"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 pa.s.s!" 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 embarra.s.sment 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."