"Oh, America of course; but only because it's my own country. I can imagine liking England best, if one happened to be born here. Some things are nicer here, and some are nicer there."
"What do you like best in England?"
"Well, the old things. Cathedrals and castles. Also afternoon tea, which we don't bother about much over there. And the gardens."
"And what do you like best about America?"
"Trolley cars, and soda water fountains, and such things. And the climate. And the way people act. There's so much less—less formality over there; less bothering about little things, you know."
"Yes, yes, I know exactly. Silly little things, that don't matter one way or the other. I know I should like that about America."
"I think you would like America, anyway," said Harry, looking judicially at his interlocutrix. "You seem to be a free and easy sort of person."
"Well, I wouldn't like trolley cars," interrupted Jane with firmness, "They go too fast. I don't like to go fast. It musses my hair, and the dust gets into my eyes."
"Shut up, silly," said her sister; "you've never ridden in one."
"No, but I know what it is to go fast, and I don't like it. I don't think I should care much for America."