Mr. Hawkes proceeded to do as proposed, but in so hurried a manner that nothing he read could be understood.
That formality concluded, he took his hammer in one hand and received a basin from his assistant in the other.
'The first lot, gentlemen and ladies, that I submit to you is of the highest desirability. It is a washing basin, the jug has been mislaid—but that is of no real importance. The basin is the thing; and washing is also the thing. The man or woman who does not value a basin is a man or woman who don't wash, and it is washing that differentiates the civilised man from the savage. If any one here be setting up house, here is an opportunity that may not occur again. I see several young men present hovering on the verge of matrimony, or contemplating it as a possibility in the near future. Cleanliness is next to godliness, and if there be one of them who would desire to enjoy an 'appy 'ome and a beautiful wife, let him buy this basin.'
'Thickey basin is cracken,' shouted some one from the crowd.
'Cracked, is it? Possibly—but still eminently serviceable. Let me tell you, Mrs. Bunce—it was you who made that observation—that many a head is also cracken, as you term it, but is nevertheless an eminently serviceable head. With this basin goes a soap-dish and—thank you, Mr. Squire—an eligible teapot. A most desirable lot.'
He waved the last-named article, holding it by the spout adroitly, concealing in his hand the broken nozzle.
'This teapot, you will observe, has a sound handle, and has its lid attached. Many a teapot is rendered useless by the loss of its lid. This one not only possesses its lid, but also the flower or knob at the top. This pot'—his face became withering in its scornfulness—'this teapot, I hope, Mrs. Bunce, you will not pronounce cracken,' and he tapped the sides. 'Ah! Mrs. Bunce, come round, I thought as much—Two shillings. Two shillings offered for the basin, soap-dish, and teapot.'
The woman called Bunce vainly protested that she had made no offer. She was unheard. 'Two shillings for this lot. The price is ridiculous. If Mrs. Hawkes were here she would not allow the chance to slide. Ah! I thought as much, Mrs. Jose, two and six. With those cheeks like ribstone pippins, and at so high a polish—she is the lady who simply ravens after soap. Thank you, ma'am, three shillings. Every gentleman and lady must possess a soap-dish. That is right, three and six. Again, Mrs. Jose. I admire your judgment. Some know a good thing when they see it, others don't. Another sixpence. Some one bid another sixpence? Going for three and six, going, going, gone for three and six—given away.'
And Mrs. Jose of Bindon became the possessor of a cracked basin, a soap-dish without a strainer, and a teapot with broken spout.
After this start the auctioneer knew that he would do fairly well.