it and they can sell it
over again?"

"You bid rashly," the preacher said, though his eyes were smiling and
his usual tone of admonition was absent from his voice. "I think you may
be able to sell it to the woman who was bidding against you."

"I'll find her and give it to her."

She elbowed her way through the crowd until she reached the place from
which the opposing voice had come. She looked about a moment, then
addressed a woman near her. "Do you know who was bidding on the cradle?"

"Yes, it was Hetty here, the one with the white waist. Here, Hetty, this
lady wants to talk to you."

"To me?" echoed the rival bidder for the cradle.

"Did you bid on the cradle?" asked Phoebe.

"Yes, but I didn't get it. I only wanted it because it was in the family
so long. I'm a Brubaker. I said I wouldn't give more than fifty cents
for it, for it would just stand up in the garret anyway, and be one more
thing to move around at housecleaning time. Yet I'd liked to have it. I
don't know who got it."

"I did, but I don't want it. I'd like to give it to you."

"Why"--the woman was amazed--"what did you bid on it for?"

"Just for the fun of bidding," said Phoebe, laughing. "Will you let me
give it to you?"

"I'll give you half a dollar for it," offered the woman.

"No, I mean it. I want to give it to you. I'll consider it a favor if
you'll take it from me."

"Well, if you want it that way. But don't you want the quilt and the
feather pillows?"

"No, take it just as it is."

"Why, thanks," said the woman as she went to the spot where the cradle
stood. She soon walked away with the clumsy gift in her arm. "Now don't
it beat all," she said as she set it down near her friends. "I just knew
that I'd get a present to-day. This morning I put my stocking on wrong
side out and I just left it for they say still that it means you'll get
a present before the day is over, and here I get this cradle!"

With a bright smile illumining her face, Phoebe rejoined the preacher.

"I see you disposed of the cradle," he greeted her.

"Yes. But I felt like a hypocrite when she thanked me, for I was giving
her what I didn't want."

Here the busy auctioneer called again, "Attention, everybody! This piece
of furniture we are going to sell now dates back to ante-bellum days."

"Ach, it don't," Phoebe heard a voice exclaim. "That never belonged to
any person called Bellem; that was old Amanda Brubaker's for years and
she used to tell me tha