whom (as Barber Toy remarked) any
new way of neglecting his duties was hailed as a godsend.

Mr Dewy, the auctioneer, sat with his clerk at the end of the table,
arranging his papers and unrolling his map of the property. He was a
fussy little man, and made a great pother because the map as soon as
unrolled started to roll itself up again. He weighted one corner with
the inkpot, and for a second weight reached out a hand for one of three
hyacinth vases which decorated the centre of the table. The bulb
toppled over and, sousing into the inkpot, sent up a _jet d'encre_,
splashes of which distributed themselves over the map, over the clerk,
over Mr Baker's neat pepper-and-salt suit, and over Mr. Dewy's own fancy
waistcoat. Much blotting-paper was called into use, and many apologies
were hastily offered to Mr Baker; in the midst of which commotion 'Bias
strolled into the room, and took a seat near the door.

Having mopped the worst of the damage on the map and offered his
handkerchief to Mr Baker (who declined it), Mr Dewy picked up a small
ivory hammer, stained his fingers with an unnoticed splash of ink on its
handle, licked them, wiped them carefully with his handkerchief, picked
up the hammer again, and announced that the sale had begun.

"Lot I.--All that Oak Coppice known as Higher Penpyll. Eighteen acres,
one rood, eleven perches. Aspect south and south-west. . . .
But there, gentlemen, you are all acquainted with the property, I make
no doubt. . . . Any one present not possessed of the sale catalogue?
Yes, I see a gentleman over there without one. Mr Chivers, would you
oblige?"

The clerk, still attempting to remove some traces of ink from his
person, distributed half a dozen copies of the printed catalogue.
He gave one to Cai. 'Bias, too, held out a hand and received one.

"Lot I.," resumed Mr Dewy. "All that desirable woodland (oak coppice)
known as Higher Penpyll. Eighteen acres and a trifle over. _Now_, what
shall we say, gentlemen?"

"Fifty pounds," said Mr Middlecoat promptly.

The auctioneer glanced at Mr Baker, who frowned.

"Now, Mr Middlecoat! Now really, sir! . . . This is serious business,
and you offer me less than three pounds an acre! The coppice is good
coppice, too."

"'Twill hardly pay to clear," answered Mr Middlecoat. "But why can't ye
lump this lot in with the two next? . . . That's my suggestion.
If Mr Baker is agreeable? They all run in one stretch, so to speak;
and,