Not even the
amateurs were brightly dressed; that fundamental error was confined to
Mesdames Cole and Staines. The experienced, however wealthy, do not hunt
bargains in silk and satin.
The auctioneer called "Lot 7. Four saucepans, two trays, a kettle, a
bootjack, and a towel-horse."
These were put up at two shillings, and speedily knocked down for five
to a fat old woman in a greasy velvet jacket; blind industry had sewed
bugles on it, not artfully, but agriculturally.
"The lady on the left!" said the auctioneer to his clerk. That meant
"Get the money."
The old lady plunged a huge paw into a huge pocket, and pulled out a
huge handful of coin--copper, silver, and gold--and paid for the lot;
and Rosa surveyed her dirty hands and nails with innocent dismay. "Oh,
what a dreadful creature!" she whispered; "and what can she want with
those old rubbishy things? I saw a hole in one from here." The broker
overheard, and said, "She is a dealer, ma'am, and the things were given
away. She'll sell them for a guinea, easy."
"Didn't I tell you?" said Mrs. Cole.
Soon after this the superior lots came on, and six very neat bedroom
chairs were sold to all appearance for fifteen shillings.
The next lot was identical, and Rosa hazarded a bid,--"Sixteen
shillings.
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