Now as they went together, hand in hand through the moonlight, Small Porges talked very fast, and very much at random, while his eyes, bright, and eager, glanced expectantly towards every patch of shadow,—doubtless in search of gnomes, and pixies.
But Anthea saw nothing of this, heard nothing of the suppressed excitement in his voice, for she was thinking that by now, Mr. Cassilis had read her letter,—that he might, even then, be on his way to Dapplemere. She even fancied, once or twice, that she could hear the gallop of his horse's hoofs. And, when he came, he would want to—kiss her!
"Why do you shiver so, Auntie Anthea, are you cold?"
"No, dear."
"Well, then, why are you so quiet to me,—I've asked you a question—three times."
"Have you dear? I—I was thinking; what was the question?"
"I was asking you if you would be awful frightened s'posing we did find a pixie—or a gnome, in the shadows; an' would you be so very awfully frightened if a gnome—a great, big one, you know,—came jumping out an'—ran off with you,—should you?"
"No!" said Anthea, with another shiver, "No, dear,—I think I should be—rather glad of it!"
"Should you, Auntie? I'm—so awful glad you wouldn't be frightened. A course, I don't s'pose there are gnomes—I mean great, big ones,—really, you know,—but there might be, on a magnif'cent night, like this. If you shiver again Auntie you'll have to take my coat!"
"I thought I heard a horse galloping—hush!"