“Yes, you did,” replied the auctioneer.
“Well, I guess not, much.”
“But you did—the whole lot. You winked every time I looked towards you.”
“Winked?”
“Yes, and kept winking; and a wink is a bid always,” said L., the least taken aback at the prospect of losing a good sale.
“Wal—as for that—so did you keep winkin’ at me. I thought you was winkin’ as much as to say, ‘Keep dark; I’ll stick somebody onto this lot of stuff;’ and I kept winkin’ back, as if to reply, ‘Well, I’ll be hanged if you don’t, mister.’”
