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Newsletter Archives
Auctions
by Theodore R. Goldstock, Attorney
at Law
Many antique dealers use auctions as a resource for acquiring
their stock in trade, and most people have a fair understanding
of the rules that govern the sale of goods at auction. Auctions,
however, come in many forms, and are generally divided into
three categories: A) ascending bids, also known as the English
method, B) descending bids, also known as the Dutch method,
and C) simultaneous bids, sometimes known as the Japanese
method. The English method is the most common form used
in the United States where competitive bidders compete against
each other, each making a higher offer until the highest
bidder wins. The Dutch method works in the reverse where
a starting price is announced, and it is lowered until a
bidder announces his willingness to buy at the then current
asking price. The first bidder is the winner. The Japanese
method involves the simultaneous submission of sealed or
secret bids. When all of the bids have been opened, the
auctioneer either accepts the highest bid offered, or he
states his reason for rejecting all of them.
Auctions in Maryland are governed by the Uniform Commercial
Code, specifically § 2328 of the Maryland Commercial Law
Code. There are several important provisions that everyone
should understand. First, the Code declares that all auctions
are reserve auctions unless specifically stated otherwise.
In a reserve auction, "the auctioneer may withdraw
the goods at any time until he announces completion of the
sale. In an auction without reserve, after the auctioneer
calls for bids on an article or lot, that article or lot
cannot be withdrawn unless no bid is made within a reasonable
time." On the other hand even if an auction is advertised
as "without reserve," until the particular article
or lot is "put up" for auction, the auctioneer
may, in general, cancel the auction without liability. More
importantly, however, until any auction is ended by the
fall of the hammer or some other customary signal, a bidder
may retract his bid. If the high bidder makes a retraction
in time, the next highest bidder, as many might expect,
does not automatically become the new "high bidder."
Instead, the auctioneer must ask for bids all over again.
Presumably he would ask the previous high bidder if he would
like to make his bid again.
The concept of a reserve auction was invented in England
to combat the formation of bidding rings whereby a group
of potential bidders would conspire to depress prices by
agreeing not to bid up the price of particular lots. Such
a conspiracy is prohibited in Maryland by § 11-204 of the
Commercial Law Code, which governs restraints of trade.
Other concerns in the auction setting involve the artificial
manipulation of the bidding by the seller, the auction house,
or both in an effort to drive the final price up.
Section 2-328(4) of the Code states "If the auctioneer
knowingly receives a bid on the seller's behalf or the seller
makes or procures such a bid, and notice has not been given
that liberty for such bidding is reserved, the buyer may
at his option avoid the sale or take the goods at the price
of the last good faith bid prior to the completion of the
sale." Notice would be given under this provision if
the auction house itself were the seller of the lot, or
if the auction house had an ownership interest in combination
with others. The provision, however, does not protect bidders
from unscrupulous sellers who, with or without the auctioneer's
knowledge, place a third party in the bidding audience to
bid the price up. This practice in known as puffing in England
or shilling in the United State, and it constitutes a criminal
conspiracy to commit fraud.
Similarly, a practice commonly known as "bidding off
the chandelier" involves an unscrupulous auctioneer
who manipulates a bidder into bidding up the price of a
lot by pretending a second bidder is placing bids in competition
with his own.
This practice also constitutes fraud. Shilling and bidding
off the chandelier may not cause harm if it occurs in a
reserve auction and the reserve price is never reached,
but in an auction without reserve, or in a reserve auction
where the reserve has already been met, the unfairness of
the practice is easily seen.
Theodore R. Goldstock
is a general business law and commercial litigation attorney
with Ridberg, Press & Shelbill, Three Bethesda Metro
Center, Suite 650, Bethesda, MD 20814 - (301) 913-5770 or
email tgoldstock@rpslaw.com
Ted was formerly a silver dealer in Savage Mill, Maryland,
still an avid collector of antiques, and is a graduate of
George Washington University's program in appraisal studies
and antiques connoisseurship.
Consignments:
Arts & Antiques
Danziger & Danziger - "Brothers
in Law" a series of articles
Reprint from Art & Auctions Magazine: “Taken” On Consignment
(November 2002)
A New York judge once wrote that while the "acumen
and integrity of art dealers are the foundation stones of
the market for fine arts and antiques," sometimes "a
cracked stone is cemented over." Indeed, most dealers
we encounter in our practice are extremely honorable, but
from time to time we do stumble across a few "cracked
stones."
In one such instance, our client was a trusting collector
who owned a valuable Old Master painting that had been in
his family's collection for generations. Although this collection
was worth a great deal, our client knew little about the
commercial side of the art world or, for that matter, about
contracts or lawyers. (Of course, some would argue that
this is a good thing.)
One day our client was contacted by a dealer with a sterling
international reputation, whom his family had known for
years. After the usual pleasantries, the dealer remarked
that he was interested in our client's Old Master painting,
and casually asked if he could examine it more closely in
his gallery, which was located in a distant city. The dealer
offered to pay for insurance and shipping but did not mention
anything about a sale price, a commission or terms of sale.
Without any formal written agreement, our client obligingly
crated the painting and shipped it to the dealer, and thought
no more about it.
Until, that is, he received an intriguing telephone call
a few weeks later, just before the Old Master paintings
auctions. The caller was a dealer in South America who had
heard that our client's painting was for sale. "I have
a buyer," he said. "I am prepared to offer you
$5 million for the work, payment upon inspection and delivery,
so long as the purchase is completed before the upcoming
auctions." Apparently a comparable painting was to
be offered that carried a presale estimate substantially
above the price named by the dealer.
Our client jumped at the offer and said that he would arrange
to ship the work immediately. He then called the dealer
to whom he had lent the painting to tell him about the handsome
offer, and politely asked him to send back the work. To
the collector's astonishment, the dealer replied matter-of-factly,
"I'm sorry, I can't return the piece. You consigned
it to me and I have agreed to purchase it for sale to another
client - for $4.8 million." There followed several
days of frantic telephone calls, faxes and even telegrams
from the collector as the auction date neared, but the dealer
steadfastly refused to return the painting or to send payment
for it.
After the collector's panicky call to our office, we officially
became what he endearingly (but inaccurately) referred to
as his "out-house counsel." The case raised a
number of intriguing legal issues. One central question
was whether, as a matter of law, our client's arrangement
with the first dealer constituted a "consignment,"
which would have given that dealer certain rights to the
painting. Under the U.S. commercial statute known as the
Uniform Commercial Code, a consignment generally occurs
when a work is given to a dealer for resale, in which case
it is either sold or returned to the owner. We believed
that our situation did not involve a true consignment, since
the collector had not intended to sell the work to or through
the first dealer but had merely entrusted it to him for
inspection.
The legal rights of a collector who finds himself in the
same predicament naturally depend on the specific facts
of the case and vary based on where the parties and the
work of art are located. We advised our client that, usually,
a collector who sends a work to a dealer does not automatically
enter into a consignment. Although a consignment agreement
does not need to be in writing to be enforceable, as with
any valid contract there must be some "meeting of the
minds." We told the dealer's attorney that there was
no intent to consign the work for sale - and therefore no
meeting of the minds. The dealer had acquired no rights
to the work, we argued, and had no right to offer it to
a third party or to purchase the work himself.
In the course of our research, we uncovered a number of
cases involving consignments of artworks. In one an owner
of a Maurice Utrillo painting allowed a dealer to hang the
work in his New York town house while he considered whether
or not to purchase it. He had agreed that he would either
pay for the painting or return it. In fact the dealer (who
was not a dealer at all, but a delicatessen employee!) had
already sold it to a buyer in Venezuela. After a protracted
legal battle, the court ruled in favor of the original owner
and he recovered the work.
In another case, a dealer sent a Renoir drawing to the home
of a collector as security for a debt. The collector, who
had at one point allegedly told the dealer that he disliked
the Renoir and would not take it "on a bet," ultimately
agreed to accept it in order to settle the debt. A complex
litigation then ensued, involving a famous gallery (which
was the drawing's true owner), the dealer, and the collector.
After disentangling the competing claims and addressing
various consignment issues, the court ruled that the galleries
right to the drawing was superior to the collector's and
ordered the collector to return it to the gallery or pay
damages.
We took a similar position in our case, arguing that since
the dealer had acquired no rights to the work, he had no
right to sell it and instead had an obligation to return
it to our client. Unmoved by the simple beauty of our legal
analysis, the dealer and his attorney chose to rely on another
tried-and-true legal theory: Possession is nine-tenths of
the law (and its corollary, "Just sue me"). It
became clear that without engaging in expensive and potentially
messy litigation, we would not be able to secure the painting's
return. Despite the strength of our client's position, he
decided as a business matter to forgo the better offer from
the South American dealer and to sell his painting to the
first dealer for $200,000 less.
What are the lessons to be learned here? First, in a trade
as unregulated as art dealing, collectors should set forth
in writing what rights they are granting a dealer before
they part with a work of art. In the event of a true consignment,
a contract should describe the specifics of the consignment
relationship, including its duration, the price at which
the dealer may purchase or sell the work and the amount
of the dealer's commission. The agreement should also state
that the collector retains ownership of the work and may
require its return at any time or after a specified period.
In addition, the collector (and his legal counsel) should
consider whether the consigned artwork could be subject
to claims by any creditors of the dealer. This would be
especially important in the case of a dealer who files for
bankruptcy protection while a work of art is in his possession,
in which event the dealer's creditors might try to claim
an ownership interest in the work, to the detriment of the
consignor. We always encourage our collector clients to
include in the written consignment agreement an acknowledgement
by the dealer that he has no rights in the work unless and
until a sale occurs and the owner receives the agreed-upon
purchase price. However, even this provision may not always
be sufficient to shield a work from a dealer's creditors.
While most art and antiques dealers (like most lawyers)
are honorable, a very few prey on unsophisticated collectors.
It is therefore advisable to conduct "due diligence"
on the background and reputation of dealers before working
with them.
Finally, as our mother (a professor, not a lawyer) likes
to say, "One never knows what things are good for"
- that is, sometimes-bad situations turn out for the best.
Just days after our client sold the painting to the first
dealer; the Old Masters auctions took place. The painting
that was comparable to our client's failed to sell, with
the final bid coming in well below the presale estimate.
So it turned out the at the value of his painting may have
been substantially less than what the dealer paid for it.
Perhaps justice was served after all.
Danziger &
Danziger
405 Park Avenue, Suite 1104, New York, NY 10022
Tel (212) 754-7000, Fax (212) 758-0143,
e-mail:info@danziger.com
*We respect the copyright of these linked Websites and we
do not represent in any capacity the original authors or
designers. The reprint of this article is purely informational
in nature. All rights reserved. Arts & Auctions Magazine.
Sales
of Goods in Maryland
by Theodore R. Goldstock,
Attorney at Law
Everyone in the retail business should be familiar with
the law that regulates the sale of goods, and that includes
people in the antiques field as well. Article 2 of The Uniform
Commercial Code, which has been adopted in Maryland as Title
2 of the Commercial Law Article, is the primary body of
law that controls transactions between buyers and sellers
of goods. Goods are defined in the Code as things that are
moveable, as opposed to real estate, and excluding certain
other items, such as securities, which are regulated elsewhere
in the Code.
Additionally, an antique dealer's transactions in goods
are impacted by other sections of the Commercial Law Article,
in particular Title 13, the Maryland Consumer Protection
Act. A short article such as this cannot address all of
the complexities and nuances of the law regulating commercial
transactions, so I will limit myself to a few of the basics.
Suppose a person walks into your shop, sees an antique that
you have for sale at $2,500.00, and informs you that he
wants to buy it. He tells you that he will return the following
day with his truck to pick it up and complete the transaction.
Later that day, another person strolls in and offers to
buy the same antique on the spot. If you sell to the second
person, does the first have a claim against you? If you
refuse the second person's offer, assuming the piece is
being purchased by the first person (who never shows up
as promised), do you have a claim against the first person
for your lost sale? The answer to both questions lies in
Section 2-201 of the Commercial Law Article, which is generally
known as the "statute of frauds." Under this section,
an agreement for the sale of goods for a price of $500.00
or more is unenforceable (unless the existence of such an
agreement is admitted in Court) if the agreement has not
been reduced to a signed writing. If, in our example, a
sales slip had been made out and signed by the first person,
his failure to complete the sale would have made him liable
for your loss. Similarly, if you had sold the antique to
the second person, and the first person returned with his
sales receipt to claim and pay for "his" item,
he would have a claim against you for his loss, as long
as the sales receipt had your logo, your letterhead, or
your actual signature on it, all of which satisfy the "signed
writing" requirement. Absent a signed writing, neither
you nor the customer would have a legally enforceable claim.
Now suppose that the first person in our example gives you
a check for $2,500.00 and promises to return the next day
with his truck and take delivery. The next day, he returns
as promised, but asks for his check back. He found a similar
antique for less at another shop around the corner. What
are your obligations? The answer depends on several factors:
1) Whether or not the customer is a "consumer"
as defined in the Code, or another dealer or business, and
2) If the person is a "consumer" what your stated
policies on returns are. If the person is a consumer, i.e.
someone who plans to use the item in his own household or
for his own personal use, the Maryland Consumer Protection
Act has some effect on the answer. That Act makes it unlawful
for a merchant to engage in any unfair or deceptive trade
practice, as . . . further defined by the Division of Consumer
Protection. Under regulations created by the Division:
It shall be an unfair or deceptive trade practice prohibited
by Commercial Law Article, Sec. 13-303, annotated Code of
Maryland, for a merchant in any retail sale to fail to disclose
to all customers in writing, either on the sales form, by
a clearly visible sign, or by conspicuous label on the consumer
goods, the terms and conditions of the merchant's refund
and exchange policies, or a policy of no refunds or exchanges.
A merchant shall be deemed in compliance with the requirements
of this regulation if the merchant discloses to the customer
in writing any time limit on refunds or exchanges and, upon
request by the customer or gift recipient, within a reasonable
time of the purchase:
1.Gives a cash refund for a cash purchase;
2.Gives a cash refund or account credit for a credit purchase;
3.Gives a cash refund, account credit, or merchandise exchange
for a gift purchase; or
4.Otherwise complies with the refund and exchange policies
disclosed.
In my example, therefore, if you, the antiques dealer, had
a properly disclosed "no returns" policy, the
consumer would have no right to ask for his money back.
He made an agreement to purchase an item, and he has to
live with his agreement. On the other hand, if you have
no published return policy, our consumer would have every
right to ask for his money back and make a return. His return
rights, however, are strictly limited by the reasonable
time language of the regulation. If our same consumer had
appeared several months later and demanded his money back,
in all likelihood his demand would fall outside what most
people would consider a reasonable time.
Now suppose that the customer who wants his money back is
another dealer, a decorator, or maybe a professional who
wants the antique for his office. He is not a consumer,
as defined by the Act, and any failure to have a published
return policy does not give him the rights created by the
Consumer Protection Act. You have no obligation, absent
an agreement to the contrary, to refund his money.
The final subject that I want to cover has to do with warranties.
There are express warranties, such as a representation that
a particular antique is a George II easy chair, and implied
warranties, e.g. the chair is sturdy enough for people to
sit on. If the chair is not in fact a George II original,
but instead a copy made circa 2003 in Taiwan, the buyer
has a claim against the dealer for the return of his money.
If the buyer takes his new purchase home with him, sits
in it, and the old chair splinters apart and crashes to
the floor, the buyer has a claim under the implied warranty
of merchantability, since the chair is not fit for the ordinary
purpose for which such goods are used . . .ā€¯ Even if you,
the dealer, advertise the chair as being sold as is, Section
2-316.1 of the Commercial Article prohibits the exclusion
of warranties as to consumers. The as is language, however,
would be effective against other dealers or buyers who are
not consumers. If you knew the chair was rickety and not
suitable for use as a device for supporting sitting individuals,
you would have to advertise it as such with enough specificity
to inform potential buyers that they are not buying a usable
chair, but only a display item or an item requiring restoration.
The Commercial Law Article takes up two volumes, so these
examples only scratch the surface of applicable rules and
regulations. If you have a question regarding general business
and commercial law, or commercial litigation, I can be reached
at the following address: Ridberg Sherbill & Aronson
LLP, Three Bethesda Metro Center, Suite 650, Bethesda, MD
20814 (301-913-5770);
tgoldstock@ridbergsherbill.com.
Theodore R. Goldstock
is a general business law and commercial litigation attorney
with Ridberg, Press & Shelbill, Three Bethesda Metro
Center, Suite 650, Bethesda, MD 20814 - (301) 913-5770 or
email tgoldstock@rpslaw.com Ted was formerly a silver dealer
in Savage Mill, Maryland, still an avid collector of antiques,
and is a graduate of George Washington University's program
in appraisal studies and antiques connoisseurship.
Pick
Two: Price, Quality, Speed
by Heidi Adams,
The China Mender
The title of this article comes from a sign that hangs in
my studio. I hope to help solve this word game by answering
some frequently asked questions about the porcelain restoration
business.
Why is restoration costly? The restoration of pottery is
not a craft or a hobby. It is best left to the trained,
highly skilled artisan, who uses only first quality materials.
Products from the hardware store are rarely appropriate
for restoration, because they are neither durable nor reversible,
and will eventually deteriorate, by changing color or losing
adhesive qualities. The workmanship involved is very time
consuming. The cost of restoration is not predicated on
the value of the piece, but rather on the complexity of
the repair.
Will my repair be invisible? Not all pieces are candidates
for an invisible restoration, at least, not by an ethical
restorer. Restorers are not magicians, and one of the fundamental
ethical issues facing a restorer is to not cause further
damage, in order to achieve an invisible restoration. Restoration
is usually divided into three categories: Museum (which
is not invisible. Old rivets would be left in place, and
the piece adhered, just as you would see it at The Victoria
and Albert Museum in London), Visible (Here the English
rule of "six feet, six inches" applies. It will
not be visible at six feet away, but may be seen at six
inches away), and Invisible. If an invisible restoration
is possible, and desirable, it will take several months
to finish and will cost accordingly. Depending on the level
of restoration that you chose, you can expect, with proper
care, most restored pieces to become lovely "cabinet
or shelf pieces", since they cannot be refired.
Why does my repair take so long? Expect a good restorer
to have a backlog. The length of time it takes to repair
your piece depends on whether it has been previously adhered,
in which case, the adhesive will have to be removed, whether
stains have to be removed and many other variables. Some
adhesives take a few days to set and two months to cure.
If you want a repair to last, then time, patience, quality
materials and skill are required.
How much will my piece be worth once it is restored? Restorers
repair ceramics, and ethically should never get involved
in appraisals. When deciding to have an item repaired, the
question should be whether the piece is worth the cost of
the repair. The answer lies in the monetary value of the
piece, or in the case of Grandma's teapot, the value of
a cherished family heirloom, which may, indeed, be priceless.
How do I find a good restorer? Ask for references. Ask
to see samples of their work, although most pieces leave
a restorer's studio as soon as they are completed. Ask about
their training as well as which professional organizations
they belong to. Skilled restorers take several yearly courses
to maintain their proficiency.
Heidi Adams,
The China Mender, has been in business since 1995. Heidi
trained at Lawrence University in Appleton, WI, as well
as with the South African Academy of Conservation, in conjunction
with the U. of PA Museum of Art and Anthropology, the Dayton
Art Institute and the Campbell Center for Restoration. Further
studies were completed with successful restorers in Northern
CA, NY, IL, and Palm Beach, in addition to workshops and
conferences designed to help the professional restorer stay
informed of the most innovative, and least intrusive, methods
of restoration. The China Mender is a member of the Association
of Restorers, The American Institute of Conservation, The
United Kingdom Institute of Conservation and the American
Art Pottery Association. Customers are seen by appointment
only.
Spring 1998
SURPRISE IN THE ATTIC
By Gertrude Jones - Jones'
Antiques
Most antique dealers are greatly enthusiastic about ransacking
through an attic. I have found there are or can be surprises
other than antiques and collectibles in some attics.
The day began with my humorous friend, Ida, an elementary
school teacher. She told me there was a chance of my finding
some nice old pieces in the house where her second cousin
lives. I felt the thrill of adventure within me begin to
stir.
"It would indeed be a profitable day if I could find
some old jewelry," Ida said, as she showed me a gold
bracelet. I stood there for a moment then said to her, "Oh
yes, you might unveil some valuable, interesting information
about your family roots." She turned and said; "Last
week I asked one of my students, "Has anyone told you
about your forbearers?" The child answered, "Is
it catching?" Ida as usual gave a giggle and then suggested
we go that afternoon to see if our fancy would be enjoyed
and our eyes charmed by some unexpected findings.
To gain an opening to unlimited opportunities is delightful
indeed, and being obsessed with the thrill of collecting
antiques is an adventure regardless of time or purpose.
It was a lovely day as we rode along the country road that
brought us near to a kind tenant-style farmhouse with the
old narrow white siding. The climbing rose bushes hugged
a dilapidated picket fence that was leaning from lack of
care, and an old fireplace chimney of mortar less bricks
was still attached to the two-way pitch roof. It all reminded
me of a picture I had once seen. There in the doorway stood
a little old white-haired woman, somewhat crippled, smiling
pleasantly as she invited us in.
While she moved around the kitchen chatting with us and
fanning away a fly or two, I could sense here excitement
and pleasure in our coming to visit. As she talked to Ida
for a few moments about other relations, I heard her say,
"Ida, will you come to see me more often; to be alone
is something unpleasant." It was apparent that she
was shaken by their conversation, and it was all she could
do to chase back the tears. Wiping her eyes and regaining
her composure, she spoke about some of the things she had
inherited not only from the family, but also others, things
that had accumulated through the years. She picked up a
castor set, the true name according to an old catalog of
silver manufactures, is a dinner castor. We bargained over
a price for the set and she agreed to let me have it, my
first purchase for the day.
There are all kinds of things that pop up in an old house
-- the old kitchen closet for instance, almost hidden by
a culinary display. I pushed back a few pieces to free the
door and opened it. There to attract the eye was a closet
loaded with old crockery. The first thing I reached for
was a very old preserve jar of Cantonese ware. As I took
it from its resting place, I could note help but think of
the rags to riches story it posed, coming from an old closet
to live in some fine room of an admirer.
Nothing could be as remarkable for the skill of its craftsmanship
as my next surprise was. It was a most intriguing piece
of Victorian silver plate, a fancy card receiver. This piece
the lady inherited. I explained to her that the card receiver
was an extremely popular piece in its time. It was made
by all the silverware makers. These pieces were made in
great varieties of size and form and elaborate decoration
especially in the 1870s and 1880s when styles reflected
the Victorian trend. When one called on an, acquaintance
or friends, whether the person was home or not, the visitor
left his card in the card receiver on the hall table. This
was a widely practiced social custom.
We turned suddenly to the sound of rattling jewelry hitting
the floor. Ida had discovered a box of old jewelry and in
her excitement had carelessly sent it sprawling on the floor.
She was now busy picking up and examining each piece that
dropped. She tried on abreast pin or two and observed the
finds in a hand mirror nearby. "Ida," I said,
please don't cause me any more deliriousness over your noises."
Ida responded, "You know, Gertrude, my mother heard
a noise in the bedroom last night. She jumped out of bed
and saw a man's feet sticking out from under the bed."
"A burglar's?" I asked. "No, my father's.
He'd heard the burglar too."
"Hush, Ida, oh come on." As we walked to the next
room, which was the old parlor, I felt the floor boards
spring back and forth making one feel completely exposed
to nature's elements. Creepy and musty and less used than
any other part of the house, I looked around at the cracked
walls and sagging partitions between the rooms. We had no
more than entered the room when a mouse ran across the floor
and at almost the same time heard an echo of squeaking birds
coming from a nest that was lodged against the outside of
a window pane by evergreens, thus making it a perfect hiding
place. This room seemed disappointing to Ida. In a low disguised
voice she said, "I think we'd better leave and come
back some other time." Bit by bit courage was leaving
Ida, but as I looked around at some of the unusual pieces,
my confidence was reinforced.
Viewing the objects in the room, I spied a small dusty mahogany
display table, which contained a few beautiful pieces of
a color glass set among some less desirable junk. A couple
of magnificent turquoise vases returned my thought to some
of the jewelry in the treasures of Tutankhamen, with all
of the turquoise glass inlaid in small pieces in a cloisonné
fashion with other colored glass.
As I moved to the corner of the room to examine a chair
more closely, I noticed the edge of what appeared to be
a music box peeping from behind a low couch piled high with
pillows. I pulled it out in amazement. It was a small cylinder
type box, which I knew as the ratchet wind, circa 1840.
Most of the music boxes of that period were made of either
rosewood or walnut and inlaid with zinc, brass, and mother
of pearl.
Few were made after 1860 and because mahogany and oak were
found to deaden the sound, these woods were avoided in the
construction of the ratchet wind. My desire bloomed for
the want of that box. Seeing the condition of the lady's
surroundings, I was giving her my very best price for her
merchandise. But now I was going to offer a price that would
anesthetize my seller. Just as I started to make her a good
offer, Ida stopped her ransacking and took notice of the
music box.
"What's that?" she inquired. "A music box,"
said the lady as she opened the top and pulled back a lever
to start the music of the Rose Waltz, Home Sweet Home, and
finally, Merry Waltz. The little lady was acting the part
of an amateur conductor, swinging her hands from side to
side, then up and down. Ida interrupted to ask, "How
much do you want for it?" She was doing her best to
keep me from making an offer. The beautiful characteristics
of the box had awakened her desire to possess it, and certainly,
such a piece as interesting as this was. Ida wanted everything
for a cheap price; she had a fear of stumbling because of
her lack of knowledge. Again, the lady tried to ask for
my offer. Then, to leap the bridge between us, Ida asked,
"What is it for? I will give you ten dollars for it."
The lady returned it to its place behind the couch and said,
"1 was offered $250 for it a couple of years ago."
Ida turned to me and stammered, "What a price. Did
you ever hear of anything like that?" I refrained from
telling her--you won't get that for nothing. It if hadn't
been for the lady's previous offer, human nature being what
it is, things were coming to an impasse.
I finally had a chance to tell the lady I would offer her
$400 for the box. The reason for this price is that they
are getting hard to find. The lady immediately said, "sold"
and danced a little waltz. Ida looked at me with an expression
that I interpreted as saying, "you dunit aye."
The enchantment of seeking and finding was still upon me,
and when the little lady asked if we were ready to go on
to the attic, I found myself eager to continue in the search.
Ida had been looking over a few things but her every step
appeared unsure. She obviously hoped to discover a treasure
she could buy cheaply. "Ida, are you ready to go to
the attic?" I asked. She replied with another humorous
expression, "My mind is wandering and I am just following
along."
We were led to a small stairway that was cluttered with
cobwebbed boxes, which hampered our adventure. When I finally
reached the top step of the stairs, the lady had already
made her way to a corner of the attic where she was busily
taking various items out of a box. While I looked around
the room of this small" A" shaped attic, the lack
of space that seemed to squeeze at you increased my urge
for rummaging. Ida was still fumbling around, making her
way up the steps.
As I walked to the center of the room looking for the comfort
of space, my woman's intuition sent electrifying thoughts
to my brain, thoughts to look around. But fear had begun
to conquer me. I stood there like a statue, unable to move.
My eyes searched the depths of the room; then all at once
I saw it.
There straight ahead in the laths, coiled like a picture
in a geographic magazine, was a big, black snake, lying
in a composed, peaceful state. When I finally got my mouth
open, I yelled, "There's a snake over there!"
At this point things happened fast. The somewhat crippled
lady of the house passed by me so fast that it was like
she wasn't there. Ida had no more than reached the top step
when she turned, gave a scream and jumped two steps down
-- then another scream and two more steps down. I was trying
to make some headway on the stairs but Ida was blocking
the way with outstretched arms and screams. By now, my imagination
was running rampant as I continued my efforts to gain progress
in the stairway. I thought I saw some odd creatures sticking
their heads out of the boxes, which aided in obstructing
my getaway. If creatures were the inhabitants of the boxes,
I am sure they were shocked over having an instant circus.
We were not long getting down the steps and the house was
cleared of any human species. It would take a zoologist
to classify what was left inside.
I asked Ida if she was going back in the house. The pleasure
of hunting antiques was a forgotten subject as we stood
in the yard recovering from the experience. Ida responded,
"A fool can ask questions that wise men can't answer."
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