"Yes,--that's it, but how did you know?"

"Never mind how, go on with your tale, Georgy Porgy."

"'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?"