“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.”
He moistened the wool with a solvent, which he kept in a bottle, a mysterious compound of vegetable oils and mineral water; and then, not too hard, he began to rub the surface of the picture.
“I hope we shall,” said June, doubtfully. And she went downstairs with an air of scepticism she was unable to hide.
Supper, in the main, was an affair of bread and cheese and a jug of beer, drawn from the barrel in the larder. It was not taken until a quarter past nine when S. Gedge Antiques had returned from Clerkenwell. The old man was in quite a good humour; in fact, it might be said, to verge upon the expansive. He had managed to buy the Queen Anne sofa for four pounds.
“You’ve got a bargain, sir,” said William. It was William who had discovered the sofa, and had strongly advised its purchase.
“That remains to be seen,” said his master, who would have been vastly disappointed had there been reason to think that he had not got a bargain.