"It is sometimes a confounded nuisance!" nodded Bellew.

"But I do wish we had some,--so we could pay all her bills, an' morgyges for her. She'd be so happy, you know, an' go about singing like she used to,--an' I shouldn't worry myself into an old man before my time,--all wrinkled, an' gray, you know; an' all would be revelry, an' joy, if only she had enough gold, an' bank-notes!"

"And she was--crying, you say!" demanded Bellew again, his gaze still far away.

"Yes."

"You are quite sure you saw the--tears, my Porges?"

"Oh yes! an' there was one on her nose, too,--a big one, that shone awful' bright,--twinkled, you know."

"And she said it was only a headache, did she?"

"Yes, but that meant money,--money always makes her head ache, lately.

Oh Uncle Porges!--I s'pose people do find fortunes, sometimes, don't they?"

"Why yes, to be sure they do."

"Then I wish I knew where they looked for them," said he with a very big sigh indeed, "I've hunted an' hunted in all the attics, an' the cupboards, an' under hedges, an' in ditches, an' prayed, an' prayed, you know,--every night."

"Then, of course, you'll be answered, my Porges."

"Do you really s'pose I shall be answered? You see it's such an awful'

long way for one small prayer to have to go,--from here to heaven. An'

there's clouds that get in the way; an' I'm 'fraid my prayers aren't quite big, or heavy enough, an' get lost, an' blown away in the wind."

"No, my Porges," said Bellew, drawing his arm about the small disconsolate figure, "you may depend upon it that your prayers fly straight up into heaven, and that neither the clouds, nor the wind can come between, or blow them away. So just keep on praying, old chap, and when the time is ripe, they'll be answered, never fear."

"Answered?--Do you mean,--oh Uncle Porges!--do you mean--the Money Moon?" The small hand upon Bellew's arm, quivered, and his voice trembled with eagerness.

"Why yes, to be sure,--the Money Moon, my Porges,--it's bound to come, one of these fine nights."

"Ah!--but when,--oh! when will the Money Moon ever come?"

"Well, I can't be quite sure, but I rather fancy, from the look of things, my Porges, that it will be pretty soon."

"Oh, I do hope so!--for her sake, an' my sake. You see, she may go getting herself married to Mr. Ca.s.silis, if something doesn't happen soon, an' I shouldn't like that, you know."

"Neither should I, my Porges. But what makes you think so?"

"Why he's always bothering her, an' asking her to, you see. She always says 'No' a course, but--one of these fine days, I'm 'fraid she'll say 'Yes'--accidentally, you know."

"Heaven forbid, nephew!"

"Does that mean you hope not?"

"Indeed yes."

"Then I say heaven forbid, too,--'cause I don't think she'd ever be happy in Mr. Ca.s.silis's great, big house. An' I shouldn't either."

"Why, of course not!"

"_You_ never go about asking people to marry you, do you Uncle Porges!"

"Well, it could hardly be called a confirmed habit of mine."

"That's one of the things I like about you so,--all the time you've been here you haven't asked my Auntie Anthea once, have you?"

"No, my Porges,--not yet."

"Oh!--but you don't mean that you--ever will?"

"Would you be very grieved, and angry, if I did,--some day soon, my Porges?"

"Well, I--I didn't think you were that kind of a man!" answered Small Porges, sighing and shaking his head regretfully.

"I'm afraid I am, nephew."

"Do you really mean that you want to--marry my Auntie Anthea?"

"I do."

"As much as Mr. Ca.s.silis does?"

"A great deal more, I think."

Small Porges sighed again, and shook his head very gravely indeed:

"Uncle Porges," said he, "I'm--s'prised at you!"

"I rather feared you would be, nephew."

"It's all so awful' silly, you know!--why do you want to marry her?"

"Because, like a Prince in a fairy tale, I'm--er--rather anxious to--live happy ever after."

"Oh!" said Small Porges, turning this over in his mind, "I never thought of that."

"Marriage is a very important inst.i.tution, you see, my Porges,--especially in this case, because I can't possibly live happy ever after, unless I marry--first--now can I?"

"No, I s'pose not!" Small Porges admitted, albeit reluctantly, after he had pondered the matter a while with wrinkled brow, "but why pick out--my Auntie Anthea?"

"Just because she happens to be your Auntie Anthea, of course."

Small Porges sighed again:

"Why then, if she's got to be married some day, so she can live happy ever after,--well,--I s'pose you'd better take her, Uncle Porges."