The Colonel's gaze wandered. The little group of friends became hopelessly uneasy; even Mrs. Ann ceased to smile. "You stand up, Polly Somers—you are the handsomest girl in the county," which was quite true.
The girl, who was near by, sat still embarrassed. "Get up," said
Penhallow sharply.
"She's withdrawed these three months," cried a ready-witted young farmer.
"Oh, is she? Well, then, we will go on." Tom McGregor went quietly up the two steps to the platform. All those who were near to the much-loved master of Grey Pine stood still aware of something wrong and unable to interfere. Rivers alone moved towards him and was put aside by an authoritative gesture. The moment of silence was oppressive, and Leila was hardly conscious of the movement which carried her up beside Dr. McGregor to the level of the platform.
"Oh, do something," she whispered; "please do something."
"It is useless—this can't last."
"Uncle Jim," she exclaimed in her despair, and what more she would have urged was unheard or unsaid as the Colonel turned towards her and cried, "One more for sale!"
No one spoke. At last these various people who loved the man well saw more or less clearly that he was no longer their James Penhallow of other days. He went on at once with raised voice: "Last sale—Leila Grey—likely young woman—warranted sound—single or double harness. Fetch her up." His confusion of mind was painfuly apparent. "Who'll bid?" A suppressed titter rose from the younger people.
"She is withdrawn, uncle," said John Penhallow distinctly.
"Ah! who did you say—Like Polly, owner withdraws her—Can't you speak out?"