Betty Gordon in Washington; Or, Strange Adventures in a Great City Read online

  CHAPTER IV

  AT THE VENDUE

  "You, Bob!"

  The shout awakened Betty at dawn the next morning, and running tothe window she saw Bob disappear into the barn, Mr. Peabody close onhis heels.

  "Oh, goodness, I suppose he's scolding about something," sighed thegirl. "There always is something to find fault about. I hope Bob willkeep his temper, because I want him to be able to take me to thevendue this afternoon."

  Joseph Peabody came into breakfast in a surly frame of mind, amental condition faithfully reflected in the attitude of his hiredman who jerked back his chair and subsided into it with a grunt.Betty's irrepressible sense of humor pictured the dog (the Peabodyskept no dog because the head of the house considered that dogs atemore than they were worth) tucking his tail between his legs andslinking under the table as a port in the storm. The dog, shedecided, glancing at Mrs. Peabody's timid face, was all that wasneeded to set the seal on a scene of ill-nature and discomfort.

  Bob, when he came in late with the milk pails, wore a black scowland set his burden down with a crash that spilled some of theprecious fluid on to the oilcloth top of the side table.

  "Be a little more careful with that," growled Mr. Peabody, takingthe last piece of ham, which left nothing but the fried potatoes andbread for Bob's breakfast. "The cows are going dry fast enoughwithout you trying to waste the little they give."

  Bob, looking as though he could cheerfully fling the contents ofboth pails over his employer, sullenly began to pump water into thehand basin. This habit of "washing up" at the kitchen sink while ameal was in progress always thoroughly disgusted Betty, and Bobusually performed his ablutions on the back porch. This morning hewas evidently too cross to consider a second person's feelings.

  "Always ready enough to throw out what doesn't belong to you," wenton Mr. Peabody grumbling. "Born in the poorhouse, you're in a fairway to die there. If I didn't watch you every minute, you'd wastemore than I can save in a year."

  Bob, his face buried in the roller towel, lost his temper at thispoint.

  "Oh, for Pete's sake, shut up!" he muttered.

  But Mr. Peabody had heard. With a quickness that surprised even hiswife, for ordinarily he slouched his way around, he sprang from hischair, reached the side of the unconscious Bob, and soundly boxed hisears twice.

  "I'll take no impudence from you!" he cried, enraged. "Here, comeback!" he yelled, as Bob started for the door. "You come back hereand sit down. When you don't come to the table, it will be because Isay so. Sit down, I say!"

  Bob, his face livid, his ears ringing, dropped into a chair at thetable. Ethan continued to eat stolidly, and Betty kept her eyesresolutely fastened on her plate.

  "Just for that, you stay home from the Faulkner sale!" announced Mr.Peabody who was more than ordinarily loquacious that morning. "I'llfind something for you to do this afternoon that'll keep your handsbusy, if not your tongue. Eat your breakfast. I'll have no mincingover food at my table."

  Poor Bob, who had often been forbidden a meal as punishment, nowmechanically tried to eat the unappetizing food placed before him.Betty was terribly disappointed about the sale, for she had set herheart on going. There were few pleasures open to her as a member ofthe household at Bramble Farm, and, with the exception of the Gueringirls in town, she had no girl friends her own age. Bob had provedhimself a sympathetic, loyal chum, and he alone had made the summerendurable.

  "Don't care!" she cried, to console the boy, as Peabody and hishelper went out of the house to begin the field work for the day."Don't care, Bob. I really don't mind not going to the sale."

  Mrs. Peabody was in the pantry, straining the milk.

  "We're going," whispered Bob. "You meet me right after dinner at theend of the lane. I'm sick of being knocked around, and I think JimTurner will be at the sale. I want to see him. Anyway, we're going."

  "But--but Mr. Peabody will be furious!" ventured Betty. "You knowwhat a scene he will make, Bob. Do you think we had better go?"

  "You needn't," said Bob ungraciously. "I am."

  "Of course, if you go, so will I," replied Betty, swallowing a sharpretort. Bob was badgered enough without a contribution from her."Perhaps he will not miss us--we can get back in time for supper."

  Immediately after dinner at noon Mr. Peabody sent Bob out to the hayloft to pitch down hay for the balers who were expected to come andset up their machine that night, ready for work the next day. Hecould not have selected a meaner job, for the hay loft was stiflingin the heat of the midday sun which beat down on the roof of thebarn, and there were only two tiny windows to supply air. Mr. Peabodyhimself was going up in the woods to mark trees for some needed fencerails.

  Bob departed with a significant backward glance at Betty, which senther flying upstairs to get into a clean frock. Mrs. Peabodymanifested so little interest in her activities that the girlanticipated no difficulty in getting safely out of the house. As ithappened, her hostess made the way even easier.

  "If you're going to Glenside, Betty," she remarked dully, stoppingin the doorway of Betty's room as the girl pulled on her hat, "I wishyou'd see if Grimshaw has any meat scraps. Joseph might get me a bitthe next time he goes over. Just ask how much it is, an' all--thehens need something more than they're getting."

  Betty knew that Joseph Peabody would never buy meat scraps for hiswife's hens. Indeed, she had priced stuff several times at Mrs.Peabody's request and nothing had ever come of it. But she agreed togo to Grimshaw's if she got that far in her walk, and Mrs. Peabodyturned aside into her own room without asking any questions.

  "Gee! thought you never were coming," complained Bob, when the slimfigure in the navy serge skirt and white middy met him at the end ofthe lane road. "The sale starts at one sharp, you know, and we'llmiss the first of it. Lots of 'em will come in overalls, so I'll bein style."

  Before they had walked very far they were overtaken by a rattlingblackboard, drawn by a lean, raw-boned white horse and driven by acheerful farmer's wife who invited them to "hop in," an invitationwhich they accepted gratefully. She was going to the Faulkner vendue,she informed them, and her heart was set on three wooden wash tubsand seven yards of ingrain carpet advertised in the list of householdgoods offered for sale.

  "My daughter's going to set up for herself next fall," she saidhappily, "and that ingrain will be just the thing for her spare room."

  When they reached the Faulkner farm, a rather commonplace group ofbuildings set slightly in a hollow, they found teams and automobilesof every description blocking the lane that led to the house.

  Bob tied the white horse to an unoccupied post for the woman, andshe hastened away, worried lest the ingrain carpet be sold before shecould reach the crowd surrounding the auctioneer.

  Betty, for whom all this was a brand-new experience, enjoyed theexcitement keenly. She followed Bob up to the front porch of thehouse where the household effects were being put up for sale, Bobexplaining that the live stock would be sold later.

  "Well, look who's here!" cried a hearty voice, as a man, movingaside to give Betty room, allowed the person standing next to him tosee the girl's face. "Betty Gordon! And Bob, too! Not thinking ofgoing to farming, are you?"

  Gray-haired, kindly-faced Doctor Guerin shook hands cordially, andkept a friendly arm across Bob's thin shoulders.

  "Friends of yours coming home next Tuesday," he said, smiling as onewho knows he brings pleasant news. "The Benders are due in LaurelGrove. Mrs. Guerin had a postal card last night."

  Betty was glad to hear this, for she did not want Bob to leaveBramble Farm without seeking the advice of the fine young policerecorder who had been so good to them and whose friendship both sheand Bob valued as only those can who need real friends.

  "I came to bid on a secretary," Doctor Guerin confided presently."It's the only good thing in the whole house. Rest of the stuff isnothing but trash. That antique dealer from Petria is here, too, andI suspect he has his eye on the same piece. Don't you want to bid forme Bob, to keep hi
m in the dark?"

  Bob was delighted to do the doctor a service, and when the mahoganysecretary was put up for sale the few other bidders soon dropped out,leaving the field to the Petria dealer and the lad in the fadedoveralls. The dealer, of course, knew that Bob must represent somebuyer, but he could not decide for whom he was bidding, and so was inthe dark as to how high his opponent would go. Had he known thatDoctor Hal Guerin was bidding against him, he would have beenenlightened, for the doctor's collection of antiques was reallyfamous and the envy of many a professional collector.

  "I suppose some rube wants the desk for his sitting room," thoughtthe Petria man lazily, his eye, keen as it was, failing to see thedoctor in the crowd. "Let him have it, and I'll buy it from him forten dollars more before he leaves the sale. He can't resist turningover his money quick like that."

  So when the auctioneer boomed "Sold for forty dollars," and inanswer to his request for the buyer's name Bob said clearly, "DoctorGuerin," in his own language, the man from Petria was "just plainsick."

  After the household things were sold--and Betty noted withsatisfaction that the three tubs and the ingrain carpet went to thewoman who had so coveted them--she and Bob went out to the barn andwatched the horses and cows, wagons, harnesses and farm machinerysold. It was an absorbing and colorful scene, and the boy and girl,fascinated, lingered till the last item was checked off. Then, with astart, Bob heard a farmer announce that it was half past five.

  "Oh dear!" sighed Betty nervously, "you ought to be milking thisminute. Oh, Bob, let's not go home! Couldn't we stay overnight withDoctor Guerin?"

  "Now don't you be afraid, there won't anything happen to scare you,"responded Bob soothingly. It must be confessed that the knowledge ofthe little sum of money tucked away under the rosebush gave him abolder outlook on the future.

  Hiram Keppler, who owned the farm just beyond the Peabody place,gave them a lift as far as their lane, and as they hurried down theroad Betty tried her best to master her dread of the cominginterview. She had not a doubt but that Bob's absence would have beennoticed. Looking ahead fearfully, she saw a sight that confirmed herworst forebodings.

  Joseph Peabody stood at the barnyard gate, a horsewhip in his hand