Now, however, his back was up, Peter said to Ruby Ann, warning her of what she was to expect.  He didn’t believe in turning attics and cellars and barns inside out and scattering microbes by the millions.  How did any one know what germs were lurking in old clothes?  He knew a man who died of smallpox, and twenty-five years after his death a coat, which had hung in his closet, was given away, taking the disease with it to three or four people.  No, he didn’t believe in a Rummage.  It was just a fad, got up by those who were always seeking for something new, and he wouldn’t give a thing, not even an old stock such as he used to wear, and of which Ruby Ann knew he must have several.

“Who under heavens would buy an old stock, and why?” he asked, and Ruby Ann replied, “Just because it is an old stock and belonged to you.”

The “belonged to you” mollified him a little, as it flattered his vanity, but the idea struck him as ridiculous, and he would not give in, and as Ruby Ann grew more and more persistent, telling of the antiques gathered up, and among them Mrs. Biggs’s warming-pan and foot-stove and brass kettle,—­old Mrs. Baker’s quill wheel, and some other old lady’s wedding bonnet, he grew furious and swore about the Rummage Sale, and might have sworn at Ruby Ann if she had not discreetly withdrawn and left him to himself and his twinges.

She was rather chagrined over her failure with the Colonel, from whom she had expected so much, but her success with Amy and the other members of the household made amends, and she left tolerably well satisfied with her work.  She had not been gone long when Peter was summoned by a sharp ring to his master’s room, and found him sitting very erect in his chair, listening intently to sounds overhead, where there was the scurrying of feet mingled with Amy’s voice and that of her maid, as box after box was dragged across the floor.

“Peter!” the Colonel began, “shut the door!”

Peter had shut it and stood with his back against it, as the Colonel went on, “What in thunder is all that racket in the attic?  Has the Rummage come up there?  It commenced some time ago.  Sounded as if they were pulling out trunks, then it stopped, and now they are at it again.”

“That’s just it.  Mrs. Amy and Sarah were looking for something for the sale, and now, I suppose, they are pushing the boxes back.  Mrs. Amy is greatly interested.  I’ve never seen her so much like herself since she was a girl,” was Peter’s reply, whereupon the Colonel consigned the Rummage to perdition, with its old pots and kettles, and Mrs. Biggs’s warming-pan and foot-stove and brass kettle, and Granny Baker’s quill wheel and Mrs. Allen’s wedding bonnet.  Who was going to buy such truck?  “And Peter,” he said, in a lower tone of voice, “what do you think?  Ruby Ann actually asked for my trousers!  Yes, my trousers!  And when I told her I hadn’t any but what were shiny at the knees, she said it didn’t