. No sir! If he's a Maple Streeter he ain't fit to be a 'Merican citizen!” ”

“ Anita is chatting with her cousin.”
ALBERT got heavily to his feet. “What you mean? She isn't going to spend the whole afternoon with Swink, is she?”
“I beg your pardon.”
“That Henry Wilkins! She isn't crazy enough about him to spend the whole——”
“She hasn't any such ideas in her head, Mr. Alberger. Both she and her cousin are too young to think of such things yet. I'm afraid I must make it clear,” Mrs. Wilkins continued, with an accession of primness. “What I am saying concerns nobody except yourself.” ”

“ Well, how big a popalation was our town when I come here because I can't get no freedom in Chermany? She was fourteen hundut peoble. Yes, sir, chust fourteen hundut. Fine peoble, too; no monkey-shines and noodles, Albert. All peoble what did plendy work; all peoble dot says 'How-dy'-do, good-morning; how's your family?' Nobody tries to be smart Alecks; nobody gits stuck up—everybody goes along good, and everybody iss neighbors. Fine peoble, Albert! Well, sir, she begins to grow; she svells oud. ”

“ A year after he come here he schwindelt seven, eight hundut dollars from some farmers on a real-estate, and putty soon he gits in Conguss. Next, he comes back and sits up some more real-estating, him and his son, and builted 'em a show-off house on Maple Street. Den dey git some noodles to built some more show-off houses on Maple Street, and rite up and down in carridges. and cut monkey-shines. Well, we got someding else on our hants, dose times, because Abe'aham Lincoln he says America ain't got freedom yet. Dot's when you was a baby, Albert, and by Cheeminy! ”