"Twenty-one hundred," said Woodden.
"That's right, Mr. Woodden," cried Mr. Primrose, "you are indeed
representing your principal worthily. I feel sure that you do not mean
to stop for a few miserable pounds."
"Not if I knows it," ejaculated Woodden. "I has my orders and I acts
up to them."
"Twenty-two hundred," said Long-beard.
"Twenty-three," echoed Woodden.
"Oh, damn!" shouted Long-beard and rushed from the room.
"'Odontoglossum Pavo' is going for twenty-three hundred, only twenty-
tree hundred," cried the auctioneer. "Any advance on twenty-three
hundred? What? None? Then I must do my duty. One. Two. For the last
time--no advance? Three. Gone to Mr. Woodden, bidding for his
principal, Mr. Somers."
The hammer fell with a sharp tap, and at this moment my young friend
sauntered into the room.
"Well, Woodden," he said, "have they put the 'Pavo' up yet?"
"It's up and it's down, sir. I've bought him right enough."
"The deuce you have! What did it fetch?"
Woodden scratched his head.
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