There had not been such fun at an auction in Carmody for many a long day.
Pa Sloane came, or was pushed, forward. The baby was put into his arms;
he realized that he was expected to keep it, and he was too dazed
to refuse; besides, his heart went out to the child.
The auctioneer looked doubtfully at the money which Pa laid mutely down.
"I s'pose that part was only a joke," he said.
"Not a bit of it," said Robert Lawson. "All the money won't
bee too much to pay the debts. There's a doctor's bill,
and this will just about pay it."
Pa Sloane drove back home, with the sorrel mare still unshod,
the baby, and the baby's meager bundle of clothes. The baby
did not trouble him much; it had become well used to strangers
in the past two months, and promptly fell asleep on his arm;
but Pa Sloane did not enjoy that drive; at the end of it;
he mentally saw Ma Sloane.
Ma was there, too, waiting for him on the back door-step as he drove
into the yard at sunset. Her face, when she saw the baby,
expressed the last degree of amazement.
"Pa Sloane," she demanded, "whose is that young one, and there
did you get it?"
"I--I-- bought it at the auction, Ma," said Pa feebly.
Then he waited for the explosion.
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