"I wonder whether they find themselves much happier for what they
have got?" said he.
"A great deal happier," said I. "They'll boast of those things to
all their friends at home, and we shall doubtless see some account
of their success in the newspapers."
"It would be delightful to expose their blunder,--to show them up.
Would it not, George? To turn the tables on them?"
"Yes," said I, "I should like to have the laugh against them."
"So would I, only that I should compromise myself by telling the
story. It wouldn't do at all to have it told at Oxford with my name
attached to it."
To this also I assented. To what would I not have assented in my
anxiety to make him happy after his misery?
But all was not over yet. He was in bed now, but it was necessary
that he should rise again on the morrow. At home, in England, what
was required might perhaps have been made during the night; but
here, among the slow Flemings, any such exertion would have been
impossible. Mr. Horne, moreover, had no desire to be troubled in
his retirement by a tailor.
Now the landlord of the Golden Fleece was a very stout man,--a very
stout man indeed. Looking at him as he stood with his hands in his
pockets at the portal of his own establishment, I could not but
think that he was stouter even than Mr.
Pages:
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41