CHAPTER XXVIII. ITALY SEEN THROUGH AMERICAN SPECTACLES.
Still, Mr. Cunningham reflected that in case of an attack it would be convenient to have such an addition to his party as the American, for Amos Sanderson seemed like a brave man, who would have his wits about him and might render valuable assistance.
“Are you traveling on business, Mr. Sanderson?” asked Bernard.
“No; I’ve been pretty lucky, and put by a considerable pile, and my friends told me I ought to see Europe. So I left my business in the hands of my brother, and came over last March.”
“Are you enjoying it?”
“Well, middling well! I can’t get used to their cookery. Why, I haven’t seen a doughnut or eaten a plate of pork and beans since I left America.”
“I never ate a doughnut in my life,” said Walter Cunningham.
“Then you’ve missed a great deal. I reckon Bernard knows how they taste.”
“Oh, I have eaten a great many.”
“The fact is, there’s no country where you can get such good living as in America,” said Amos Sanderson, with patriotic complacency.