After some grumbling Mr. Whipplefish agreed to this exchange, whereupon I repaired to my room in the Sunkset House, mixed the gin, and hastened back to the Whipplefish home with it. I carried the chest away the same day, and have since refused an offer of two hundred dollars for it.
During the next two days I did not go near the Whipplefish house; but at the expiration of the two days—which, in Mr. Whipplefish’s case, I judged to be about the life of one quart of gin—I returned and found him in a state of nerves.
The antique-collector must learn to be patient. Nothing is gained by rushing matters. If I had gone to Mr. Whipplefish before he had finished the gin, I could have done very little business with him probably. The antique-collector must also learn restraint. If I had offered Mr. Whipplefish a case of gin for his chest instead of one quart, he would probably have smelled a rat. He might have held the chest for a higher price, or he might have had the gin analyzed. Either course would have caused me considerable embarrassment.
At any rate, I found him in a state of nerves on my second visit. The offer of another quart in return for his cradle met with an instant response. I subsequently sold the cradle for six hundred dollars. On my third visit I got the spindled chair for three quarts of gin. I am holding this chair for fifteen hundred dollars† and expect to get it.
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† Prospective buyers will kindly communicate with the publishers.—Eds.
By this time Mr. Whipplefish was growing somewhat accustomed to my presence, and seemed almost willing that I should help myself to whatever I wanted so long as I placed a bottle or two of pre-war gin in his hand as a little token of remembrance and esteem.
For two bottles of gin per room I was permitted to remove the pumpkin pine wainscoting from the downstairs walls of the Whipplefish house. I used a part of it to sheathe my own library, which has been pictured many times in the pages of The House Elegant; and the remainder I sold for seven hundred and forty-five dollars.
The doors of the inside rooms cost me one quart apiece, with the hardware thrown in. The big front door and carved sills with a graceful fanlight came higher. That cost me half a case, but it was worth it, as I have since refused an offer of twelve hundred dollars for it.
This purchase also caused me a large amount of worry; for Mr. Whipplefish, not being so young as he once was, fell downstairs several times during the half-case period, and led some people to think that he might die of over-exertion. In fact, he was found in a rigid state by neighbors two or three times before the six bottles were gone, and was thought to be dead; but each time he proved merely to be ossified, and came back to life before the undertaker arrived.