"Never mind what I said! It's time you were in bed asleep,—so come along—at once, sir!"
So they went on through the orchard together, very silently, for Small
Porges was inclined to be indignant, but much more inclined to be hurt.
Thus, they had not gone so very far, when he spoke, in a voice that he
would have described as—quivery.
"Don't you think that you're—just the teeniest bit—cruel to me, Auntie Anthea?" he enquired wistfully, "after I prayed an' prayed till I found a fortune for you!—don't you, please?" Surely Anthea was a creature of moods, to-night, for, even while he spoke, she stopped, and turned, and fell on her knees, and caught him in her arms, kissing him many times:
"Yes,—yes, dear, I'm hateful to you,—horrid to you! But I don't mean to be. There!—forgive me!"
"Oh!—it's all right again, now, Auntie Anthea, thank you. I only thought you were jest a bit—hard, 'cause it is such a—magnif'cent night, isn't it?"
"Yes dear; and perhaps there are gnomes, and pixies about. Anyhow, we can pretend there are, if you like, as we used to—"
"Oh will you? that would be fine! Then, please, may I go with you—as far as the brook? We'll wander, you know,—I've never wandered with you in the moonlight,—an' I do love to hear the brook talking to itself,—so—will you wander—jest this once?"
"Well," said Anthea, hesitating, "it's very late!—"
"Nearly nine o 'clock, yes! But Oh!—please don't forget that I found a fortune for you—"
"Very well," she smiled, "just this once."