Here's old Sherwell coming in, half
drunk. Now hold your tongue if you can. I'll have him for the
dining-room suite, sure. If you interfere this time, I'll break your
head. . . . We come now, ladies and gentlemen, to the most important
lot of the day. Mr. Sherwell, sir, I am glad to see you. You're just
in time. There's a dining-room suite coming on, the only one I have to
offer, and such a suite as is very seldom on the market. One table, two
sideboards, and twelve chairs. Now, Mr. Sherwell, sir, look at the
table for yourself. You're a judge and I am willing to take your word.
Did you ever see a finer, a more magnificent piece of mahogany? There
is no deception about it. Feel it, look at it, test it in any way you
like. I tell you, ladies and gentlemen, this is a lot I have examined
myself, and if I could afford it I'd have bought it privately. I made a
bid but the executors wouldn't listen to me. Now then, ladies and
gentlemen, make me an offer for the suite."
"Fine bit o' wood," the half-intoxicated furniture dealer pronounced,
leaning up against the table and examining it with clumsy gravity. "A
genuine bit o' stuff."
"You're right, Mr. Sherwell," the auctioneer agreed, impressively.
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