“I’m not afraid of anything, Uncle Si,” said June with calm precision.
“No answers,” said S. Gedge curtly. “If you intend to stay here you’ve got to mind your p’s and q’s and you’ve got to earn your keep.” He sighed and impatiently plucked the spectacles from his nose. “Thought so,” he snarled. “I’m looking at you with my selling spectacles. For this job I’ll need my buying ones.”
Delving into the capacious pockets of his dressing gown, the old man was able to produce a second pair of glasses. He adjusted them grimly. “Now I can begin to see you. Favour your father seemingly. And he was never a mucher—wasn’t your father.”
“Dad is dead, Uncle Si.” There was reproof in 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.