Such an outlook was grim. But as June put on an old house frock she shut her lips tight and determined not to think about to-morrow. Uncle Si had told her to clean out the grate in the back kitchen. She flattered herself that she could clean out a grate with anybody. Merely to stop the cruel ache at the back of her brain she would just think of her task, and nothing else.
In about ten minutes June came down the attic stairs, fully equipped even to an overall which she had been undecided whether to pack in her box but had prudently done so.
"Where are the brushes and dust pan, Uncle Si?"
"In the cupboard under the scullery sink." A growl emerged from the packing case, followed by a gargoyle head. "And when you are through with the kitchen grate you can come and clear up this litter, and then you can cook a few potatoes for dinner—that's if you know how."
"Of course I know how," said June.
"Your mother seems to have brought you up properly. If you give your mind to your job and you're not above soiling your hands I quite expect we'll be able to do without the char."
June, her large eyes fixed on Uncle Si, did not flinch from the prospect. She went boldly, head high, in the direction of the scullery sink while S. Gedge Antiques proceeded to burrow deeper and deeper into the packing case.
Presently he dug out a bowl of Lowestoft china, which he tapped with a finger-nail and held up to the light.
"It's a good piece," he reflected. "There's one thing to be said for that boy—he don't often make mistakes.
