The Washington critic. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1885-1888, 1885-11-25

| low March moonlight lay the perfect
| pattern of the uncurtainod window on
the carpctless floor while the barrel
slaves smouldcrcd into carmino-tintcd
ashes, she could but remember the days
when she had hoped for such differ
cnt life.
81 was a gal then" thought Mrs.
| GrigsOn at didn't seem IA If there
was anything impossible Well well,
s'pose most folks are disapp iuted jest
as bad as l be, eff they live long
enough"
And then the poor widow went to
bed to keep warm; and all night long
| the yellow moonlight flooded the soil
tary room where Aunt Mittable had
| died and a solitary cricket sang on the
hearth stone where the red ashes had
long since faded into white dust.
The morrow dawned, wild, bright
and windy, as March mornings often
come rushing over the bleak Connect
| cut hill. crcsts. The auctionecr arrived
in one-horse buggy from the Villages;
| the ncighbors assembled from all points
| of the compass. For in Fcltville -Four
| Corners people entertained the same
sentiment toward an auction sale as
| New Workers feel toward private
| view of the Academy of Design or a
flower show at the Madison Square
| Garden. Miss Ketchum was there i'm
her best dyed shawl and the bonnet
which the irreverent youth of the
neighborhood had christcncd cold
Plymouth Rock" from the fossilized
| appearance of its feathers Squire Dag
gctt drove downin his family carryall
with the six Misses Daggett The par
| son and the parsons wife were there,
punching pillows and inspecting Dol
sters, and counting cups and saucers.
a man who was vaguely reported to be
an cmissary from an old curiosity shop
in the city was providing about with a
memorandum book under his arm.
Everybody was there, even down to the
village fool. who had been allowed to
come with his grandmother under sol.
emn promise of mot speaking word
the whole time" In her especial cor
ner Abigail Barton was whispering to
n knot of eager women, with much OK
cited gesticulation, and close by the
high wooden mantle sat poor Mrs. Orig
son, in her best gown, trembling lit
tie, she scarcely knew why.
Aunt Mittable was always partial
TO auction vendoos," said she to her
self 1T does seem as Of she'd ought
to be here"
And she thought of the lonely grave
under last years weedy mullen stalks
in the neglected corner of the church
yard, and sighed.
on set rose o'Sharon there as
soon as the spring fairly opens" unused
she. Aunt Mittable always liked
flowers"
And the crowd around Abigail Bar
ton increased, and sort of intangible
thrill went through the rooms like an
electric current.
'ls anything wrong?" Mrs. Grigson
asked, neryously. "IIev they heard
any newsT
II seen it myself" she could hear
Abigail saying. eve got it to hum in
my pocket-book. I've always heard
that she was queer, and ! shouldn t
wonder if that was the way she d
boarded up"
Mrs. Grigson rose to join the group;
but Just then the auctioneer's voice
drowned all else in its high sing-song
drone: Now, then, ladies and gentle
men, if you please" and the sale began
in good earnest.
The breadths of well-worn rag car
pet brought a pitiful sum, but the four
hair cloth "cheers" in the best parlor,
and certain uncompromising sofa of
the same slippery material, realized
$50, and the wooden clock was bid up
TO $3.50 by Squire Daggett himself.
He can't know that the machinery's
clear worn out and it hain't struck in
six months" said Mrs. Grigson. II
don't know but it's my duty to tell
him."
Hold your tongue, Naomi" whis-
pered Brother Lyman, who with his
hands in his pockets, was flattened up
neighbors hercabouts know as much
about Aunt Mittables clock as you
do"
Eight dollars for the old feather
bed Folks must be crazyl" said Mrs
Grigson. "And dollar apiece for
them WORKOUT bed quilts! Is the
world a-comin to an end2'
But when they came TO the stand of
house plants. Mrs. Grigson's amaze
ment reached its eliminating point.
The striped monthly rose brought
dollar; stumpy old lemon bush in q
green tub, which had never been sus-
pected of the faintest inclination to
bloom, ran up to five; a myrtle tree
assembled the scale, and was finally
knocked down at ten and a-half; an
oleander was bid up to three, half a
dozen spindling fish geraniums varied
from fifty cents to dollar each, and
ten callas and sickly carnation were
bought by Miss Dora Daggett at seven
ty-tive cents each and the surplusage
of pallid primIoses and cactus mon
strosities was Jumped at dollar to Mr.
Tows, whose door-yard was laid out
in carrots and parsnips, and who did
not know q pokeberry bush from n
holly bush.
"Be folks mad?" said breathless Mrs.
Grigson.
The proceeds of the flower stand
amounted to eighteen dollars, and the
purchasers eagerly seized their prop
erty and carried it off, as if unwilling
to let it out of their sight, and the sale
went briskly on.
"Well, Naomi" said brother Lyman,
chuckling when the "vendoo" was
over, how much did We expect to git
forAunt Mittable's things?'
Il did hope for fifty dollars, all
told" said Mrs. Grigson. But Miss
Ketchum said | was fool for calkia-
tin on any sech amount"
"What dye say to two hundrel?"
said brother Lyman, gleefuly.
What" shrieked Mrs GrlgsOn.
Lyman, you're pokin fun at me
mo, l amt" cheerfully spoke up
brother Lyman. Its two hundred
and fifteen dollars and eighty. eighty
cents. that's what 1t isl Oh, eff ye'd
only seen the women-folks Il carryin'
out Aunt Mittable's house plants
Rugged up close to EN-, like they was
little babiesW
Brother Lyman stopped to shake all
over with species of inaudible laugh.