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 "What do you want for it?" And Sir Arthur tapped the Hoodoo again.

"I'll take thirty pounds, sir." It was the voice of a man bringing himself to part with a valuable tooth. "Sixty was the sum I paid for it some years ago. But it isn't everybody's fancy, and it swallows a small place."

Sir Arthur observed with pleasant humour that such a monstrosity ought to be taken over by the nation. S. Gedge Antiques, with a humour that strove to be equally pleasant, concurred.

At this point, to June's mortal terror, Miss Babraham made a second attempt to look over the top.

"Stand on this coffin stool, Miss," said S. Gedge Antiques, politely producing that article from the collection of bric-à-brac around the Hoodoo.

June's heart stood still. The game was up. Sickly she closed her eyes. But Providence had one last card to play.

"Thank you so much," said Miss Babraham. "But it won't bear my weight, I'm afraid. No, I don't think I'll risk it. There's really nothing to see inside."

Uncle Si agreed that there was really nothing to see inside; and June breathed again.

"Thirty pounds isn't much, papa, for such a glorious monstrosity." Miss Blue Blood had evidently set her heart on it.

Sir Arthur, however, expressed a fear that a thing of that size, that hue, that contour would kill every object in the Long Gallery. Great argument ensued. And then to June's relief, Miss Babraham, her father, Sir Arthur and S. Gedge Antiques, arguing still, moved away from the Hoodoo.