“My father, I mean. He used to live here when he was a tiny kiddy.”
“Really? I should have taken you for an American.”
“I am American, and don’t let anyone tell you different.”
“I won’t.”
“One hundred per cent, that’s me,” Sam nodded.
“‘Oh, say, can you see by the dawn’s early light?’” he said reverently.
“‘What so proudly’—I never can remember any more.”
“No one,” Sam reminded her, “knows the words but the Argentines....”
“...And the Portuguese and the Greeks.” The lady beamed. “Say, don’t tell me you’re American too!”
“My mother was.”