“An’—­rather—­yellow, isn’t it?”

“Very yellow!”

“Just like a great, big golden sovereign, isn’t it”

“Very much like a sovereign, my Porges.”

“Well, do you know, I was wondering—­if there was any chance that it was a—­Money Moon?”

They were leaning out at the lattice, Small Porges, and Big Porges.  Anthea and Miss Priscilla were busied upon household matters wholly feminine, wherefore Small Porges had drawn Bellew to the window, and there they leaned, the small body enfolded by Bellew’s long arm, and the two faces turned up to the silvery splendour of the moon.

But now, Anthea came up behind them, and, not noticing the position of Bellew’s arm as she leaned on the other side of Small Porges, it befell that her hand touched, and for a moment, rested upon Bellew’s hand, hidden as it was in the shadow.  And this probably began it.

The air of Arcadia, as has been said before, is an intoxicating air; but it is more, it is an air charged with a subtle magic whereby the commonest objects, losing their prosaic, matter-of-fact shapes, become transfigured into things of wonder, and delight.  Little things that pass as mere ordinary common-places,—­things insignificant, and wholly beneath notice in the every day world, become fraught with such infinite meaning, and may hold such sublime, such undreamed of possibilities —­here in Arcadia.  Thus, when it is recorded that Anthea’s hand accidentally touched, and rested upon Bellew’s—­the significance of it will become at once apparent.

“And pray,” said Anthea, laying that same hand in the most natural manner in the world, upon the Small Porges’ curls, “Pray what might you two be discussing so very solemnly?”

“The moon,” answered Small Porges.  “I was wondering if it was a Money Moon, an’ Uncle Porges hasn’t said if it is, yet.”

“Why no, old chap,” answered Bellew, “I’m afraid not.”

“And pray,” said Anthea again, “what might a Money Moon be?”

“Well,” explained Small Porges, “when the moon’s just—­just so, then you go out an’—­an’ find a fortune, you know.  But the moon’s got to be a Money Moon, and you’ve got to know, you know, else you’ll find nothing, of course.”

“Ah Georgy dear!” sighed Anthea, stooping her dark head down to his golden curls, “don’t you know that fortunes are very hard to get, and that they have to be worked for, and that no one ever found one without a great deal of labour, and sorrow?”

“’Course—­everyone can’t find fortunes, Auntie Anthea, I know that, but we shall,—­my Uncle Porges knows all about it, you see, an’ I know that we shall.  I’m sure as sure we shall find one, some day, ’cause, you see, I put it in my prayers now,—­at the end, you know.  I say:  ‘An’ please help me an’ my Uncle Porges to find a fortune when the Money Moon comes,—­a big one, world without end—­Amen!’ So you see, it’s all right, an’ we’re just waiting till the Money Moon comes, aren’t we, Uncle Porges?”