 | CHAPTER VII. "Boarding out" |  |
7. CHAPTER VII.
It was now the day before the auction.
Clerks were very busy assorting “in lots” the
whole contents of the house; for Mr. Bond,
although he had rented the house, and desired
much of the furniture, concluded to take it at
“auction prices,” alledging that the auctioneer
would thereby get his commission, and bystanders
would not complain of unfair dealing.
Mrs. Barclay had removed to her new boarding-house
sundry articles which, from conversation
with Mrs. Bond, she found would be
necessary; but how it could be she would
need a copper saucepan, a small tea-kettle, two
or three flat-irons, and other unnameable articles,
she could not divine! Experience gives
us knowledge we never otherwise learn.
It was indeed a busy day at Barclay's!
Mrs. Bond was talking with Polly; and Fanny's
inference was, that she was retaining her
sure two dollars a week is small pay for a head
cook; in boarding-houses they give three;
but, bating the privilege of going to the Church
of the Holy Cross on Sundays, and keeping
Lent, &c., I will take what I told you.”
“Oh, that's it,” said Mrs. Barclay. “Mrs.
Bond did ask me about Polly, and Sally said
she inquired of her as to her capability.”
True, she did inquire of Sally, and she gave
her a character indeed: “She was cross;
wanted nobody in the kitchen; and a saint
could not live with her without quarreling.”
Other things, too, were narrated respecting
conversations between Fanny and Mrs. Barclay
about Mrs. Bond's manœuvring to get
the house, and that they should pay for what
they bought, &c., and it was probably this
circumstance that induced Mr. Bond to buy
every thing at auction.
The day of sale has now arrived! A long
red flag proclaims the event to every passerby.
No permission to see the articles the day
hour, the crowd have gathered. It has been
previously agreed that Fanny and Mrs. Barclay
shall have a seat in a retired corner, and
watch the proceedings. Some sensitive ladies
would not have desired this; for when the actual
“knocking off” of long-prized and valued
articles takes place, and that irrevocable word
“gone” is uttered, they would much prefer to be
“among the missing.” But Mrs. Barclay had
no such feelings. “Was she not in ill health?”
Had not “the care” of these very articles worn
her out? Was she not going now to live at
ease in “a boarding-house?” Surely, then, the
novelty of the sale was very agreeable.
The crowd increases every moment. The
sale has commenced in the kitchen, where,
among the number, is seen old Polly, with her
large, frilled Irish cap, starched for the occasion,
and a white apron, only worn when her
cooking is done. And there, too, are the sisters,
Jemima and Dorothy Witherspoon, who
keep boarders that have no children! They
they spoke about. Let us see if they buy it.
“Twenty-five cents!” says the auctioneer;
“only twenty-five cents! Why, it cost six
times the money. Wedgewood's make—warranted
to make good coffee. Whose bid do I
hear? Gentlemen, let those ladies pass”—it
has now reached one dollar, and Miss Jemima
utters the sharp major key-note, “1 25”—
“1 30 do I hear? Oh, madam, it is your bid
still; 1 40—45—50!”—and still Jemima's bid
upon herself!—“going at 1 50!—going, going,
gone to Miss J. Witherspoon for 1 50, and
too cheap at that!” says the man of the hammer.
Many of the culinary articles are put to Mr.
Bond; indeed, Polly thinks there is quite
enough left for her “to clane.” Now let us
peep in the drawing-rooms. Close by that
gold-banded China sits that tawdry, old French
boarding-house keeper, Madame Goriè, her
black sunken eyes resting, as if fixed in a fit,
upon the French coffee-set! Fanny and Mrs.
she wears a cloak lined with ermine upon the
inside; but, evidently, the moths occupied it
last summer; her hat is filled with “rag roses,”
feathers, and buckles; and Fanny wonders
what she does with that huge turban when she
wears a bonnet; for she thinks she discovers
in the frill an old acquaintance. Poor woman!
Don't laugh; she only has “a peculiar taste,”
unlike ours, in dress!
And who is not here? There are Bishop
C— and his lady; Commodore D— and
his daughter, who, report says, is on the eve
of marriage to her majesty's mail-carrier; and
Esquire Thorn and his maiden sister; old
Parson G—, and that attendant lady always
at his side; besides the middling, and, if one
may judge by appearances, some of the lower
and lowest classes. A lame man, of very ordinary
appearance, seems to be much relied
on by the auctioneer as being ready to bid. It
is the “second-hand dealer” in — street.
He always buys, although his rooms are overrunning
housekeeping line; but these articles being
choice, are not so desirable to him.
“The girandoles” are bought by Mr. Bond
so are the imperial carpets and the mirrors.
This creates some distrust among a portion of
the company. “That's Barclay's `by-bidder,' ”
reaches the auctioneer's ears; and now he is
forced to explain.
“Gentlemen—my address is not to ladies,
for they are not so jealous—there is no `bybidder'
here. The highest bidder is the owner,
be he who he may. Mr. Bond has rented this
house, and is ready to buy at a fair price what
he wants for his future use. Mr. Barclay surrenders
all, and quits these premises to-morrow,
on account of the `ill health' of his lady.”
That was an impudent speech, which ought
not to have been publicly made, and Barclay
felt it even more than his wife, although all
eyes were directed to her who had ever looked
upon her before; and some wag remarked,
“Better keep out of such a crowd, if she is very
themselves to ill-natured remarks can
generally have an opportunity to hear them in
an auction-room.
The “India poy tables” are now under the
hammer. These light, tasteful, and useful articles
are much in vogue, and desired by sundry
people. A smart bidding is carried on
between Bishop C— and the commodore;
but the former gains the prize at about twice
the original cost; his lady protests “she never
saw any half as cheap before!”
At length the “China” is offered; but first
comes that “Britannia venison-dish.” Colonel
Gardner now gives a significant wink to Miss
J. Witherspoon; her sharp voice offers “seventy-five
cents!” It thus stands; nobody wants
it; and, in beseeching tones, the auctioneer
inquires “if nobody eats venison among this
assembly;” if so, he calls on them to speak.
An elegant lady in rich attire, reclining upon
a gentleman's arm, who wears an epaulette,
bids one dollar; and it is hers! Jemima looks
and the name is given by the gentleman, which
the lady whispers him to announce, as “Madam
Bates!” Old Miss Widdifield here pulled
out her snuffbox, and, Fanny said, actually
sneezed, as she drew up a much larger quantity
than usual.
It is now eleven o'clock, and “the piano” is
announced, “the seraphim” having been withdrawn.
“That is not Barclay's piano,” said
a by-stander, “but one that I have seen in two
auctions before to-day.” The truth was told.
Mrs. Barclay had moved hers to her boarding-house,
and this was “sent in” by the maker,
with Barclay's consent, to make the sale just
as advertised. Beware, friend, of purchasing
an instrument at a public auction. It is said that
“first-rate articles” are seldom thus sacrificed!
No bid satisfactory was made upon this instrument,
and, of course, it lies over to another sale!
Bond has the pictures, excepting two or three
choice pieces, which Barclay has removed.
The library is untouched; the door is locked.
Thus, in a few hours, is partial desolation
made visible: “hand-carts” and “furniture-wagons”
take the places carriages have often
occupied; the flag is withdrawn, and the sale
is over. Poor Mrs. Barclay! you have accomplished
all you purposed to do. Fanny
Jones leaves for home, and Mr. and Mrs.
Barclay, Sally, and “little Fan” are at board.
John and Charles Barclay are with an uncle
in the country until all things are settled.
| CHAPTER VII. "Boarding out" | |