It served its purpose admirably, for by soon after ten o'clock quite a
considerable crowd had begun to assemble; and it was only after a very
serious conversation with the Dean that the sale was allowed to proceed.
But it proceeded, with the distinct understanding that a college porter
be present; that no riotous behavior should be allowed; that the sale
was a genuine one, and that Mr. Guiseley would call upon the Dean with
further explanations before leaving Cambridge.

The scene itself was most impressive.

Frank, in a structure resembling an auctioneer's box, erected on the
hearth-rug, presided, with extraordinary gravity, hammer in hand, robed
in a bachelor's gown and hood. Beneath him the room seethed with the
company, male and female, all in an excellent humor, and quite tolerable
prices were obtained. No public explanations were given of the need for
the sale, and Jack, in the deepest dismay, looked in again that
afternoon, about lunch-time, to find the room completely stripped, and
Frank, very cheerful, still in his hood and gown, smoking a cigarette in
the window-seat.

"Come in," he said. "And kindly ask me to lunch. The last porter's just
gone."

Jack looked at him.

He seemed amazingly genial and natural, though just a little flushed,
and such an air of drama as there was about him was obviously
deliberate.

"Very well; come to lunch," said Jack. "Where are you going to dine and