"You?" said he, and shook his head.
"Well?" she enquired, glancing at him through her wind-tossed curls.
"You are like some fair, and stately lady out of the old romances," he said gravely.
"In a print gown, and with a sun-bonnet!"
"Even so!" he nodded. Here, for no apparent reason, happening to meet his glance, the colour deepened in her cheek and she was silent; wherefore Bellew went on, in his slow, placid tones. "You surely, are the Princess ruling this fair land of Arcadia, and I am the Stranger within your gates. It behoves you, therefore, to be merciful to this Stranger, if only for the sake of—er—our mutual nephew."
Whatever Anthea might have said in answer was cut short by Small Porges himself who came galloping towards them with the sun bright in his curls.
"Oh, Uncle Porges!" he panted as he came up, "I was 'fraid you'd gone away an' left me,—I've been hunting, an' hunting for you ever since I got up."
"No, I haven't gone away yet, my Porges, you see."
"An' you won't go—ever or ever, will you?"
"That," said Bellew, taking the small hand in his, "that is a question that we had better leave to the—er—future, nephew."