He could judge accurately the nature and disposition of his audience,—­knew just what to say and when to say it, and had the faculty of making people bid whether they wanted to or not.  To hear him was as good as a circus, his friends said, and when it became known that he was to auction off the goods remaining from the sale, many who had left came back, filling the rooms again nearly as full as they were early in the evening.

Eloise’s chair was moved a little more to the front,—­a long counter was cleared, and on it Mr. Bills took his stand, smiling blandly upon the crowd around him and then bowing to Eloise and her escorts, Jack and Howard.  He was bound to do his best before them and took up his work eagerly.  He was happiest when selling clothes which he could try on, or pretend to, and after disposing of several bonnets amid roars of laughter he took up Mrs. Biggs’s gown, which Ruby Ann had not been able to sell.  Here was something to his mind and he held it out and up, and tried its length on himself and expatiated upon its beauty and its style and durability until he got a bid of twenty-five cents, and this from Howard, who said to Eloise, “It seems a pity not to start the old thing at something, and I suppose the Charitable Society will take it.  I believe there is one in town.”

Eloise did not answer.  The spotted gown was an offence to her, and she shut her eyes while Mr. Bills, delighted that he had a bid at last and from such a source, began, “Thank you, sir.  You know a good thing when you see it, but only twenty-five cents!  A mere nothing.  Somebody will give more, of course, for this fine tea gown to put on hot afternoons.  Just the thing.  Twenty-five cents!  Twenty-five cents!  Do I hear more?  Twenty-five!  Did you say thirty?” and he looked at Jack, who half nodded, and the bids, raised five cents at a time, rolled on between Jack and Howard and another young man, who cared nothing for the gown, but liked the fun.  Fifty cents was reached at last, and there the bidding ceased and Mr. Bills was ringing the changes on half a dollar, half a dollar, for a robe de chambre;—­he called it that sometimes, and sometimes a tea gown, and once a robe de nu-it, which brought peals of laughter from those who understood the term, as he certainly did not.  In the dining-room Mrs. Biggs was busy washing dishes, but kept her ears open to the sounds in the next room, knowing Mr. Bills was there and anxious to get in and see the fun.  When the last shouts reached her she dropped her dish towel, saying to her companion, “I can’t stand it any longer.  I’ve got to go and see what Bills is up to!”

Elbowing her way in she caught sight of her gown held aloft by Mr. Bills, and heard his voluble “Going, going, at fifty cents.”

She had thought it low at a dollar, and here it was as good as gone for fifty cents,—­to whom she did not know or care,—­probably the scrub woman who had looked at it earlier in the evening and offered sixty.  Her blood was up, and making her way to Mr. Bills she snatched at her gown, exclaiming, “It’s mine, and shall never go for fifty cents, I tell you!”