ded a bid,--"Sixteen
shillings."

Instantly some dealer, one of the hook-nosed that gathered round each
lot as it came to the foot of the table, cried "Eighteen shillings."

"Nineteen," said Rosa.

"A guinea," said the dealer.

"Don't let it go," said the broker behind her. "Don't let it go, ma'am."

She colored at the intrusion, and left off bidding directly, and
addressed herself to Mrs. Cole. "Why should I give so much, when the
last were sold for fifteen shillings?"

The real reason was that the first lot was not bid for at all, except by
the proprietor. However, the broker gave her a very different solution;
he said, "The trade always run up a lady or a gentleman. Let me bid for
you; they won't run me up; they know better."

Rosa did not reply, but looked at Mrs. Cole.

"Yes, dear," said that lady; "you had much better let him bid for you."

"Very well," said Rosa; "you can bid for this chest of drawers--lot 25."

When lot 25 came on, the broker bid in the silliest possible way, if
his object had been to get a bargain. He began to bid early and
ostentatiously; the article was protected by somebody or other there
present, who now of course saw his way clear; he ran it up audaciously,
and it was purchased for Rosa at about the price it could have been
bought for at a shop.

The next thing she wanted was a set of oak chairs.

They went up to twenty-eight pounds; then she said, "I shall give no
more, sir."

"Better not lose them," said the agent; "they are a great bargain;" and
bid another pound for her on his own responsibility.

They were still run up, and Rosa peremptorily refused to give any more.
She lost them, accordingly, by good luck. Her faithful broker looked
blank; so did the proprietor.

But, as the sale proceeded, she being young, the competition, though
most of it sham, being artful and exciting, and the traitor she employed
constantly puffing every article, she was drawn in to wishing for
things, and bidding by her feelings.

Then her traitor played a game that has been played a hundred times, and
the perpetrators never once lynched, as they ought to be, on the spot.
He signalled a confederate with a hooked nose; the Jew rascal bid
against the Christian scoundrel, and so they ran up the more enticing
things to twice their value under the hammer.

Rosa got flushed, and her eye gleamed like a gambler's, and she bought
away like wildfire. In which sport she caught sight of an old gentle