“It is a stupid mistake—I know nothing about it; and upon my word, they have broken the walls in several places, bringing their lumber in.” “And that’s not all, ma’am—they threw over the hat-rack, turning up that monstrous table, and knocked out two of the pins, beside breaking the little looking-glass.” And so they had; but there was nothing else to be done than to wait patiently until the real proprietor appeared. I had just finished my dinner when I heard a bustle in the hall, and hastened out, presuming that I was to be rid of my unwelcome storage, and desirous to superintend its removal. Who should I find but Mrs. Dilberry and her daughters. Miss Jane Louisa had already the lid of the piano thrown up, while her sister was trying the chairs, and the old lady sitting, or rather bouncing herself up and down on the sofa. “Oh, Mrs. Allanby, we’ve had the best luck this morning!” they all cried at once; “do tell us what you think of our bargains!” “Stop, girls, and let me talk;” said Mrs. Dilberry, peremptorily. “Well, to begin at the beginning, Mrs. Allanby, we had laid out to buy two or three pieces of furniture, to set off our parlors—a pyanna, for one—ours, that the girls learnt on, that is Jane Louyza, being rather old-timey—(it was left to me by my Aunt Easter, in her will;) so Mrs. Scrooge, at the tavern—an uncommon sharp, sensible woman—told us we would be fools to pay shop prices for things when we could get them at auction, almost as good, for little or nothing. Well, this morning she hunted up a sale for us, and took us to it, and we’ve had all these things knocked off to us for—now could you guess what, Mrs. Allanby?—upon my word, for what we had made up our minds to pay for a pyanna! and the best of it is, the chairs and sofa are new, spick and span. The auctioneer said that not a soul had ever sat on them before. They didn’t belong to the furniture of the house at all, but to himself, and he had just brought them there to sell, for his own convenience. But the pyanna—just think of it!—I may as well tell you what it cost, Mrs. Allanby, though it would never do to let it be known in Tarry-town;” and she added in a whisper, “only sixty-one dollars!” “Do try it, Mrs. Allanby,” said Jane Louisa; “some of the strings are broken, to be sure, and the pedals don’t seem to work, but when it is fixed up, it will be delightful.” I agreed that it must have been a fine affair in its day. “And the centre-table,” rejoined Esther Ann, “think of such a centre-table selling for fifteen dollars—pure mahogany! when it is varnished, and has a new castor, one being broken, it will be beautiful—or even if it were just rubbed up with oil and turpentine; indeed, for my part, I prefer second-hand furniture to new—it looks more respectable, as if we had it some time. Our old furniture at home I’m very proud of—no one that sees it can call us upstarts.” “Yes,” added Mrs. Dilberry, “there’s the pyanna, and the book-case, and the pair of card-tables—”