“And if I do find him?”
“Oh true, if you do, I never thought of that. Well, you can ask him for the address of Mr. Rawton.”
Amy was under the impression at the time that the man would not give the required address, but she said nothing.
Her mistress again urged her to go downstairs, and she obeyed.
The sale-room was thronged with visitors, who chaffed and bantered each other, to say nothing of the auctioneer, to their heart’s content. At a public sale all restraint is thrown off, and people say and do what they please.
Amy, who was a remarkably pretty girl, had to run the fire of a series of observations, which doubtless were meant to be flattering and complimentary, but which were, however, very distasteful to her.
Presently she caught sight of the person whom she was seeking.
This was Cooney, who had just dropped in to see if he could get a job to do in the way of porterage, and if, at the same time, he could pick anything up, it would suit him better.
The girl beckoned to him, and he came forward out of the crowd.
“What, my charmer!” he ejaculated. “I said as how you’d think better of me as time went on. Well, I’m jolly glad to see you—and how’s the missus?”