XXIII
BY bedtime, when June went to her attic, she had fully made up her mind that there must be no half measures now. She feared Uncle Si more than ever. There was something in that snuffle at the supper table, in that whine of outraged feeling, in that down-gazing eye which was far more formidable than any mere outburst of violence. Here was such a depth of hypocrisy that she had got to look out.
A light was showing under the studio door. June’s knock met with a prompt invitation to enter. William was affectionately lingering over a few final touches, which should prove beyond a doubt the authenticity of this masterpiece.
“Have you got it really clean at last?” said June, trying to speak lightly, yet not succeeding. Emotional strain could not be so easily concealed; and—uncomfortable thought—her acting was not so finished as that of Uncle Si.
“Yes,” said William, with a little thrill of rapture. “And how wonderful it is!”
June agreed. “Yes, wonderful!” Also with a little thrill of rapture, yet loathing herself because her tone was so vibrant—Uncle Si was not to have a walk over after all! “And now if you don’t mind I’ll put it in a place of safety.”
He flashed one swift glance at her. “But, Miss June, isn’t it quite safe here?”
“I should just think it wasn’t!” leapt to the tip of her tongue. But Uncle Si’s masterly snuffle recalled to her mind the value of meiosis. Thus she had recourse to a gentle “I think I’ll sleep better if I take care of it myself,” which sounded quite disarming.
With one of his deep sighs which made her feel a perfect beast, William handed over the picture. “If you only knew, if you could only guess what pleasure this exquisite thing would give the dear old master——”
Overcome by a kind of nausea, June fled headlong to the room next door. She groped for her candle, found and lit it; and then she proceeded to bury the treasure at the bottom of her trunk. Heaping and pressing down as many things upon the picture as the trunk would hold, she locked it carefully, and put the key in her purse. Then she undressed, knelt and said her prayers; she then blew out the candle and crept into bed with a stifling sense of disgust, tempered by grim satisfaction.