“But your father agreed to get us there in an hour,” answered Stratton.
“I know it,” responded the boy, “but he knew it would take more than two.”
“I’ll sue him for damage, by thunder,” said Stratton.
“Oh, there would be no use in that,” chimed in Mr. Pinte, “for you could get no satisfaction in this country.”
“But I shall lose more than a hundred dollars by being two hours instead of one,” said Stratton.
“They care nothing about that; all they care for is your eighty francs,” remarked Pinte.
“But they have lied and swindled me,” replied Stratton.
“Oh, you must not mind that, it is the custom of the country.”
Stratton gave “the country,” and its “customs,” another cursing.
All things will finally have an end, and our party did at length actually arrive in Brussels, cart and all, in precisely two hours and a half from the time we left the farmers house. Of course we were too late to exhibit the little General. Hundreds of visitors had gone away disappointed.