Читать книгу The Outdoor Girls at Foaming Falls - Stratemeyer Edward - Страница 5

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The auctioneer reached down and produced from a cushioned basket at his feet a soft, black ball of silky hair. A ripple of amusement passed over the room as the little cocker spaniel backed suddenly and in panic. In another moment he would certainly have fallen off the auctioneer’s table had not the man stretched out a not-ungentle hand and pushed the small dog back into prominence.

Then Mr. Wags, sensing that something extremely unusual was afoot and hoping, perhaps, to disarm his enemies by a proper display of humility, sat up wistfully on his hind legs, his small black forefeet dropped in a prayerful attitude.

There were numerous feminine exclamations.

“Just look at that perfect pet of a dog!”

“Isn’t he a darling?”

“I’d just love to take him home to Nina! Wouldn’t she have a fit!”

Hearing these exclamations, the Outdoor Girls despaired. The girls knew that some of the women, if they so desired, could easily outbid their humble, combined capital.

“If worst comes to worst, I’ll draw on next week’s allowance,” Stella whispered in an uneasy aside to Mollie. The latter nodded and raised a hand for silence. The bidding had begun.

“Ten dollars!” said one of the women in the crowd, a pleasant-eyed woman, but one with two double chins—all of them determined! With an anxious eye on the chins, Mollie said: “Twelve-fifty!”

“Fifteen!” called another from the crowd.

“Sixteen,” said the woman of the chins.

Amy swallowed and called out as bravely as she could:

“Sixteen and a half!”

There was another bid and another. Then a third from the woman of the chins, raising the amount to an even twenty. From that point on other contestants dropped out, to watch with interest the battle between Two Chins and the Outdoor Girls.

It was painfully evident to the girls that their opponent wanted Mr. Wags very much indeed—almost as much perhaps as they did themselves. It was she who had mentioned taking home the pet for “Nina”—a grandchild probably who would pull Mr. Wags’ ears and otherwise make his life miserable.

It was this thought that gave Stella the courage to cry a loud “twenty-five” to the “twenty-four” of the stout lady. It was at this point that the latter paused and turned toward the girls. They saw with surprise that her chins were not so determined after all. Anyway, there was a twinkle in her eye.

“My dears,” she said, “I want that small dog very much, otherwise I should not have been foolish enough to offer twenty-four dollars for him. But I am convinced you want him more than I. Take him, girls, take him.”

“Going!” warned the auctioneer, his gavel raised about the head of the shivering small dog as though he meant to bring it down upon his head—at least, from the watchful look in his eye, Mr. Wags thought that his intention. “Going—one more chance, ladies and gentlemen. Twenty-five dollars I have been offered for this dog—an excellent animal, ladies and gentlemen, as you can see for yourselves. Going at twenty-five! Going—going——” The girls held their breath—“gone—at twenty-five dollars. An exceptional bargain. Young ladies, I congratulate you. And now,” producing a large bowl in which swirled several gaily colored fish, “what am I offered for these goldfish? Best of their kind, large, fat and in healthy condition.”

“Better get one of those too, to go with Mr. Wags,” Amy whispered.

Irene giggled.

“It might go in Mr. Wags, but I don’t think it would last long with him.”

“Foolish!” exclaimed Stella. “Dogs don’t eat fish. You’re thinking of cats.”

“Don’t they, though!” retorted Irene loftily. “Just come in some Friday after dinner and watch Hesper with the sad remains.”

“Stop talking, you two!” Mollie drew the girls aside. “Give me all your money!”

“Sounds like a hold-up!” chuckled Grace.

The girls giggled, but unquestioningly handed over their combined fortunes. Mollie made rapid calculation and, money in hand, approached the auctioneer’s helper. The auctioneer himself had already successfully disposed of the goldfish and had turned to the family cat—a beautiful, silver-grey Persian.

With a glance at poor pussy where it stood crouched and bristling in the relentless clutches of the auctioneer, Mollie handed over the twenty-five dollars. She sighed. It seemed such a lot to pay for a dog—even Mr. Wags.

She was handed a receipt and Mr. Wags. The next moment she was surprised and a bit dismayed to find that she retained only the receipt. In a sudden excess of panic Mr. Wags had broken from her grasp and scuttled among the sea of legs belonging to prospective purchasers.

Mollie screamed faintly and Irene giggled. Only Amy had the presence of mind to run to the front door and slam it shut.

There followed a breathless search, with bidding temporarily suspended, people everywhere laughing and looking under things in search of the delinquent small dog.

He was found at last, just when the girls were about ready to give up in despair, behind a chair at the far end of the hall.

He was dragged forth, reluctant and sheepish, just as the auctioneer himself hurried up to them, carrying a dog harness with leash attached.

“I forgot to give you this, Miss,” he said to Stella, who had clasped Mr. Wags in an unbreakable embrace. “It goes with the dog.”

“Lucky for us it does,” said Stella, her face scarlet.

“Let’s get out of this,” said Mollie, as she saw that the amused eyes of the room were upon them. “If we don’t there won’t be any more auctioneering done to-day!”

They had reached the door when the auctioneer’s helper again hurried after them. This time he had the dog’s basket.

“This goes too,” he said, with a grin. “I’ll have it wrapped if you like.”

“Don’t bother!” said Grace graciously as she, being the nearest, accepted the basket. “Mr. Wags might like to lie down on his way home and it would be just as well to have his couch handy.”

The man chuckled and returned to his duties. Once fairly outside, the girls could hear the auctioneer’s voice as he went on with his work.

“What am I offered, ladies and gentlemen——”

“I’d love to stay a while,” said Irene, looking back longingly. “An auction’s lots of fun——”

“And more trouble,” said Grace ruefully. Whereupon Irene commenced to sing in a lilting voice:

“Come to examine my once fat pocketbook,

Once fat pocketbook,

Once fat pocketbook——”

“Some people can make a joke of the most solemn things,” sighed Grace.

“Poor Gracie,” sympathized Mollie, with a wicked grin. “No more ice-cream or candy for a week.”

“A week!” retorted Grace. “Three, you mean.”

“But he’s worth it—b’ess him little heart,” crooned Stella. She was still holding Mr. Wags though Mollie had taken a tight grip of the dangling leash in case their new purchase should attempt to make another dash for liberty. Once was enough for Mollie.

“Betty will love him,” agreed Amy.

“Here comes Allen!” cried Mollie suddenly. “Don’t tell me Betty is with him.”

“Calm yourself, darling—he’s all alone,” drawled Grace.

The next moment Allen saw them and with a smile of greeting crossed the street.

“What you got there?” he asked, pointing to the head of the despondent Mr. Wags. “A menagerie?”