Vilas County news. [volume] (Eagle River, Vilas County, Wis.) 1896-1927, 1925-05-13

| udIue neatly on ner lunch box. Now
she was at loss 70 find way to reach
Adam Ooms. She eyed the great-shoul-
dered expanse just ahead of her. In
desperation she decided to dig into it
with a corner of her box. She dug,
viciously. The back WINGED. Its owner
turned. "Herel What"
Selma looked up into the wrathful
face of Pervus DeJong. Pervus De
Jong looked down into the startled
eyes of Selma Peake. Large enough
eyes at any time; enormous now in
her fright at what she had done.
I'm sorry I'm-sorry. 1 thought
if 1 could-there's no way of getting
my lunch box up there-such a
crowd"
A slim, appealing, lovely little figure
In the wine-red cashmere, amidst all
those buxom bosoms, and over-heated
bodies, and flushed faces. His gaze
left her reluctantly, settled on the
lunch box, became, If possible, more be-
| wildered. THAT? Lunch box?"
"Yes. For the rattle. I'm the school
teacher. Selma Peake."
He nodded. 81 saw you in church
Sunday"
"You did, didn't think you.
Did your
"Wait here. I'll come back. Wait
here"
He took the shoe box She waited.
He plowed his way through the crowd
like a Juggernaut, reached Adam
OOms' platform and placed the box
incOnspicuously next colossal hamper
that was one of a dozen grouped await
ing Adams attention. When he had
made his way back to Selma he again
said, walt" and plunged down the
wooden stairway. Selma waited. She
had ceased to feel distressed at her
inability TO find the Pools in the crowd,
a-tiptoe though she was When pres
emily he came back he had IN his hand
an empty wooden soap box. This he
appended in the doorway just behind
the crowd stationed there Selma
mounted it; found her head a little
above the level of his. She could sur
vey the room from end to end. There
were the Pools. She waved to
Maartie; smiled at Roelf. He made as
though to come toward her; did come
part way, and was restrained by
Maartje catching at his coat tail.
Adam Ooms' gavel Ga wooden potato
masher) crashed for silence. Ladies -
(Crash) And gents?' (Crash)
"Gentsl Look what basket we've got
herer
Look indeed. A great hamper,
grown so plethoric that it could no
longer wear its cover It's contents
bellied into a mound smoothly COW
cred with a fine white cloth whose
glistening surface proclaimed it dam
ask. A Himalaya among hampers.
You knew that under that snowy crust
lay gold that was fowl done crisply,
succulently; emeralds in the form of
gherkins; rubies that melted into
| strawberry preserves; cakes frosted
like diamonds; to say nothing of such
semi-precious jewels as potato salad !;
cheeses; sour cream to be spread on
rye bread and butter; coffee cakes !;
crullers.
Crash "The Widow Paarlenberg's
| basket, ladies-and gents; The Widow
Paarlenberg! I don't know what's in
it. You don't know what's in it. We
don't have to know what's in it. Who
has eaten Widow Paarlenbergs chicken
once don't have to know. Who has
eaten Widow Paarlenberg's cake once
don't have to know. What am bid on
Widow Paarlenbergs basket! What
am l bid. Northumberland
mIbid" CRASH
The widow herself, very handsome
in black silk, her gold neck chain rising
and falling richly with the little furry
that now agitated her broad BOSOM
was seated in a chair against the wall
not five feet from the auctioneer's
stand. She bridled now, blushed, cast
down her eyes, cast up her eyes, sue
ceeded in looking as unconscious as
cOmplaisant Turkish slave girl on the
block.
Adam Ooms' glance swept the hall
until it reached the tall figure tower
ing in the doorway-reached 1t, and
rested there. His gimlet eyes seemed
to bore their way into Pervus De
longs steady stare. He raised his
right arm aloft, brandishing the potato
masher. The whole room fixed its gaze
on the blond head in the doorway.
Speak up! Young men of High
Prairiei Heb, you, Pervus DeJong I!
! WhatmTbidwhatmI
Fifty cents" The bid came from
Gerrit Pom at the other end of the hall
A dashing offer, as start, In this dis
! trict where one dollar often repre-
scented the profits on a whole load Of
market truck brought to the city.
Crashl went the potato masher
Fifty cents I'm bid. Who'll make it
seventy-five? Who'll make it seventy
fiveT"
"Sixtyw Johannes Ambuul, a wild
over, his age more than the sum of his
bid.
Seventy" Gerrit Pom.
Adam Ooms whispered it-hIssed It.
"S-s-s-seventy. Ladies and gents,
wouldn't repeat out loud sucha f1gger
!