“It’s very well, thank you; but that isn’t what I want to talk to you about to-day. Micky, would you like to come to tea with me one afternoon?”
Micky stared.
“Tea! Haven’t I come to tea with you to-day?”
“Silly! I don’t mean here; I mean where I live. It’s a boarding-house. I dare say you’ll hate it, but it’s really quite a nice place, and beggars can’t be choosers, anyway. I’ve got a very comfortable sitting-room and most of my own furniture, and I can give you a good cup of tea, or anything else, if you prefer it.”
“I shall be delighted,” Micky looked puzzled. “But isn’t this rather a breaking of rules? It’s not so very long ago that you made me swear never to try and find out where you lived. I thought it was all to be a deadly secret.”
“So it was, but I’ve decided to admit you. I know you’re safe, and, Micky, wouldn’t you like to meet the dearest, prettiest, most attractive little girl....”
Micky moved his chair back in mock alarm.
“June! You’re not turning match-maker! If you are, I give you fair warning that our friendship will have to end once and for ever. I’ll put up with a lot from you, but not this––not....”
“Don’t be an idiot!” said June calmly. “There isn’t the slightest fear! And anyway–––” she added, with a half sigh, “she’s engaged, so it wouldn’t be any good. But I want you to help her.... Oh, I know I’m always bringing you foundlings to help and look after, but you’ve got such a big heart––and such a big banking account,” she added audaciously.
“Well, go on–––” he said resignedly. “Who is the foundling this time, and what am I to do?”