The Money Moon | Page 9

me," pursued Small Porges, "an' there he is!" and he pointed triumphantly towards "King Arthur."
Glancing thither, Anthea beheld a tall, dusty figure moving off among the trees.
"Oh,--wait, please!" she called, rising to her feet, and, with Small Porges' hand in hers, approached Bellew who had stopped with his dusty back to them.
"I--I want to thank you for--taking care of my nephew. If you will come up to the house cook shall give you a good meal, and, if you are in need of work, I--I--" her voice faltered uncertainly, and she stopped.
"Thank you!" said Bellew, turning and lifting his hat.
"Oh!--I beg your pardon!" said Anthea.
Now as their eyes met, it seemed to Bellew as though he had lived all his life in expectation of this moment, and he knew that all his life he should never forget this moment. But now, even while he looked at her, he saw her cheeks flush painfully, and her dark eyes grow troubled.
"I beg your pardon!" said she again, "I--I thought--Mr. Cassilis gave me to understand that you were--"
"A very dusty, hungry-looking fellow, perhaps," smiled Bellew, "and he was quite right, you know; the dust you can see for yourself, but the hunger you must take my word for. As for the work, I assure you exercise is precisely what I am looking for."
"But--" said Anthea, and stopped, and tapped the grass nervously with her foot, and twisted one of her bonnet-strings, and meeting Bellew's steady gaze, flushed again, "but you--you are--"
"My Uncle Porges," her nephew chimed in, "an' I brought him home with me 'cause he's going to help me to find a fortune, an' he hasn't got any place to go to 'cause his home's far, far beyond the 'bounding billow,'--so you will let him stay, won't you, Auntie Anthea?"
"Why--Georgy--" she began, but seeing her distressed look, Bellew came to her rescue.
"Pray do, Miss Anthea," said he in his quiet, easy manner. "My name is Bellew," he went on to explain, "I am an American, without family or friends, here, there or anywhere, and with nothing in the world to do but follow the path of the winds. Indeed, I am rather a solitary fellow, at least--I was, until I met my nephew Porges here. Since then, I've been wondering if there would be--er--room for such as I, at Dapplemere?"
"Oh, there would be plenty of room," said Anthea, hesitating, and wrinkling her white brow, for a lodger was something entirely new in her experience.
"As to my character," pursued Bellew, "though something of a vagabond, I am not a rogue,--at least, I hope not, and I could pay--er--four or five pounds a week--"
"Oh!" exclaimed Anthea, with a little gasp.
"If that would be sufficient--"
"It is--a great deal too much!" said Anthea who would have scarcely dared to ask three.
"Pardon me!--but I think not." said Bellew, shaking his head, "you see, I am--er--rather extravagant in my eating,--eggs, you know, lots of 'em, and ham, and beef, and--er--(a duck quacked loudly from the vicinity of a neighbouring pond),--certainly,--an occasional duck! Indeed, five pounds a week would scarcely--"
"Three would be ample!" said Anthea with a little nod of finality.
"Very well," said Bellew, "we'll make it four, and have done with it."
Anthea Devine, being absolute mistress of Dapplemere, was in the habit of exerting her authority, and having her own way in most things; therefore, she glanced up, in some surprise, at this tall, dusty, rather lazy looking personage; and she noticed, even as had Small Porges, that he was indeed very big and wide; she noticed also that, despite the easy courtesy of his manner, and the quizzical light of his gray eyes, his chin was very square, and that, despite his gentle voice, he had the air of one who meant exactly what he said. Nevertheless she was much inclined to take issue with him upon the matter; plainly observing which, Bellew smiled, and shook his head.
"Pray be reasonable," he said in his gentle voice, "if you send me away to some horrible inn or other, it will cost me--being an American, --more than that every week, in tips and things,--so let's shake hands on it, and call it settled," and he held out his hand to her.
Four pounds a week! It would be a veritable God-send just at present, while she was so hard put to it to make both ends meet. Four pounds a week! So Anthea stood, lost in frowning thought until meeting his frank smile, she laughed.
"You are dreadfully persistent!" she said, "and I know it is too much,--but--we'll try to make you as comfortable as we can," and she laid her hand in his.
And thus it was that George Bellew came to Dapplemere in the glory of the after-glow of an August afternoon, breathing the magic air of Arcadia which is,