Of the moon's message to Small Porges, and how he told it to Bellew—in a whisper
Bellew walked on at a good pace with his back turned resolutely towards the House of Dapplemere, and thus, as he swung into that narrow, grassy lane that wound away between trees, he was much surprised to hear a distant hail. Facing sharp about he espied a diminutive figure whose small legs trotted very fast, and whose small fist waved a weather-beaten cap.
Bellew's first impulse was to turn, and run. But Bellew rarely acted on impulse; therefore, he set down the bulging portmanteau, seated himself upon it, and taking out pipe and tobacco, waited for his pursuer to come up.
"Oh Uncle Porges!" panted a voice, "you did walk so awful fast, an' I called, an' called, but you never heard. An' now, please,—where are you going?"
"Going," said Bellew, searching through his pockets for a match, "going, my Porges, why—er—for a stroll, to be sure,—just a walk before breakfast, you know."
"But then—why have you brought your bag?"
"Bag!" repeated Bellew, stooping down to look at it, "why—so—I have!"
"Please—why?" persisted Small Porges, suddenly anxious. "Why did you—bring it?"
"Well, I expect it was to—er—to bear me company. But how is it you are out so very early, my Porges?"
"Why, I couldn't sleep, last night, you know, 'cause I kept on thinking, and thinking 'bout the fortune. So I got up—in the middle of the night, an' dressed myself, an' sat in the big chair by the window, an' looked at the Money Moon. An' I stared at it, an' stared at it till a wonderful thing happened,—an' what do you s'pose?"