Although the trip planned for the Dobb’s Ferry territory had ended so disastrously, the girls were not discouraged. Dodo secured a license without any difficulty, and was equipped to drive Mr. Dalken’s car without being fined a second time. But the wise owner of the car considered it wiser to send Carl out on these excursions, instead of trusting to Fate to bring the girls back home again without broken bones or a damage suit.

Mr. Fabian had had a brilliant idea, too, after he heard his wife’s story of the country auction where the old antiques had been secured by Mrs. Tomlinson. He suggested that they subscribe to several country papers, both daily and weekly, and in that way they would learn of any vendue advertised in its columns.

Eagerly following his advice, the four girls—Nancy was not interested in antiques but was willing to go around with her friends when they hunted for them—subscribed for the Yonkers papers, the White Plains papers, several weeklies in New Jersey, and others, in order to learn of any country auctions advertised for the following week.

Through this medium, they read of a country sale advertised for the following Thursday, to take place at an old farm home-stead way back in the hills of Westchester. The items mentioned included a mahogany four-poster bed, and other old bits.

Polly and Eleanor had not attended an auction since the days in Paris, and neither of them had ever heard of, or witnessed a back-farm country auction, so they were not prepared for what they really experienced.

Carl was detailed to drive them, that day, and Mrs. Fabian escorted them, in the seven-passenger car. They took the turnpike road as far as White Plains and then turned to the left to follow a country road that would lead past the farm.

The sale was advertised for eleven o’clock, but the girls did not arrive on the premises until twelve. Still no auctioneer was to be seen or heard. Groups of farmers stood around, gossiping about their crops that season, and their wives sat indoors exchanging notes on canning, new neighbors, or babies.

Polly gazed curiously at the types assembled for that sale, and whispered to Eleanor: “Wouldn’t you say these farmers had been picked up from Oak Creek ranches and dropped down here in this front door-yard?”

Eleanor smiled and nodded. Then she said in a low voice: “They don’t look as if they were here to buy. We seem to be the only folks here with a pocket-book.”

A young farmer who had been leaning against the old well now came forward to welcome the strangers who stood looking about.

“I be the clerk fer the auctionair, but he hain’t come, yit. His baby swallered a shet safety-pin an’ they had an orful time wid ippycak tryin’ to git it that way. Now the doctor’s thar sayin’ that stuff is all wrong. He’ll git the pin, all right, ’cause I swallered a quarter, onct, and he got it, but it costed me a hull dollar extra to pay him fer his docterin’. Ye’s kin go in and peer aroun’ to see ef you wants anything.”

Mrs. Fabian expressed her sympathy for the parents of the baby and said she knew just how frightened the mother must be.

“Not much!” was the clerk’s astonishing reply. “She’s young Kit Morehouse what ain’t got a grain of sense in her bean. This baby’s mother died when it was a week old, and Lem had to have someone look affer it. Thar warn’t no sensible woman about what would hev him, ’cause he don’t make salt fer a red herrin’, seein’ his professhun is auctionin’ an’ folks ain’t sellin’ out like-as-much as they ust to be, years ago. But this crazy Kit was onny nineteen, with no fam’ly, er no payin’ job, so she hired out to take keer of the kid. Don’t it allus end like this? The gal marries the father an’ gets mad cause another woman’s kid is cryin’ around!”

The girls were intensely interested in this bit of local gossip, but Mrs. Fabian thought they had heard enough about “Kit,” so she bid the clerk good-by and started for the low one-story-and-a-half house.

The interior presented a different appearance from the home of Mrs. Tomlinson’s. Every conceivable object ever used in the house was brought out and placed in the front rooms. Women and children sat about on various sorts of seats, waiting for the sale to begin. As most of the assembly were neighbors and acquainted with each other, the entrance of Mrs. Fabian and her girls caused quite a surprise.

Audible whispers of “Who air they?” and “Where did they come from?” or “What d’ye s’pose they come to bid on?” were heard on all sides as the strangers passed through the “settin’ room.”

The moment Mrs. Fabian’s party left the clerk, outside, he hurried over to the automobile where Carl sat enjoying a quiet smoke.

“Howde,” began Abner Clark, the clerk.

Carl removed his pipe and nodded nonchalantly.

“Do you-all hail from about these parts?” asked Abner.

“I should say not!” declared Carl, emphatically.

“From whar abouts are you?” continued the clerk.

“New York City—and that’s some town, let me tell you.”

“Yeh—so I’ve heran say. How did yeh get to come here to this vendue?” persisted Abner.

“I don’t know—I’m only the chauffeur. Why don’t you ask the ladies if you are so anxious to know?” Carl was growing angry.

“All right—no harm meant,” replied Abner, soothingly, as he turned away.

Carl resumed his pipe, and Abner strolled over to the group of men sitting on wheel-barrows, ploughs, chicken-coops, etc. With a furtive look over his shoulder, to make sure the city driver was not listening, Abner began to explain to his interested friends who the strangers were.

But he had not quite ended his tale before an old buggy drove up and the auctioneer got out. He glanced over the assembled farmers with an appraising eye, and then carefully hitched the old nag to a tree. This done, he broke off a great chunk of tobacco from a cake kept in a blue paper, and popped it into his mouth.

Abner walked over to the white-washed fence to greet his superior. “How’s the kid?” were his first words.

“All right, now. He diden’ swaller the pin, after all. The doctor found it down inside his shirt, an’ it cost me a dollar besides all that good mustard and eppicac, fer nuthin’!”

“Well, well!” sympathized Abner, not knowing what would be best to say in such a delicate case.

“Did yuh keep all the folks about when I sent word over?” continued the auctioneer.

“Shure! An’ we’ve got some swell city buyers, this time.”

“City! You don’t mean anyone from the city’d want to buy old Morrisey’s trash?” exclaimed Lemuel, in disbelief.

“I dunno what they want, but thar’s their man what steers the autermobile,” and Abner directed a thumb over his left shoulder.

“Wall, wall! Come along; we’ll hurry up to get some of their coin afore they git tired awaitin’!” declared the wise man, as he made haste to reach the house.

Mrs. Fabian and the girls had made a cursory visit to the rooms on the ground floor, and while they stood in the small kitchen examining various old dishes and glassware in the cupboard, Polly spied a very narrow staircase leading to the attic.

“I’m going up to see if there’s anything up there,” said she. So without another word, she ran up the creaky steps.

The girls heard her walking overhead, and then heard her pull a heavy object across the floor. In another minute she came racing down the steps at a break-neck speed, her face all streaked with dirt and her dress covered with cob-webs and the dust of ages.

“Oh, folks! Do come up and see what I found in an old box under the eaves!”

They needed no second invitation, and soon all were up beside the box. There were many other empty boxes standing about and in some way this particular box had escaped the attention of Abner, who had taken the inventory of the contents of the house and barns.

Polly had removed the first object on top of the box which was an old woven coverlet in rare colorings of blue and white. In one corner was the name of the weaver and the date it was completed. Polly was not aware that old woven coverlets were considered very desirable by collectors, but she had read the date which showed the spread was more than a hundred years old, so she judged it was worth bidding on at the coming sale.

Directly under this woven coverlet was a white spread. It was very old and torn at the corners, but the rest of it was in good condition. Mrs. Fabian saw at once that it was a spread of the finest candle-wicking style she had ever seen. It must have dated back to the early part of the eighteenth century.

Under this white bed-spread were small bundles of hand-spun linen towels, yellow with age but in perfect condition as to wear. But the greatest find of all, in this box, were the old brasses in the bottom.

Wrapped in papers to keep them clean, Polly found a long-handled warming-pan; a set of fire-irons—the tongs, shovel, and andirons of the famous “acorn-top” design; and a funny old foot-warmer. A pair of ancient bellows was the last article found in the box, but the leather was so dry and old that pieces fell out when Polly tried to make the bellows work.

“I must go right down and tell that clerk about these wonderful things. They must have overlooked them when they listed all the other articles in the house,” said Mrs. Fabian.

Eleanor held her back and said: “You’d better not tell him the news in that excited manner. He’ll understand at once, that these things are desirable, and then we’ll have to pay well for them.”

“You’re right, Nolla!” laughed Nancy, and her mother admitted as much.

“Why couldn’t we just take them down to the kitchen and pile them on the table. No one will know that we want them, and should anyone ask what we were doing up here and by what right we carried them down from the attic, we can honestly say that Abner said we could go over the house and see if there was anything we liked to buy,” said Polly, with a collector’s instinct for not paying extortionate prices for what she wanted.

The girls laughed, but each one caught up some object, and having gathered all safely in their arms, they started down. The kitchen, being the least desirable room to visit in the farmer’s wife’s judgment, no one was there when Mrs. Fabian and the girls returned to it. Their discoveries were piled on the old drop-leaf table, and they grouped themselves at the doorways to keep guard over the prizes.

A loud voice was shouting at the open front door, saying: “This are the terms of the sale: Everything bid on ’s got to be paid fer the same day and removed from the premises in twenty-four hours—all but th’ barn-stock. You’se kin take forty-eight hours fer them. I expecks everyone to pay cash fer anything they buy, ’cause I got enough trouble at that last sale at Hubbells’ when a lot of you folks bid on stuff an’ then went home an’ left it on my hands. Hubbell’s son had to give ’em away at last, and I lost all that commission. So, none of that, at this vendue!”

Some of the assembled people looked guilty, and the auctioneer rode rough-shod over their feelings. “Anudder thing: Don’t haggle on a cent! When I call out a decent bid on a thing, raise it a nickel, at least, if you wants it. This cent business—and at Hubbell’s vendue, some of you’se even bid half a cent at a time—makes me tired! If a thing ain’t wuth a cent more to yeh, then let it go to the other feller what wants it!”

The girls laughed at this frank statement of sense, and Lemuel turned to see who had appreciated his speech. When he saw the city people Abner had mentioned, he felt warmed all through, for he felt sure he would earn some commissions that day.

“Our first number is in th’ kitchen. Ab, kin we get in thar, er had we better hold the stuff out here?” asked Lemuel.

“I can’t hold up the kitchen stove, kin I?” asked Abner, in an injured tone.

The people laughed heartily, Mrs. Fabian’s party joining more appreciatively than anyone.

“All right,” answered the auctioneer, in a matter-of-fact voice. “We’ll try to crowd in. But don’t anyone what don’t want to bid on kitchen stuff, come and use the room from others!”

It seemed that his very warning acted contrariwise for, to the girls, it looked as if everyone on the premises tried to crowd into that small room. Being first on the ground, they fared best for place. Mrs. Fabian mounted the steps leading to the attic and advised the girls to get up on the table, chairs, or other solid objects, to be able to look over the heads of the crowd.

“Now, Ab, what you got first?” asked the auctioneer.

Abner had his little book of items, and finding the table the first number inventoried, he called out: “Deal table and contents!”

Now Polly stood on the table, and all the covers had been thrown upon it, also, so when Abner shouted out “table and contents” Lemuel laughed loudly.

“Say, one of them contents is a mighty pooty gal, I kin tell yuh! I’ll begin bidding myself, on such a bargain!”

The country-folks laughed wildly at such a fine joke, and Polly, eager to own the other valuable contents, smiled with them and nodded her head at the salesman. He was not aware that she meant she would bid, for his customers always shouted forth their bids. Then a man asked: “What sort of contents is thar?”

Abner pushed his way through the crowd to open the drawer in the table and enumerate the small ware mentioned as “contents,” when he saw, to his surprise, that there was a heap of covers on the table.

He picked them up and stared at them in dumbfounded amazement, then said: “Say, Lem, here’s them old bed-quilts we had sech a job huntin’ up. Whar the heck’d they come from, I’m sure I dunno!”

“You got ’em, eh? Well, they ain’t listed, so sell ’em fust. I’ll mark them an ‘A’ lot. Who wants to bid on a ole bed-spread?” called Lemuel.

Had the women-folk known of bedding to be sold in the kitchen, there would have been a mad rush for it. But most of them were waiting for the blankets and comfortables found in the two small bed-rooms annexed to the parlor. So but few were in the kitchen when the old candle-wicking spread was bid on by Polly, and knocked down to her for a dollar-ninety.

Eleanor got the blue and white woven coverlet for a dollar and a half, and Mrs. Fabian bought the linen towels “in a lot” for two dollars. The old brasses that were also listed as an “A” lot were knocked down as follows: Polly bought the ancient foot-warmer for sixty cents; Eleanor secured the warming-pan for a dollar, and Dodo, the set of fire-irons with acorn tops, for three dollars. These undreamed-of bargains elated the girls so that they lost all discretion for a time.

“Now that we’ve cleared them things out of our way, we’ll sell the table,” said Lemuel, and forthwith he gave the table to a farmer for fifty cents.

“What ’che got next, Ab?” asked he.

“Some kitchen dishes,” replied Abner, as he opened the cupboard and displayed several samples of blue ware.

Eleanor saw the familiar pattern of the pagodas and willows that are found on old willow-ware, and instantly decided that these must be rare antiques because they were found in the same house as the ancient objects just acquired by her and her friends. So she raised the first bid of ten cents for eight odd pieces, to a dollar.

The auctioneer gasped. He gazed at Eleanor and said faintly: “Did you bid a dollar?”

“Of course!”

“All right, Miss, you kin have them, but pay me now fer them, and don’t come back naggin’ me to say I stuck you wid cracked plates, and nicked saucers. You saw’d them afore you bid!”

Eleanor laughed, and handed over a dollar bill, but Mrs. Fabian tried to catch her eye to warn her not to bid recklessly on other things. Polly stood up on the table wondering why Eleanor got the old kitchen dishes.

The moment Lemuel had the dollar safely in his pocket, he remarked: “Gee! I’m goin’ out of this second-hand sellin’ and lay in a stock of ten-cent blue dishes to sell!”

One of the farmers haw-hawed and said: “That’s how Coolworth made so much money! Gettin’ so much cheap stuff and findin’ a pack of silly women to buy ’em.”

Eleanor tossed her head, but had she kept quiet she would not have been the object of pity she found herself, afterward. In self-justification of her purchase, she called out: “You people don’t know genuine old Wedgewood when you see it. I’ve got a big bargain in those eight plates!”

At that statement, a quiet young fellow, who had been standing about watching progress and noting the bids on a paper, laughed. “I don’t want anyone to say they was taken in at my folk’s sale; but I got’ta tell that young lady that I bought them blue dishes myself, last year, at the tea-store in White Plains fer ten cents each.”

Even Polly had to join in the laugh at Eleanor’s expense now, and poor Nolla felt like selling herself for a nickel. But the auctioneer had scant time for jokes or reckless buyers as he was there for business. So he finished the kitchen and called them into the parlor. Here Polly secured a china dog such as were common sixty to eighty years ago; Eleanor got a real bargain, this time, in buying two century old flower-vases for fifty cents. Mrs. Fabian saw an old engraving of “Washington Crossing the Delaware,” as it was taken from the wall behind the door, and offered for a quarter. On the spur of the moment she raised the bid five cents and got the picture which later proved to be one of the rare old originals, worth several hundred dollars.

Dodo ran up a pair of girandoles that stood on the narrow mantel-shelf in the front room, and finally got them for three dollars. Such an unheard-of price made the buyers look at her in pity, and Lemuel remarked:

“Well, some folks has more money than sense!”

Dodo’s friends laughed heartily at this criticism, but she cared little for them all, because she knew what she had obtained for her money.

The two bed-rooms were so small that few people could get in, so the auctioneer ordered Abner to carry the articles for sale, out on the lawn where everyone could see them. Had it not been for this sensible advice, Polly would never have seen or secured the fine old set of Staffordshire toilet-ware that was knocked down to her for four dollars.

It consisted of ewer in quaint shape, basin deep enough to be a huge punch-bowl, a soap-plate, a mug, and a commode. The rich deep coloring of the design on the china was lovely, and every piece was in good order.

The young man who had told the truth about the eight dishes from the tea-store, congratulated Polly and said: “That set has been in our family for more’n a hundred years. My grandmother used to keep it fer show, er when we had fine comp’ny comin’ to see us. That’s how it kept so good.”

“Oh, don’t you want to keep it, then?” asked Polly, regretfully.

“Nah, I’m goin’ west on the money I git outen this sale, an’ I’d ruther see someone what likes it own it, than any old clod-hopper about these parts!”

Polly felt sure the owner had not been lovingly treated by the people he glanced at as he spoke. But she learned, just before leaving the place that afternoon, that he felt so antagonistic against his neighbors because of their frank criticism of his habit of spending his inheritance.

Because of this unwise recklessness, he had had to mortgage the old farm, and when the proceeds of that had been spent, he had to sell out. “Perhaps his going west, where he would have to work hard for his living, would be his salvation, after this,” thought Polly.

Mrs. Fabian allowed the girls to watch the sale until the contents of the house were sold out and then she suggested that they start back home. The bargains were carefully placed between the coverlets purchased, and then the buyers got in the car.

The country-people were all crowding to the barns to bid on stock and farm-utensils when Carl started the engine. With a last look at the little house where they had found their interesting antiques, the collectors left.