"Yes,—I am an American."
"I knew it,—I can always tell them. "What ship did you come over in?"
"We came in the Batavia,—Cunard, you know. What kind of a passage did you have?"
"So did we. Captain said he'd hardly ever seen it rougher. Where are you from?"
|"YOU'RE AN AMERICAN—SO AM I."|
"So'm I. I'm from New Bloomfield. Anybody with you?"
"Our whole family's along. It's awful slow, going around alone,—don't you think so?"
"Ever been over here before?"
"I haven't. My first trip. But we've been all around,—Paris and everywhere. I'm to enter Harvard next year. Studying German all the time, now. Can't enter till I know German. I know considerable French,—I get along pretty well in Paris, or anywhere where they speak French. What hotel are you stopping at?"
"No! is that so? I never see you in the reception room. I go to the reception room a good deal of the time, because there's so many Americans there. I make lots of acquaintances. I know an American as soon as I see him,—and so I speak to him and make his acquaintance. I like to be always making acquaintances,—don't you?"