"Last article for sale—it's large and must be bought covered up. Who will bid?" Amid laughter the bids rose. At a dollar and ten cents it fell to Mrs. Pole, and proved when uncovered to be another band-box. Mrs. Pole came forward, and Ann Penhallow pleased to have been able to amuse her husband said, "We are curious, Mrs. Pole, open it." Mrs. Pole obeyed, and as she held up the rolled package it dropped into the unmistakable form of a man's breeches.
Westways exploded into wild applause, understanding joyously this freak of fortune. Mrs. Pole joined in their merriment, and the carpenter punched the butcher in the ribs for emphasis, as he said, "How's that, Pole?" The butcher made use of unpleasant language, as John relieved said, "The sale is over. You can settle with Mr. Grace." As he spoke he moved over to where Leila stood beside the two McGregors.
The people rose and put on their cloaks preparing to leave. Then John heard Tom McGregor say, "Look out, father! Something is going to happen."
The Colonel moved forward unsteadily. His face flushed, grew pale, and something like a grimace distorted his features, as he said, "The sale is not over, sit down."
People took their places again wondering what was to come. Then with the clear ringing voice the cavalry lines knew in far-away Indian wars, he cried, "We will now sell the most useless article in Westways. Who'll buy silly Billy?"
"Can't sell me," piped out Billy's thin voice as he fled in alarm, amid laughter.
"The sale is over, uncle," said John.
"No, sir—don't interrupt. I'd like to sell Swallow."
This was much to their taste. "Guess he's sold a many of us," cried an old farmer.
"Why, he's dead," said Mrs. Crocker.