"Oh, I should dislike to do that. So many of those things hold very tender a.s.sociations for me," hesitated Mrs. Carruth.

"Yet I am sure there are many things there which can't possibly have, mother. That patent washing machine, for example, that is as big as a dining-room table, and Mammy 'pintedly scorns,'" laughed Eleanor.

"And Jean's baby carriage. And the old cider-press, and that Noah's ark of a sideboard that we never _can_ use," added Constance.

"And my express-wagon. I'll never play with _that_ again you know; I'm far too old," concluded Jean with much self-importance.

"I dare say there are a hundred things there we will never use again, and which would better be sold than kept. Come down to the place with us to-morrow afternoon, Mumsey, and we will have a grand rummage,"

said Eleanor. And so the confab ended.

The following afternoon was given over to the undertaking, and as is invariably the case, they wondered more than once why so many perfectly useless articles had been so long and so carefully cherished.

Among them, however, were many which held very dear memories for Mrs.

Carruth, and with which she was reluctant to part. Among these was a small box of garden-tools, which had belonged to her husband, and with which he had spent many happy hours at work among his beloved flower beds. Also a reading lamp which they had bought when they were first married, and beneath whose rays many tender dreams had taken form and in many instances become realities. To be sure the lamp had not been used for more than ten years, as it had long since ceased to be regarded as either useful or ornamental, and neither it nor the garden tools were worth a dollar.

But wives and mothers are strange creatures and recognize values which no one else can see. The girls appreciated their mother's love for every object which their father's hands had sanctified, and urged her to put aside the things she so valued, arguing that the proceeds could not possibly materially increase the sum they might receive for the general collection. But Mrs. Carruth insisted that if one thing was sold all should be, and that her personal feelings must not influence or enter into the matter. So in time all was definitely arranged; the auctioneer was engaged and the sale duly advertised for a certain Sat.u.r.day morning. No sooner were the posters in evidence than Miss Jerusha Pike, likewise, became so. She swept in upon Mrs. Carruth one morning when the latter was endeavoring to complete a much-needed frock for Jean, as that young lady's elbows were as self-a.s.sertive as herself, and had a trick of appearing in public when it was most inconvenient to have them do so. Between letting down skirts and putting in new sleeves Mrs. Carruth's hands were usually kept well occupied.

"Morning, Mammy," piped Miss Pike's high-pitched voice, as Mammy answered her ring at the front door. "What's the meaning of these signs I see about town. You don't mean to tell me you are going to sell _out_? I couldn't believe my own eyes, so I came right straight here to find out. _Where_ is that dear, dear woman?"

"She up in her room busy wid some sewin'," stated Mammy, with considerable emphasis upon the last word as a hint to the visitor.

"Well, tell her not to mind _me_; I'm an old friend, you know. I'll go right up to her room; I wouldn't have her come down for the world."

"Hum! Yas'm," replied Mammy, moving slowly toward the stairs. Too slowly thought Miss Pike, for, bouncing up from the reception-room chair, upon which she had promptly seated herself, she hurried after the retreating figure saying:

"Now don't you bother to go way up-stairs. I don't doubt you have a hundred things to do this morning, and I've never been up-stairs in this house, anyway. Go along out to your kitchen, Mammy, and I'll just announce myself." And brushing by the astonished old woman she rushed half way up the stairs before Mammy could recover herself. It was a master coup de main, for well Miss Pike knew that she would never be invited to ascend those stairs to the privacy of Mrs. Carruth's own room. Mammy knew this also, and the good soul's face was a study as she stared after her. Miss Pike disappeared around the curve of the stairs calling as she ascended:

"It's only _me_, dear. Don't mind me in the least. Go right on with your work. I'll be charmed to lend you a hand; I'm a master helper at sewing." Mammy muttered:

"Well ef yo' aint de banginest han' at pokin' dat snipe nose o' yours inter places whar 'taint no call ter be _I'd_ lak ter know who _is_.

I'se jist a good min' ter go slap bang atter yo' an' hustle yo' froo'

dat front door; I is fer a fac'."

Meanwhile, aroused from her occupation by the high-pitched voice, Mrs.

Carruth dropped her work and hurried into the hall. She could hardly believe that this busy-body of the town had actually forced herself upon her in this manner. She had often tried to do so, but as often been thwarted in her attempts.

"Oh, _why did_ you get up to meet me? You shouldn't have done it, you dear thing. I know how valuable every moment of your time is now-a-days. Dear, dear, how times have changed, haven't they? Now go right back to your room and resume your sewing and let me help while I talk. I _felt I must_ come. Those awful signs have haunted me ever since I first set my eyes upon them. _Don't_ tell me you are going to sell anything! Surely you won't leave Riveredge? Why I said to Miss Doolittle on my way here, well, if the Carruths have met with _more_ reverses and have got to sell out, _I'll_ clear give up. You haven't, have you? But this house must be an awful expense, ain't it? How much does Hadyn Stuyvesant ask you for it anyway? I'll bet he isn't _giving_ it away. His mother was rather near, you know, and I dare say he takes after her. _Do_ you pay as much as fifty a month for it? I said to Miss Doolittle I bet anything you didn't get it a cent less.

Now do you? It's all between ourselves; you know I wouldn't breathe it to a soul for worlds."

If you have ever suddenly had a great wave lift you from your feet, toss you thither and yonder for a moment, and then land you high and dry upon the beach when you have believed yourself to be enjoying a delightful little dip in an apparently calm ocean, you will have some idea of how Mrs. Carruth felt as this tornado of a woman caught her by her arm, hurried her back into her quiet, peaceful bedroom, forced her into her chair, and picking up her work laid it upon her lap, at the same time making a dive for an unfinished sleeve, as she continued the volley.

"Oh, I see just _exactly_ what you're doing. I can be the greatest help to you. Go right on and don't give this a thought. I've been obliged to do so much piecing and patching for the family that I'm almost able to patch _shoes_. Now _what_ did you say Haydn Stuyvesant charged you for this house?"

The sharp eyes were bent upon the sleeve.

"I don't think I said, Miss Pike. And, thank you, it is not necessary to put a patch upon the elbow of that sleeve as you are preparing to do; I have already made an entire new one. As to our leaving Riveredge I am sorry you have given yourself so much concern about it. When we decide to do so I dare say _you_ will be the first to learn of our intention. Yes, the auction is to take place at our stable as the announcement states. You learned all the particulars regarding it from the bills, I am sure. If you are interested you may find time to be present that morning. And now, since I am strongly averse to receiving even my most intimate friends in a littered-up room I will ask you to return to the reception room with me," and rising from her chair this quiet, unruffled being moved toward the door.

"But your work, my dear. Your work! You can't afford to let me interrupt it, I'm afraid. Your time must be so precious."

"It seems to have been interrupted already, does it not? Sometimes we would rather sacrifice our time than our temper, don't you think so?"

and a quizzical smile crept over Mrs. Carruth's face.

"Well, now, I hate to have you make company of me. I really do. I thought I'd just run in for a little neighborly chat and I seem to have put a stop to everything. Dear me, I didn't think you'd mind _me_ a mite. Are you going to sell this set of furniture? 'Taint so very much worn, is it? Only the edges are a little mite frayed. Some people mightn't notice it, but my eyesight's exceptional. Well, do tell me _what's_ goin'."

As though fate had taken upon herself the responsibility of answering that question, the door-bell rang at the instant and when it was answered by Mammy, Mrs. Eleanor Carruth stalked into the hall. Mrs.

Carruth rose to greet her. _Miss Pike rose to go._ If there was one person in this world of whom Jerusha Pike stood in wholesome awe it was Mrs. Eleanor Carruth, for the latter lady had absolutely no use for the former, and let her understand it. Madam Carruth, as she was often called, shook her niece's hand, looked at her keenly for a moment and then said:

"My stars, Jenny, what ails you? You look as though you'd been blown about by a whirlwind. Oh, how do _you_ do, Miss Pike. Just going?

You're under too high pressure, Jenny. We must ease it up a little, I guess. Good-bye, Miss Pike. My niece has always been considered a most amiable woman, hasn't she? I think she hasn't backbone enough at times. That is the reason I happen along unexpectedly to lend her some. Fine day, isn't it?"

Two minutes later Miss Pike was in close confab with her friend Miss Doolittle.

Aunt Eleanor was up in her niece's room putting in the neglected sleeve and saying:

"If _I'd_ been in that front hall I'll guarantee she would never have clomb those stairs. Now tell me all about this auction."

CHAPTER XIX

"An Auction Extraordinary"

"My! Just look at them perfec'ly good, new window screens. It _does_ seem a shame to sell 'em, don't it now? They might come in real handy sometime," cried one eager inspector of the collection of articles displayed for sale in the Carruths' barn the following Sat.u.r.day morning. That the house for which those screens had been made lay almost in ashes not a hundred feet from her, and that the chances of their ever fitting any other house, unless it should be expressly built for them, did not enter that lady's calculations.

"Yes, and just look at his elergant sideboard. My! it must have cost a heap o' money. Say, don't you think them Carruths were just a little mite extravagant? Seems ter me they wouldn't a been so put to it after Carruth's death if they hadn't a spent money fer such things as them.

But I wonder what it'll bring? 'Tis elergant, aint it? I'm just goin'

ter keep my eyes peeled, and maybe I c'n git it."

"Why what in this world would you do with it if you _did_? You haven't a room it would stand in," cried the friend, looking first at the huge, old-fashioned, walnut sideboard, that Constance had called a Noah's Ark, and then at its prospective purchaser as though she questioned her sanity.

"Yes, it _is_ big, that's so," agreed that lady, "but it's _so_ elergant. Why it would give a real air to my dining-room, and I guess I could sell our table if both wouldn't stand in the room. We could eat in the kitchen fer a spell, you know, till maybe Jim's wagers were raised an' we could go into a bigger house. Anyway I'm goin' ter _bid_ on it. It's too big a chanst ter let slip."

"Yes, it _is_ pretty big," replied her friend, turning away to hide a slight sneer, for _she_ was a woman of discretion.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen," called the auctioneer at that moment, "may I claim your attention for this most unusual sale; a sale of articles upon which you would never have had an opportunity to bid but for the 'calamity at your heels'--to quote the immortal William."

The people ma.s.sed in front of him, for Riveredge had turned out en ma.s.se, started and glanced quickly over their shoulders. "But for the tragedy of them ashes these elegant articles of furniture would never have been placed on sale; your opportunity would never have been.

Alas! 'one man's meat is ever another man's poison.' Now what am I offered for this roll of fine j.a.panese matting? Yards and yards of it as you see; all perfectly new; a rare opportunity to secure a most superior floor covering for a low figure. What am I bid, ladies and gentlemen?"

"One dollar," ventured a voice.

"_One dollar!_ Did I hear right? Surely not. One dollar for at least fifteen yards of perfectly new j.a.panese matting? Never. Who will do better 'n that? Two? Two--two--"

"Two-fifty!"

"Good, that's better, but it's a wicked sacrifice Come now--two-fifty--two-fifty--"