"Why, your guvnor's just told me that the reserve upon it's two guineas!" she exclaimed.
"Mr. Waddington must have made a mistake," Burton replied, with a sinking heart.
"Look here," the woman insisted, "what is it worth, anyway?"
"A few pence for the frame," Burton answered, hurrying off.
The woman drew her shawl about her shoulders, threw her catalogue upon the floor and made her way towards the door.
"Not going to stay here to be swindled!" she declared loudly, looking around her. "Colored lithograph, indeed, and put down in the catalogue as an interesting oil painting! They must think us folks don't know nothing. Cheating's the word, I say—cheating!"
The woman's eye met the eye of Mr. Waddington as she stood for a moment in the doorway before taking her departure. She raised her fist and shook it.
"Bah!" she exclaimed. "Ought to be ashamed of yourself! You and your h'oil paintings!"
Mr. Waddington was too far off to hear her words but the character of her farewell was unmistakable! He glanced suspiciously towards his chief clerk. Burton, however, had at that moment been button-holed by a fidgety old gentleman who desired to ask him a few questions.
"I am a little puzzled, sir," the old gentleman said, confidentially, "about the absolute authenticity of this chippendale suite—lot number 101 in the catalogue. This sale is—er—um—advertised as being—" the old gentleman turned over the pages of the catalogue quickly—"a sale of the effects of the late Doctor Transome. That's so, eh?"