WEALTH WITHOUT WINGS. 169

 

“ T feel much better than I did, Edith. This little
rest has refreshed me a great deal.” |

‘“¢No—no, Edward! You must not go away,”
said his wife in a distressed voice. ‘You are sick
now, and the extra exertion of an evening may
throw you into a serious illness.”

“J feel a great deal better, dear,” urged Claire.
“ But, sick or well, I must be there to-night, for the
sale cannot go on without me. If I do not feel
better to-morrow, I will ask Mr. F to get some
one, temporarily, in my place.”

Still Edith opposed, but in vain.

By the time Claire arrived at the auction store,
his head was throbbing with a pain so intense that
he could scarcely see. Still, he resolutely perse-
vered in his determination to go through, if possible,
with the duties of the evening; and so, taking his
place at his desk, as the auctioneer went upon the
stand to ery the goods which had been advertised
for sale, he prepared to keep the usual record of
purchasers and prices. This he was able to do for
half an hour, when overtaxed and exhausted nature
could bear up no longer.

“Mr. Claire,” said the auctioneer, as he took in
hand a new article, “did you make that last entry?
—Mr. Jackson, ten cents a yard.”

Claire’s head had fallen over on the book in which
he had been writing, and the auctioneer, supposing
him only yielding to a momentary feeling of fatigue,
or indolence, thus called his attention to his duties.

But Claire made no answer.

“Say! young man! Are you asleep!” The

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