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June suddenly remembered that she must go and lay the supper.

William modestly asked to be allowed to help.

"Can you lay supper?" Polite the tone, but June was inclined to think that here was the limit to William's cleverness.

"Oh, yes, Miss June, I lay it nearly always. It's part of my work."

"Glad of your help, of course." The tone was gracious. "But I daresay you'd like to go on looking for a windmill."

"Yes, I think perhaps I would." It was not quite the answer of diplomacy, but behind it was a weight of sincerity that took away the sting.

"Thought so," said June, with a dark smile. It would have been pleasant to have had the help of this accomplished young man, but above all things she was practical and so understood that the time of such a one must be of great value.

"But I'm thinking you'll have to look some while for that windmill," she said, trying not to be satirical.

"The windmill I'll not swear to, but I'm sure there's water and trees; although, of course, it may take some time to find them." William took up a piece of cotton wool. "But we'll see."