Dere I vass upon a farm brought oop.
I serf in der army my dime. Den Ameriga. Dere I marry my vife, who is
born in Milvaukee. I vork in der big brreweries. Afder dot I learn to
be a carpenter. Now I am a kink, mit a castle all mine own, I am no
more a vage slafe."
He laughed at his own conceit, a great, roaring bellow that filled the
room.
"You're on the right track," Bill nodded. "It's a pity more people
don't take the same notion. What do you think of this country, anyway?"
"It iss goot," Lauer answered briefly, and with unhesitating certainty.
"It iss goot. Vor der boor man it iss--it iss salfation. Mit fife
huntret tollars und hiss two hants he can himself a home make--und a
lifing be sure off."
Beside Hazel Lauer's wife absently caressed the blond head of her
four-year-old daughter.
"No, I don't think I'll ever get lonesome," she said. "I'm too glad to
be here. And I've got lots of work and my babies. Of course, it's
natural I'd miss a woman friend running in now and then to chat. But a
person can't have it all. And I'd do anything to have a roof of our
own, and to have it some place where our livin' don't depend on a pay
envelope. Oh, a city's dreadful, I think, when your next meal almost
depends on your man holdin' his job.
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