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Sentiment in the Mart
A Little Old Lady Discovers a Gentleman

By J. B.

Thomas Menzies, engaged in checking a sales list, paused and glanced through his office window into his heavily stocked mart. His assistants were busy with prospective bargain hunters who were engaged in looking out and examining articles for which they intended to bid at that day's sale. Because of the prevailing depression the auction business, if not actually booming, was at least more than holding its own. Prices were down to zero, but saleable stuff kept piling in in ever-increasing quantity and going out on the payable basis of small profits and quick returns, profits being represented by commissions on salessales effected for the most part at ruinous prices so far as the unfortunate sellers were concerned. Menzies could not help that. It was the inevitable consequence of the hard times through which the country was passing. He did his very best for his clients, strove to the utmost to persuade buyers to increase their bids; but every time his hammer fell on a shameful sacrifice there was some profit, however little, for him, whatever the loss might be to the seller. For him it was a veritable game of “heads I win, tails you lose,” and the economic circumstances of the time made it a perfectly honest game.

Musing in this fashion as he looked into the mart Menzies saw a little old lady walking towards his office, directed by one of his assistants. There was something about her appearance which commanded his attention. Evidently she was not used to the environment of an auction room. That she was “Old Fashioned” was obvious. Her black silk, her dainty shawl, her bonnet, all proclaimed an era that has passed but will never be forgotten. “By George,” said Menzies to himself, “a delicate piece of Dresden stamped ‘Victorian.’ I wonder what the little lady wants of me? She's a thoroughbred if ever there was one.”

In answer to a gentle tapping at the door he called a hearty “Come in, please,” and when she entered he courteously held a chair for her.

“Good morning, Madam,” he said, “I trust I may be able to be of some service to you.”

The evident sincerity of his cordial greeting had the effect he desired. It served to ease the embarrassment of his visitor and to make it less difficult for her to explain the purpose of her mission.

“Thank you, Sir,” she said, as she seated herself with prim uprightness in the hard-backed chair. “I, er, have come to see you about a very delicate matter, an extremely delicate matter, which I assure you is very painful to me.”

“I welcome your confidence, Madam, and give you my word that it shall not be abused,” said Menzies. “If it is within my power to help you I shall gladly do so; but, if you will pardon my saying so, I find it difficult to imagine what an auctioneer like myself can do for you.”

“Believe me, it is a very great service you can render me,” she continued. “My circumstances are such as to make it necessary for me to have a little money—three pounds—by Monday next. I have some chairs and a table with which I am very reluctant to part, but my necessity is urgent, and if you will be good enough to sell them for not less than the amount I have mentioned I shall be profoundly grateful to you.”

“I will certainly endeavour to do as you wish,” Menzies replied, “but I must warn you, however, that in these times it is impossible to obtain anything like fair value for auctioned furniture. People will not, and in the majority of cases simply cannot, pay other than what I may term bargain prices for the things they buy. There are, of course, exceptional cases, but it must be something very much out of the ordinary to attract good money. If you will have the chairs and table sent here to-morrow morning I will put them up at Friday's sale and get for them the very best price I can. They shall not go under the amount you have mentioned. It is possible there may not be a buyer on Friday and I shall not be in the rostrum again until the following Wednesday. Although it is not my usual practice to advance against sale, as you require the money urgently by Monday I shall be pleased, if you will permit me, to give you three pounds on account.”

“Oh, you are very kind, Sir. I cannot find words to thank you,” said the little lady. “To have the money you are good enough to offer will be a great relief to my mind, and I do sincerely hope that my furniture will bring enough to recompense you. I shall never forget your kindness. I …”

A sharp knock at the office door.

“Well, what is it?” called Menzies.

An assistant entered, carrying a picture in an old gilt frame. “There's a gent out there as sez he'll give arf page 45 a crown for this. Its been knocking about the mart for years, and—”

“Yes, yes, let me see it,” said Menzies. “Oh, that …” (as he looked at the picture), “it's a framed illustration from an old weekly paper—‘Scene at Vice-Regal Ball, July 1887.’ Fancy anyone wanting that. Yes, let him have—” A stifled sob.

Menzies, startled, “Yes, get out. Sell it,” to his equally startled assistant. “Sorry for the interruption, Madam, but—”

“It is I who should apologise,” said the old lady. “I am afraid I lost control of myself. It was so strange that your man should come in with that old picture, so very strange. I—I was a debutante at that ball—fifty-two years ago! I—I will send the furniture tomorrow morning. I have learned this morning that the world is not yet devoid of gentlemen.”

* * *

Menzies was in the mart next morning when the furniture was brought in. When the carrier deposited the first chair in front of him he looked it over in amazement. “Are the others like this one, Brown?” he asked.

“Yes, Boss, an’ wait till yer see the table. It's a bonzer. Cripes yer don't see stuff like this nowadays. Seems a blinking shame to chuck it away.”

“Well,” muttered Menzies to himself, “I ought to have expected it, ought to have known that the stuff would match the little lady herself. Real mahogany, every inch of it, and beautifully made. Three pounds! Not if I never sell it.”

Among the visitors to the mart on the Friday morning prior to the auction was a well-dressed woman and her daughter. When they came to the little lady's consignment they were immediately interested. Calling one of the hands they asked to see the proprietor, and when Menzies appeared the elder of the two promptly got down to business.

“These things,” she asked, “are they genuine mahogany?”

“Beyond all question, Madam. Really magnificent stuff. There is a reserve on them, of course. They're worth seventy-five guineas of anybody's money, and cheap at that. Do you care to make an offer?”

“Well, I'm not prepared to go to seventy-five guineas; but quite frankly, I've been searching New Zealand for stuff like this. I want it for a daughter who is about to be married. If we can come to terms I should like to take the lot.”

“Madam, I've said it would be cheap at seventy-five guineas, and I know what I am talking about. It would be dirt cheap at that figure. But the person for whom I am selling it is in need of money, and for a cash deal I will let you have the lot at fifty guineas. An absolute bargain. Will you take it?”

“I will,” she answered, “and I will give you my cheque for it at once.”

* * *

When the satisfied customer went out she left a very happy man in the mart. As he deposited the cheque in his safe he chuckled, “Three pounds, little lady, three pounds! Well, well, life is full of curious happenings. As soon as I saw it I knew what the stuff was worth, but surely Providence must have sent along that buyer. Three pounds, little lady. Ha! ha!”

On the Monday morning the little lady called again.

“Good morning, Mr. Menzies,” she said, “I do so hope you were able to get three pounds for my chairs and table.”

“Oh yes, Madam, we managed it all right. Just one moment and I will give you your account and cheque.”

And when he handed her a cheque for fifty guineas less the three pounds advanced and commission, the wonderment in her eyes and the beatific smile she gave him was a sight to gladden the angels.

When she left the mart Menzies went back to his desk. As he settled himself to humdrum business he said, “Yes, and I would gladly have given her fifty guineas for the Paisley shawl she wore. But I couldn't make the offer, I couldn't take the Paisley from her: it was part of the little lady.”