“That’s just like Esther; she asks for your advice, and then–––”
“She didn’t ask for mine,” Micky cut in. “I very kindly volunteered the information.”
“Oh!” June was on her knees now toasting buns.
“They’re stale,” she informed Micky candidly. “But you won’t know it when they’re toasted.”
Micky watched in silence. He was wondering if June had heard anything of his conversation with Esther; they had both spoken rather loudly. He was also wondering whether he should tell June the whole story.
“You must make allowances for her,” June said briskly, as he was still hesitating. “I know she’s worried about this man. I discovered another thing this morning, Micky”––she turned with a sudden jerk to look at him, and the bun fell off the fork into the fire.
Micky laughed.
“Well, what have you discovered now?” he inquired.
“Why, that she can’t write to him––he doesn’t give her an address––or, if he does, he takes good care to move on before she has time to answer his letters. It looks to me, Micky, as if that young man is shirking his responsibilities. If you ask my candid opinion, Esther won’t ever see him again.”