The Auctioneer

When Perly finally spoke, it was in the deepest range of his voice, a soft rumble like thunder that spread through the sanctuary and bound people together as if against a distant storm. “We will start with a moment of silent prayer,” he said, “asking God’s guidance and seeking God’s love that we may spread it to these innocent children. Let us pray.”

Mim’s hand tightened on John’s knee. Around them the strangers bowed their heads. Perly raised his eyes toward the rose window at the back of the church and the red and yellow bands of light stained his face. The deputies did not pray, but looked around them like errant boys. The woodwork in the old church snapped and clicked as if to mark off the passing seconds.

“Amen,” Perly said, releasing the people before him to stir and gaze back at him.

Perly shifted his weight and leaned forward on his elbows to look down on the people. “I’m Perly Dunsmore,” he said. I’ve talked to a good many of you on the telephone. For the others, let me explain. I am, by profession, an auctioneer and environment designer. In addition, I think it would be fair to say that I make a hobby of philanthropy. Altogether, I guess I’m one of Harlowe’s more notice- able businessmen, and as such, the town has approached me to serve as trustee and guardian for these children.

“Now I’ve been pondering the problem of these children. Clearly, as an old bachelor, I cant look after them myself. Now the traditional way to handle a problem in a small New England town it to get all the interested parties together and start thrashing out a solution.

“The exact problem in this instance is that we must provide the best possible homes for these children. Luckily for them, the world today seems to be full of wonderful folks like you who are willing and eager to open their hearts to homeless orphans. So now that we’ve brought you all together, our task boils down to the problem of choosing which of you will take the children.”

There was a long silence. A bare branch rasped back and forth against a windowpane in the wind.

“We have two children this week,” Perly went on.

The group in the church rustled as if a gust of wind had caught briefly in their vocal cords.

As I’ve told most of you, they come with complete adoption papers. After a year, you can go to the court in Concord and finalize the adoption. The children are in perfect health. If you’re worried on that score, rest assured. They are happy healthy rosy white pure-bred all-American children. Their only problem is that they need someone to love. If, within a month, you find anything medically wrong with them, you can bring them back to me and I will, of course, return every penny of the fees.

“Naturally, our social worker will have to come and look into your home a bit before the adoption is finalized. I’m sure that this will present no problem. Under normal circumstances, we’d want to have the home study completed before entrusting the child to you at all. But if we put the children into foster homes now, we’ll only have to move them again into their permanent homes. And that kind of double readjustment for the child seems more cruel than kind. So, since the children are available now, and since most of you are potentially very loving parents or you wouldn’t have come, we’re prepared to let you take the children home just as soon as all the fees are paid.”

Cogswell, sitting diagonally in front of the Moores, watching the fat couple who sat in front of him, leaned his elbows on his knees and covered his face with his hands.

“We have a three-year-old boy today and a newborn baby girl, just ten days old. Born a week ago Thursday.

The people stirred. For the first time, wives turned to their husbands and whispered.

“We’re going to offer the baby girl first. Now I don’t want to commit any indiscretions here, but I know you want to know what kind of genes she has and why she’s up for adoption. It’s the usual story. Her mother’s a lovely little woman only fifteen years old. Her blood was a little too strong, you might say.”

There was a pained silence in the church.

“Nobody’s supposed to know who the father is, but there’s some pretty good speculation it’s a doctor’s son,” Perly went on. A kid who stuck around just long enough to give the valedictory address at his boarding school graduation, then got hustled off to Europe to see the world. This whole affair could have turned out to be a tragedy for the young parents as well as for the child herself. When you adopt her, you’re giving the parents, as well as the child herself, a running chance at life. Believe you me, this child has the very best of genes. I know. And, as for her parents, I’m sure they’ve learned their lesson.

“Now I know you want to see her, but she’s awfully little, so if you could just quietly look and be fairly quick...

Mudgett came through the side door, carrying a car bed. Perly leaned over and picked up the pink bundle as expertly as any practiced father.