Arriving home, late that afternoon, Mrs. Fabian was given a letter sent from the old auctioneer at Morristown. He had kept his word and notified the young collectors of the sale about to be held at Parsippany: the sale they had heard about that day.
“He says, in this letter,” explained Mrs. Fabian after reading it, “the old farm-house where the vendue will take place, is filled with real old furniture; the family that owned the farm have held it for five generations. Mr. Van Styne admits that he is not enough of a connoisseur to judge the actual value of the antiques, but there are some mahogany pieces, and loads of queer old things that his wife would have kept in the attic, or split up for kindlings. As he thinks this is what is now called ‘Period Furniture,’ he would suggest that we run out and have a look at it before the day of the sale.”
“The letter sounds exactly like him, doesn’t it?” laughed Polly.
“Yes, but it is very nice of him to be so honest about it. Most auctioneers would tell us the furniture was wonderful,” returned Mrs. Fabian.
“When do you think we can run out there, Mrs. Fabian?” asked Eleanor, eagerly.
“We’ll find out what day Carl can best arrange for the trip. We mustn’t ‘drive a willing horse to death,’ you know.”
Later in the evening, the telephone bell rang and Polly was called to the ’phone. The maid who answered the ring said it was a man’s voice but she had not been able to understand the name.
Eleanor heard her chum say: “Oh, really! We’ve been wondering what became of you. It was so surprising to find you were an old friend of our Mr. Dalken’s and then never hear from you again, or have anyone know where you had gone.”
Mrs. Fabian glanced questioningly at Eleanor, but the girl shook her head in token of her ignorance of who the caller could be. Then they heard Polly say: “Why, I reckon so. If you’ll hold the wire a moment, I’ll run and ask Mrs. Fabian.”
A few moments later, Polly rushed into the room and said eagerly: “Jack Baxter is on the ’phone and wants to know if he may come in, tomorrow evening, Mrs. Fabian. He says he has a little furniture commission for Nolla and me to take care of.”