? Why, friends, this ain't a church
pound party. Look at them dishes! LOOK at 'em! Why, the pin feathers on
those blue dicky birds in the corners are worth more'n that for mattress
stuffing. Do I hear sixty? Sixty I'm bid. Who says seventy?"

Milo said it, and Eddie was back at him afore he could shake the reefs
out of the last syllable. She went up to a hundred, then to one hundred
and twenty-five, and with every raise Adoniram Roger's smile lengthened
out. After the one-twenty-five mark the tide rose slower. Milo'd raise
it a dollar and Eddie'd jump him fifty cents.

And just then two things happened. One was that a servant girl come
running from the Old Home House to tell the Duchess and "Irene dear"
that some swell friends of theirs from the hotel at Harniss had driven
over to call and was waiting for 'em in the parlor. The female Smalls
went in, though they wa'n't joyful over it. They give Eddie his sailing
orders afore they went, too.

The other thing that happened was Bill Saltmarsh's arriving in port.
Bill is an "antiquer" for revenue only. He runs an antique store over
at Ostable and the prices he charges are enough to convict him without
hearing the evidence. I knew he'd come.

Saltmarsh busts through the crowd and makes for the pulpit. He nods to
Peter T. and picks up one of the plates. He looks at it first ruther
casual; then more and more careful, turning it over and taking up
another.

"Hold on a minute, Brown," says he. "Are THESE the dishes you're
selling?"

"Sure thing," comes back Peter. "Think we're serving free lunch? No,
sir! Those are the genuine articles, Mr. Saltmarsh, and you're cheating
the widders and orphans if you don't put in a bid quick. One thirty-two
fifty, I'm bid. Now, Saltmarsh!"

But Bill only laughed. Then he picks up another plate, looks at it, and
laughs again.

"Good day, Brown," says he. "Sorry I can't stop." And off he puts
towards his horse and buggy.

Eddie Small was watching him. Milo, being on the other side of the
pulpit, hadn't noticed so partic'lar.

"Who's that?" asks Eddie, suspicious. "Does he know antiques?"

I remarked that if Bill didn't, then nobody did.

"Look here, Saltmarsh!" says Small, catching Bill by the arm as
he shoved through the crowd. "What's the matter with those
dishes--anything?"

Bill turned and looked at him. "Why, no," he says, slow. "They're all
right--of their kind." And off he put again.

But Eddie wa'n't satisfied. He turns