“Isn’t my table a dear!” whispered Anne, eagerly.
“But it has as many legs as a centipede,” replied Polly.
The others laughed gaily at her criticism but at that moment, a comfortable Turkish arm-chair was placed upon the dais. It was upholstered in a rich tapestry, and looked oh! so luxurious.
Polly watched the bidders anxiously. She had a sudden desire for that chair, but she couldn’t manage to get in at the bidding, at all. But when she saw a woman opposite, hold up a hand above her head, and so learned that that was one way to catch the auctioneer’s attention, she, too, followed suit.
She instantly held up her hand, and just saved the chair from being sold to a man at the back. So it was knocked down to her at seventeen-fifty.
“There! That is Mrs. Stewart’s chair. I saw the look in her eye when it was placed upon the dais; and I know just how she will enjoy it when she has done preparing our dinners. That chair, out before the open fire-place giving rest to a tired house-keeper, will make one feel like new!” Polly said.
“But, Polly, child! you must not spend your money buying me such things!” exclaimed Mrs. Stewart.
“I will if I want to! This is the first stick you’ve got for your room. And without you, I’d like to know what kind of a home we’d have. So don’t you say another word if I want to buy other things for you.”
Anne objected. “Maybe this one chair is all right, Polly, but no more, please.”
“Anne, just see all the money we’re saving on buying our furniture, this way. Why can’t I use the surplus as I want to? I say I will—if I see anything I want very much to give you or your mother.”