“Profitable farming,” laughed Raynor. However, the boys bought a grape shot and what purported to be an insignia from an artilleryman’s cap.
“It must have been a great battle,” said Raynor as they paid off their hack bill, the size of which made them raise their eyebrows.
“Yes, and the Belgians are still able to charge,” remarked Jack dryly.
In the railroad carriage on the way back a self-assertive Englishman was holding forth on what a great victory Wellington had achieved. “Which,” he added, turning to the boys, “was all the more creditable because he fought with raw recruits. Most of our seasoned soldiers were in your country at the time.”
“And most of them are planted there yet,” remarked Raynor.
The Englishman glared at him; but Jack smoothed things over and everything was amiable till Raynor again disrupted international peace.
“Deuced funny clothes those beggars wear,” remarked the son of Britain, gazing out at a wooden-shoed, baggy-breeched peasant.
“Oh, I don’t know. Not so much funnier than an Englishman’s,” said the American lad; after which there ensued a silence lasting till the train rolled into Brussels.