"
"But not from Germantown or Philadelphia," answered David, declining a
cigar which his new acquaintance offered.
"Bet you, I know that all right. But I never saw Quakers anywhere else,
and I meant the tribe and not the tent. English, I bet? Of course, or you
wouldn't be talking the English language--though I've heard they talk it
better in Boston than they do in England, and in Chicago they're making
new English every day and improving on the patent. If Chicago can't have
the newest thing, she won't have anything. 'High hopes that burn like
stars sublime,' has Chicago. She won't let Shakespeare or Milton be
standards much longer. She won't have it--simply won't have England
swaggering over the English language. Oh, she's dizzy, is Chicago--simply
dizzy. I was born there. Parents, one Philadelphy, one New York, one
Pawtucket--the Pawtucket one was the step-mother. Father liked his wives
from the original States; but I was born in Chicago. My name is
Lacey--Thomas Tilman Lacey of Chicago."
"I thank thee," said David.
"And you, sir?"
"David Claridge.
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