All at once the auctioneer was heard calling: "Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, all ye good people." Obe was proud of his legal language. He mounted upon a box beside the kitchen door. "Naow ladies an' genlums, the terms of this here sale is as follers: Everything under five dollars, cash. All over five dollars, note payable in six months at six per cent interest, said note to be endorsed by a responsible party ownin' property an' acceptable to the executors of Uncle Nat Carberry's will. Uncle Nat Carberry is gone to his long rest, an' we're here this afternoon fer to sell his goods. Naow what'll ye gimme fer this here skillet? It's a good, old fashioned steel skillet—no flimsy sheet iron stuff—an' it'll fry yer pancakes the way ye like 'em fried, nice an' braown on the outside an' done clear all the way through. What, nobody won't gimme a bid on this here skillet? All right, we hain't got no time to waste a-foolin' over this small stuff. It's gotta go quick. Hand me that there iron stew pan. Naow here's yer stew pan all ready to make the mush an' milk fer breakfast or bile the taters fer dinner. Who'll gimme a bid on the two of 'em?"
"Ten cents."
"All right, take 'em away. Ten cents; an' Jerry Blackford is the buyer. Goin' to housekeepin', Jerry?"
Jerry blushed furiously and set the skillet and pot back in a corner beside the fence.
The auctioneer was Obe Applestill, local Justice of the Peace, who had lately performed the marriage ceremony for Jerry and Judith. Obe was a general utility character of a sort that is to be found in most rural communities, one of those legal hangers-on that one finds in very small towns. He functioned as Justice of the Peace, Notary Public, insurance agent, tax assessor, real estate broker, auctioneer, and in a number of other allied activities. He was a little man with a jolly round face, keen bright blue eyes and a mouth shrunken from missing teeth, which he was always wetting with his tongue. Every few minutes this small red tongue would dart forth adder-like, make a quick circle around his lips and then retreat again behind the snags and withered gums of his mouth. He wore a pepper and salt suit whose creases were of the body rather than of the pressing iron; and his hair, which had not been cut for some time, was beginning to follow the curve of his ears. He was something of a wag, was fond of a joke and a drop of whiskey, and knew everybody within ten miles of Clayton.
"Naow, gimme a bid on this here pair o' brass candlesticks like granmammy used to light the haouse with. Nobody don't hardly use a grease lamp like this no more; but they're mighty handy to pick up to go to bed with. You don't have to bother with no lamp chimney. Who'll gimme ten cents for 'em?"
He waited for a few seconds with the candlesticks in his hand.
"What, hain't this pair o' candlesticks wo'th ten cents to nobody. All right, hand me some o' them plates to go with 'em."
One of the eight children, a middle aged woman with pinched features, handed up a couple of coarse white plates.
"My, it looks like everything's a-goin' to go awful cheap!" she sighed dolorously.