The old man looked at her for a moment, then shook his head as though in perplexity and turned away.
Several more hours of vigorous work on the part of the noisy auctioneer resulted in the sale of the miscellaneous collection of articles.
The loquacious old farmer was often moved to whistle or to emit a low "Gosh" as the sale progressed and seemingly valueless articles were sold for high prices. A linen homespun table-cloth, woven in geometrical design, occasioned spirited bidding, but the man on the box was equal to the task and closed the bids at twenty dollars. Homespun linen towels were bought eagerly for seven, eight, nine dollars. A genuine buffalo robe was knocked down to a bidder at the price of eighty dollars. Cups and saucers and plates sold for from two to four dollars each. But it was an old blue glass bottle that provoked the greatest sensation. "Gosh, who wants that?" said the old man as the bottle was brought forth. "If he throws a cup or plate in with it mebbe somebody will give a penny for it."
But a moment later, as an antique dealer started the bid at a dollar the old man spluttered, "Jimminy pats! Why, it's just an old glass bottle!"
Some person enlightened him—it was Stiegel glass! After the first bid on the bottle every one became attentive. The two rival bidders were alert to every move of the auctioneer, the bids leapt up and up—ten dollars—eleven dollars—twelve dollars—thirteen dollars—gone at thirteen dollars!
It was late afternoon when Phœbe and the preacher turned homeward. The preacher's purchase had to be left at the farm until he could return for it in the big farm wagon, but Phœbe thought of the highboy as they rode along the pleasant country roads. She remembered the expression she had caught on the face of Phares and the remembrance troubled her. She sought desperately for some topic of conversation that would lead the man's thoughts from the highboy and prevent the return of the mood she had discovered at the sale.
"You—Phares," she began confusedly, "you are going to baptize this next time, Aunt Maria thought."
"Yes."
The preacher looked at the girl. The exhilarating influence of the early June outdoors was visible in her countenance. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks glowed—she seemed the epitome of innocent, happy girlhood. The vision charmed the preacher and caused the blood to course more swiftly through his veins, but he bit his lip and steadied his voice to speak naturally. "Yes, Phœbe, I want to speak to you about that."
"Oh, dear," she thought, "now I have done it! Why did I start him on that subject!" Some of the excessive color faded from her face and she looked ahead as he spoke.