THE VENDUE
Lucas Pritchett drove into the yard with the two-seated buckboard about
nine o'clock the next forenoon. And, wonders of wonders! his mother sat
on the front seat beside him.
'Phemie ran out in a hurry. Lyddy was getting ready to go to the vendue.
She wanted to bid in that Dutch oven--and some other things.
"Why, Mrs. Pritchett!" exclaimed the younger Bray girl, "you are welcome!
You haven't been here for an age."
Mrs. Pritchett looked pretty grim; but 'Phemie found it was tears that
made her eyes wink so fast.
"I ain't never been here but onct since you gals came. And I'm ashamed
of myself," said "Maw" Pritchett. "I hope you'll overlook it."
"For goodness' sake! how you talk!" gasped 'Phemie.
"Is it true you gals have saved that poor old critter from the farm?"
demanded Mrs. Pritchett, earnestly, and letting the tears run unchecked
down her fat cheeks.
"Why--why----"
"Widder Harrison, she means," grunted Lucas. "It all come out yesterday
at church. The widder told about it herself. The parson got hold of it,
and he put it into his sermon. And by cracky! some of those folks that
treated ye so mean at the schoolhouse, Saturday night, feel pretty cheap
after what the parson said."
"And if my Sairy ever says a mean word to one o' you gals--or as much as
_looks_ one," cried Mother Pritchett, "big as she is an',--an', yes--_old_
as she is, I'll spank her!"
"Mrs. Pritchett! Lucas!" gasped 'Phemie. "It isn't so. You're making it up
out of whole cloth. We haven't really done a thing for Mrs. Harrison----"
"You've thought to take her in and give her a home----"
"No, no! I am sure she will earn her living here."
"But none of us--folks that had knowed her for years--thought to give
the poor old critter a chanst," burst out the lady. "Oh, I know Cyrus
wouldn't 'a' heard to our taking her; and I dunno as we could have
exactly afforded it, for me an' Sairy is amply able to do the work; but
our Ladies' Aid never thought to do a thing for her--nor nobody else,"
declared Mrs. Pritchett.
"You two gals was ministerin' angels. I don't suppose we none of us really
knowed how Mis' Harrison felt about going to the poorhouse. But we didn't
inquire none, either.
"And here's Lyddy! My dear, I'm too fat to get down easy. I hope you'll
come and shake hands with me."
"Why--certainly," responded Lyddy. "And I am really glad to see you, dear
Mrs. Pritchett."
She had evidently overheard some, if not all, of the good lady's earnest
speech. Harris Colesworth appeared, too, and Professor Spink was right
behind him.
"You stopped for me, as I asked you to, Lucas?" asked the young chemist.
"Sure, Mr. Colesworth."
"Miss Lydia is going, too," said the young man.
"That'll fill the bill, then, sir," said Lucas, grinning.
"But I say!" exclaimed the professor, suddenly. "Can't you squeeze _me_
in? I'm going over the hill, too."
"Don't see how it kin be done, Professor," said Lucas.
"But you said you thought that there'd be an extra seat----"
"Didn't know maw was going, then," replied the unabashed Lucas.
"And Somers has driven off to school with his old mare," exclaimed Spink.
"I believe he has," observed Harris.
"This is a pretty pass!" and Mr. Spink was evidently angry. "I've just
_got_ to get to that vendue."
"I'm afraid you'll have to walk--and it's advertised to begin in ha'f an
hour," quoth Lucas.
"Say! where's your other rig?" demanded the professor. "I'll hire it."
"Dad's plowin' with the big team," said Lucas, flicking the backs of the
ponies with his whip, as they started, "and our old mare is lame. Gid-up!
"That Jud Spink is gittin' jest as pop'lar 'round here as a pedlar sellin'
mustard plasters in the lower regions!" observed young Pritchett, as they
whirled out of the yard.
"Why, Lucas Pritchett! how you talk!" gasped his mother.
The widow's auction sale--or "vendue"--brought together, as such affairs
usually do in the country, more people, and aroused a deal more interest,
than does a funeral.
There was a goodly crowd before the little house, or moving idly through
the half-dismantled lower rooms when Lucas halted the ponies to let Harris
and the ladies out.
To Lyddy's surprise, the women present--or most of them--welcomed her
with more warmth than she had experienced in a greeting since she and
her sister had first come to Hillcrest.
But the auctioneer began to put up the household articles for sale very
soon and that relieved Lyddy of some embarrassment in meeting these folk
who so suddenly had veered toward her.
There were only a few things the girl could afford to buy. The Dutch oven
was the most important; and fortunately most of the farmers' wives had
stoves in their kitchens, so there was not much bidding. Lyddy had it
nocked down to her for sixty cents.
Mrs. Harrison seemed very sad to see some of her things go, and Lyddy
believed that every article that the widow seemed particularly anxious
about, young Harris Colesworth bid in.
At least, he bought a bureau, a worktable, an old rocking chair with
stuffed back and cushion, and last of all an old, age-darkened, birdseye
maple desk, which seemed shaky and half-ready to fall to pieces.
"That article ought to bring ye in a forchune, Mr. Colesworth,"
declared the auctioneer, cheerfully. "That's where they say Bob hid his
forchune--yessir!"
"And it looks--from the back of it--that worms had got inter the
forchune," chuckled one of the farmers, as the wood-worm dust rattled out
of the old contraption when Harris and Lucas carried it out and set it
down with the other articles Harris had bought.
"So you got it; did you, young man?" snarled a voice behind the two
youths, and there stood Professor Spink.
He was much heated, his boots and trousers were muddy, and his frock
coat had a bad, three-cornered tear in it. Evidently he had come across
lots--and he had hurried.
"Why--were you interested in that old desk I bought in?" asked Harris with
a grin.
"I'll give ye a dollar for your bargain," blurted out the professor.
"I tell you honest, I didn't pay but two dollars for it," replied Harris.
"I'll double it--give you four."
"No. I guess I'll keep it."
"Five," snapped the breakfast food magnate.
"No, sir," responded Harris, turning away.
"Good work! keep it up!" Lyddy heard Lucas whisper to the other youth. "I
bet I kin tell jest what dad told him. Dad's jest close-mouthed enough
to make the professor fidgetty. He begins to believe it all now."
"Shut up!" warned Harris.
The next moment the anxious professor was at him again.
"I want that desk, Colesworth. I'll give you ten dollars for it--fifteen!"
"Say," said Harris, in apparent disgust, "I'll tell you the truth; I
bought that desk--and these other things--to give back to old Mrs.
Harrison. She seemed to set store by them."
"Ha!"
"Now, the desk is hers. If she wants to sell it for twenty-five
dollars----"
"You hush up! I'll make my own bargain with her," growled the professor.
"No you won't, by jove!" exclaimed the city youth. "If you want the desk
you'll pay all its worth. Hey! Mrs. Harrison!"
The widow approached, wonderingly.
"I made up my mind," said Harris, hurriedly, "that I'd give you these
things here. You might like to have them in your room at Hillcrest."
"Thank you, young man!" returned the widow, flushing. "I don't know what
makes you young folks so kind to me----"
"Hold on! there's something else," interrupted Harris. "Now, Professor
Spink here wants to buy that desk."
"And I'll give ye a good price for it, Widder," said Spink. "I want it to
remember Bob by. I'll give you----"
"He's already offered me twenty-five dollars for it----"
"No, I ain't!" exclaimed Spink.
"Oh, then, you don't want it, after all," returned Harris, coolly. "I
thought you did."
"Well! suppose I do offer you twenty-five for it, Mis' Harrison?"
exclaimed Spink, evidently greatly spurred by desire, yet curbed by his
own natural penuriousness.
"Take my advice and bid him up, Mrs. Harrison," said Harris, with a wink.
"He knows more about this old desk than he ought to, it seems to me."
"For the land's sake----" began the widow; but Spink burst forth in a rage:
"I'll make ye a last offer for it--you can take it or leave it." He drew
forth a wad of bills and peeled off several into the widow's hand.
"There's fifty dollars. Is the desk mine?" he fairly yelled.
The vociferous speech of the professor drew people from the auction. They
gathered around. Harris nodded to the old lady, and her hand clamped upon
the bills.
"Remember, this is Mrs. Harrison's own money," said young Colesworth,
evenly. "The desk was bought at auction for two dollars."
"Well, is it mine?" demanded Spink.
"It is yours, Jud Spink," replied the old lady, stuffing the money into
her handbag.
"Gimme that hatchet!" cried the professor, seizing the implement from a
man who stood by. He attacked the old desk in a fury.
"Oh! that's too bad!" gasped Mrs. Harrison. "I _did_ want the old thing."
Spink grinned at them. "I'll make you both sicker than you be!" he
snarled. "Out o' the way!"
He banged the desk two or three more clips--and out fell a secret panel
in the back of it.
"By cracky! money--real money!" yelled Lucas Pritchett. "Oh, Mr. Harris!
we done it now!"
For from the shallow opening behind the panel there were scattered upon
the ground several packets of apparently brand-new, if somewhat discolored
banknotes.
Professor Spink dropped the axe and picked up the packages eagerly. Others
crowded around. They ran them over quickly.
"Five thousand dollars--if there's a cent!" gasped somebody, in an awed
whisper.
"An' she sold it for fifty dollars," said Lucas, almost in tears.