June’s way home to New Cross Street was beset with anxieties. Much would depend on what she did now. She felt that her whole life was about to turn on the decision she had to take in a very difficult matter.
There was no one to guide her, not a soul on whose advice she might lean. But before she had returned to the threshold of S. Gedge Antiques she had made a resolve to get immediate possession of the picture, and to let this Mr. Keller have a look at it. She did not altogether like him, it was true. But the feeling was irrational; she must be sensible enough not to let it set her against him without due cause. For he was a friend whom Providence had unmistakably thrown in her way, and there was no other to whom she might turn.
William was a broken reed. With all his perception and talent, he was likely to prove hopeless now that Uncle Si was setting his wits to work to obtain the picture for himself. William’s devotion to his master’s interest would be simply fatal to her scheme. For the sake of them both, June felt she must take a full advantage of the heaven-sent opportunity provided by this Mr. Keller.
Other decisions, too, would have to be made. As soon as Uncle Si knew the picture was hers, he would almost certainly carry out his threat of putting her in the street; at least she was no judge of character if the event proved otherwise. A means of livelihood must be sought at once. That afternoon’s experience of Oxford Street had opened up new vistas, which, however, might lead nowhere. But even if she could not get employment in a shop Mr. Keller’s offer of work as an artist’s model at five shillings an hour must not be lightly put aside.
The first thing to be done, however, was to clinch William’s gift of the picture once and for all. She made up her mind that it should be fully consummated before the return of Uncle Si from Newbury.
As soon as William had been given his tea she broached the subject. But when she asked for possession, there and then, his crest fell.
“I was still hoping, Miss June,” the simpleton owned, “that you’d let the dear old master have this lovely thing. It has come to mean so much to him, you see. I will get another one for you.”
“Not another Van Roon,” said June, sharply.
“No, I’m afraid I couldn’t promise a Van Roon.” A cloud passed over William’s face. “But I might be able to pick up something quite good, which perhaps you would come to like as much.”
June shook a disconsolate head.