He was roused from his reverie by wheels crunching on the gravel walk up to a side door, and he heard Sarah's voice and Cindy's, the cook's, and finally Amy's giving directions, and felt sure some one had come for whatever was to go from the Crompton Place to the sale. Ruby had not intended sending so soon when she left the house, but chancing to meet a drayman who had just deposited a load in the salesrooms, she bade him go for whatever was ready, thinking, "I'll strike while the iron is hot, and before Mrs. Amy has time to change her mind."

There was no danger of that, at least as far as the dresses were concerned. Like everything connected with her stage life, they had been to her a kind of nightmare whenever she thought of them, and she was glad to be rid of them. Mandy Ann and Judy did give her a few pangs, and especially the latter, and as she wrapped it in tissue paper she held it for a moment pressed close to her, and began a song she had heard from the negroes as they sat around their light-wood fire after their day's work was done. It was a weird melody which Homer Smith had caught up and revised and modernized, with a change of words in some places, and made her sing, knowing it would bring thunders of applause. She heard the roar now, and saw the audience and the flowers falling around her, and with an expression of disgust she put Judy into Sarah's hands, and said, "Take her away, and quick, too. She, or something, brings it back."

Sarah took poor, discarded Judy, tied her in her chair in the old doll house, which was placed on top of the two trunks containing Amy's concert dresses, and then the drayman started up his horse, and the Colonel heard the wheels a second time coming past his window. With a great effort he succeeded in getting upon his well foot, and, dragging the other after him, hobbled on his crutches to the window in time to see the cart as it turned into the avenue. As far as he could see it he watched it as the doll house swung from side to side, and the drayman held it to keep it from falling off.

"I don't see how Amy could have done it," the Colonel said to himself when the dray disappeared from view, and then becoming conscious of the pain in his foot, he dragged himself back to his chair, and ringing for Peter, said to him: "I think I'll lie down a spell,—and, bring me a hot-water bag, I'm pretty cold, and my foot just jumps; and, Peter, go to-day and buy those things as if they were for yourself. You mustn't lie, of course,—but get 'em somehow, and bring them here to this big closet. The chances are when Mrs. Amy comes to her senses she'll want 'em, and raise Ned, as she used to. I'd give a good deal to see her in a tantrum. I'd rather have her that way than passive, as she is now. Will nothing ever rouse her out of her apathy? Curse that Homer Smith!"

He was talking to himself rather than to Peter, who got him on to the lounge, adjusted the cushions, brought a hot-water bag, covered him up, and then left him, saying, "Don't fret, I'll go this afternoon and get Judy and Mandy Ann by fair means or foul."

"All right," the Colonel said drowsily. "Fair means or foul, but don't lie, and don't let them think they are for me. You want them, and must get them, fair means or foul. You know where my purse is. Hold your tongue, and go!"

CHAPTER XIV
THE FIRST SALE

Order was being brought out of chaos in the Rummage rooms, where twenty ladies were working industriously, sorting, pricing, and marking the multitudinous articles heaped upon the counters. Not only District No. 5, but the village had emptied itself, glad to be rid of the accumulations of years. Nearly every room was occupied, and the committees were showing great skill in assigning things to the different departments. The antiques had a niche by themselves; the quill wheel, the warming-pan, the foot-stove, the brass kettle with Peter's boot-jack, and many more articles of a similar character were placed together. Jack's sister had responded quickly, and a large box had arrived with articles curious and new, which elicited cries of delight from the ladies in charge, who marked them at a ridiculously low price, less even, in some instances, than had been paid for them, and labelled their corner "The New York Store."

Scarcely was this completed when the drayman arrived from Crompton Place with the doll house and the two trunks, the last of which were pounced upon first, as Ruby Ann had reported what was in them. Her description, however, had fallen far short of the reality, and the ladies held their breath, as one after another of the beautiful gowns was taken out for exhibition. Few had ever seen anything just like them. Homer Smith had prided himself upon being a connoisseur in ladies' costumes and had directed all of Amy's, taking care that there was no sham about them. Everything was real, from the fabric itself to the lace which trimmed it, and which alone had cost him hundreds of dollars. And now they were at a Rummage Sale, and the managers did not know what to do with them. It was scarcely possible that any one would buy them, and it would be greatly out of place to exhibit them in the dry-goods department with Mrs. Biggs's brown and white spotted gown which she had contributed rather unwillingly, insisting that it should not be sold for less than a dollar. Ruby Ann suggested that they be carefully folded in boxes and laid away by themselves for inspection by any one who had a thought of buying them. If they did not sell, and probably they would not, they were to be returned either to Amy or to the Colonel,—the latter most likely, as Amy had expressed so strong a desire to be rid of them. Her suggestion was acted upon, and the dresses laid aside, and the attention of the managers turned to the doll house and its occupants, Mandy Ann and Judy, the latter of whom was greeted with shrieks of laughter.

Here was something that would sell, but what price to put upon it was a puzzle. No one had any idea of the original cost. Mrs. Biggs, who had joined the working force and whose voice was loudest everywhere, suggested ten dollars, with the privilege of falling, but was at once talked down, as low prices were to be the rule for everything, and five was quite enough. There were few who would pay that for a mere plaything for their children, so the card upon it was marked five dollars, with the addition that it had once belonged to Mrs. Amy Crompton Smith. It was then placed conspicuously in a window before which a group of eager, excited children gathered, and to which early in the afternoon Peter came leisurely.