"'If—we could only find enough money, or somebody would leave us a fortune,' she said,—an' she was crying too, 'cause I felt a tear fall on me, you know. So this morning I got up, awful' early, an' made myself a bundle on a stick,—like Dick Whittington had when he left home, an' I started off to find a fortune."
"I see," nodded Bellew.
"But I haven't found anything—yet," said Georgy Porgy, with a long sigh, "I s'pose money takes a lot of looking for, doesn't it?"
"Sometimes," Bellew answered. "And do you live alone with your Auntie then, Georgy Porgy?"
"Yes;—most boys live with their mothers, but that's where I'm different, I don't need one 'cause I've got my Auntie Anthea."
"Anthea!" repeated Bellew, thoughtfully. Hereupon they fell silent, Bellew watching the smoke curl up from his pipe into the warm, still air, and Georgy Porgy watching him with very thoughtful eyes, and a somewhat troubled brow, as if turning over some weighty matter in his mind; at last, he spoke:
"Please," said he, with a sudden diffidence, "where do you live?"
"Live," repeated Bellew, smiling, "under my hat,—here, there, and everywhere, which means—nowhere in particular."
"But I—I mean—where is your home?"
"My home," said Bellew, exhaling a great cloud of smoke, "my home lies beyond the 'bounding billow."