“We’re goin’ to have an aw-aw-auction,” says Mark.
“Um!” says Uncle Ike. “Auction, eh? Um! Calc’late I may find a minnit or two somehow. Auction. Um! Where?”
“Haven’t you seen our signs?”
“To be sure. To be sure.” We knew he was just pretending, and that he knew all about the auction all the time. “Was them your signs?”
“Yes,” says Mark. Then he wrinkled up around his eyes like he does when he’s going to think of something especially smart. “What’s the m-main difficulty with auctions, Uncle Ike?”
“Auctioneer’s wind gives out,” says the old fellow.
“N-no,” says Mark.
“Nobody to buy,” guesses Uncle Ike.
“N-no. It’s gittin’ f-folks to bid as much as you want ’em to.”
“’Course,” Uncle Ike said. “Never’d ’a’ thought of that. Never! Beats all how this Mark Tidd thinks of things. Quicker ’n greased lightenin’ he is. Twicet as quick.”