"No; to a place in Cedar Street, where Adolphe sold some sketches his brother painters gave him in their student days. One by Achenbach—Oswald, not Andreas—brought a large sum. It was a great help to us. I have written the gentleman who keeps the auction-room, and he is to send for the picture to-morrow, and it will be sold in his next picture sale. Adolphe was willing; he told me to do it. 'Someone will know,' he said; 'and we ought not to enjoy it all to ourselves.' Then again, the problem has been solved. All his pictures after this will be full of beautiful light."
The auction-room was crowded. There was to be a sale of French pictures, some by the men of '30 and some by the more advanced impressionists. Many out-of-town buyers were present, a few of them dealers. Dalny rubbed his hands together in a pleased way when he looked over the audience and the collection. It was quite possible that some connoisseur newly made would take a fancy to the masterpiece, confounding it with some one of the pictures of the Upside-down School—pictures looking equally well whichever way they might be hung.
The selling began.
A Corot brought $2,700; a Daubigny, $940; two examples of the reigning success in Paris, $1,100. Twenty-two pictures had been sold.
Then the masterpiece was placed on the easel.
"A Sunrise. By Adolphe Woolfsen of Düsseldorf," called out the auctioneer. "What am I offered?"
There came a pause, and the auctioneer repeated the announcement.
A man sitting by the auctioneer, near enough to see every touch of the brush on "Old Sunshine's" picture, laughed, and nudged the man next to him. Several others joined in.
Then came a voice from behind: