comedy or serious, and said--

'Kind sir, I warn ye not to trifle; I have no time to waste in April
fooling, and he who makes offers in sport will have to stand to them
in earnest.'

But there was no lack of earnest in one at least of the men that he had
before him, and the voice with which Elzevir said 30 was still sturdy.
Maskew called 31 and 41, and Elzevir 40 and 50, and then I looked at
the candle, and saw that the head of the pin was no longer level, it had
sunk a little--a very little. The clerk awoke from his indifference, and
was making notes of the bids with a squeaking quill, the bailiff frowned
as being puzzled, and thinking that none had a right to puzzle him. As
for me, I could not sit still, but got on my feet, if so I might better
bear the suspense; for I understood now that Maskew had made up his mind
to turn Elzevir out, and that Elzevir was fighting for his home. _His_
home, and had he not made it my home too, and were we both to be made
outcasts to please the spite of this mean little man?

There were some more bids, and then I knew that Maskew was saying 91,
and saw the head of the pin was lower; the hard lump of tallow in Aunt
Jane's candle was thawing. The bailiff struck in: 'Are ye mad, sirs, and
you, Master Block, save your breath, and spare your money; and if this
worshipful gentleman must become innkeeper at any price, let him have the
place in the Devil's name, and I will give thee the Mermaid, at Bridport,
with a snug parlour, and ten times the trade of this.'

Elzevir seemed not to hear what he said, but only called out 100, with
his face still looking out to sea, and the same sturdiness in his voice.
Then Maskew tried a spring, and went to 120, and Elzevir capped him with
130, and 140, 150, 160, 170 followed quick. My breath came so fast
that I was almost giddy, and I had to clench my hands to remind myself of
where I was, and what was going on. The bidders too were breathing hard,
Elzevir had taken his head from his hands, and the eyes of all were on
the pin. The lump of tallow was worn down now; it was hard to say why the
pin did not fall. Maskew gulped out 180, and Elzevir said 190, and then
the pin gave a lurch, and I thought the Why Not? was saved, though at the
price of ruin. No; the pin had not fallen, there was a film that held it
by the point, one second, only one second. Elzevir's breath, which was
ready to outbid whatever Maskew said, caught in his throat with the
catching p