"Ah! so I think, sir,--driving storm, and thrashing tempest!"

"Well, Adam?"

"Well, sir,--p'raps you've never seen w'ot driving rain, an' raging wind, can do among the 'op-bines, sir. All I wish is that they 'ops was all safe picked an' gathered, sir!" And Adam strode off with his eye still turned heaven-ward, and shaking his head like some great bird of ill-omen.

So the afternoon wore away to evening, and with evening, came Anthea; but a very grave-eyed, troubled Anthea, who sat at the tea-table silent, and preoccupied,--in so much, that Small Porges openly wondered, while Miss Priscilla watched over her, wistful, and tender.

Thus, Tea, which was wont to be the merriest meal of the day, was but the pale ghost of what it should have been, despite Small Porges' flow of conversation, (when not impeded by bread and jam), and Bellew's tactful efforts. Now while he talked light-heartedly, keeping carefully to generalities, he noticed two things,--one was that Anthea made but a pretence at eating, and the second, that though she uttered a word, now and then, yet her eyes persistently avoided his.

Thus, he, for one, was relieved when tea was over, and, as he rose from the table, he determined, despite the unpropitious look of things, to end the suspense, one way or another, and speak to Anthea just so soon as she should be alone.

But here again he was balked and disappointed, for when Small Porges came to bid him good-night as usual, he learned that "Auntie Anthea" had already gone to bed.

"She says it's a head-ache," said Small Porges, "but I 'specks it's the hops, really, you know."

"The hops, my Porges?"

"She's worrying about them,--she's 'fraid of a storm, like Adam is. An'

when she worries,--I worry. Oh Uncle Porges!--if only my prayers can bring the Money Moon--soon, you know,--very soon! If they don't bring it in a day or two,--'fraid I shall wake up, one fine morning, an' find I've worried, an' worried myself into an old man."

"Never fear, Shipmate!" said Bellew in his most nautical manner, "'all's well that ends well,'--a-low, and aloft all's a-taunto. So just take a turn at the lee braces, and keep your weather eye lifting, for you may be sure of this,--if the storm does come,--it will bring the Money Moon with it."

Then, having bidden Small Porges a cheery "Good-night"--Bellew went out to walk among the roses. And, as he walked, he watched the flying wrack of clouds above his head, and listened to the wind that moaned in fitful gusts. Wherefore, having learned in his many travels to read, and interpret such natural signs and omens, he shook his head, and muttered to himself--even as Adam had done before him.

Presently he wandered back into the house, and, filling his pipe, went to hold communion with his friend--the Cavalier.

And thus it was that having ensconced himself in the great elbow-chair, and raised his eyes to the picture, he espied a letter tucked into the frame, thereof. Looking closer, he saw that it was directed to himself.

He took it down, and, after a momentary hesitation, broke the seal, and read:

Miss Devine presents her compliments to Mr. Bellew, and regrets to say that owing to unforeseen circ.u.mstances, she begs that he will provide himself with other quarters at the expiration of the month, being the Twenty-third inst.

Bellew read the lines slowly, twice over, then, folding the note very carefully, put it into his pocket, and stood for a long time staring at nothing in particular. At length he lifted his head, and looked up into the smiling eyes of the Cavalier, above the mantel.

"Sir," said he, very gravely, "it would almost seem that you were in the right of it,--that yours is the best method, after all!" Then he knocked the ashes from his pipe, and went, slowly, and heavily, up-stairs to bed.

It was a long time before he fell asleep, but he did so at last, for Insomnia is a demon who rarely finds his way into Arcadia. But, all at once, he was awake again,--broad awake, and staring into the dark, for a thousand voices seemed to be screaming in his ears, and eager hands were shaking, and plucking at window and lattice. He started up, and then he knew that the storm was upon them, at last, in all its fury,--rain, and a mighty wind,--a howling raging tempest. Yes, a great, and mighty wind was abroad,--it shrieked under the eaves, it boomed and bellowed in the chimneys, and roared away to carry destruction among the distant woods; while the rain beat hissing against the window-panes.

Surely in all its many years the old house of Dapplemere had seldom borne the brunt of such a storm, so wild,--so fierce, and pitiless!

And, lying there upon his bed, listening to the uproar, and tumult, Bellew must needs think of her who had once said:

"We are placing all our hopes, this year, upon the hops!"

CHAPTER XXIII

_How Small Porges, in his hour of need, was deserted by his Uncle_

"Ruined, sir!--Done for!--Lord love me! they ain't worth the trouble o?

gatherin'--w'ot's left on 'em, Mr. Belloo sir."

"So bad as that, Adam?"

"Bad!--ah, so bad as ever was, sir!" said Adam, blinking suspiciously, and turning suddenly away.

"Has Miss Anthea seen,--does she know?"

"Ah! she were out at dawn, and Oh Lord, Mr. Belloo sir! I can't never forget her poor, stricken face,--so pale and sad it were. But she never said nothing, only: 'Oh, Adam!--my poor hops!' An' I see her lips all of a quiver while she spoke. An' so she turned away, an' came back to the 'ouse, sir. Poor la.s.s! Oh poor la.s.s!" he exclaimed, his voice growing more husky. "She's made a brave fight for it, sir,--but it weren't no use, ye see,--it'll be 'Good-bye' for her to Dapplemere, arter all, that there mortgage can't never be paid now,--nohow."

"When is it due?"

"Well, according to the bond, or the deed, or whatever they calls it,--it be doo--tonight, at nine o'clock, sir,--though Old Grimes,--as a special favour, an' arter much persuading,--'ad agreed to hold over till next Sat.u.r.day,--on account o' the 'op-picking. But now--seeing as there ain't no 'ops to be picked,--why he'll fore-close to-night, an'

glad enough to do it, you can lay your oath on that, Mr. Belloo sir."

"To-night!" said Bellew, "to-night!" and he stood, for a while with bent head, as though lost in profound thought. "Adam," said he, suddenly, "help me to harness the mare, I must drive over to the nearest rail-road depot,--hurry, I must be off, the sooner, the better."

"What!--be you--goin' sir?"

"Yes;--hurry, man,--hurry!"

"D'ye mean as you're a-goin' to leave her--now, in the middle o' all this trouble?"

"Yes, Adam,--I must go to London--on business,--now hurry, like a good fellow." And so, together they entered the stable, and together they harnessed the mare. Which done, staying not for breakfast, Bellew mounted the driver's seat, and, with Adam beside him, drove rapidly away.

But Small Porges had seen these preparations, and now came running all eagerness, but ere he could reach the yard, Bellew was out of ear-shot.

So there stood Small Porges, a desolate little figure, watching the rapid course of the dogcart until it had vanished over the brow of the hill. And then, all at once the tears welled up into his eyes hot, and scalding, and a great sob burst from him, for it seemed to him that his beloved Uncle Porges had failed him at the crucial moment,--had left him solitary just when he needed him most.

Thus Small Porges gave way to his grief, hidden in the very darkest corner of the stable, whither he had retired lest any should observe his weakness, until having once more gained command of himself, and wiped away his tears with his small, and dingy pocket-handkerchief, he slowly re-crossed the yard, and entering the house went to look for his Auntie Anthea.

And, after much search, he found her--half-lying, half-kneeling beside his bed. When he spoke to her, though she answered him, she did not look up, and he knew that she was weeping.

"Don't, Auntie Anthea,--don't!" he pleaded. "I know Uncle Porges has gone away, an' left us, but you've got me left, you know,--an' I shall be a man--very soon,--before my time, I think. So--don't cry,--though I'm awful' sorry he's gone, too--just when we needed him the most, you know!"

"Oh Georgy!" she whispered, "my dear, brave little Georgy! We shall only have each other soon,--they're going to take Dapplemere away from us,--and everything we have in the world,--Oh Georgy!"

"Well, never mind!" said he, kneeling beside her, and drawing one small arm protectingly about her, "we shall always have each other left, you know,--n.o.body shall ever take you away from me. An' then--there's the--Money Moon! It's been an awful' long time coming,--but it may come to-night, or tomorrow night. _He_ said it would be sure to come if the storm came, an' so I'll find the fortune for you at last. I know I shall find it _some day_ a course--'cause I've prayed, an' prayed for it so very hard, an' _He_ said my prayers went straight up to heaven, an'

didn't get blown away, or lost in the clouds. So--don't cry, Auntie Anthea let's wait--just a little longer--till the Money Moon comes."

CHAPTER XXIV

_In which shall be found mention of a certain black bag_

"Baxter!"

"Sir?"