"Ten dollars deposit, please," said Willie.
"I don't absolutely follow you, old bean. What is the big thought at the back of all this?"
"Ten dollars deposit on the chair."
"What chair?"
"You bid forty-five dollars for the chair."
"Me?"
"You nodded," said Willie, accusingly. "If," he went on, reasoning closely, "you didn't want to bid, why did you nod?"
Archie was embarrassed. He could, of course, have pointed out that he had merely nodded in adhesion to the statement that the other had a face like Jo-Jo the dog-faced boy; but something seemed to tell him that a purist might consider the excuse deficient in tact. He hesitated a moment, then handed over a ten-dollar bill, the price of Willie's feelings. Willie withdrew like a tiger slinking from the body of its victim.
"I say, old thing," said Archie to Reggie, "this is a bit thick, you know. No purse will stand this drain."
Reggie considered the matter. His face seemed drawn under the mental strain.
"Don't nod again," he advised. "If you aren't careful, you get into the habit of it. When you want to bid, just twiddle your fingers. Yes, that's the thing. Twiddle!"
He sighed drowsily. The atmosphere of the auction room was close; you weren't allowed to smoke; and altogether he was beginning to regret that he had come. The service continued. Objects of varying unattractiveness came and went, eulogised by the officiating priest, but coldly received by the congregation. Relations between
