. In the
whole room there was not one thing she'd have been paid to buy.

"And then 'twas Bridgie's chance, and she beguiled her with the cushion
for fifteen shillings, saying the down itself was worth it. So she
bought it to make weight, and sent it to the Major's wife, with her dear
love, for Christmas. The Major's wife wore it on the sofa for a whole
afternoon when the Colonel's wife came to tea, and then packed it away
in the spare room wardrobe till a young curate brought back a bride, and
then she shook it up and ironed the lace and sent it, with all best
wishes, for a wedding present. The curate's wife wore it for one
afternoon, just in the same way, and then _she_ packed it away, and when
Christmas came round she said to her husband that the Colonel's wife had
been so kind and helpful, and wouldn't it be nice to make a slight
return if it were within their means, and what about the cushion? So on
the very next Christmas the Colonel's wife got a nice fat parcel, and
when it was opened, there, before her eyes--"

"Ha, ha ha!"

"Ho, ho, ho!"

The two young men anticipated the point with roars of laughter, and
Pixie whisked round to the other side of the stall to cock her head at a
pyramid of green pottery, and move the principal pieces an inch to the
right, a thought to the left, with intent to improve the _coup d'oeil_.
To the masculine eye it did not seem possible that such infinitesimal
touches could have the slightest effect, but then bazaars are intended
primarily for the entrapment of women, and Pixie knew very well that
with them first impressions were all important. Every shopkeeper
realises as much, which is the reason why he labels his goods just a
farthing beneath the ultimate shilling. The feminine conscience might
possibly shy at paying a whole three shillings for a bauble which could
be done without, but, let the eye catch sight of an impressive _Two_,
and the small eleven three-farthings is swallowed at a gulp!

At two o'clock the bazaar was formally opened in a ceremony which took
exactly ten minutes, and was so dull that it appeared to have lasted a
long half-hour.

Geoffrey Hilliard, as squire of the village, gave an elaborate
explanation of the pressing need of a parish nurse, which his hearers
already understood far better than he did himself; the wife of a
neighbouring squire said that she had found a parish nurse a great
acquisition in her own village, and she had very much pleas