Making her way around the outskirts of the crowd, Florence walked over to the place of the green trunk. The bags were all good, and most of them nearly new. Any one of them, she concluded, would see her safely through college, and that was all that mattered. Then, lest she attract too much attention, she slunk away into a dark corner.
Her heart skipped a beat when the first bag was put up. Her hopes fell when she saw it sell for thirty-two dollars. Her little roll of fifteen dollars seemed to grow exceedingly small as she clutched it in her right hand. Was her dream of a surprise for Christmas morning only a dream? It would seem so, for the second and third bags also sold for a high figure. But, recalling the little lady’s advice, she kept up her courage.
“How much am I bid?” said the auctioneer as the fourth bag was handed him. Florence caught her breath. She tried to say “Ten dollars,” but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. A round faced man relieved her of the task. The bag went to eleven dollars, then twelve. Then it came to a halt, giving time for Florence to regain her voice.
“Twelve and a half,” her voice seemed piping and thin in that great place. But the auctioneer got it.
“Thank you. Twelve and a half, a half, a half.”
“Thirteen! Thank you. Thirteen I have. Now the half,” he nodded to Florence and she nodded back, “And a half, I have it. And a half. Now fourteen. Thirteen and a half. Now make it fourteen.”
“Fourteen,” someone shouted. Again the girl’s heart sank. What was the use?
“And a half?” The auctioneer nodded at her and she nodded back.
“Now fifteen. Now fifteen. Now fifteen,” he shouted hoarsely. “Who’ll make it fifteen? Fifteen once. Fifteen twice!” Florence crushed her money into a solid mass, “Fifteen three times, and SOLD to the young lady in blue!” His gavel came down with a bang.
Scarcely believing her senses, the girl groped her way forward to receive the bag, then hurried over to the desk.