And so I was "Mary Antin," and I felt very important to answer to such a dignified title.

It was just like America that even plain people should wear their surnames on week days.
As a family we were so diligent under instruction, so adaptable, and so clever in hiding our deficiencies, that when we made the journey to Crescent Beach, in the wake of our small wagon-load of household goods, my father had very little occasion to admonish us on the way, and I am sure he was not ashamed of us.

So much we had achieved toward our Americanization during the two weeks since our landing.
Crescent Beach is a name that is printed in very small type on the maps of the environs of Boston, but a life-size strip of sand curves from Winthrop to Lynn; and that is historic ground in the annals of my family.

The place is now a popular resort for holiday crowds, and is famous under the name of Revere Beach.

When the reunited Antins made their stand there, however, there were no boulevards, no stately bath-houses, no hotels, no gaudy amusement places, no illuminations, no showmen, no tawdry rabble.