THE AUCTION SALE.
My father was very unhappy, and my mother was afraid he would again resort to the cup for solace in his misfortune. I do not know what she said to him; but he treated her very tenderly, and never was a woman more devoted than she was during this threatening misfortune. My father was again a poor man. All that he had of worldly goods was to be stripped from him to satisfy the malice of his hard creditor. He was too proud to apply to Major Toppleton for assistance, believing that he would have nothing to do with property on the other side of the lake.
I continued to run the dummy, and was so happy as to keep on the right side of the major, his son, and the students. Before the expiration of the legal notice, my father hired a small house in Middleport, and we moved into it. It was only a hovel, compared with the neat and comfortable dwelling we had occupied in Centreport, and the change was depressing to all the members of the family. My father’s place was advertised to be sold, and as the day—which looked like a fatal one to us—drew near, we were all very sad and nervous. Nothing had yet been heard of Christy; and the case was a plain one. The thousand dollars saved from the earnings of the debtor was to be sacrificed. No man in Centreport, however much he wanted the house, would dare to bid upon it.
My father desired to attend the sale, perhaps hopeful that his presence might induce some friend of other days to bid a little more for the place. My mother did not wish to have him attend the auction; but as he insisted, she desired that I should go with him. I had no wish to be present at the humiliating spectacle, or to endure the sneers and the jeers of the Centreporters; but I decided to go, for my presence might be some restraint upon my father, if his misfortunes tempted him to drink again. I applied to Major Toppleton for leave of absence for my father and myself on the day of the sale. My father had engaged a man to take his place, and Faxon could now run the dummy.
“What’s going on over there?” asked the major, after he had consented to the absence of both of us.
“My father’s place is to be sold at auction. Colonel Wimpleton has foreclosed the mortgage,” I replied.
“How much has your father paid on the house?”
“He paid a thousand dollars down; and the mortgage is for two thousand. He would have paid the note when it was due, but his money was stolen from him.”
“I remember about that,” added the major, musing. “Will the place bring enough at auction to enable your father to get back the thousand dollars he paid?”
“No, sir; we don’t expect it will bring anything over the mortgage. Colonel Wimpleton means to punish my father by ruining him, and none of the Centreport people will dare to bid on the place.”