" The deacon, as Romescos calls him, edges his way through the
crowd up to the stand, and looks first at the vender and then at the
children. Turning his head aside, as if it may catch the ears of
several bystanders, Romescos whispers, "That's deacon Staggers, from
Pineville."
"Like your bid; but I'm frank enough to say I don't want you to have
them, Romescos," interposes the auctioneer, with a smile.
"Four hundred and fifty dollars!" is sounded by a second bidder. The
vender enquires, "For the two?"
"Yes! the pair on 'em," is the quick reply.
"Four hundred and fifty dollars!" re-echoes the man of feeling.
"What good democrats you are! Why, gentlemen, it's not half the
value of them. You must look upon this property in a social light;
then you will see its immense value. It's intelligent, civil, and
promisingly handsome; sold for no fault, and here you are hesitating
on a small bid.
"Only four hundred and fifty dollars for such property, in this
enlightened nineteenth century!"
"Trade will out, like murder. Squire wouldn't sell 'em to nobody but
a deacon a few minutes ago!" is heard coming from a voice in the
crowd. The vender again pauses, blushes, and contorts his face: he
cannot suppress the zest of his profession; it is uppermost in his
feelings.
Romescos says it is one of the squire's unconscious mistakes. There
is no use of humbugging; why not let them run off to the highest
bidder?
"The deacon has bid upon them; why not continue his advance?" says
Mr.
Pages:
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483