“How much am I bid for this garden set? All in perfect condition.”
“Ten cents,” replied a strident voice.
“Scandalous!” cried Miss Pike. “I’ll bid one dollar. It is sanctified by the touch of a vanished hand.”
“Indeed,” murmured Madam Carruth, who could see Miss Pike, although that lady could not be seen by her. “Well, I guess not. One-fifty.”
Miss Pike was too intent upon securing the object to give heed to the speaker’s voice or recognize it.
“One-seventy-five! One-seventy-five! One-seventy-five! Going, going at one-seventy-five.”
“Two-seventy-five!”
“Ah! That’s better. It would be a shame to sacrifice this set for a song. It is no ordinary set of garden implements, but a most superior quality of steel. Two-seventy-five; two-seventy-five—”
“Three! I must have them.” The last words were spoken to a bystander, but Madam Carruth’s ears were sharp.
“Must you? Indeed! We’ll see.”