Читать книгу General Impressions - Edmée Elizabeth Monica Dashwood - Страница 12

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General Impression—founded on several printed Notices affixed in and out of doors—that the Sale will begin in Room No. 1 at 2.30 Sharp. Gradual waning of confidence as time passes and nothing at all happens. By 3.15 the entrance to Room No. 1 is securely blocked by people.

A RAUCOUS VOICE. The Auctioneer will now put up for sale the first Lots in Bedroom No. 8, up the stairs. Please don't push. There isn't any call to push, I assure you.

Call or no call, pushing prevails, and presently some hundred people more than it can reasonably accommodate are wedged into Bedroom No. 8.

The Auctioneer, wearing a tweed suit and a bowler hat, is standing like a rock on a very high stool, and two men in aprons, with arms bared to the elbow, are hovering solicitously near, as though to catch him if he should later on overbalance into the crowd.

THE A. Now, ladies and gentlemen, we want to get to business, and I warn you that I'm not going to 'Ang About. I've some very nice little lots here, and I don't intend them to 'Ang About. The articles will go to the highest bidder, and once more I warn you, there'll be no 'Anging About. Here we have lot No. 1, Solid Deal Chest of Drawers, in excellent condition. Just lift up Lot No. 1, will you, Albert?

Lot No. 1 is heaved into sight, minus its drawers, by Albert and his companion.

A NAĎVE VOICE. Why, wherever is the drawers?

THE A. Just lift up them drawers, will you, Albert, I want everything perfectly straightforward and above board. Pleasure, madam, I assure you.

General Impression that this amiable view is not shared by Albert and Co.

THE A. Now, who'll give me a start for this Solid Deal Chest of Drawers? This is good, pre-war stuff, this is——

A VOICE IN THE CROWD. 'S matter of fac', I was with Old Williams when he bought that chest, a matter of four and a half months since——

THE A. Now then, gentlemen, please, now then, I shan't 'Ang About, what am I bid for this chest of drawers, I'll start anywhere you like, what shall I say, shall I say a pound, a pound am I bid, we won't 'Ang About, start at ten shillings, if you like, shall I say ten shillings....

A TIMOROUS VOICE. Nine and sixpence.

THE A. Thank you, sir, nine and sixpence, nine and sixpence am I bid, shall I make it ten shillings, come, come, gentlemen....

The Chest of Drawers gradually climbs up the scale of value till it stops at three pounds two shillings and sixpence, and is knocked down at that figure.

THE A. Lot No. 2, Quantity of Books, one Enamel Slop-pail, Milking-stool, and Roll of Linoleum.

General Impression that it would be interesting to know on what system these particular objects have been inseparably grouped together—which becomes intensified later on when a further Lot appears, consisting of Zinc Hip-bath, Framed Engraving of the Late Prince Consort, Quantity of Felt Strips, and Mahogany Pedestal Cupboard in Good Condition.

Downstairs.

THE A. (now completely in the swing of it, and more determined than ever that there shall be no 'Anging About). Circular-top Marble Table, as described in the catalogue—one pound am I bid one pound shall I call it a guinea thank you twenty-four and sixpence, thirty shillings, thirty-two and six, thirty-five shillings, it's against you at the door madam, thirty-seven six, forty am I bid....

And so on, apparently deriving information as to bids from the wink of an eye or the turn of a head, until a General Impression gets about that it isn't safe to stir a finger in his direction.

AN OLD HAND. No use hoping to get anything really good here, I don't expect, as the Dealers have been poking about. They'll come anywhere on the chance of picking up some really old stuff—anywhere.

A FACETIOUS SPIRIT. Tell 'em to go for the Wool Mattress in Lot 285, then. That's old enough for anybody.

A GENTLEMAN WHO HAS BEEN OUTBIDDEN. That fellow must have been a dealer, you know. That's what they do—they make a Ring, you know—simply a Ring—no one else has a chance.

General Impression that he doesn't really know what he means by this mysterious accusation, but that anyway the Dealers are an unpopular feature of the Sale, and They oughtn't really to be Allowed.

A LADY WHO HAS RATHER LOST HER HEAD. O Charles, that sweet little stool! I really must have that. Couldn't I bid for it, Charles?

THE A. (fixing her with a compelling eye). Oak Jacobean carved antique stool, now this is probably a collector's piece, shall I start at a pound, one pound, going at one pound, twenty-five shillings, thirty, thirty-two and sixpence—you'll lose it, madam, shall I make it two guineas—thank you—going at two guineas——

And so on, until the Lady has been hypnotized into acquiring the Stool at something approaching five times its actual value, without so much as noticing that it is, as usual, inexplicably coupled with One Aluminium Frying-pan, two Waste-Paper Baskets, and one Child's Wicker Armchair, with two castors missing.

Scene closes in, as Albert and his mate hold up to admiration an American Parlour Harmonium and two China Mugs, leaving everybody in a state of heat and exhaustion, except the indefatigable Auctioneer, still repeating in a voice of cast-iron:

"Gentlemen, I'm not going to 'Ang About over this little lot, what shall we say for a start?"—and so on until we do say something.