“Fourteen and a half,” from the corner.
“Leetle more, mas’r,” from Uncle Sam.
“Fourteen, seventy-five,” from Hugh.
“Fifteen,” from the man in the corner, and Hugh groaned aloud,
“That’s every dime I’ve got.”
Quick as thought an acquaintance beside him slipped a bill into his hand, whispering as he did so,
“It’s a V. I’ll double it if necessary. I’m sorry for the darky.”
It was very exciting now, each bidder raising a quarter each time, while Sam’s “a leetle more, mas’r,” and the vociferous cheers of the croud, whenever Hugh’s voice was heard, showed him to be the popular party.
“Nineteen, seventy-five,” from the corner, and Hugh felt his courage giving way as he faintly called out,
“Twenty.”