"Here are our American passports," said Hermione: "we are Americans."
"Yes, Americans, republicans!" cried Mrs. Leare: "we fraternize with all republicans in France."
"Aristos," said a man between his teeth, glancing at her dress and at that of Hermione.
"What does he say?" cried Mrs. Leare, who did not catch the word.
"Hush, mother!" said Hermione.
"But what did he say?" she shrieked. "Tell me at once: do not keep it from me."
Hermione replied (unwilling to use the word "aristocrat") by an American idiom: "He said we belonged to the Upper Ten."
"But we don't! Oh, Hermie, your father belongs to a good family in Maryland, but my grandfather made shoes. I was quite poor when he married me. I was only sixteen."
"What you say?" said a railroad-hand who knew a little English. "You say you are not some aristos?"
"No, sir," said I: "these ladies claim to be Americans and republicans."