old and unweeping her eyes! How hard and straight the lines
of her mouth!

"Here they are, Mr. Harpworth!"

How shrill her voice; and how quickly she turned back to the noisy
kitchen! I could see the angular form, the streakings of gray in her
hair. ...

"What am I offered now for this precious antique? This hand-made spread?
Everything sold without reserve! Come, now, don't let this opportunity
slip by." He leaned forward confidentially and persuasively: "Fellah
citizens, styles change and fashions pass away, but things made like
these, good lines, strong material, honest work, they never grow
old...."

Here the Shadowy Auctioneer broke in again and lifted me out of that
limited moment.

"A true word!" he was saying. "Styles change and fashions pass away, and
only those things that are well made, and made for service the beautiful
things remain. I am offering to-day, without reservation, another
precious antique. What will you give for such a religious faith as that
of John Templeton? Worn for a lifetime and sound to the end. He read the
Bible every Sunday morning of his life, went to church, and did his
religious duty by his children. Do you remember young Joe Templeton?
Wouldn't learn his chapter one Sunday, and the old gentleman prayed
about it and then beat him with a hitching strap. Joe ran away from home
and made his fortune in Minnesota. Nearly broke the mother's heart, and
old John's, too; but he thought it right, and never repented it.
Gentlemen, an honest man who feared God and lived righteously all his
days! What am I offered for this durable antique, this characteristic
product of New England? Do I hear a bid?"

At this I felt coming over me that strange urge of the auction, to bid
and to buy. A rare possession indeed, not without a high, stern kind of
beauty! It would be wonderful to possess such a faith; but what had I to
offer that Shadowy Auctioneer? What coin that would redeem past times
and departed beliefs?

It was curious how the words of Mr. Harpworth fitted into the fabric of
my imaginings. When he next attracted my attention he was throwing up
his hands in a fine semblance of despair. We were such obtuse
purchasers!

"I think," said Mr. Harpworth, "that this crowd came here to-day only to
eat Julia Templeton's auction luncheon. What's the matter with this here
generation? You don't want things that are well made and durable, but
only things that are cheap and flashy. Put 'er aside, Jak