"Really," said Mr. Ca.s.silis beginning to caress his moustache, "it seems to me that you have very--ah--peculiar tastes, Mr. Bellew."

"That is because you have probably never experienced the fierce joys of moon-light digging, sir."

"No, Mr. Bellew,--digging--as a recreation, has never appealed to me at any time."

"Then sir," said Bellew, shaking his head, "permit me to tell you that you have missed a great deal. Had I the time, I should be delighted to explain to you exactly how much, as it is--allow me to wish you a very good evening."

Mr. Ca.s.silis smiled, and his teeth seemed to gleam whiter, and sharper than ever in the moon-light:

"Wouldn't it be rather more apropos if you said--'Good-bye' Mr. Bellew?"

he enquired. "You are leaving Dapplemere, shortly, I understand,--aren't you?"

"Why sir," returned Bellew, grave, and imperturbable as ever,--"it all depends."

"Depends!--upon what, may I ask?"

"The moon, sir."

"The moon?"

"Precisely!"

"And pray--what can the moon have to do with your departure?"

"A great deal more than you'd think--sir. Had I the time, I should be delighted to explain to you exactly how much, as it is,--permit me to wish you a very--good evening!"

Saying which, Bellew nodded affably, and, shouldering his spade, went upon his way. And still he walked in the shadows, and still he gazed upon the moon, but now, his thick brows were gathered in a frown, and he was wondering just why Ca.s.silis should chance to be here, to-night, and what his confident air, and the general a.s.surance of his manner might portend; above all, he was wondering how Mr. Ca.s.silis came to be aware of his own impending departure. And so, at last, he came to the rick-yard,--full of increasing doubt and misgivings.

CHAPTER XXVI

_How the money moon rose_

Evening had deepened into night,--a night of ineffable calm, a night of an all pervading quietude. A horse snorted in the stable nearby, a dog barked in the distance, but these sounds served only to render the silence the more profound, by contrast. It was, indeed, a night wherein pixies, and elves, and goblins, and fairies might weave their magic spells, a night wherein tired humanity dreamed those dreams that seem so hopelessly impossible by day.

And, over all, the moon rose high, and higher, in solemn majesty, filling the world with her pale loveliness, and brooding over it like the gentle G.o.ddess she is. Even the distant dog seemed to feel something of all this, for, after a futile bark or two, he gave it up altogether, and was heard no more.

And Bellew, gazing up at Luna's pale serenity, smiled and nodded,--as much as to say, "You'll do!" and so stood leaning upon his spade listening to:

"That deep hush which seems a sigh Breathed by Earth to listening sky."

Now, all at once, upon this quietude there rose a voice up-raised in fervent supplication; wherefore, treading very softly, Bellew came, and peeping round the hay-rick, beheld Small Porges upon his knees. He was equipped for travel and the perils of the road, for beside him lay a stick, and tied to this stick was a bundle that bulged with his most cherished possessions. His cheeks were wet with great tears that glistened in the moon-beams, but he wept with eyes tight shut, and with his small hands clasped close together, and thus he spoke,--albeit much shaken, and hindered by sobs:

"I s'pose you think I bother you an awful lot, dear Lord,--an' so I do, but you haven't sent the Money Moon yet, you see, an' now my Auntie Anthea's got to leave Dapplemere--if I don't find the fortune for her soon. I know I'm crying a lot, an' real men don't cry,--but it's only 'cause I'm awful--lonely an' disappointed,--an' n.o.body can see me, so it doesn't matter. But, dear Lord, I've looked an' looked everywhere, an' I haven't found a single sovereign yet,--an' I've prayed to you, an'

prayed to you for the Money Moon an'--it's never come. So now, dear Lord, I'm going to Africa, an' I want you to please take care of my Auntie Anthea till I come back. Sometimes I'm 'fraid my prayers can't quite manage to get up to you 'cause of the clouds, an' wind, but to-night there isn't any, so, if they do reach you, please--Oh! please let me find the fortune, and, if you don't mind, let--_him_ come back to me, dear Lord,--I mean my Uncle Porges, you know. An' now--that's all, dear Lord, so Amen!"

As the prayer ended Bellew stole back, and coming to the gate of the rick-yard, leaned there waiting. And, presently, as he watched, he saw a small figure emerge from behind the big hay-stack and come striding manfully toward him, his bundle upon his shoulder, and with the moon bright in his curls.

But, all at once, Small Porges saw him and stopped, and the stick and bundle fell to the ground and lay neglected.

"Why--my Porges!" said Bellew, a trifle huskily, perhaps, "why, Shipmate!" and he held out his hands. Then Small Porges uttered a cry, and came running, and next moment Big Porges had him in his arms.

"Oh, Uncle Porges!--then you--have come back to me!"

"Aye, aye, Shipmate."

"Why, then--my prayers _did_ reach!"

"Why, of course,--prayers always reach, my Porges."

"Then, oh!--do you s'pose I shall find the fortune, too?"

"Not a doubt of it,--just look at the moon!"

"The--moon?"

"Why, haven't you noticed how--er--peculiar it is to-night?"

"Peculiar?" repeated Small Porges breathlessly, turning to look at it.

"Why, yes, my Porges,--big, you know, and--er--yellow,--like--er--like a very large sovereign."

"Do you mean--Oh! do you mean--it's--the--" But here Small Porges choked suddenly, and could only look his question.

"The Money Moon?--Oh yes--there she is at last, my Porges! Take a good look at her, I don't suppose we shall ever see another."

Small Porges stood very still, and gazed up at the moon's broad, yellow disc, and, as he looked the tears welled up in his eyes again, and a great sob broke from him.

"I'm so--glad!" he whispered. "So--awful--glad!" Then, suddenly, he dashed away his tears and slipped his small, trembling hand into Bellew's.

"Quick, Uncle Porges!" said he, "Mr. Grimes is coming to-night, you know--an' we must find the money in time. Where shall we look first?"

"Well, I guess the orchard will do--to start with."

"Then let's go--now."

"But we shall need a couple of spades, Shipmate."

"Oh!--must we dig?"

"Yes,--I fancy that's a--er--digging moon, my Porges, from the look of it. Ah! there's a spade, nice and handy, you take that and I'll--er--I'll manage with this pitchfork."

"But you can't dig with a--"

"Oh! well--you can do the digging, and I'll just--er--prod, you know.

Ready?--then heave ahead, Shipmate."