ught of possessing such genteel
furniture. Mother Jenkins explained that with a lick of furniture
polish they would look as good as new, but Pinkey's only fear was that
they would be too expensive. Then the dealer reckoned that she could
get the lot for seven pounds. The only rivals she feared were women
who, if they set their heart on anything, sometimes forced the price up
till you could buy it for less in the shop.

Meanwhile the sale had begun, and in the distance Pinkey could hear the
monotonous voice of the auctioneer forcing the bids up till he reached
the limit. From time to time there was a roar of laughter as he
cracked a joke over the heads of his customers. The buyers stood
wedged like sardines in the room, craning their necks to see each lot
as it was put up. As the crowd moved from room to room, Pinkey's
excitement increased. Mother Jenkins had gone to the kitchen, where she
always found a few pickings. She came back and found Pinkey's husband,
the young man with the ugly face and dancing eyes, who was waiting
outside with the cart, watching while Pinkey polished a corner of the
wardrobe to show him its quality. She hurried them down to the kitchen
to examine the linoleum on the floor, as it would fit their
dining-room, if the worn parts were cut out.

The crowd moved like a mob of sheep into the servants rooms, standing
in each other's way, tired of the strain on their attention. Mother
Jenkins whispered that things would go cheap because the auctioneer was
in a hurry to get to his lunch. Pinkey stood behind her, ready to poke
her in the ribs if she wished her to keep on bidding.

"Now, gentlemen," said the auctioneer, "lot one hundred and
seventy-five. Duchesse wardrobe, dressing-table with bevelled mirrors,
and marble-top washstand, specially imported from England by Mrs
Harper. What am I offered?"

"Specially imported from England?" cried a dealer. "Yes, came out in
the first fleet."

"What's that?" cried the auctioneer. "Thank you for telling me, Mr
Isaacs." And he began again: "What offer for this solid ash bedroom
suite, imported in the first fleet, guaranteed by Mr Isaacs, who was in
leg-irons and saw it."

There was a roar of laughter at the dealer's discomfiture.

"Now, Mr Isaacs, how much are you going to bid, for old times' sake?"
cried the auctioneer, pushing his advantage. But Isaacs had turned
sulky.

"A pound," said Mother Jenkins.

"No, mother, you don't mean it,"