Bad Hugh

There was a crowd of people out that day to attend the sale of Colonel

Tiffton's household effects. Even fair ladies, too, came in their

carriages, holding high their aristocratic skirts as they threaded their

way through the rooms where piles of carpeting and furniture of various

kinds lay awaiting the shrill voice and hammer of the auctioneer, a

portly little man, who felt more for the family than his appearance

would indicate.

There had been a long talk that morning between himself and a young

lady, a stranger to him, whose wondrous beauty had thrilled his heart

just as it did every heart beating beneath a male's attire. The lady had

seemed a little worried, as she talked, casting anxious glances up the

Lexington turnpike, and asking several times when the Lexington cars

were due.

"It shan't make no difference. I'll take your word," the auctioneer had

said in reply to some doubts expressed by her. "I'd trust your face for

a million," and with a profound bow by way of emphasizing his

compliment, the well-meaning Skinner went out to the group assembled

near Rocket while the lady returned to the upper chamber where Mrs.

Tiffton and Ellen were assembled.

Once Harney's voice, pitched in its blandest tone, was heard talking to

the ladies, and then Ellen stopped her ears, exclaiming passionately: "I hate that man, I hate him. I almost wish that I could kill him."

"Hush, Ellen; remember! 'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the

Lord,'" Alice whispered to the excited girl who answered hastily: "Don't preach to me now. I'm too wretched. Wait till you lose everything

by one man's villainy, then see if you won't curse him."

There was an increased confusion in the yard below, and Alice knew the

sale was about to commence. The white-haired colonel kept watch while

one after another of his household goods were sold. Inferior articles

they were at first, and the crowd were not much disposed to bid, but all

were dear to the old man, who groaned each time an article was knocked

off, and so passed effectually from his possession.

The crowd grew weary at last--they must have brisker sport than that, if

they would keep warm in that chilly November wind, and cries for the

"horses" were heard.

"Your crack ones, too. I'm tired of this," growled Harney, and Ellen's

riding pony was led out. The colonel saw the playful animal, and

tottered to Ellen's chamber, saying: "They're going to sell Beauty, Nell. Poor Nellie, don't cry," and the

old man laid his hand on his weeping daughter's head.

"Colonel Tiffton, this way please," and Alice spoke in a whisper. "I

want Beauty. Couldn't you bid for me, bid all you would be willing to

give if you were bidding for Ellen?"