“Fifteen thousand.”
Bagby hesitated, scowling, then said, “Sixteen thousand.”
“Seventeen.”
“Seventeen, five.”
“Yer might ez waal quit, Joe,” interjected Squire Hennion. “I hez more ’n’ yer hev, an’ I intends ter buy it. Nineteen my bid, pa’son."
“Twenty,” burst out Joe, malignantly.
“Twenty-one.”
“Twenty-five.”
Hennion’s face in turn grew red with anger, and he half rose, his fist clinched, but recollecting himself he resumed his seat.
“Going at twenty-five,” announced McClave. “Will any one give more?”