The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1925-03-06

Widows outward ali Of composure.
Pervus DeJong, standing beside Selma,
viewed the proceedings with an air Of
detachment High Prairie was looking
at him expectantly, openly. The widow
bit her red lip, tossed her head. Per
vus DeJong returned the auctioneers
meaning smirk with the mild gaze of
disinterested outsider.
"Gents!" Adam Ooms' voice took
on fearful note-the tone OF one who
is more hurt than angry. Scents !"
Slowly, with, infinite reverence, he lift
ed one corner of the damask cloth that
concealed the hampers contents lifted
1t and peered within as at treasure.
at what he saw there he started back
dramatically, at once rapturous, de-
spairing, amazed He rolled his eyes.
He smacked his lips. He rubbed his
stomach. The sort Of dumb show that,
since the days of the Greek drama, has
been used to denote gastronomic de-
light.
Eighty" was wrenched suddenly
from Gorls Won Vauren, the nineteen
year-old fat and gluttonous son of a
prosperous New HARLEM farmer.
Adam Ooms rubbed brisk palms to-
gether. Nov then! A dollar! A
dollar! It's an insult to this basket to
make 1t less than dollar" He leaned
far forward over his improvised pulpit.
did hear you say dollar, Pervus
DeJong?" DeJOng stared, immovable,
unabashed. "Eighty-eighty-e eighty eighty
gents! I'm going to tell you some
thing. I'm going to whisper secret"
His lean face was veined with crafti-
ness. Gents. Listen. 1t isn't chicken
in this beautiful basket. 1t isn't
chicken. It's"-a dramatic pause
its roast duck! y He swayed back,
mopped his brow with his red handker-
chief, held one hand high in the air.
His last card II. .s,gsss II,
"Eighty-hve!" groaned the fat Goris
Won vuuren.
"Eighty-fve! Eighty-fve! Eighty
Observation-Disclosures eighty five!
Gents! Gentlemen! Eighty-five once!
hty-five-twice. (Crash)! "Gone
to Goris Won yuuren for eighty-five."
A sigh went up from the assemblage;
a sigh that was the wind before the
storm. There followed tornado of
talk. It cracked and Numbered. The
rich Widow Paarlenberg would have to
eat her supper with Won Vuuren's boy,
the great thick Goris. And there in
the doorway, talking to teacher as If
they had known each other for years.
was Pervus DeJong with. his money in
his pocket. 1t was as good as a play.
Adam Ooms was angry. His lean,
fox-like face became pinched with spite.
He prided himself on his antics as auc-
tioneer; and his chef d'oeuvre had
brought meager eighty-flve cents, be-
sides doubtless winning him the en-
nifty of that profitable store customer,
The Widow Paarlenberg. Goris Won
Vuuren came forward to claim his prize
amidst shouting, clapping, laughter.
The great hamper was handed down
to him.
Adam Ooms scuffled about among
the many baskets at his feet. His nos
trils looked pinched and his skinny
hands shook little as he searched for
one small object.
When he stood upright once more he
was smiling His little eyes cleaned.
His wooden scepter pounded for ST.
lence. High in one hand, balanced
daintily on his finger tips, he held
Selina's little white shoe box, with its
red ribbon binding it, and the plume of
evergreen stuck in the ribbon. Affect
ing great solicitude he brought it down
then to read the name written on it;
held it aloft again, smirking.
He said nothing. Grinning, he held
it high. He turned his body at the
might see. The eyes of those before
him still held a mental picture of the
huge hamper, food-packed, that had
just been handed down. The contrast
was too absurd, too cruel. A ripple of
laughter swept the room; rose; swelled
to roar. Adam Ooms waited with a
nice sense of the dramatic until the
laughter had reached its height, then
held up hand for silence. A great
scraping "Ahem!" as he cleared his
throat threatened to send the crowd off
again.
"Ladies-and gents! Here's dainty
little tidbit. Here's something not
only for the inner man, but feast for
the eye. Well, boys. If the last lot was
too much for you this lot ought to be
just about right. If the food amt quite
enough for you, you can tie the ribbon
in the lady's hair and put the posy in
your bottonhole and there you are.
There you are What's more, the lady
herself goes with it. You don't get a
country girl with this here box, gents.
A city girl, you can tell by looking at
it, just. And who is she? Who did
up this dainty little box just big enough
for two?" He inspected it again. sol
EMMY, and added, as an afterthought,