Here I made sure I should stop, for this was the figure at which the pawnbroker himself had valued me.

But no; such are the vagaries of an auction, I went on still, up to L2, and from that to L2 10 shillings.

Surely there was some mistake.

I looked out to see who they were who were thus bidding for me, and fancied I detected in that scrutiny the secret of my unexpected value.
It was a countryman bidding--endeavouring in his downright way to become my possessor, and wholly unconscious of the array of Jews against him, who bid him up from half-crown to half-crown until I had nearly reached my original value.
"Three pounds," at last said one of the Jews.
The countryman had evidently come to the end of his tether, and did not answer the challenge.
"Three pounds," said the auctioneer; "you're not going to stop, sir ?" The countryman said nothing.
"Try once more," said the auctioneer; but the rustic was silent.
"Three pounds; no more?
Going, going--" "Guineas!" roared the countryman, at the last moment.
"Thank you, sir; I thought you were not going to be beaten.

Three guineas, gentlemen; who says more?
Nobody?
Going, then, to you, sir; going, going, gone!" And so, once more, I changed masters..