'David,' she asked him, when they were alone, 'do you understand "America" now?'
'Yes, ma’am.'
'Do you understand "Land where my fathers died"?'
'Yes, ma’am.'
'You didn’t sing with the others.'
'No, ma’am.'
Miss Ralston thought of a question that would rouse him.
'Don’t you like "America," David?'
The boy almost jumped in his place.
'Oh, yes, ma’am, I do! I like "America." It’s—fine.'