And Berry Came Too by Dornford Yates

auctioneer calls ‘a fight,’ and whether we win or lose, we shall purchase the brand of trouble which comes to stay. If we win, we shall beggar ourselves: if we lose, we shall be for ever tormented by the thought that we might have won, if only we’d kept our nerve and sprung another ten pounds.”
    Jonathan Mansel looked up.
    “May be all over,” he said. “The sale began yesterday.”
    I shook my head.
    “Yesterday, household stuff: furniture, today and tomorrow: silver on Thursday.”
    Here a pressure upon my left thigh remembered the Knave, and I turned to regard the Alsatian we all adored. For a moment his brown eyes held mine, then he lifted his lovely head to stare at the toast. All the time, his great tail was swaying…
    Such address was that of a courtly, forgotten age.
    “Sir, It will give me great pleasure if you can see your way to oblige, Your most obedient servant.”
    As I stretched out my hand to the rack, I touched my breakfast-cup with the cuff of my coat…
    Upon such incidents do the fates of nations depend. Together, Jill and I proceeded to deal with the mess in the time-honoured way – by lifting the edge of the cloth and thrusting a plate between the stain and the wood. This simple operation exposed the table itself – the nice-looking board which had served us for twenty years.
    My cousin ran her slim fingers along the edge of the oak. Then she looked up.
    “What should we do with this one? We couldn’t possibly sell it. It’s part of our home.”
    “I agree,” said Daphne. “The old fellow’s done us too well. He’d go very well in the hall where the coffer is now.”
    “That’s right,” said I. “And the coffer at the head of the stairs.”
    “With the Kneller above it,” said Jonah. “Then we can put the tallboy where the Kneller is now and hang the Morland where it always ought to have hung.”
    “That’s an idea,” cried Daphne…
    So we entered the broad, smooth road that was leading to Hammercloth Hall and the sale-by-auction of a table which we could not afford to buy. Our descent of this pleasant way was easy enough. We perceived a whole chain of improvements which our purchase of the piece would begin: reviewing these charming effects, we saw that upon its acquisition was depending the condition of our home: we began to style it ‘a godsend’: an eager anticipation subdued the qualms of conscience in unfair fight; and we hugged our guilty intention with the ardour which only mischief can ever inspire.
    I am bound to say, in his favour, that Berry hung back, but at length he threw in his hand and joined in the rout.
    “But for God’s sake,” he said, “don’t let’s make fools of ourselves.”
    “We’re doing that by going,” said Jonah.
    “I know,” said Berry. “I know. The baboons wouldn’t go. Not even the B-B B’s. But it’s too late now. We’ve visualized possession: we’ve eaten the apples of desire. But don’t let’s magnify our folly. If the dealers go after that table, we’ve got to withdraw.”
    “Let’s be clear about this,” said Daphne. “How far d’you think we can go?”
    “My conscience,” replied her husband, “suggests about twelve and six. But I’m not going to listen to that. If Jonah and Boy will come in, I’ll let my tailor wait and scratch up a hundred pounds.”
    “Three hundred, then?” said Jonah.
    After a painful calculation, I nodded assent.
    “Of course that’s hopeless,” said Daphne. “Three hundred pounds!”
    “Well, sell your sables,” said Berry, “and call it three hundred and ten.”
    “Don’t be a fool,” said his wife. “You said yourself it would fetch six hundred or more.”
    “So it will,” said Berry.
    “Then, what’s the good of our going?”
    “No good at all,” said Berry. “It’s about the most futile thing that we’ve ever done. I tell you, the baboons wouldn’t go. They may be feeble-minded, but they wouldn’t drive fifty miles to pick up a stomach-ache.”
    A