“Oh, yes!” So light and airy was the tone that business might have mattered nothing. “I’ve sold the Lowestoft bowl.”
“Uncle Si’ll be pleased, I expect.” She found it terribly difficult to keep a sneer out of her voice, but you never know what you can do till you try. “Fetch much?”
She knew perfectly well, of course, the price it had fetched.
“Six guineas!”
“Isn’t that a pretty good profit on what you paid for it at Saxmundham?” said June, with the precision of the born head for affairs.
“I got it for thirty shillings at Saxmundham, but of course that was at a sale.”
“Seems a fair profit, anyway.”
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
“Will you get any?”
“Oh no!” said William, trying to spear a pickled walnut in a glass jar.