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Show '. you may ha ; too." said Miss 1 Ve inwards in-wards cost her h n a great weight ii ,tert'-: heart as she sa d fc "Thank you J?, little girl ,iU njaam,', quarter." -"Igiv, The sale Waa m oner eat on hiaV, 0ldl talked things ove tioneer. W 1 He smiled, "tw he said proudly. h"4 of tobacco juiC(! Jk 1 nearby rose Uh r 1 have thought that w ' would go so hi Wari . fifteen years aeo'f 1 daughter, EllyXt'1' old cradle of m7P'ed f a Pretty dressed man, a stranger in the 'community, bid the cradle up to ten dollars, "I have ten dollars," droned the auctioneer. "A ten a ten a ten who'll-make-it-fifteen ... He looked at Miss Eliza and caught her. timid little nod. The price went up to fifteen. x The little girl had gone to the edge of the crowd. She was crying loud uninhibited wails, Several oeop'le tried to quiet her, but to no avail. Over the bidding, which went up and up and up, came the broken hearted cries of the child. Someone whispered, "She's one of Tad Parrish's brood. No mother, poor kid. Runs wild. He drinks so much he never knows where his young ones are." "A hundred dollars, Miss Derbyshire?" Derby-shire?" said the auctioneer. Long practice kept the surprise out of his eyes. She nodded. He turned to the stranger. "A hundred and ten?" he pleaded The man shook his head. He was through. The cradle belonged to Miss Eliza. She picked it up in loving fingers. fing-ers. She took it to her car and placed plac-ed it on the front seat. But her joy in possessing the much desired toy was clouded by the cries of the child. She walked toward the small girl. She looked down at the dirty, tear-stained face, at the wise eyes that knew, even as they cried, the tears would do no good. Thoughts ran through Miss Eliza's head. Thoughts about juvenile delinquents, delin-quents, unwanted children. And suddenly she knew that she, Miss Eliza Derbyshire, respected, well-to-do-spinster of the town of Lay-ton Lay-ton and this dirty seven-year-old nobody were Very very much alike under the surface. They were both so bitterly lonely that they relied on the possession of tangible things, such as toys, to give them a sense of fulfillment. "I have a lot of toys at my house," said Miss Eliza timidly. "I'd like to have you come and play with them often. And," She added when the child didn't rebuff her, "I'd like to sew. I'd make a dress for you." The child began to smile, the smile of an old woman, who had known hardship and sorrow and even despair Short, Short Story "SOLD!" The auctioneer's nasal voice rang out over the crowd. The elderly man who had just purchased pur-chased the antique chest of drawers draw-ers smiled contentedly. The crowd :moved across the farm lawn in the hot sunshine to the table of dishes. The women murmured excitedly as they looked at the milk glass pitcher and the dainty old-fashioned china tea set. Old Mr. Wagoner dreamed in the sunshine as he watched his household goods being sold. He had lived with these things most of his 80 years, but now that his wife Mary was gone, they were no longer important. Little Miss Eliza Derbyshire sat beneath a shade tree. She smoothed smooth-ed her greying hair with timid, Sgentle fingers. The antique doll cradle she was waiting to bid on was just a few feet from her. No one was looking at it. Perhaps this time there wouldn't be any competition. The small cherry cradle was the one thing she lacked in her collection col-lection of antique toys. Even if the competition were stiff, she meant to have the cradle at any .price, j but it would be nice if just this once . - . .-' A thin, drooping child detached herself from the crowd and walked toward Miss Eliza She was about seven years old. Her cloths, which were several sizes too large, hung limply on her spare little frame. She was dirty. Her hair and her eyes were dull. Miss Eliza knew as she looked at her that she was a child of one of the union workers, the itinerant families that worked during the spring and summer in the near-by onion marshes. She glanced briefly at Miss Eliza. There was no friendliness in her eyes. She was only seven, but already she had learned that she was not welcome in the clean, thriving community of Layton. The child approached the cradle. She sat down on the ground beside it, cross-legged. The toes on her small bare feet wiggled contentedly contented-ly in the green grass as she looked at the cradle. With a defiant glance around her, she put her hand on the toy. She caressed the smooth wood. Miss Eliza somehow knew, as she watched her, that this child had never owned a toy of her own. The little girl turned to Miss Eliza. She said unsmilingly "Pur-ty "Pur-ty ain't it?" - "Yes," was the reply. "I've got a quarter." For a moment mo-ment the pinched little face lit up "I'm going to buy it." Miss Eliza's heart beat faster The dishes were all sold. The crowd drifted toward the little cradle. cra-dle. The auctioneer held it up "Who will start this off at fiv dollars?" he cried "A gen-u-ine antique. Do I hear a bi? Five did you say, Miss Derbyshire?" She nodded shyly. The child touched his arm. He brushed her off impatiently. But this was her moment. She didn't mean to lose it. She became stubborn, stub-born, and stubbornness made her brave. Daring the stares of all these people who disliked her, sh spoke up, "Paw give me a quarter. I want to buy the cradle." "Go away, little girl," said the auctioneer. "You don't have enough money to buy this." He turned back to the crowd. A well- |