Pistol is embedded in a high moor, snug and warm, for all its eminence.
The moor itself is girt with waving woods that stretch and toss for
miles, making a deep sloping sash of foliage which Autumn will dye with
such grave glory that the late loss of Summer and her pretty ways seems
easier to bear. Orange and purple copper and gold, russet and
crimson--these in a hundred tones tremble and glow in one giant harmony,
out of which, at the release of sun, come swelling chords so deep and
rich and vivid that the sweet air is quick with stifled music and every
passing breeze charged to the full with silent melody.

We had left this girdle of woodland behind us and were within half a
mile of the village, when some activity about the gates of a private
house attracted our attention. A little knot of men stood arguing in the
roadway, three cars and an old fly were berthed close to the hedge,
while a good-looking landau was waiting for a furniture van to emerge
from the drive.

The next moment we were near enough to learn from a large poster that
"the entire contents of Cranmer Place were to be sold by auction" this
day, "including a quantity of valuable antique furniture," and with one
accord Jill and I called upon Jonah to stop.

"What for?" said the latter, as he brought the car to a standstill.
"Don't say you want to go and watch the rector's wife bidding against
her conscience and the draper for a what-not."

"Such," said I, "is our intention." I hoisted myself to my feet and,
opening the door, descended stiffly into the road. As I helped Jill to
follow me, "You push on to Highlands," I added, "and order the lunch.