"Yes," nodded Bellew, "I suppose so,--especially if she happens to be
young, and--er--"

"An' what, Uncle Porges?"

"Beautiful, nephew."

"Oh! Do you think she's--really beautiful?" demanded Small Porges.

"I'm afraid I do," Bellew confessed.

"So does Mr. Cassilis,--I heard him tell her so once--in the orchard."

"Hum!" said Bellew.

"Ah! but you ought to see her when she comes to tuck me up at night,
with her hair all down, an' hanging all about her--like a shiny cloak,
you know."

"Hum!" said Bellew.

"Please Uncle Porges," said Georgy, turning to look up at him, "what
makes you hum so much this morning?"

"I was thinking, my Porges."

"'Bout my Auntie Anthea?"

"I do admit the soft impeachment, sir."