Mr. Half-Sawney held the charming piece to the light for Miss Stick-eyeglass to gaze upon.
"Yes—really quite charming!"
Their heads were so close while together they bent over its beauties, that June, without wishing real harm to either, could have found it in her heart to hope that the bowl might fall from the hands of William and break into a thousand pieces.
"What is the price?"
The bowl was turned on to its base while the young man glanced at the mystic code which had been traced by the hand of S. Gedge Antiques.
"Six guineas, madam," she was most deferentially informed.
"I collect Lowestoft. A charming piece. It will go so well with my others. Will you kindly send it to 39b, Park Lane?"
"Certainly, Miss Babraham."
The amazing Miss Babraham opened a vanity bag, took out a sheaf of notes, and chose six which, with the smile of a siren, she handed to William, who received them with one more bow from his full height, and proceeded to write out a receipt.
Somehow this transaction was altogether too much for June. Flashing one long last glance of immeasurable venom upon the stick-eyeglass who, all unconscious of the deadly passions it had aroused, had now returned to elegant and final contemplation of the Hoodoo, the niece of S. Gedge Antiques withdrew hurriedly to the scullery sink, filled a bucket of water, and proceeded with a kind of contained fury to scrub the floor of the larder.
