"Oh, I hope he won't get him, anyway," Mrs. Munson whispered to a
neighbour. "Jim Goban isn't a fit man to look after a snake, and if he
gets Crazy David in his clutches may God have mercy upon the poor old
man."

"One hundred dollars I am offered," again the voice of the
auctioneer rang out. "Can any one do better than that? One
hundred dollars. Going at one hundred dollars. I shan't dwell.
One--hundred--dollars--and--sold to Jim Goban for one hundred dollars."

This inhuman traffic did not seriously affect the people who had
gathered for the auction. When it was over, they quickly dispersed, to
discuss with one another about the life Jim Goban would lead Crazy
David. It was an incident of only a passing moment, and mattered
little more to them than if it had been a horse or a cow which had been
sold instead of a poor feeble old man.

It was the custom which had been going on for years, and it was the
only way they could see out of the difficult problem of dealing with
paupers.

When Jim Goban reached home with his purchase, dinner was ready. There
were five young Gobans who stared curiously upon David as he took his
seat at the table. Mrs. Goban was a thin-face, tired looking woman who
deferred to her husband in everything. There was nothing else for her
to do, as she had found out shortly after their marriage what a brute
he was.

David was pleased at the presence of the children and he often turned
his eyes upon them.