that second pair of stairs in the garret next the tiles. Vainly she wished that she had had the sense to ask William to keep back as long as possible the fact that he had given the picture to her. But the mere request would have opened the door to another anxiety. If the picture was what he thought it was, could such a gift, made in such circumstances, be regarded as irrevocable? That must be left to the giver himself to decide: assuming the simpleton had enough strength of mind to prevent Uncle Si deciding it for him.
The pudding was just ready for the oven when she heard Uncle Si come downstairs. He went into the parlour, where every Sunday morning, with the help of the Exchange and Mart and half an ounce of shag, he spent an hour in meditation. As soon as the door closed upon the old man, June ran attic-wards to confer with William.
There was no beating about the bush. Bursting in upon him breathlessly, she cried: "I hope you have not told Uncle Si the picture is mine. I had meant to warn you not to do so on any account—not for the present, at least."
William looked up from the treasure with his absorbed air; but it appeared that as yet he had not let the cat out of the bag.
"I am very glad." June breathed freely again.
"I thought," said William sadly, "it would be best not to tell the master until after his dinner. But I fear that whenever he knows it will upset him terribly."
"Why should it?"
"It's like this, Miss June—the master is fairly setting his heart upon this picture."
"Then he'd better unset it," said June harshly.
