"One anna," called Mrs. Gissing, with a coquettish nod to the big Major, and a loud aside: "Cruel I may be to you, sir, but I'll give that to save the poor brute from having its neck wrung."
"Two annas!" There was a stress of eagerness in the new voice which made many in the crowd look whence it came. The speaker was a lean old man wearing a faded green turban, who had edged himself close to the auctioneer's table and stood with upturned eyes watching the bird anxiously. He had the face of an enthusiast, keen, remorseless, despite its look of ascetic patience.
"Three annas!" Alice Gissing's advance came with another nod at her big admirer.
"Four annas!" The reply was quick as an echo.
A vexed surprise showed on the pretty babyish face. "What an impertinent wretch! Eight annas--do you hear?--eight annas!"
The auctioneer bowed effusively. "Eight annas bid for a cockatoo as says----" he paused cautiously, for the bidding was brisk enough without exaggeration. "Eight annas once--twice--Going! going----"
"One rupee!"
Mrs. Gissing gave a petulant jag to her rein. "Oh! come away, Erlton, my charity doesn't run to rupees."
But her companion's face, never a very amiable one, had darkened with temper. "D----n the impudent devil," he muttered savagely, before raising his voice to call: "Two rupees!"
"Five!" There was no hesitation still; only an almost clamorous anxiety in the worn old voice.