How thankful I was that the chemist had opened his shop just when he
did, for that "compliment"--for such of course it was intended to
be--affects John as "sheeny" does an Irishman.
"Of course," continued my neighbor, "I saw at once that your husband
was an American. But how does it happen that you speak without an
accent?"
I laughed and said: "Probably because I had lived until my marriage
in Boston, and am of pure English stock, whereas my husband is of
mixed race, possibly having no English blood at all in him."
"Dear me! You don't mean to say Indian or negro, do you?"
Thank goodness that distilled water has to be put in drop by drop, or
John would have been in the place he said the wife of Heber should be
in! I explained that my husband's ancestors on one side had come
from Ulster, and on the other from Wales, so that he did not have
quite the same feeling about England that I have, whose people came
from Norfolk and Devon.
He remarked it was a pity--I suppose for John, not for me--but I did
not inquire. It is, however, a funny thing that while the English
speak of curiosity as an American characteristic, they never seem to
think there is any reason they should not ask us any questions which
come into their heads. John, to whom, I need not say, I am indebted
for this observation, says that it is because they look on us as
freaks! And that just as children at the circus will pinch the legs
of those unfortunate creatures called freaks--a thing they would
never dream of doing to "humans"--so the English take liberties with
us which they would never take with their own countrymen. But you
know how he talks!
My new acquaintance was evidently not yet satisfied, for he
continued: "You know that was rather an original remark of your
husband's about the sermon this morning."