"Oh, dear! what am I doing now!" thought she. "I
have got no broker."
She bid on, but in fear and trembling, because of those twinkling eyes.
At last she mustered courage, wrote on a leaf of her pocket-book, and
passed it down to him: "It would be only kind to warn me. What am I
doing wrong?"
He sent her back a line directly: "Auctioneer running you up himself.
Follow his eye when he bids; you will see there is no bona fide bidder
at your prices."
Rosa did so, and found that it was true.
She nodded to Uncle Philip; and, with her expressive face, asked him
what she should do.
The old boy must have his joke. So he wrote back: "Tell him, as you see
he has a fancy for certain articles, you would not be so discourteous as
to bid against him."
The next article but one was a drawing-room suite Rosa wanted; but the
auctioneer bid against her; so at eighteen pounds she stopped.
"It is against you, madam," said the auctioneer.
"Yes, sir," said Rosa; "but as you are the only bidder, and you have
been so kind to me, I would not think of opposing you."
The words were scarcely out of her mouth, when they were greeted with
a roar of Homeric laughter that literally shook the room, and this time
not at the expense of the innocent speaker.
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