Jeffery Farnol

“ Georgy Porgy, pudding and pie
Kissed the girls, and made them cry,
though I never did anything of the kind,—one doesn’t do that sort of thing when one is young,—and wise, that comes later, and brings its own care, and—er—heart-break.” Here Bellew sighed, and hacked a piece from the loaf with the clasp-knife. “Are you hungry, Georgy Porgy?” he enquired, glancing up at the boy who had risen, and was removing some of the soil and dust from his small person with his cap. ”

“ 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?” ”

“ Well, it’s for my Auntie, you know, so she won’t have to sell her house, an’ go away from Dapplemere. She was telling me, last night, when I was in bed,—she always comes to tuck me up, you know, an’ she told me she was ’fraid we’d have to sell Dapplemere an’ go to live somewhere else. ”