“Do you like America?”
“Yes!” came a chorus of voices. “Yes!” And the faces beamed.
“Why are you going back?” And I looked into the face of a man whom no one would have taken for an Italian, but who, too, was from Calabria.
“Mia padre and madre is in Calabria. They are old. I am going home to work in the field.”
“How long have you been in America?”
“Twelve years.” That accounts for the changed look.
“Where do you live?”
“In Connecticut. Among the Yankees.”
“Do you like the Yankees?”
“Yes,” and his smile grew broader. “Yes, good men; but they drink too much whiskey—make head go round like wheel. Then Yankee get crazy and swear.” And he shook his head, this critic of ours, who evidently did not believe that “really nice” ladies or even “really nice” gentlemen should drink whiskey, overmuch.