THE MOCK DUTCH AUCTION.

A little Comedy from Real Life.

Scene – A well-known Shop in Westminster, appropriated to the trade in Unredeemed Pledges.

Present – Pam (behind the auctioneer’s pulpit), Little Johny Woburn, Ben Dizzy, The Derby Slogger, and Jack the Quaker, well-known touts and “bonnets” in the Mock-Auction business.

As the Scene opens business is at a stand-still, none but the confederates or “bonnets” being present. Little Johny is talking confidentially to the auctioneer. Dizzy and Ned the Slogger are busy fingering some second-hand clothes, which hang neat the door, as if to attract customers; Jack the Quaker standing apart, and with the manner of one who has nothing whatever to do with the rest.

Johny (to Pam). Come – Pam, my noble – Don’t be a-vaiting all day.

Pam (sucking the flower which he carries in his mouth). Easy does it, my toolip. Vot’s the hurry?

Johny. I told that stout party as we wos a nibblin’ at yesterday, that you’d be a puttin’up a first-rate lot this morning – that pair o’Franchises, you know. He’ll be here soon, and if he don’t find us’ard at work, he’ll be fly to the dodge, and we shan’t nobble him.

Dizzy (to the Slogger, directing his attention to the second-hand clothes) I say, Ned, jiggered if here ain’t all the old second-’and lots up that we tried ‘em on with last year. We never made nothin’ on ‘em, when you and me was in the business. Bless you (with a contemptuous jerk of the left thumb over the shoulder in the direction of the auctioneer), he’ll never make ‘em answer.

Ned (shaking his head). Don’t be too sure o’that, Benny, my boy. You see they wos out of our line. I know’d we’d never make anything of ‘em. On’y you would try – you’re too artful, you are, Benny – that’s a fact.

Dizzy. Well – I don’t see why we shouldn’t ‘ave our reg’lars. They’ve ‘ad mote than their fair share o’ the swag – (pointing to Johnny and Pam) – ‘Owever we’re all in it – now – for this ‘ere Reform article.

Ned (to Pam). Now, Pam, when are you a’ goin’to put that lot up?

Pam. What – the pair o’Franchises? Eh, Ned?

Ned. Yes – You’ve nothing else likely to draw’em, you know. But it won’t do, my boy. We tried the lot on here last year, and didn’t get a bid.

The Quaker (angrily and contemptuously). What’s the use o’ puttin’ up that shabby sort o’thing. If you’d go in for this here out and out Brummagem pattern, – lots o’ lacquer, and showy style – (producing the article in question from under his coat) you’d find the flats dropping in to bid for it like flies into treacle.

Pam. I like you, Quaker! Why, you know you’ve been an’ ‘awking o’ that article o’yourn all over the country all last autumn, and haven’t had a blessed bid for it.

The Quaker. ‘Aven’t I, though! At any rate I drawed a bigger crowd of flats to my pitches, than ever you did, old boy. (Turning round, and appealing to the rest.) Just look’ere! Blest if there’s a soul coming into the place!

Johny (at the door hurriedly). Look alive, pals. Put up the Reform lot, Pam, here’s that old cove a-coming – I’ll plant him.

[John Bull approaches the door of the shop. He pauses, attracted by the gaudy-display of trumpery wares in the window.

Johny (approaching the door, and with ostentatious enthusiasm). Beautiful – Beautiful! Going dirt cheap-

Pam (dashing into the middle of an imaginary competition of tremendous intensity for a town Franchise and a country ditto). Now-then-eight-ten-twenty pounds bid. What shall we say for this most valuable lot? – A pair – you see gentlemen – one for town use – one for country, gentlemen – the price hitherto has been ten for the town, and fifty for the country article.

Dizzy (aside to Mr. Bull). If I was you, Sir, I’d go ten all round -

Ned (with apparent eagerness). Ten all round.

Pam. Thank you, Sir – Ten bid for the town, ten for the country article – going at ten each – a sacrifice, gentlemen – an alarming sacrifice – ruination I may say – absolute ruination.

Johny (to Mr. Bull). Won’t you step in, Sir? I would, if I wos you. It’s a wonderful bargain.

Mr. Bull. H’m – I don’t know. (Looks in doubtfully, but exhibits very little inclination to bid.)

Johny (explanatorily). They’re a sellin’on the Dutch principle, Sir: the lowest bidder gets it, if it’s above the reserved price.

Pam (aside to Johny). Wake him up, Johny.

Johny (aside to Mr. Bull). I say, Sir, I think I could get you the town article for six, and the country for ten. I’m a regular dealer in the articles, Sir, I knows their real valley. Here’s my card, Sir (gives it). Say “done, Sir,” and let me secure ‘em for you? – There’s those gentlemen (pointing to Dizzy) ready to go as high as ten for each on’ em.

Jack the Quaker (aside to John Bull). Never you mind him, Sir. Employ me and I’ll let you have one for half nothink – an ‘andsomer article then that, Sir – look here.

[Shows the piece of Brummagem Goods from under his coat.

John Bull (with contempt). Trumpery, Sir, trumpery. (Holding it up to the light.) Why, I can see through it! No substance. Wouldn’t last a twelvemonth – all electro-plating and brass lacquer.

Dizzi (aside to Mr.Bull). Let me bid for you, Sir – I should say ten apiece was about the figger.

Johny (aside to him). All gammon, Sir. I tell you I’ll get ‘em you as low as six and ten.

The Quaker (aside to him). They’re neither on ‘em to be trusted, Sir. You try my articles, Sir.

John Bull (extricating himself, and aside). My belief is, they’re all a pack of rogues together. I’ve a good mind not to employ any of ‘em – not to bid for the article at all. I’m not at all sure that I want it. After all – I’ve got on very well as I am.

[The confederates again close round him in eager competition to be allowed to buy for him. Mr. Bull stands pondering and distrustful. Scene closes.

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