"there's no other place like it," francie said.
"like what?"
"brooklyn. it's a magic city and it isn't real."
"it's just like any other place."
"it isn't! i go to new york everyday and new york's not the same. i went to bayonne once to see a girl from the office who was home, sick. and bayonne isn't the same. it's mysterious here in brooklyn. it's like - yes - a dream. the houses and the streets don't seem real. neither do the people."
"they're real enough - the way they fight and holler at each other and the way they're poor, and dirty, too."
"but it's like a dream of people being poor and fighting. they don't really feel these things. it's like it's all happening in a dream."
"brooklyn is no different than any other place," said neeley firmly. "it's only your imagination that makes it different. but that's all right," he added magnanimously, "as long as it makes you feel so happy."
neeley! so much like mama, so much like papa; the best of each in neeley. she loved her brother. she wanted to put her arms around him and kiss him. but he was like mama. he hated people to be demonstrative. if she tried to kiss him, he'd get mad and push her away. so, she held out her hand instead.
"happy new year, neeley."
"the same to you."
they shook hands solemnly.