And, from the boy’s eager lips, Bellew heard much of “Auntie Anthea,” and learned, little by little, something of the brave fight she had made, lonely and unaided, and burdened with ancient debt, to make the farm of Dapplemere pay.  Likewise Small Porges spoke learnedly of the condition of the markets, and of the distressing fall in prices in regard to hay, and wheat.

“Old Adam,—­he’s our man, you know, he says that farming isn’t what it was in his young days, ’specially if you happen to be a woman, like my Auntie Anthea, an’ he told me yesterday that if he were Auntie he’d give up trying, an’ take Mr. Cassilis at his word.”

“Cassilis, ah!—­And who is Mr. Cassilis?”

“He lives at ’Brampton Court’—­a great, big house ’bout a mile from Dapplemere; an’ he’s always asking my Auntie to marry him, but ’course she won’t you know.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I think it’s ’cause he’s got such big, white teeth when he smiles,—­an’ he’s always smiling, you know; but Old Adam says that if he’d been born a woman he’d marry a man all teeth, or no teeth at all, if he had as much money as Mr. Cassilis.”

The sun was low in the West as, skirting a wood, they came out upon a grassy lane that presently led them into the great, broad highway.

Now, as they trudged along together, Small Porges with one hand clasped in Bellew’s, and the other supporting the bundle on his shoulder, there appeared, galloping towards them a man on a fine black horse, at sight of whom, Porges’ clasp tightened, and he drew nearer to Bellew’s side.

When he was nearly abreast of them, the horse-man checked his career so suddenly that his animal was thrown back on his haunches.

“Why—­Georgy!” he exclaimed.

“Good evening, Mr. Cassilis!” said Small Porges, lifting his cap.

Mr. Cassilis was tall, handsome, well built, and very particular as to dress.  Bellew noticed that his teeth were, indeed, very large and white, beneath the small, carefully trained moustache; also his eyes seemed just a trifle too close together, perhaps.

“Why—­what in the world have you been up to, boy?” he enquired, regarding Bellew with no very friendly eye.  “Your Aunt is worrying herself ill on your account,—­what have you been doing with yourself all day?”

Again Bellew felt the small fingers tighten round his, and the small figure shrink a little closer to him, as Small Porges answered,

“I’ve been with Uncle Porges, Mr. Cassilis.”

“With whom?” demanded Mr. Cassilis, more sharply.

“With his Uncle Porges, sir,” Bellew rejoined, “a trustworthy person, and very much at your service.”

Mr. Cassilis stared, his hand began to stroke and caress his small, black moustache, and he viewed Bellew from his dusty boots up to the crown of his dusty hat, and down again, with supercilious eyes.

“Uncle?” he repeated incredulously.