symbols--the one of Divine mercy and the other of the vindication of
popular justice--Mary Whittaker was exposed for sale.

It took some time for the crowd to realise that Learoyd was in earnest.
This sale by public auction of a young woman whom many of the bystanders
had known for years seemed little better than a grim jest. Yet most were
aware that sales like this had taken place in the town before, and deep
down in their minds there survived the old primitive idea that the head
of a family had a right to do what he liked with the members of his
household. There were muttered protests from the few women and some of
the older men who were present, but most of the young men, in whom a
sense of chivalry had been blunted by hard lahour and penury, found a
pleasure in goading the farmer on. No magistrate was at hand to put a
stop to the traffic in human life, and the single policeman, realising
that he had no written instructions to deal with such a case as this,
had discreetly withdrawn himself to the remotest quarter of the town. So
Learoyd was left free to conduct his infamous auction.

"Shoo's for sale," he cried, "same as if shoo were a cauf; and shoo goes
to t' highest bidder." A roar of laughter greeted these words, but
nobody had the courage to make a bid. Seeing that purchasers held back,
Learoyd after the manner of an auctioneer, proceeded to announce his
stepdaughter's "points."

"Shoo's a gradely lass, I tell you, for all shoo looks sae dowly. Shoo
can bak an' shoo can brew, and I've taen care that shoo'll noan speyk
while shoo's spoken to."

"If shoo can do all that," asked a bystander, "why doesta want to sell
her?"