Forgetful Miss !

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 42, 12 May 1927, Page 9

Forgetful Miss !

AUCKLANDERS BIDDED KEENLY T O-D AY AT j TRAMWAYS LOST PROPERTY AUCTION. I LA BOIS-DU-ROSE TJEALLY, pretty Miss Auckland was a forgetful miss. For weeks she had gazed upon the bois-du-rose confection in the milliner’s window. Until she possessed it she could think of nothing else. And then ’fco leave it in the tram I . . . Carefully placed under the seat, there it remained. The ticket marked 37s 6d, “reduced,” mind you, was irrefutable evidence of Miss Auckland’s thrift. Crumpled, and almost unrecognisable, together with hundreds of other articles left in city trams by equally forgetful Aucklanders, to-day the hat was put up to auction. But no one seemed to want the bois-du-rose confection. Fifteen shillings, twelve, ten, nine, the auctioneer suggested. but no bidder. It was too bad . . . Five, four, three, and even two shillings? Still no bid. The unsympathetic auctioneer referred to the hat as “crushed strawberry.” Nothing of the kind. Crushed the crown certainly was. But as for ‘strawberry* . . .!” Two shillings was even considered too much. La bois-du-rose was disposed of for eighteenpence! * * * Women did not predominate at the Tramway Department’s sale to-day, as so often is the case at similar gatherings. Mr. Mere Man was there in full force, and just as keen on a bargain as his good wife. Spirited was the bidding for the bundles of umbrellas. Lots averaged from nine shillings to half a guinea. UMBRELLAS IN PROFUSION There were umbrellas, solemn and demure, often carried doubtless to kirk of a Sabbath morn. Pert and daring, the more original “stumpies” had often paraded in town, dangling on the arms of their fashionably-dressed owners on shopping bent. Even more provocative were the beach umbrellas. Boldly gay, with Japanese dragons and equally fantastic floral designs, they seemed out of place in the auction room. Their home was the Auckland sands sheltering prospective “Miss New Zealands’ ” from the glare of an inquisitive sun. How absent-minded is the tired business man could be gauged by the range of bags left in trams. Anything from the natty little attache case to the less fashionable Gladstone found new owners.

Gladstones, indeed, were sold at half-a-crown. The demand at that sum exceeded the supply.

A boy’s schoolbag, complete with books, brought two shillings. It was a silent reminder of a domestic tragedy in some suburban home.

Gloves were there in profusion; short fingers, long fingers, pudgy fingers, fingers of every shape and size. A shilling could buy a whole bundle of gloves.

For purses there was not a great demand. They went in lots for half-a-crown or so. One speculator was rewarded with a little prayer book in the lot he purchased.