Once a Week by A. A. Milne

  BACHELOR RELICS

  "Do you happen to want," I said to Henry, "an opera hat that doesn't op?At least it only works on one side."

  "No," said Henry.

  "To any one who buys my opera hat for a large sum I am giving away foursquare yards of linoleum, a revolving book-case, two curtain rods, apair of spring-grip dumb-bells, and an extremely patent mouse-trap."

  "No," said Henry again.

  "The mouse-trap," I pleaded, "is unused. That is to say, no mouse hasused it yet. My mouse-trap has never been blooded."

  "I don't want it myself," said Henry, "but I know a man who does."

  "Henry, you know everybody. For Heaven's sake introduce me to yourfriend. Why does he particularly want a mouse-trap?"

  "He doesn't. He wants anything that's old. Old clothes, old carpets,anything that's old he'll buy."

  He seemed to be exactly the man I wanted.

  "Introduce me to your fellow clubman," I said firmly.

  That evening I wrote to Henry's friend, Mr. Bennett. "Dear Sir," Iwrote, "if you would call upon me to-morrow I should like to show yousome really old things, all genuine antiques. In particular I would callyour attention to an old opera hat of exquisite workmanship and amouse-trap of chaste and handsome design. I have also a few yards ofQueen Anne linoleum of a circular pattern which I think will please you.My James the First spring-grip dumb-bells and Louis Quatorzecurtain-rods are well known to connoisseurs. A genuine old cork bedroomsuite, comprising one bath-mat, will also be included in the sale. Yoursfaithfully."

  On second thoughts I tore the letter up and sent Mr. Bennett a postcardasking him to favour the undersigned with a call at 10.30 prompt. And at10.30 prompt he came.

  I had expected to see a bearded patriarch with a hooked nose and threehats on his head, but Mr. Bennett turned out to be a very sprucegentleman, wearing (I was sorry to see) much better clothes than theopera hat I proposed to sell him. He became businesslike at once.

  "Just tell me what you want to sell," he said, whipping out apocket-book, "and I'll make a note of it. I take anything."

  I looked round my spacious apartment and wondered what to begin with.

  "The revolving book-case," I announced.

  "I'm afraid there's very little sale for revolving book-cases now," hesaid, as he made a note of it.

  "As a matter of fact," I pointed out, "this one doesn't revolve. It gotstuck some years ago."

  He didn't seem to think that this would increase the rush, but he made anote of it.

  "Then the writing-desk."

  "The what?"

  "The Georgian bureau. A copy of an old twentieth-century escritoire."

  "Walnut?" he said, tapping it.

  "Possibly. The value of this Georgian writing-desk, however, lies not inthe wood but in the literary associations."

  "Ah! My customers don't bother much about that, but still--whose wasit?"

  "Mine," I said with dignity, placing my hand in the breast pocket of mycoat. "I have written many charming things at that desk. My 'Ode to aBell-push,' my 'Thoughts on Asia,' my----"

  "Anything else in this room?" said Mr. Bennett. "Carpet, curtains----"

  "Nothing else," I said coldly.

  We went into the bedroom and, gazing on the linoleum, my enthusiasmreturned to me.

  "The linoleum," I said, with a wave of the hand.

  "Very much worn," said Mr. Bennett.

  I called his attention to the piece under the bed.

  "Not under there," I said. "I never walk on that piece. It's as good asnew."

  He made a note. "What else?" he said.

  I showed him round the collection. He saw the Louis Quatorzecurtain-rods, the cork bedroom suite, the Caesarian nail-brush (quitebald), the antique shaving-mirror with genuine crack--he saw it all. Andthen we went back into the other rooms and found some more things forhim.

  "Yes," he said, consulting his note-book. "And now how would you like meto buy these?"

  "At a large price," I said. "If you have brought your cheque-book I'lllend you a pen."

  "You want me to make you an offer? Otherwise I should sell them byauction for you, deducting ten per cent commission."

  "Not by auction," I said impulsively. "I couldn't bear to know how much,or rather how little, my Georgian bureau fetched. It was there, as Ithink I told you, that I wrote my _Guide to the Round Pond_. Give me aninclusive price for the lot, and never, never let me know the details."

  He named an inclusive price. It was something under a hundred and fiftypounds. I shouldn't have minded that if it had only been a little overten pounds. But it wasn't.

  "Right," I agreed. "And, oh, I was nearly forgetting. There's an oldopera hat of exquisite workmanship, which----"

  "Ah, now, clothes had much better be sold by auction. Make a pile of allyou don't want and I'll send round a sack for them. I have an auctionsale every Wednesday."

  "Very well. Send round to-morrow. And you might--er--also send rounda--er--cheque for--quite so. Well, then, good morning."

  When he had gone I went into my bedroom and made a pile of my opera hat.It didn't look very impressive--hardly worth having a sack speciallysent round for it. To keep it company I collected an assortment ofclothes. It pained me to break up my wardrobe in this way, but I wantedthe bidding for my opera hat to be brisk, and a few preliminary suitswould warm the public up. Altogether it was a goodly pile when it wasdone. The opera hat perched on the top, half of it only at work.

  . . . . .

  To-day I received from Mr. Bennett a cheque, a catalogue, and anaccount. The catalogue was marked "Lots 172-179." Somehow I felt that myopera hat would be Lot 176. I turned to it in the account.

  "Lot 176--Six shillings."

  "It did well," I said. "Perhaps in my heart of hearts I hoped for sevenand sixpence, but six shillings--yes, it was a good hat."

  And then I turned to the catalogue.

  "_Lot 176_--Frock-coat and vest, dress-coat and vest, ditto, pair oftrousers and opera hat."

  "_And opera hat._" Well, well. At least it had the position of honour atthe end. My opera hat was starred.