There was complete silence for a few moments. Then the door opened, and Mr. Brotherton, one of Mr. Clarke’s agents from Northboro, entered, causing a flutter of speculation as to what his presence might mean and making Mrs. Lane’s heart thump painfully. Dr. Jedd and his wife, the minister and his lady, together with Mrs. Lane, who were occupying a bench that had been brought from the barn, and were the only people seated, looked at the stove in front of them, so that those who expected a bid from that quarter were disappointed.
Joshua Lane, hands behind him, leaned against the chimney front and gazed steadily at a wire that held the stove-pipe in place.
“What am I bid, to start?” repeated the auctioneer. Abiram Slocum, scanning the various groups with his ferret eyes, moved uneasily, moistened his lips, and, as his wife gave him a prod with her umbrella that exactly hit the “funny bone” of his elbow, jerked out, “Five hundred dollars.”
“One thousand,” said a clear, distinct, but unfamiliar, voice at the back of the room. There was a unanimous turning of heads and twisting of bodies toward the bidder, who proved to be Mr. Cole the lawyer from Northboro, who made a very impressive appearance, clad as he was in a handsome fur-lined overcoat and a shiny silk hat. As he was also often employed by Mr. Clarke, the mystery deepened.
Abiram Slocum gasped as if some one had poured a pail of water over him at this unexpected competitor, and then called, “One thousand two hundred and fifty.”
“Two thousand,” from the lawyer.
“Two thousand and fifty,” shrieked Abiram.
“Why waste time with small change a cold morning like this?” called the auctioneer.
“Three thousand,” said the lawyer.