Very quietly indeed her bolt was launched. William had given the picture to her.
The old man simply stared at her.
It was clear, however, that his thoughts were running so hard upon M. Duponnet and the higher potentialities that just at first he was not able to grasp the significance of June's bald statement.
So that there should be no doubt about the position June modestly repeated it.
"Given it to you!" said the old man, a light beginning to break. "How do you mean—given it to you?"
Calmly, patiently June threw a little more light on the subject. And while she did so her eyes were fixed with veiled defiance upon the face of Uncle Si. The thought uppermost in her mind was that he took it far better than could have been expected. "Given it to you," he kept on saying to himself softly. There was no explosion. "Given it to you," he kept on. He grew a little green about the gills and that was all.
At last he turned to William: "Boy, what's this? Is the girl daft?" The mildness of tone was astonishing.
William explained as well as he could. It was a lame and halting performance, and at that moment June was not proud of him. But she was even less proud of herself. The part she was playing, gloss it over as one might, was ignoble. And William's embarrassment was rather painful to witness. He stammered a good deal, he grew red and nervous; and all the while the voice of his kind and good master became more deeply reproachful, and melted finally in a note of real pathos. "How could you do such a thing?" he said. "Why you know as well as I do, my boy, that I would have given you anything in reason
