The Auction Block | Page 3

with young people. Well, I knew what I
was doing; it was part of her schooling. She's old enough now; and she
has everything that any girl ever had, so far as looks go. She's going to
do for us what you never have been and never will be able to do, Peter
Knight. She's going to make us rich. But she can't do it in Vale."
"Ma's right," declared James. "New York's the place for pretty women;
the town is full of them."
"If it's full of pretty women what chance has she got?" queried Peter.
"She can't break into society on my fifteen hundred--"
"She won't need to. She can go on the stage." "Good Lord! What makes
you think she can act?"
"Do you remember that Miss Donald who stopped at Myrtle Lodge last
summer? She's an actress."
"No!" Mr. Knight was amazed.
"She told me a good deal about the show business. She said Lorelei
wouldn't have the least bit of trouble getting a position. She gave me a
note to a manager, too, and I sent him Lorelei's photograph. He wrote
right back that he'd give her a place."
"Really?"
"Yes; he's looking for pretty girls with good figures. His name is
Bergman."
Jim broke in eagerly. "You've heard of Bergman's Revues, pa. We saw
one last summer, remember? Bergman's a big fellow."

"THAT show? Why, that was--rotten. It isn't a very decent life, either."
"Don't worry about Sis," advised Jim. "She can take care of herself, and
she'll grab a millionaire sure--with her looks. Other girls are doing it
every day--why not her? Ma's got the right idea."
Impassively Mrs. Knight resumed her argument. "New York is where
the money is--and the women that go with money. It's the market- place.
The stage advertises a pretty girl and gives her chances to meet rich
men. Here in Vale there's nobody with money, and, besides, people
know us. The Stevens girls have been nasty to Lorelei all winter, and
she's never invited to the golf-club dances any more."
At this intelligence Mr. Knight burst forth indignantly:
"They're putting on a lot of airs since the Interurban went through; but
Ben Stevens forgets who helped him get the franchise. I could tell a lot
of things--"
"Bergman writes," continued Mrs. Knight, "that Lorelei wouldn't have
to go on the road at all if she didn't care to. The real pretty show-girls
stay right in New York."
Jim added another word. "She's the best asset we've got, pa, and if we
all work together we'll land her in the money, sure."
Peter Knight pinched his full red lips into a pucker and stared
speculatively at his wife. It was not often that she openly showed her
hand to him.
"It seems like an awful long chance," he said.
"Not so long, perhaps, as you think," his wife assured him. "Anyhow,
it's our ONLY chance, and we're not popular in Vale."
"Have you talked to her about it?"
"A little. She'll do anything we ask. She's a good girl that way."

The three were still buried in discussion when Lorelei appeared at the
door.
"I'm going over to Mabel's," she paused a moment to say. "I'll be back
early, mother."
In Peter Knight's eyes, as he gazed at his daughter, there was something
akin to shame; but Jim evinced only a hard, calculating appraisal. Both
men inwardly acknowledged that the mother had spoken less than half
the truth, for the girl was extravagantly, bewitchingly attractive. Her
face and form would have been noticeable anywhere and under any
circumstances; but now in contrast with the unmodified homeliness of
her parents and brother her comeliness was almost startling. The others
seemed to harmonize with their drab surroundings, with the dull,
unattractive house and its furnishings, but Lorelei was in violent
opposition to everything about her. She wore her beauty unconsciously,
too, as a princess wears the purple of her rank. Neither in speech nor in
look did she show a trace of her father's fatuous commonplaceness, and
she gave no sign of her mother's coldly calculating disposition. Equally
the girl differed from her brother, for Jim was anemic, underdeveloped,
sallow; his only mark of distinction being his bright and impudent eye,
while she was full-blooded, healthy, and clean. Splendidly distinctive,
from her crown of warm amber hair to her shapely, slender feet, it
seemed that all the hopes, all the aspirations, all the longings of bygone
generations of Knights had flowered in her. As muddy waters purify
themselves in running, so had the Knight blood, coming through
unpleasant channels, finally clarified and sweetened itself in this girl. In
the color of her eyes she resembled neither parent; Mrs. Knight's were
close-set and hard; Peter's shallow, indefinite, weak. Lorelei's were
limpid and of