I soon learned that my neighbor had no foolish sensitiveness. I could pay him what I thought the value of his services, and he pocketed the money without a word. Of course, I could not pay him what his advice was really worth, for his hard common sense stood me in good stead in many ways.
XXI
The “Vandoo”
The next morning at about eight o’clock Mr. Jones arrived in a long farm wagon on springs, with one seat in it; but Junior had half filled its body with straw, and he said to Merton, “I thought that p’raps, if you and the children could go, you’d like a straw ride.”
The solemnity with which Winnie and Bobsey promised to obey orders gave some hope of performance; so I tossed them into the straw, and we drove away, a merry party, leaving Mousie consoled with the hope of receiving something from the vendue.
“There’s allers changes and breakin’s up in the spring,” said Mr. Jones, as we drove along; “and this family’s goin’ out West. Everything is to be sold, in doors and out.”
The farmhouse in question was about two miles away. By the time we arrived, all sorts of vehicles were converging to it on the muddy roads, for the weather had become mild again. Stylish-looking people drove up in top buggies, and there were many heavy, springless wagons driven by rusty-looking countrymen, whose trousers were thrust into the top of their cowhide boots. I strolled through the house before the sale began, thinking that I might find something there which would please Mousie and my wife. The rooms were already half filled with the housewives from the vicinity; red-faced Irish women, who stalked about and examined everything with great freedom; placid, peach-cheeked dames in Quaker bonnets, who softly cooed together, and took every chance they could to say pleasant words to the flurried, nervous family that was being thrust out into the world, as it were, while still at their own hearth.
I marked with my eye a low, easy sewing chair for my wife, and a rose geranium, full of bloom, for Mousie, purposing to bid on them. I also observed that Junior was examining several pots of flowers that stood in the large south window. Then giving Merton charge of the children, with directions not to lose sight of them a moment, I went to the barnyard and stable, feeling that the day was a critical one in our fortunes. True enough, among the other stock there was a nice-looking cow with a calf, and Mr. Jones said she had Jersey blood in her veins. This meant rich, creamy milk. I thought the animal had a rather ugly eye, but this might be caused by anxiety for her calf, with so many strangers about. We also examined the old bay horse and a market wagon and harness. Then Mr. Jones and I drew apart and agreed upon the limit of his bids, for I proposed to act solely through him. Everyone knew him and was aware that he would not go a cent beyond what a thing was worth. He had a word and a jest for all, and “How are you, John?” greeted him wherever he went.
At ten o’clock the sale began. The auctioneer was a rustic humorist, who knew the practical value of a joke in his business. Aware of the foibles and characteristics of the people who flocked around and after him, he provoked many a ripple and roar of laughter by his telling hits and droll speeches. I found that my neighbor, Mr. Jones, came in for his full share, but he always sent back as good as he received. The sale, in fact, had the aspect of a country merrymaking, at which all sorts and conditions of people met on common ground, Pat bidding against the best of the landed gentry, while boys and dogs innumerable played around and sometimes verged on serious quarrels.
Junior, I observed, left his mark before the day was over. He was standing, watching the sale with his usual impassive expression, when a big, hulking fellow leered into his face and cried.
“Tow head, whitehead,
Thickhead, go to bed.”
The last word was scarcely out of his mouth before Junior’s fist was between his eyes, and down he went.
“Want any more?” Junior coolly asked, as the fellow got up.
Evidently he didn’t, for he slunk off, followed by jeers and laughter.
At noon there was an immense pot of coffee with crackers and cheese, placed on a table near the kitchen door, and we had a free lunch. To this Bobsey paid his respects so industriously that a great, gawky mountaineer looked down at him and said, with a grin, “I say, young ’un, you’re gettin’ outside of more fodder than any critter of your size I ever knowed.”
“ ’Tain’t your fodder,” replied Bobsey, who had learned, in the streets, to be a little pert.
The day came to an end at last, and the cow and calf, the old bay horse, the wagon, and the harness were mine. On the whole, Mr. Jones had bought them at reasonable rates. He also bid in for me, at one dollar per pair, two cocks and twenty hens that looked fairly well in their coop.
For my part, I had secured the chair and blooming geranium. To my surprise, when the rest of the flowers were sold, Junior took part in the bidding for the first time, and, as a result, carried out to the wagon several other pots of houseplants.
“Why, Junior,” I said, “I didn’t know you had such an eye for beauty.”
He blushed, but made no reply.
The chickens and the harness were put into Mr. Jones’s conveyance, the wagon I had bought was tied on behind, and we jogged homeward, the children exulting over our
