“Ah!—­and—­did she stamp her foot, Porges?”

“Yes, I think she did; an’ then she said there wasn’t such a thing as a Money Moon, an’ she told me you were going away very soon, to get married, you know.”

“And what did you say?”

“Oh!  I told her that I was going too.  An’ then I thought she was going to cry, an’ she said ’Oh Georgy!  I didn’t think you’d leave me—­even for him.’  So then I had to s’plain how we had arranged that she was going to marry you so that we could all live happy ever after,—­I mean, that it was all settled, you know, an’ that you were going to speak to her on the first—­opportunity.  An’ then she looked at me a long time an’ asked me—­was I sure you had said so.  An’ then she got awful’ angry indeed, an’ said ‘How dare he!  Oh, how dare he!’ So a course, I told her you’d dare anything—­even a dragon,—­’cause you are so big, an’ brave, you know.  So then she went an’ stood at the window, an’ she was so angry she cried,—­an’ I nearly cried too.  But at last she kissed me ‘Good night’ an’ said you were a man that never meant anything you said, an’ that I must never believe you any more, an’ that you were going away to marry a lady in London, an’ that she was very glad, ’cause then we should all be happy again she s’posed.  So she kissed me again, an’ tucked me up, an’ went away.  But it was a long, long time before I could go to sleep, ‘cause I kept on thinking, an’ thinking s’posing there really wasn’t any Money Moon, after all! s’posing you were going to marry another lady in London!—­You see, it would all be so—­frightfully awful, wouldn’t it?”

“Terribly dreadfully awful, my Porges.”

“But you never do tell lies,—­do you, Uncle Porges?”

“No!”

“An’—­there is a Money Moon, isn’t there?”

“Why of course there is.”

“An’ you are going to marry my Auntie Anthea in the full o’ the moon, aren’t you?”

“Yes, my Porges.”

“Why then—­everything’s all right again,—­so let’s go an’ sit under the hay-stack, an’ talk ’bout ships.”

“But why of ships?” enquired Bellew, rising.

“’Cause I made up my mind, this morning, that I’d be a sailor when I grow up,—­a mariner, you know, like Peterday, only I’d prefer to have both my legs.”

“You’d find it more convenient, perhaps.”

“You know all ‘bout oceans, an’ waves, and billows, don’t you Uncle Porges?”

“Well, I know a little.”

“An’ are you ever sea-sick,—­like a ‘landlubber?’”

“I used to be, but I got over it.”

“Was it a very big ship that you came over in?”

“No,—­not so very big, but she’s about as fast as anything in her class, and a corking sea-boat.”

“What’s her name?”

“Her name?” repeated Bellew, “well, she was called the—­er ‘Silvia.’”

“That’s an awful’ pretty name for a ship.”

“Hum!—­so so,—­but I have learned a prettier, and next time she puts out to sea we’ll change her name, eh, my Porges?”