The auctioneer’s obliging assistant carried the wax lady to the door, and then the twins took it.
“The saints preserve us!” cried Michael; “whativer have ye rascally babies been up to now?”
“We’ve bought a lady, Michael,” explained Dolly, “and we want to take her home.”
“Well, if so be as she’s your lady, home with us she must go.”
Michael climbed down from his seat, and assisted the “lady” into the wagon.
“It’s lyin’ down in the wagon she must ride,” he said. “I’ll have no waxen image a-settin’ up on the seat, an’ me, like as not, arristed fer kid-nappin’ her! In she goes, and covered up wid these potaty-sacks she’ll be, till yez gets her home.”
“All right,” said Dolly, gleefully, “I don’t care. Put her in back, if you want to. But be careful, don’t muss up her hair too much!”
At last the “lady” was arranged, and Dick and Dolly clambered up to the seat beside Michael, and home they went.
“You see,” Dolly confided to Michael, who was her devoted adorer, “we went to an auction, and we bought the lady.”
“An auction! Yez childher! My soul! what will yez be afther doin’ next?”