S. Gedge Antiques peered dubiously at his niece. He had a dislike of women and more than any other kind he disliked young women. But one fact was already clear; he had let himself in for it. Frowning at this bitter thought he cast his mind back in search of a reason. Knowing himself so well he was sure that a reason there must be and a good one for so grave an indiscretion. Suddenly he remembered the charwoman and his brow cleared a little.
"Let me have a look at you, niece." As a hawk might gaze at a wren he gazed at June through his spectacles. "Tall and strong seemingly. I hope you're not afraid of hard work."
"I'm not afraid of anything, Uncle Si," said June with calm precision.
"No answers," said S. Gedge curtly. "If you intend to stay here you've got to mind your p's and q's and you've got to earn your keep." He sighed and impatiently plucked the spectacles from his nose. "Thought so," he snarled. "I'm looking at you with my selling spectacles. For this job I'll need my buying ones."
Delving into the capacious pockets of his dressing gown, the old man was able to produce a second pair of glasses. He adjusted them grimly. "Now I can begin to see you. Favour your father seemingly. And he was never a mucher—wasn't your father."
"Dad is dead, Uncle Si." There was reproof in
