There was no other history in it of what the man had passed through in his son's death.
"I don't know," Dryfoos resumed, looking aside at the cloth window-strap, which he kept fingering, "as you quite understood what made me the maddest.

I didn't tell him I could talk Dutch, because I can't keep it up with a regular German; but my father was Pennsylvany Dutch, and I could understand what he was saying to you about me.

I know I had no business to understood it, after I let him think I couldn't but I did, and I didn't like very well to have a man callin' me a traitor and a tyrant at my own table.

Well, I look at it differently now, and I reckon I had better have tried to put up with it; and I would, if I could have known--" He stopped with a quivering lip, and then went on: "Then, again, I didn't like his talkin' that paternalism of his.
I always heard it was the worst kind of thing for the country; I was brought up to think the best government was the one that governs the least; and I didn't want to hear that kind of talk from a man that was livin' on my money.

I couldn't bear it from him.