infuriated discouragement. Little Ann knew they would occur every two
or three days, and she did not wonder at them. Also she knew that if
she merely sat still and listened as she sewed, she would be doing
exactly what her mother would have done and what her father would find
a sort of irritated comfort in. There was no use in citing people's
villainies and calling them names unless you had an audience who would
seem to agree to the justice of your accusations.

So Mr. Hutchinson charged up and down the room, his face red, and his
hands thrust in his coat pockets. He was giving his opinions of
America and Americans, and he spoke with his broadest Manchester
accent, and threw in now and then a word or so of Lancashire dialect
to add roughness and strength, the angrier a Manchester man being, the
broader and therefore the more forcible his accent. "Tha" is somehow a
great deal more bitter or humorous or affectionate than the mere
ordinary "You" or "Yours."

"'Merica," he bellowed - "dang 'Merica! I says - an' dang 'Mericans.
Goin' about th' world braggin' an' boastin' about their sharpness an'
their open-'andedness. 'Go to 'Merica,' folks'll tell you, 'with an
invention, and there's dozens of millionaires ready to put money in
it.' Fools!"

"Now, Father," - Little Ann's voice was as maternal as her mother's
had been, - "now, Father, love, don't work yourself up into a passion.
You know it's not good for you." "I don't need to work myself up into
one. I'm in one. A man sells everything he owns to get to 'Merica, an'
when he gets there what does he find? He canna' get near a
millionaire. He's pushed here an scuffled there, an' told this chap
can't see him, an' that chap isn't interested, an' he must wait his