Herr Favre, in spite of his French name,
was a gentleman of Bavaria. It was his first visit to our country,
and Sheridan took pleasure in showing him the sights of the country's
finest city. They got into an open car at the main entrance of the
Sheridan Building, and were driven first, slowly and momentously,
through the wholesale district and the retail district; then more
rapidly they inspected the packing-houses and the stock-yards; then
skirmished over the "park system" and "boulevards"; and after that
whizzed through the "residence section" on their way to the factories
and foundries.
"All cray," observed Herr Favre, smilingly.
"'Cray'?" echoed Sheridan. "I don't know what you mean. 'Cray'?"
"No white," said Herr Favre, with a wave of his hand toward the long
rows of houses on both sides of the street. "No white lace window-
curtains; all cray lace window-curtains."
"Oh. I see!" Sheridan laughed indulgently. "You mean 'GRAY.'
No, they ain't, they're white. I never saw any gray ones."
Herr Favre shook his head, much amused. "There are NO white ones,"
he said. "There is no white ANYTHING in your city; no white window-
curtains, no white house, no white peeble!" He pointed upward.
Pages:
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149