So Lesbia dragged Kitty, who wanted to look at a hundred things by the way, downstairs and on to the lawn, where a long table and the auctioneer's desk were arranged. The girls waited eagerly for the fun to begin. They were much entertained at the company in which they found themselves, farmers and villagers from the neighbourhood, dealers from local towns, and an odd assortment of queer-looking people such as are never seen except at sales, some obviously out for amusement, and others bent on bargain-hunting. There were one or two keen faces of professional buyers which strangely repelled them, but on the whole the crowd was jovial and good-humoured. At two o'clock the auctioneer took his place, and his men began to carry out the first "lots" and place them upon the table. He rapidly described their merits and knocked down bundles of curtains or blankets to the highest bidders. Bedroom 4, which was being sold, contained a variety of articles. When the linen was disposed of, a number of books were next plumped upon the table. "Lot 205," announced a stentorian voice. Now the bidding was an utterly unintelligible process to the unaccustomed girls. It seemed to them as if the auctioneer glanced round the crowd and repeated glibly "Two shillings--two and six--three shillings--three and six", and so on until he suddenly rapped his hammer and consigned the "lot" to somebody who wanted it. He was a talkative red-faced man, who grew very warm with his efforts, and waved his arms dramatically like an actor declaiming a part. Lesbia stared at him quite fascinated. By the merest accident, in the midst of running up "lot 205", he chanced to glance her way, and, meeting her eye, promptly knocked it down to her. Before she knew what had happened she found herself the possessor of a pile of second-hand books for which a rusty individual, armed with pencil and memorandum list, was writing down her name and the sum of five and six. "But I don't _want_ these books. I want a _paint-box_!" she protested in agonized tones. "You bid for this lot, miss. Sorry, but it can't be helped now if you made a mistake. The paint-box comes later on." "And I've no money left to get it with," whispered Lesbia to Kitty. "Isn't this the limit? Why did he knock the books down to _me_ of all people?" "I don't know. I suppose you looked at him and he thought you were bidding for it. Watch the people now. They all catch his eye when they want to bid." "That man over there winks. I certainly never winked." "Well, it's done now and there's no getting out of it. How much must I lend you. Eighteen pence? Here you are. We can put the books in our bicycle baskets. Do you care to stay any longer or shall we go?"