"Now I see that Jane has completely ruined that dinner-service: the
vegetable-dish covers are all broken but one, and that has no handle;
the soup tureen has a great piece out of the side; there are only five
soup plates left, while as to the dinner plates, they are that cracked
and chipped, and--"
"If you want a new service, why don't you say so, and not go dodging
about and beating the bush in that way?" I exclaimed viciously.
"Then you know, dear," continued Mrs S, without noticing my remark, "we
want some more glass, and I'd get one of those nice wool mattresses Mrs
Parabola was so proud of, and we must have a fresh carpet in the
dining-room, for ours is perfectly disgraceful. What? people come to
see us and not our carpets? Well I suppose they do, but we need not
disgrace them by making believe to be so poor. And let's see, there's a
very pretty china tea-service that I certainly would get, dear, and a
few of those damask table-cloths and napkins."
"`Those damask table-cloths and napkins?'" I said. "Why, how the
dickens do you know anything about them?"
"Why, I went to see, of course, and the auctioneer's men were very civil
and let us go over the house."
"Humph," I said. "Anything else you would like?" When if she did not
keep on talk, talk, talk for a good hour about the odds and ends, as she
called them, that it would be advantageous to buy.
Now, it so happened that when I married I thought I had properly
furnished my house; but year after year I have gone on finding out that
this was a complete mistake, while now, at the end of some thirteen
years, it seems to me to be as far from perfect as ever. But here, in
this case, as Mrs Scribe's mamma was coming down to spend Christmas, I
could of course say nothing, so after faithfully promising that I would
visit Mrs Parabola's during the three days' sale, I was allowed to go
to sleep.
"Going to the sale, Retort?" I said the next day to a friend.
"Well, no," was the stammered reply; "I never buy at sales."
"Never mind, walk there with me." Mr Retort consented, and we strolled
on together to where a gaily-patterned hearthrug hung out of a window,
bearing one of the auctioneer's bills. Men were hanging about with
porters' knots, and mostly wearing head coverings composed of Brussels
carpet; Abram was there, Isaac was there, Jacob was there, and the whole
of the twelve patriarchs, all looking hook-nosed, unctuous, unsoaped,
and evidently revelling in the idea of what a glorious "knock out" there
would be after the sale. The dining-room was set apart for selling
purposes; the long table stood, with all the leaves in, while its
telescopic principle was so put to it that in places it was quite out of
focus, and the leaves did not meet. The "elegantly-designed genuine
Turkey carpet" was ingeniously folded, so that all the worn parts were
hidden, and the brighter and unworn portions prominently spread out upon
the long table. The scroll fender stood upon the chimney-piece, the
plated-ware upon the sideboard, while ranged along the walls were the
bureaus and wardrobes out of the bedrooms; at which innovation, or
rather intrusion, the large portraits upon the walls gazed down most
ferociously.
"Porter, sir?" said a man, touching his carpet-cap to Retort.
"No, thank you, my man," said my friend, politely, "I never take beer."
"No, sir, I mean to carry home what you buy," said the man.
"Oh, dear me, no," said Retort, "I never purchase at sales."
The man thrust a ribald tongue into his long lank cheek, while, at the
same moment I was earnestly examining the aforesaid Turkey carpet, and
wondering whether it would be an improvement upon the one in our own
room, when a man, whose name must have been Isaacs or Moss,
insinuatingly offered me a catalogue.
"Thank you," I said: "I have one."
"Shouldn't recommend it, sir," said the new-comer. "The drawing-room
carpet would just suit you, for it by rights should have been laid in a
dining-room."
"Thanks," I said, "but don't let me detain you."
No detention in the least. Mr Isaacs was a broker, and for the usual
trifling commission he could secure anything in the sale for me at a
considerable reduction in the price I should have to give.
"For you see," said Mr Isaacs, see-sawing the edge of a leaf of the
catalogue between two of his excessively dirty teeth, "if you attempt to
bid for yourself the brokers will consider that you are taking the bread
out of their mouths, and combine against you, and run things up.
Couldn't secure a thing yourself, I assure you, sir."
"Isn't this a public auction?" I said, in what was meant to be a
dignified way.
"Oh, yes, of course," said Mr Isaacs; "but you see, sir, these sort of
things are always managed for gentlemen by brokers. Gentlemen never bid
for themselves."
I left Mr Isaacs under the impression that I was not a gentleman, since
I fully intended to bid for myself, and steadfastly refused to pay
attention to the various eligible lots he kept introducing to my notice
as I passed from room to room of the mansion, gradually getting better
filled with visitors bound on bargain-seeking errands.
"Why, you'll pay dear enough for what you buy, depend upon it," said
Retort. "What with brokers and buyers, I don't see much chance for
you."
"Perhaps not, but look here," I said. "This is how I manage: I get, say
in a corner, where I can just see the auctioneer's face, and then taking
care not to make much movement or to do anything that will take the
enemy's attention, I give him a quiet nod for my bid each time, while
seeing that I am a buyer, he always looks out for my nods. Don't you
see?"
"Just so," said Retort, "a capital plan, no doubt."
The sale began, and having obtained a pretty good place, I bid for
several little things. Two or three times over I saw that the brokering
clique were running them up, but by a judicious bit of management I let
them run on, and then left my friends with the last bid, so that they
were quite satisfied and let me bid and buy as I liked.
I had secured, as the day wore on, several undoubted bargains, amongst
which was some of the damask linen which had taken Mrs Scribe's fancy;
but the room was insufferably hot and stuffy, and evidently too much for
poor Retort, who disappeared.
At length the dining-room Turkey carpet came on, and in spite of various
shabby parts, I made up my mind to have it for divers reasons, among
which I might enumerate its probably going for a song; secondly,
durability; thirdly, its eminent respectability, for no one could find
fault with a dining-room covered by a Turkey carpet.
"Five pun'," said one of the brokers, after the auctioneer's
introductory remarks.