Page:The Van Roon (IA thevanroon00snaiiala).pdf/18

 June's strong voice. "And he was a very good man. There was never a better father than Dad."

"Must have been a good man. He hardly left you and your mother the price of his funeral."

"It wasn't Dad's fault that he was unlucky in business."

"Unlucky." S. Gedge Antiques gave a sharp tilt to his "buying" spectacles. "I don't believe in luck myself."

"Don't you?" said June, with a touch of defiance.

"No answers." Uncle Si held up a finger of warning. "Your luck is you're not afraid of work. If you stop here you'll have to stir yourself."

June confessed a modest willingness to do her best.

S. Gedge continued to gaze at her. It was clear that he had undertaken an immense responsibility. A live sharp girl, nineteen years of age, one of these modern hussies, with opinions of her own, was going to alter things. It was no use burking the fact, but a wise man would have looked it in the face a little sooner.

"The char is taking a day off," he said, breaking this reverie. "So I'd better give you a hand with your box. You can then change your frock and come and tidy up. If you give your mind to your job I daresay I'll be able to do without the char altogether. The woman's a nuisance, as all women are. But she's the worst kind of a nuisance, and I've been trying to be quit of her any time this ten years."

In silence June followed Uncle Si kitchenwards, slowly removing a pair of black kid gloves as she did so. He helped her to carry a trunk containing all her worldly possessions up a steep, narrow, twisty flight of uncarpeted stairs to a tiny attic, divided by a wooden