up housekeepin'!" Even Mrs. Troop smiled wryly, and the crowd guffawed.
"Now here," bellowed the auctioneer, "is a very fine article sech as you don't often see in these days. A melodeon, everybody, a parlor organ, in size, shape, and appearance very unusual, so to say."
"Ain't it homely!" a female voice remarked during the stout auctioneer's pause for breath.
"Not being a musician, ladies and gents, I ain't qualified to let you hear the tones of this instrument, but—I am sure it will be an ornament to any home and a source of enjoyment to both old and young. Now—what'll you give me for this fine old organ?"
"Seventy-five cents," a deep voice murmured.
"Got your money with you, Watson?" the auctioneer inquired bitingly. "I am ashamed of this offer, folks, but nevertheless, I am offered seventy-five cents—seventy-five cents, for this fine old instrument. Now who'll—"
The melodeon climbed to two dollars, with comparative rapidity. The bidders were principally men, whose wives, had they been present, would probably have discouraged the bid-
