ched Morley's. As they came near the door of their sitting-room, Mrs.
Staines heard somebody laughing and talking to her husband. The
laugh, to her subtle ears, did not sound musical and genial, but keen,
satirical, unpleasant; so it was with some timidity she opened the door,
and there sat the old chap with the twinkling eyes. Both parties stared
at each other a moment.

"Why, it is them," cried the old gentleman. "Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!"

Rosa colored all over, and felt guilty somehow, and looked miserable.

"Rosa dear," said Dr. Staines, "this is our Uncle Philip."

"Oh!" said Rosa, and turned red and pale by turns; for she had a great
desire to propitiate Uncle Philip.

"You were in the auction-room, sir?" said Mrs. Cole, severely.

"I was, madam. He! he!"

"Furnishing a house?"

"No, ma'am. I go to a dozen sales a week; but it is not to buy--I enjoy
the humors. Did you ever hear of Robert Burton, ma'am?"

"No. Yes; a great traveller, isn't he? Discovered the Nile--or the
Niger--or SOMETHING?"

This majestic vagueness staggered old Crusty at first, but he recovered
his equilibrium, and said, "Why, yes, now I think of it, you are right;
he has travelled farther than most of us, for about two centuries ago
he visited that bourn whence no traveller returns. Well, when he was
alive--he was a student of Christchurch--he used to go down to a certain
bridge over the Isis and enjoy the chaff of the bargemen. Now there are
no bargemen left to speak of; the mantle of Bobby Burton's bargees has
fallen on the Jews and demi-semi-Christians that buy and sell furniture
at the weekly auctions; thither I repair to hear what little coarse wit
is left us. Used to go to the House of Commons; but they are getting too
civil by half for my money. Besides, characters come out in an auction.
For instance, only this very day I saw two ladies enter, in gorgeous
attire, like heifers decked for sacrifice, and reduce their spoliation
to a certainty by employing a broker to bid. Now, what is a broker?
A fellow who is to be paid a shilling in the pound for all articles
purchased. What is his interest, then? To buy cheap? Clearly not. He is
paid in proportion to the dearness of the article."

Rosa's face began to work piteously.

"Accordingly, what did the broker in question do? He winked to another
broker, and these two bid against one another, over their victim's head,
and ran everything she wanted up at least a hundred per cent above t