In October, the Whitney place, which had been leased for several
years, was advertised to be sold at public sale. The owner had
gone to the city and become a successful merchant, had outlived his
local attachments, and now took advantage of a rise in real estate
to disburden himself of a property which he could not profitably
control.
Everybody from far and wide attended the sale, and, when Jacob
Flint and his father arrived, everybody said to the former: "Of
course you've come to buy, Jacob." But each man laughed at his own
smartness, and considered the remark original with himself.
Jacob was no longer annoyed. He laughed, too, and answered: "I'm
afraid I can't do that; but I've kept half my word, which is more
than most men do."
"Jake's no fool, after all," was whispered behind him.
The bidding commenced, at first very spirited, and then gradually
slacking off, as the price mounted above the means of the
neighboring farmers. The chief aspirant was a stranger, a well-
dressed man with a lawyer's air, whom nobody knew.
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