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 to take it, some unscrupulous dealer is sure to bamboozle her out of it. That's assuming it's valuable, which, of course, I don't go so far as to say that it is."

"Thief!" stormed June. "Wicked thief!"

However, she knew well enough that it was a real pity to let her feelings get the better of her; it enabled the Old Crocodile to shine so much by comparison. He addressed himself to William in his most sanctimonious manner. For the good of all concerned, such a bee-yew-ti-ful thing—it sickened June to see the old hum-*bug lift his eyes to heaven—must be cared for by him personally. An uneducated mawkin could not hope to appreciate a work of art of that quality, and if anything happened to it, as in such hands something inevitably must, William's master would never be able to forgive himself, he wouldn't really!

The old man spoke so gently and so plausibly and hovered at times so near to tears, that William would have been less than human not to have been moved by his words. Uncle Si had not the least difficulty in making clear to his assistant that he was swayed by the highest motives. His own private regard for the picture, which, of course, William must know was intense, did not enter into the case at all; but wisdom and experience declared that until Monsieur Duponnet of Paris had seen the picture it must remain in responsible hands.

"But I tell you the picture's mine, mine, mine!" cried June.

No, the picture was William's. That outstanding fact was emphasized again in his master's kindly voice. Was he not William's guardian also in the eyes of the law? Not for a moment could he think of al