"Oh! I must see what these go for," said Rosa, at
the door.
The bidding was mighty languid now Rosa's broker was not stimulating
it; and the auctioneer was just knocking down twelve chairs--oak and
leather--and two arm-chairs, for twenty pounds, when, casting his eyes
around, he caught sight of Rosa looking at him rather excited. He looked
inquiringly at her. She nodded slightly; he knocked them down to her at
twenty guineas, and they were really a great bargain.
"Twenty-two," cried the dealer.
"Too late," said the auctioneer.
"I spoke with the hammer, sir."
"After the hammer, Isaacs."
"Shelp me God, we was together."
One or two more of his tribe confirmed this pious falsehood, and
clamored to have them put up again.
"Call the next lot," said the auctioneer, peremptorily. "Make up your
mind a little quicker next time, Mr. Isaacs; you have been long enough
at it to know the value of oak and moroccar."
Mrs. Staines and her friend now started for Morley's Hotel, but went
round by Regent Street, whereby they got glued at Peter Robinson's
window, and nine other windows; and it was nearly five o'clock when they
reached Morley's. As they came near the door of their sitting-room, Mrs.
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