So Rollo and Charles bade the shopman good by, and went out of the shop.
"Is that what they call speaking English?" asked Charles.
"So it seems," said Rollo. "Sometimes they speak a great deal worse than that, and yet call it speaking English."
So Rollo and Charles got into the carriage again. Rollo took out his wallet, and made a memorandum of the name of the shop where he had engaged the sash, and of the street and number. The coachman sat quietly upon his seat, waiting for Rollo to finish his writing, and expecting then to receive directions where he was to go.
"If I could only find a commissioner that speaks French or English," said Rollo, "I could tell him what we want, and he could tell the coachman, and in that way we should soon get home."
"Can't you find one at some hotel?" asked Charles.
"Why, yes," said Rollo. "Why did not I think of that? We'll stop at the very first hotel we come to. I'll let him drive on till he comes to one. No; I'll tell him to go to the Hotel d'Amerique. That is the only name of a hotel that I know."
So Rollo pronounced the words "Hotel d'Amerique" to the coachman, and the coachman, saying, "Si, signore," drove on. In a short time he drew up before the door of the hotel where Mr. George had stopped first, on arriving in town. A waiter came to the door.
"Is there a commissioner here who speaks English or French?" asked Rollo.
"Yes, sir," said a man who was standing by the side of the door when the carriage stopped, and who now came forward. "I speak English."