"LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY\n\n\nBy Frances Hodgson Burnett\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nCedric himself knew nothing whatever about it. It had never been even\nmentioned to him. He knew that his papa had been an Englishman, because\nhis mamma had told him so; but then his papa had died when he was so\nlittle a boy that he could not remember very much about him, except that\nhe was big, and had blue eyes and a long mustache, and that it was a\nsplendid thing to be carried around the room on his shoulder. Since his\npapa's death, Cedric had found out that it was best not to talk to his\nmamma about him. When his father was ill, Cedric had been sent away, and\nwhen he had returned, everything was over; and his mother, who had\nbeen very ill, too, was only just beginning to sit in her chair by the\nwindow. She was pale and thin, and all the dimples had gone from her\npretty face, and her eyes looked large and mournful, and she was dressed\nin black.\n\n\"Dearest,\" said Cedric (his papa had called her that always, and so the\nlittle boy had learned to say it),--\"dearest, is my papa better?\"\n\nHe felt her arms tremble, and so he turned his curly head and looked in\nher face. There was something in it that made him feel that he was going\nto cry.\n\n\"Dearest,\" he said, \"is he well?\"\n\nThen suddenly his loving little heart told him that he'd better put both\nhis arms around her neck and kiss her again and again, and keep his\nsoft cheek close to hers; and he did so, and she laid her face on his\nshoulder and cried bitterly, holding him as if she could never let him\ngo again.\n\n\"Yes, he is well,\" she sobbed; \"he is quite, quite well, but we--we have\nno one left but each other. No one at all.\"\n\nThen, little as he was, he understood that his big, handsome young papa\nwould not come back any more; that he was dead, as he had heard of other\npeople being, although he could not comprehend exactly what strange\nthing had brought all this sadness about. It was because his mamma\nalways cried when he spoke of his papa that he secretly made up his mind\nit was better not to speak of him very often to her, and he found out,\ntoo, that it was better not to let her sit still and look into the fire\nor out of the window without moving or talking. He and his mamma knew\nvery few people, and lived what might have been thought very lonely\nlives, although Cedric did not know it was lonely until he grew older\nand heard why it was they had no visitors. Then he was told that his\nmamma was an orphan, and quite alone in the world when his papa had\nmarried her. She was very pretty, and had been living as companion to a\nrich old lady who was not kind to her, and one day Captain Cedric Errol,\nwho was calling at the house, saw her run up the stairs with tears on\nher eyelashes; and she looked so sweet and innocent and sorrowful that\nthe Captain could not forget her. And after many strange things had\nhappened, they knew each other well and loved each other dearly, and\nwere married, although their marriage brought them the ill-will of\nseveral persons. The one who was most angry of all, however, was\nthe Captain's father, who lived in England, and was a very rich and\nimportant old nobleman, with a very bad temper and a very violent\ndislike to America and Americans. He had two sons older than Captain\nCedric; and it was the law that the elder of these sons should inherit\nthe family title and estates, which were very rich and splendid; if the\neldest son died, the next one would be heir; so, though he was a member\nof such a great family, there was little chance that Captain Cedric\nwould be very rich himself.\n\nBut it so happened that Nature had given to the youngest son gifts which\nshe had not bestowed upon his elder brothers. He had a beautiful face\nand a fine, strong, graceful figure; he had a bright smile and a sweet,\ngay voice; he was brave and generous, and had the kindest heart in the\nworld, and seemed to have the power to make every one love him. And it\nwas not so with his elder brothers; neither of them was handsome,\nor very kind, or clever. When they were boys at Eton, they were not\npopular; when they were at college, they cared nothing for study, and\nwasted both time and money, and made few real friends. The old Earl,\ntheir father, was constantly disappointed and humiliated by them; his\nheir was no honor to his noble name, and did not promise to end in being\nanything but a selfish, wasteful, insignificant man, with no manly or\nnoble qualities. It was very bitter, the old Earl thought, that the son\nwho was only third, and would have only a very small fortune, should be\nthe one who had all the gifts, and all the charms, and all the strength\nand beauty. Sometimes he almost hated the handsome young man because he\nseemed to have the good things which should have gone with the stately\ntitle and the magnificent estates; and yet, in the depths of his proud,\nstubborn old heart, he could not help caring very much for his youngest\nson. It was in one of his fits of petulance that he sent him off to\ntravel in America; he thought he would send him away for a while, so\nthat he should not be made angry by constantly contrasting him with his\nbrothers, who were at that time giving him a great deal of trouble by\ntheir wild ways.\n\nBut, after about six months, he began to feel lonely, and longed in\nsecret to see his son again, so he wrote to Captain Cedric and ordered\nhim home. The letter he wrote crossed on its way a letter the Captain\nhad just written to his father, telling of his love for the pretty\nAmerican girl, and of his intended marriage; and when the Earl received\nthat letter he was furiously angry. Bad as his temper was, he had\nnever given way to it in his life as he gave way to it when he read the\nCaptain's letter. His valet, who was in the room when it came, thought\nhis lordship would have a fit of apoplexy, he was so wild with anger.\nFor an hour he raged like a tiger, and then he sat down and wrote to his\nson, and ordered him never to come near his old home, nor to write to\nhis father or brothers again. He told him he might live as he pleased,\nand die where he pleased, that he should be cut off from his family\nforever, and that he need never expect help from his father as long as\nhe lived.\n\nThe Captain was very sad when he read the letter; he was very fond of\nEngland, and he dearly loved the beautiful home where he had been born;\nhe had even loved his ill-tempered old father, and had sympathized with\nhim in his disappointments; but he knew he need expect no kindness from\nhim in the future. At first he scarcely knew what to do; he had not been\nbrought up to work, and had no business experience, but he had courage\nand plenty of determination. So he sold his commission in the English\narmy, and after some trouble found a situation in New York, and married.\nThe change from his old life in England was very great, but he was young\nand happy, and he hoped that hard work would do great things for him in\nthe future. He had a small house on a quiet street, and his little boy\nwas born there, and everything was so gay and cheerful, in a simple way,\nthat he was never sorry for a moment that he had married the rich old\nlady's pretty companion just because she was so sweet and he loved her\nand she loved him. She was very sweet, indeed, and her little boy was\nlike both her and his father. Though he was born in so quiet and cheap a\nlittle home, it seemed as if there never had been a more fortunate baby.\nIn the first place, he was always well, and so he never gave any one\ntrouble; in the second place, he had so sweet a temper and ways so\ncharming that he was a pleasure to every one; and in the third place,\nhe was so beautiful to look at that he was quite a picture. Instead of\nbeing a bald-headed baby, he started in life with a quantity of soft,\nfine, gold-colored hair, which curled up at the ends, and went into\nloose rings by the time he was six months old; he had big brown eyes and\nlong eyelashes and a darling little face; he had so strong a back and\nsuch splendid sturdy legs, that at nine months he learned suddenly to\nwalk; his manners were so good, for a baby, that it was delightful to\nmake his acquaintance. He seemed to feel that every one was his friend,\nand when any one spoke to him, when he was in his carriage in the\nstreet, he would give the stranger one sweet, serious look with the\nbrown eyes, and then follow it with a lovely, friendly smile; and the\nconsequence was, that there was not a person in the neighborhood of the\nquiet street where he lived--even to the groceryman at the corner, who\nwas considered the crossest creature alive--who was not pleased to see\nhim and speak to him. And every month of his life he grew handsomer and\nmore interesting.\n\nWhen he was old enough to walk out with his nurse, dragging a small\nwagon and wearing a short white kilt skirt, and a big white hat set back\non his curly yellow hair, he was so handsome and strong and rosy that he\nattracted every one's attention, and his nurse would come home and tell\nhis mamma stories of the ladies who had stopped their carriages to look\nat and speak to him, and of how pleased they were when he talked to them\nin his cheerful little way, as if he had known them always. His greatest\ncharm was this cheerful, fearless, quaint little way of making friends\nwith people. I think it arose from his having a very confiding nature,\nand a kind little heart that sympathized with every one, and wished to\nmake every one as comfortable as he liked to be himself. It made him\nvery quick to understand the feelings of those about him. Perhaps this\nhad grown on him, too, because he had lived so much with his father and\nmother, who were always loving and considerate and tender and well-bred.\nHe had never heard an unkind or uncourteous word spoken at home; he had\nalways been loved and caressed and treated tenderly, and so his childish\nsoul was full of kindness and innocent warm feeling. He had always heard\nhis mamma called by pretty, loving names, and so he used them himself\nwhen he spoke to her; he had always seen that his papa watched over her\nand took great care of her, and so he learned, too, to be careful of\nher.\n\nSo when he knew his papa would come back no more, and saw how very\nsad his mamma was, there gradually came into his kind little heart the\nthought that he must do what he could to make her happy. He was not much\nmore than a baby, but that thought was in his mind whenever he climbed\nupon her knee and kissed her and put his curly head on her neck, and\nwhen he brought his toys and picture-books to show her, and when he\ncurled up quietly by her side as she used to lie on the sofa. He was not\nold enough to know of anything else to do, so he did what he could, and\nwas more of a comfort to her than he could have understood.\n\n\"Oh, Mary!\" he heard her say once to her old servant; \"I am sure he\nis trying to help me in his innocent way--I know he is. He looks at me\nsometimes with a loving, wondering little look, as if he were sorry for\nme, and then he will come and pet me or show me something. He is such a\nlittle man, I really think he knows.\"\n\nAs he grew older, he had a great many quaint little ways which amused\nand interested people greatly. He was so much of a companion for his\nmother that she scarcely cared for any other. They used to walk together\nand talk together and play together. When he was quite a little fellow,\nhe learned to read; and after that he used to lie on the hearth-rug, in\nthe evening, and read aloud--sometimes stories, and sometimes big books\nsuch as older people read, and sometimes even the newspaper; and often\nat such times Mary, in the kitchen, would hear Mrs. Errol laughing with\ndelight at the quaint things he said.\n\n\"And, indade,\" said Mary to the groceryman, \"nobody cud help laughin' at\nthe quare little ways of him--and his ould-fashioned sayin's! Didn't\nhe come into my kitchen the noight the new Prisident was nominated and\nshtand afore the fire, lookin' loike a pictur', wid his hands in his\nshmall pockets, an' his innocent bit of a face as sayrious as a jedge?\nAn' sez he to me: 'Mary,' sez he, 'I'm very much int'rusted in the\n'lection,' sez he. 'I'm a 'publican, an' so is Dearest. Are you a\n'publican, Mary?' 'Sorra a bit,' sez I; 'I'm the bist o' dimmycrats!'\nAn' he looks up at me wid a look that ud go to yer heart, an' sez he:\n'Mary,' sez he, 'the country will go to ruin.' An' nivver a day since\nthin has he let go by widout argyin' wid me to change me polytics.\"\n\nMary was very fond of him, and very proud of him, too. She had been with\nhis mother ever since he was born; and, after his father's death, had\nbeen cook and housemaid and nurse and everything else. She was proud of\nhis graceful, strong little body and his pretty manners, and especially\nproud of the bright curly hair which waved over his forehead and fell in\ncharming love-locks on his shoulders. She was willing to work early and\nlate to help his mamma make his small suits and keep them in order.\n\n\"'Ristycratic, is it?\" she would say. \"Faith, an' I'd loike to see the\nchoild on Fifth Avey-NOO as looks loike him an' shteps out as handsome\nas himself. An' ivvery man, woman, and choild lookin' afther him in his\nbit of a black velvet skirt made out of the misthress's ould gownd; an'\nhis little head up, an' his curly hair flyin' an' shinin'. It's loike a\nyoung lord he looks.\"\n\nCedric did not know that he looked like a young lord; he did not\nknow what a lord was. His greatest friend was the groceryman at the\ncorner--the cross groceryman, who was never cross to him. His name was\nMr. Hobbs, and Cedric admired and respected him very much. He thought\nhim a very rich and powerful person, he had so many things in his\nstore,--prunes and figs and oranges and biscuits,--and he had a\nhorse and wagon. Cedric was fond of the milkman and the baker and the\napple-woman, but he liked Mr. Hobbs best of all, and was on terms of\nsuch intimacy with him that he went to see him every day, and often sat\nwith him quite a long time, discussing the topics of the hour. It was\nquite surprising how many things they found to talk about--the Fourth\nof July, for instance. When they began to talk about the Fourth of July\nthere really seemed no end to it. Mr. Hobbs had a very bad opinion of\n\"the British,\" and he told the whole story of the Revolution, relating\nvery wonderful and patriotic stories about the villainy of the enemy and\nthe bravery of the Revolutionary heroes, and he even generously repeated\npart of the Declaration of Independence.\n\nCedric was so excited that his eyes shone and his cheeks were red and\nhis curls were all rubbed and tumbled into a yellow mop. He could hardly\nwait to eat his dinner after he went home, he was so anxious to tell\nhis mamma. It was, perhaps, Mr. Hobbs who gave him his first interest\nin politics. Mr. Hobbs was fond of reading the newspapers, and so Cedric\nheard a great deal about what was going on in Washington; and Mr. Hobbs\nwould tell him whether the President was doing his duty or not. And\nonce, when there was an election, he found it all quite grand, and\nprobably but for Mr. Hobbs and Cedric the country might have been\nwrecked.\n\nMr. Hobbs took him to see a great torchlight procession, and many of the\nmen who carried torches remembered afterward a stout man who stood near\na lamp-post and held on his shoulder a handsome little shouting boy, who\nwaved his cap in the air.\n\nIt was not long after this election, when Cedric was between seven and\neight years old, that the very strange thing happened which made so\nwonderful a change in his life. It was quite curious, too, that the\nday it happened he had been talking to Mr. Hobbs about England and\nthe Queen, and Mr. Hobbs had said some very severe things about the\naristocracy, being specially indignant against earls and marquises. It\nhad been a hot morning; and after playing soldiers with some friends\nof his, Cedric had gone into the store to rest, and had found Mr. Hobbs\nlooking very fierce over a piece of the Illustrated London News, which\ncontained a picture of some court ceremony.\n\n\"Ah,\" he said, \"that's the way they go on now; but they'll get enough\nof it some day, when those they've trod on rise and blow 'em up\nsky-high,--earls and marquises and all! It's coming, and they may look\nout for it!\"\n\nCedric had perched himself as usual on the high stool and pushed his\nhat back, and put his hands in his pockets in delicate compliment to Mr.\nHobbs.\n\n\"Did you ever know many marquises, Mr. Hobbs?\" Cedric inquired,--\"or\nearls?\"\n\n\"No,\" answered Mr. Hobbs, with indignation; \"I guess not. I'd like to\ncatch one of 'em inside here; that's all! I'll have no grasping tyrants\nsittin' 'round on my cracker-barrels!\"\n\nAnd he was so proud of the sentiment that he looked around proudly and\nmopped his forehead.\n\n\"Perhaps they wouldn't be earls if they knew any better,\" said Cedric,\nfeeling some vague sympathy for their unhappy condition.\n\n\"Wouldn't they!\" said Mr. Hobbs. \"They just glory in it! It's in 'em.\nThey're a bad lot.\"\n\nThey were in the midst of their conversation, when Mary appeared.\n\nCedric thought she had come to buy some sugar, perhaps, but she had not.\nShe looked almost pale and as if she were excited about something.\n\n\"Come home, darlint,\" she said; \"the misthress is wantin' yez.\"\n\nCedric slipped down from his stool.\n\n\"Does she want me to go out with her, Mary?\" he asked. \"Good-morning,\nMr. Hobbs. I'll see you again.\"\n\nHe was surprised to see Mary staring at him in a dumfounded fashion, and\nhe wondered why she kept shaking her head.\n\n\"What's the matter, Mary?\" he said. \"Is it the hot weather?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Mary; \"but there's strange things happenin' to us.\"\n\n\"Has the sun given Dearest a headache?\" he inquired anxiously.\n\nBut it was not that. When he reached his own house there was a coupe\nstanding before the door and some one was in the little parlor talking\nto his mamma. Mary hurried him upstairs and put on his best summer\nsuit of cream-colored flannel, with the red scarf around his waist, and\ncombed out his curly locks.\n\n\"Lords, is it?\" he heard her say. \"An' the nobility an' gintry. Och! bad\ncess to them! Lords, indade--worse luck.\"\n\nIt was really very puzzling, but he felt sure his mamma would tell him\nwhat all the excitement meant, so he allowed Mary to bemoan herself\nwithout asking many questions. When he was dressed, he ran downstairs\nand went into the parlor. A tall, thin old gentleman with a sharp face\nwas sitting in an arm-chair. His mother was standing near by with a pale\nface, and he saw that there were tears in her eyes.\n\n\"Oh! Ceddie!\" she cried out, and ran to her little boy and caught him\nin her arms and kissed him in a frightened, troubled way. \"Oh! Ceddie,\ndarling!\"\n\nThe tall old gentleman rose from his chair and looked at Cedric with his\nsharp eyes. He rubbed his thin chin with his bony hand as he looked.\n\nHe seemed not at all displeased.\n\n\"And so,\" he said at last, slowly,--\"and so this is little Lord\nFauntleroy.\"\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nThere was never a more amazed little boy than Cedric during the week\nthat followed; there was never so strange or so unreal a week. In the\nfirst place, the story his mamma told him was a very curious one. He was\nobliged to hear it two or three times before he could understand it. He\ncould not imagine what Mr. Hobbs would think of it. It began with earls:\nhis grandpapa, whom he had never seen, was an earl; and his eldest\nuncle, if he had not been killed by a fall from his horse, would have\nbeen an earl, too, in time; and after his death, his other uncle would\nhave been an earl, if he had not died suddenly, in Rome, of a fever.\nAfter that, his own papa, if he had lived, would have been an earl, but,\nsince they all had died and only Cedric was left, it appeared that HE\nwas to be an earl after his grandpapa's death--and for the present he\nwas Lord Fauntleroy.\n\nHe turned quite pale when he was first told of it.\n\n\"Oh! Dearest!\" he said, \"I should rather not be an earl. None of the\nboys are earls. Can't I NOT be one?\"\n\nBut it seemed to be unavoidable. And when, that evening, they sat\ntogether by the open window looking out into the shabby street, he\nand his mother had a long talk about it. Cedric sat on his footstool,\nclasping one knee in his favorite attitude and wearing a bewildered\nlittle face rather red from the exertion of thinking. His grandfather\nhad sent for him to come to England, and his mamma thought he must go.\n\n\"Because,\" she said, looking out of the window with sorrowful eyes, \"I\nknow your papa would wish it to be so, Ceddie. He loved his home very\nmuch; and there are many things to be thought of that a little boy can't\nquite understand. I should be a selfish little mother if I did not send\nyou. When you are a man, you will see why.\"\n\nCeddie shook his head mournfully.\n\n\"I shall be very sorry to leave Mr. Hobbs,\" he said. \"I'm afraid he'll\nmiss me, and I shall miss him. And I shall miss them all.\"\n\nWhen Mr. Havisham--who was the family lawyer of the Earl of Dorincourt,\nand who had been sent by him to bring Lord Fauntleroy to England--came\nthe next day, Cedric heard many things. But, somehow, it did not console\nhim to hear that he was to be a very rich man when he grew up, and that\nhe would have castles here and castles there, and great parks and deep\nmines and grand estates and tenantry. He was troubled about his friend,\nMr. Hobbs, and he went to see him at the store soon after breakfast, in\ngreat anxiety of mind.\n\nHe found him reading the morning paper, and he approached him with a\ngrave demeanor. He really felt it would be a great shock to Mr. Hobbs\nto hear what had befallen him, and on his way to the store he had been\nthinking how it would be best to break the news.\n\n\"Hello!\" said Mr. Hobbs. \"Mornin'!\"\n\n\"Good-morning,\" said Cedric.\n\nHe did not climb up on the high stool as usual, but sat down on a\ncracker-box and clasped his knee, and was so silent for a few moments\nthat Mr. Hobbs finally looked up inquiringly over the top of his\nnewspaper.\n\n\"Hello!\" he said again.\n\nCedric gathered all his strength of mind together.\n\n\"Mr. Hobbs,\" he said, \"do you remember what we were talking about\nyesterday morning?\"\n\n\"Well,\" replied Mr. Hobbs,--\"seems to me it was England.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Cedric; \"but just when Mary came for me, you know?\"\n\nMr. Hobbs rubbed the back of his head.\n\n\"We WAS mentioning Queen Victoria and the aristocracy.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Cedric, rather hesitatingly, \"and--and earls; don't you\nknow?\"\n\n\"Why, yes,\" returned Mr. Hobbs; \"we DID touch 'em up a little; that's\nso!\"\n\nCedric flushed up to the curly bang on his forehead. Nothing so\nembarrassing as this had ever happened to him in his life. He was a\nlittle afraid that it might be a trifle embarrassing to Mr. Hobbs, too.\n\n\"You said,\" he proceeded, \"that you wouldn't have them sitting 'round on\nyour cracker-barrels.\"\n\n\"So I did!\" returned Mr. Hobbs, stoutly. \"And I meant it. Let 'em try\nit--that's all!\"\n\n\"Mr. Hobbs,\" said Cedric, \"one is sitting on this box now!\"\n\nMr. Hobbs almost jumped out of his chair.\n\n\"What!\" he exclaimed.\n\n\"Yes,\" Cedric announced, with due modesty; \"_I_ am one--or I am going to\nbe. I won't deceive you.\"\n\nMr. Hobbs looked agitated. He rose up suddenly and went to look at the\nthermometer.\n\n\"The mercury's got into your head!\" he exclaimed, turning back to\nexamine his young friend's countenance. \"It IS a hot day! How do you\nfeel? Got any pain? When did you begin to feel that way?\"\n\nHe put his big hand on the little boy's hair. This was more embarrassing\nthan ever.\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Ceddie; \"I'm all right. There is nothing the matter\nwith my head. I'm sorry to say it's true, Mr. Hobbs. That was what Mary\ncame to take me home for. Mr. Havisham was telling my mamma, and he is a\nlawyer.\"\n\nMr. Hobbs sank into his chair and mopped his forehead with his\nhandkerchief.\n\n\"ONE of us has got a sunstroke!\" he exclaimed.\n\n\"No,\" returned Cedric, \"we haven't. We shall have to make the best of\nit, Mr. Hobbs. Mr. Havisham came all the way from England to tell us\nabout it. My grandpapa sent him.\"\n\nMr. Hobbs stared wildly at the innocent, serious little face before him.\n\n\"Who is your grandfather?\" he asked.\n\nCedric put his hand in his pocket and carefully drew out a piece of\npaper, on which something was written in his own round, irregular hand.\n\n\"I couldn't easily remember it, so I wrote it down on this,\" he\nsaid. And he read aloud slowly: \"'John Arthur Molyneux Errol, Earl of\nDorincourt.' That is his name, and he lives in a castle--in two or three\ncastles, I think. And my papa, who died, was his youngest son; and I\nshouldn't have been a lord or an earl if my papa hadn't died; and my\npapa wouldn't have been an earl if his two brothers hadn't died. But\nthey all died, and there is no one but me,--no boy,--and so I have to be\none; and my grandpapa has sent for me to come to England.\"\n\nMr. Hobbs seemed to grow hotter and hotter. He mopped his forehead and\nhis bald spot and breathed hard. He began to see that something very\nremarkable had happened; but when he looked at the little boy sitting on\nthe cracker-box, with the innocent, anxious expression in his childish\neyes, and saw that he was not changed at all, but was simply as he had\nbeen the day before, just a handsome, cheerful, brave little fellow in\na blue suit and red neck-ribbon, all this information about the nobility\nbewildered him. He was all the more bewildered because Cedric gave it\nwith such ingenuous simplicity, and plainly without realizing himself\nhow stupendous it was.\n\n\"Wha--what did you say your name was?\" Mr. Hobbs inquired.\n\n\"It's Cedric Errol, Lord Fauntleroy,\" answered Cedric. \"That was what\nMr. Havisham called me. He said when I went into the room: 'And so this\nis little Lord Fauntleroy!'\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Mr. Hobbs, \"I'll be--jiggered!\"\n\nThis was an exclamation he always used when he was very much astonished\nor excited. He could think of nothing else to say just at that puzzling\nmoment.\n\nCedric felt it to be quite a proper and suitable ejaculation. His\nrespect and affection for Mr. Hobbs were so great that he admired and\napproved of all his remarks. He had not seen enough of society as yet to\nmake him realize that sometimes Mr. Hobbs was not quite conventional.\nHe knew, of course, that he was different from his mamma, but, then, his\nmamma was a lady, and he had an idea that ladies were always different\nfrom gentlemen.\n\nHe looked at Mr. Hobbs wistfully.\n\n\"England is a long way off, isn't it?\" he asked.\n\n\"It's across the Atlantic Ocean,\" Mr. Hobbs answered.\n\n\"That's the worst of it,\" said Cedric. \"Perhaps I shall not see you\nagain for a long time. I don't like to think of that, Mr. Hobbs.\"\n\n\"The best of friends must part,\" said Mr. Hobbs.\n\n\"Well,\" said Cedric, \"we have been friends for a great many years,\nhaven't we?\"\n\n\"Ever since you was born,\" Mr. Hobbs answered. \"You was about six weeks\nold when you was first walked out on this street.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" remarked Cedric, with a sigh, \"I never thought I should have to be\nan earl then!\"\n\n\"You think,\" said Mr. Hobbs, \"there's no getting out of it?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid not,\" answered Cedric. \"My mamma says that my papa would\nwish me to do it. But if I have to be an earl, there's one thing I can\ndo: I can try to be a good one. I'm not going to be a tyrant. And if\nthere is ever to be another war with America, I shall try to stop it.\"\n\nHis conversation with Mr. Hobbs was a long and serious one. Once having\ngot over the first shock, Mr. Hobbs was not so rancorous as might have\nbeen expected; he endeavored to resign himself to the situation, and\nbefore the interview was at an end he had asked a great many questions.\nAs Cedric could answer but few of them, he endeavored to answer\nthem himself, and, being fairly launched on the subject of earls and\nmarquises and lordly estates, explained many things in a way which would\nprobably have astonished Mr. Havisham, could that gentleman have heard\nit.\n\nBut then there were many things which astonished Mr. Havisham. He had\nspent all his life in England, and was not accustomed to American people\nand American habits. He had been connected professionally with the\nfamily of the Earl of Dorincourt for nearly forty years, and he knew all\nabout its grand estates and its great wealth and importance; and, in a\ncold, business-like way, he felt an interest in this little boy, who, in\nthe future, was to be the master and owner of them all,--the future Earl\nof Dorincourt. He had known all about the old Earl's disappointment\nin his elder sons and all about his fierce rage at Captain Cedric's\nAmerican marriage, and he knew how he still hated the gentle little\nwidow and would not speak of her except with bitter and cruel words. He\ninsisted that she was only a common American girl, who had entrapped\nhis son into marrying her because she knew he was an earl's son. The\nold lawyer himself had more than half believed this was all true. He had\nseen a great many selfish, mercenary people in his life, and he had\nnot a good opinion of Americans. When he had been driven into the cheap\nstreet, and his coupe had stopped before the cheap, small house, he had\nfelt actually shocked. It seemed really quite dreadful to think that the\nfuture owner of Dorincourt Castle and Wyndham Towers and Chorlworth, and\nall the other stately splendors, should have been born and brought up in\nan insignificant house in a street with a sort of green-grocery at the\ncorner. He wondered what kind of a child he would be, and what kind of a\nmother he had. He rather shrank from seeing them both. He had a sort of\npride in the noble family whose legal affairs he had conducted so long,\nand it would have annoyed him very much to have found himself obliged to\nmanage a woman who would seem to him a vulgar, money-loving person, with\nno respect for her dead husband's country and the dignity of his name.\nIt was a very old name and a very splendid one, and Mr. Havisham had\na great respect for it himself, though he was only a cold, keen,\nbusiness-like old lawyer.\n\nWhen Mary handed him into the small parlor, he looked around it\ncritically. It was plainly furnished, but it had a home-like look; there\nwere no cheap, common ornaments, and no cheap, gaudy pictures; the few\nadornments on the walls were in good taste and about the room were many\npretty things which a woman's hand might have made.\n\n\"Not at all bad so far,\" he had said to himself; \"but perhaps the\nCaptain's taste predominated.\" But when Mrs. Errol came into the room,\nhe began to think she herself might have had something to do with it. If\nhe had not been quite a self-contained and stiff old gentleman, he would\nprobably have started when he saw her. She looked, in the simple black\ndress, fitting closely to her slender figure, more like a young girl\nthan the mother of a boy of seven. She had a pretty, sorrowful, young\nface, and a very tender, innocent look in her large brown eyes,--the\nsorrowful look that had never quite left her face since her husband had\ndied. Cedric was used to seeing it there; the only times he had ever\nseen it fade out had been when he was playing with her or talking to\nher, and had said some old-fashioned thing, or used some long word he\nhad picked up out of the newspapers or in his conversations with Mr.\nHobbs. He was fond of using long words, and he was always pleased\nwhen they made her laugh, though he could not understand why they\nwere laughable; they were quite serious matters with him. The lawyer's\nexperience taught him to read people's characters very shrewdly, and\nas soon as he saw Cedric's mother he knew that the old Earl had made a\ngreat mistake in thinking her a vulgar, mercenary woman. Mr. Havisham\nhad never been married, he had never even been in love, but he divined\nthat this pretty young creature with the sweet voice and sad eyes\nhad married Captain Errol only because she loved him with all her\naffectionate heart, and that she had never once thought it an advantage\nthat he was an earl's son. And he saw he should have no trouble with\nher, and he began to feel that perhaps little Lord Fauntleroy might not\nbe such a trial to his noble family, after all. The Captain had been a\nhandsome fellow, and the young mother was very pretty, and perhaps the\nboy might be well enough to look at.\n\nWhen he first told Mrs. Errol what he had come for, she turned very\npale.\n\n\"Oh!\" she said; \"will he have to be taken away from me? We love each\nother so much! He is such a happiness to me! He is all I have. I have\ntried to be a good mother to him.\" And her sweet young voice trembled,\nand the tears rushed into her eyes. \"You do not know what he has been to\nme!\" she said.\n\nThe lawyer cleared his throat.\n\n\"I am obliged to tell you,\" he said, \"that the Earl of Dorincourt\nis not--is not very friendly toward you. He is an old man, and his\nprejudices are very strong. He has always especially disliked America\nand Americans, and was very much enraged by his son's marriage. I am\nsorry to be the bearer of so unpleasant a communication, but he is\nvery fixed in his determination not to see you. His plan is that Lord\nFauntleroy shall be educated under his own supervision; that he shall\nlive with him. The Earl is attached to Dorincourt Castle, and spends a\ngreat deal of time there. He is a victim to inflammatory gout, and is\nnot fond of London. Lord Fauntleroy will, therefore, be likely to live\nchiefly at Dorincourt. The Earl offers you as a home Court Lodge, which\nis situated pleasantly, and is not very far from the castle. He also\noffers you a suitable income. Lord Fauntleroy will be permitted to visit\nyou; the only stipulation is, that you shall not visit him or enter the\npark gates. You see you will not be really separated from your son, and\nI assure you, madam, the terms are not so harsh as--as they might\nhave been. The advantage of such surroundings and education as Lord\nFauntleroy will have, I am sure you must see, will be very great.\"\n\nHe felt a little uneasy lest she should begin to cry or make a scene,\nas he knew some women would have done. It embarrassed and annoyed him to\nsee women cry.\n\nBut she did not. She went to the window and stood with her face turned\naway for a few moments, and he saw she was trying to steady herself.\n\n\"Captain Errol was very fond of Dorincourt,\" she said at last. \"He loved\nEngland, and everything English. It was always a grief to him that he\nwas parted from his home. He was proud of his home, and of his name. He\nwould wish--I know he would wish that his son should know the beautiful\nold places, and be brought up in such a way as would be suitable to his\nfuture position.\"\n\nThen she came back to the table and stood looking up at Mr. Havisham\nvery gently.\n\n\"My husband would wish it,\" she said. \"It will be best for my little\nboy. I know--I am sure the Earl would not be so unkind as to try to\nteach him not to love me; and I know--even if he tried--that my little\nboy is too much like his father to be harmed. He has a warm, faithful\nnature, and a true heart. He would love me even if he did not see me;\nand so long as we may see each other, I ought not to suffer very much.\"\n\n\"She thinks very little of herself,\" the lawyer thought. \"She does not\nmake any terms for herself.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" he said aloud, \"I respect your consideration for your son. He\nwill thank you for it when he is a man. I assure you Lord Fauntleroy\nwill be most carefully guarded, and every effort will be used to insure\nhis happiness. The Earl of Dorincourt will be as anxious for his comfort\nand well-being as you yourself could be.\"\n\n\"I hope,\" said the tender little mother, in a rather broken voice, \"that\nhis grandfather will love Ceddie. The little boy has a very affectionate\nnature; and he has always been loved.\"\n\nMr. Havisham cleared his throat again. He could not quite imagine the\ngouty, fiery-tempered old Earl loving any one very much; but he knew it\nwould be to his interest to be kind, in his irritable way, to the child\nwho was to be his heir. He knew, too, that if Ceddie were at all a\ncredit to his name, his grandfather would be proud of him.\n\n\"Lord Fauntleroy will be comfortable, I am sure,\" he replied. \"It was\nwith a view to his happiness that the Earl desired that you should be\nnear enough to him to see him frequently.\"\n\nHe did not think it would be discreet to repeat the exact words the Earl\nhad used, which were in fact neither polite nor amiable.\n\nMr. Havisham preferred to express his noble patron's offer in smoother\nand more courteous language.\n\nHe had another slight shock when Mrs. Errol asked Mary to find her\nlittle boy and bring him to her, and Mary told her where he was.\n\n\"Sure I'll foind him aisy enough, ma'am,\" she said; \"for it's wid Mr.\nHobbs he is this minnit, settin' on his high shtool by the counther an'\ntalkin' pollytics, most loikely, or enj'yin' hisself among the soap an'\ncandles an' pertaties, as sinsible an' shwate as ye plase.\"\n\n\"Mr. Hobbs has known him all his life,\" Mrs. Errol said to the lawyer.\n\"He is very kind to Ceddie, and there is a great friendship between\nthem.\"\n\nRemembering the glimpse he had caught of the store as he passed it,\nand having a recollection of the barrels of potatoes and apples and\nthe various odds and ends, Mr. Havisham felt his doubts arise again.\nIn England, gentlemen's sons did not make friends of grocerymen, and it\nseemed to him a rather singular proceeding. It would be very awkward if\nthe child had bad manners and a disposition to like low company. One of\nthe bitterest humiliations of the old Earl's life had been that his two\nelder sons had been fond of low company. Could it be, he thought,\nthat this boy shared their bad qualities instead of his father's good\nqualities?\n\nHe was thinking uneasily about this as he talked to Mrs. Errol until the\nchild came into the room. When the door opened, he actually hesitated\na moment before looking at Cedric. It would, perhaps, have seemed very\nqueer to a great many people who knew him, if they could have known the\ncurious sensations that passed through Mr. Havisham when he looked down\nat the boy, who ran into his mother's arms. He experienced a revulsion\nof feeling which was quite exciting. He recognized in an instant that\nhere was one of the finest and handsomest little fellows he had ever\nseen.\n\nHis beauty was something unusual. He had a strong, lithe, graceful\nlittle body and a manly little face; he held his childish head up, and\ncarried himself with a brave air; he was so like his father that it was\nreally startling; he had his father's golden hair and his mother's\nbrown eyes, but there was nothing sorrowful or timid in them. They were\ninnocently fearless eyes; he looked as if he had never feared or doubted\nanything in his life.\n\n\"He is the best-bred-looking and handsomest little fellow I ever saw,\"\nwas what Mr. Havisham thought. What he said aloud was simply, \"And so\nthis is little Lord Fauntleroy.\"\n\nAnd, after this, the more he saw of little Lord Fauntleroy, the more of\na surprise he found him. He knew very little about children, though he\nhad seen plenty of them in England--fine, handsome, rosy girls and boys,\nwho were strictly taken care of by their tutors and governesses, and who\nwere sometimes shy, and sometimes a trifle boisterous, but never very\ninteresting to a ceremonious, rigid old lawyer. Perhaps his personal\ninterest in little Lord Fauntleroy's fortunes made him notice Ceddie\nmore than he had noticed other children; but, however that was, he\ncertainly found himself noticing him a great deal.\n\nCedric did not know he was being observed, and he only behaved himself\nin his ordinary manner. He shook hands with Mr. Havisham in his friendly\nway when they were introduced to each other, and he answered all his\nquestions with the unhesitating readiness with which he answered Mr.\nHobbs. He was neither shy nor bold, and when Mr. Havisham was talking to\nhis mother, the lawyer noticed that he listened to the conversation with\nas much interest as if he had been quite grown up.\n\n\"He seems to be a very mature little fellow,\" Mr. Havisham said to the\nmother.\n\n\"I think he is, in some things,\" she answered. \"He has always been very\nquick to learn, and he has lived a great deal with grownup people. He\nhas a funny little habit of using long words and expressions he has read\nin books, or has heard others use, but he is very fond of childish\nplay. I think he is rather clever, but he is a very boyish little boy,\nsometimes.\"\n\nThe next time Mr. Havisham met him, he saw that this last was quite\ntrue. As his coupe turned the corner, he caught sight of a group of\nsmall boys, who were evidently much excited. Two of them were about to\nrun a race, and one of them was his young lordship, and he was shouting\nand making as much noise as the noisiest of his companions. He stood\nside by side with another boy, one little red leg advanced a step.\n\n\"One, to make ready!\" yelled the starter. \"Two, to be steady. Three--and\naway!\"\n\nMr. Havisham found himself leaning out of the window of his coupe with\na curious feeling of interest. He really never remembered having seen\nanything quite like the way in which his lordship's lordly little red\nlegs flew up behind his knickerbockers and tore over the ground as he\nshot out in the race at the signal word. He shut his small hands and set\nhis face against the wind; his bright hair streamed out behind.\n\n\"Hooray, Ced Errol!\" all the boys shouted, dancing and shrieking with\nexcitement. \"Hooray, Billy Williams! Hooray, Ceddie! Hooray, Billy!\nHooray! 'Ray! 'Ray!\"\n\n\"I really believe he is going to win,\" said Mr. Havisham. The way in\nwhich the red legs flew and flashed up and down, the shrieks of the\nboys, the wild efforts of Billy Williams, whose brown legs were not to\nbe despised, as they followed closely in the rear of the red legs, made\nhim feel some excitement. \"I really--I really can't help hoping he will\nwin!\" he said, with an apologetic sort of cough. At that moment, the\nwildest yell of all went up from the dancing, hopping boys. With\none last frantic leap the future Earl of Dorincourt had reached the\nlamp-post at the end of the block and touched it, just two seconds\nbefore Billy Williams flung himself at it, panting.\n\n\"Three cheers for Ceddie Errol!\" yelled the little boys. \"Hooray for\nCeddie Errol!\"\n\nMr. Havisham drew his head in at the window of his coupe and leaned back\nwith a dry smile.\n\n\"Bravo, Lord Fauntleroy!\" he said.\n\nAs his carriage stopped before the door of Mrs. Errol's house, the\nvictor and the vanquished were coming toward it, attended by the\nclamoring crew. Cedric walked by Billy Williams and was speaking to him.\nHis elated little face was very red, his curls clung to his hot, moist\nforehead, his hands were in his pockets.\n\n\"You see,\" he was saying, evidently with the intention of making defeat\neasy for his unsuccessful rival, \"I guess I won because my legs are a\nlittle longer than yours. I guess that was it. You see, I'm three days\nolder than you, and that gives me a 'vantage. I'm three days older.\"\n\nAnd this view of the case seemed to cheer Billy Williams so much that\nhe began to smile on the world again, and felt able to swagger a little,\nalmost as if he had won the race instead of losing it. Somehow, Ceddie\nErrol had a way of making people feel comfortable. Even in the first\nflush of his triumphs, he remembered that the person who was beaten\nmight not feel so gay as he did, and might like to think that he MIGHT\nhave been the winner under different circumstances.\n\nThat morning Mr. Havisham had quite a long conversation with the winner\nof the race--a conversation which made him smile his dry smile, and rub\nhis chin with his bony hand several times.\n\nMrs. Errol had been called out of the parlor, and the lawyer and Cedric\nwere left together. At first Mr. Havisham wondered what he should say to\nhis small companion. He had an idea that perhaps it would be best to say\nseveral things which might prepare Cedric for meeting his grandfather,\nand, perhaps, for the great change that was to come to him. He could see\nthat Cedric had not the least idea of the sort of thing he was to see\nwhen he reached England, or of the sort of home that waited for him\nthere. He did not even know yet that his mother was not to live in the\nsame house with him. They had thought it best to let him get over the\nfirst shock before telling him.\n\nMr. Havisham sat in an arm-chair on one side of the open window; on the\nother side was another still larger chair, and Cedric sat in that and\nlooked at Mr. Havisham. He sat well back in the depths of his big seat,\nhis curly head against the cushioned back, his legs crossed, and his\nhands thrust deep into his pockets, in a quite Mr. Hobbs-like way. He\nhad been watching Mr. Havisham very steadily when his mamma had been in\nthe room, and after she was gone he still looked at him in respectful\nthoughtfulness. There was a short silence after Mrs. Errol went out,\nand Cedric seemed to be studying Mr. Havisham, and Mr. Havisham was\ncertainly studying Cedric. He could not make up his mind as to what an\nelderly gentleman should say to a little boy who won races, and wore\nshort knickerbockers and red stockings on legs which were not long\nenough to hang over a big chair when he sat well back in it.\n\nBut Cedric relieved him by suddenly beginning the conversation himself.\n\n\"Do you know,\" he said, \"I don't know what an earl is?\"\n\n\"Don't you?\" said Mr. Havisham.\n\n\"No,\" replied Ceddie. \"And I think when a boy is going to be one, he\nought to know. Don't you?\"\n\n\"Well--yes,\" answered Mr. Havisham.\n\n\"Would you mind,\" said Ceddie respectfully--\"would you mind 'splaining\nit to me?\" (Sometimes when he used his long words he did not pronounce\nthem quite correctly.) \"What made him an earl?\"\n\n\"A king or queen, in the first place,\" said Mr. Havisham. \"Generally,\nhe is made an earl because he has done some service to his sovereign, or\nsome great deed.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Cedric; \"that's like the President.\"\n\n\"Is it?\" said Mr. Havisham. \"Is that why your presidents are elected?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Ceddie cheerfully. \"When a man is very good and knows a\ngreat deal, he is elected president. They have torch-light processions\nand bands, and everybody makes speeches. I used to think I might perhaps\nbe a president, but I never thought of being an earl. I didn't know\nabout earls,\" he said, rather hastily, lest Mr. Havisham might feel it\nimpolite in him not to have wished to be one,--\"if I'd known about them,\nI dare say I should have thought I should like to be one.\"\n\n\"It is rather different from being a president,\" said Mr. Havisham.\n\n\"Is it?\" asked Cedric. \"How? Are there no torch-light processions?\"\n\nMr. Havisham crossed his own legs and put the tips of his fingers\ncarefully together. He thought perhaps the time had come to explain\nmatters rather more clearly.\n\n\"An earl is--is a very important person,\" he began.\n\n\"So is a president!\" put in Ceddie. \"The torch-light processions are\nfive miles long, and they shoot up rockets, and the band plays! Mr.\nHobbs took me to see them.\"\n\n\"An earl,\" Mr. Havisham went on, feeling rather uncertain of his ground,\n\"is frequently of very ancient lineage----\"\n\n\"What's that?\" asked Ceddie.\n\n\"Of very old family--extremely old.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said Cedric, thrusting his hands deeper into his pockets. \"I\nsuppose that is the way with the apple-woman near the park. I dare say\nshe is of ancient lin-lenage. She is so old it would surprise you how\nshe can stand up. She's a hundred, I should think, and yet she is out\nthere when it rains, even. I'm sorry for her, and so are the other boys.\nBilly Williams once had nearly a dollar, and I asked him to buy five\ncents' worth of apples from her every day until he had spent it all.\nThat made twenty days, and he grew tired of apples after a week; but\nthen--it was quite fortunate--a gentleman gave me fifty cents and I\nbought apples from her instead. You feel sorry for any one that's so\npoor and has such ancient lin-lenage. She says hers has gone into her\nbones and the rain makes it worse.\"\n\nMr. Havisham felt rather at a loss as he looked at his companion's\ninnocent, serious little face.\n\n\"I am afraid you did not quite understand me,\" he explained. \"When I\nsaid 'ancient lineage' I did not mean old age; I meant that the name\nof such a family has been known in the world a long time; perhaps for\nhundreds of years persons bearing that name have been known and spoken\nof in the history of their country.\"\n\n\"Like George Washington,\" said Ceddie. \"I've heard of him ever since I\nwas born, and he was known about, long before that. Mr. Hobbs says\nhe will never be forgotten. That's because of the Declaration of\nIndependence, you know, and the Fourth of July. You see, he was a very\nbrave man.\"\n\n\"The first Earl of Dorincourt,\" said Mr. Havisham solemnly, \"was created\nan earl four hundred years ago.\"\n\n\"Well, well!\" said Ceddie. \"That was a long time ago! Did you tell\nDearest that? It would int'rust her very much. We'll tell her when she\ncomes in. She always likes to hear cur'us things. What else does an earl\ndo besides being created?\"\n\n\"A great many of them have helped to govern England. Some of them have\nbeen brave men and have fought in great battles in the old days.\"\n\n\"I should like to do that myself,\" said Cedric. \"My papa was a soldier,\nand he was a very brave man--as brave as George Washington. Perhaps\nthat was because he would have been an earl if he hadn't died. I am glad\nearls are brave. That's a great 'vantage--to be a brave man. Once I used\nto be rather afraid of things--in the dark, you know; but when I thought\nabout the soldiers in the Revolution and George Washington--it cured\nme.\"\n\n\"There is another advantage in being an earl, sometimes,\" said Mr.\nHavisham slowly, and he fixed his shrewd eyes on the little boy with a\nrather curious expression. \"Some earls have a great deal of money.\"\n\nHe was curious because he wondered if his young friend knew what the\npower of money was.\n\n\"That's a good thing to have,\" said Ceddie innocently. \"I wish I had a\ngreat deal of money.\"\n\n\"Do you?\" said Mr. Havisham. \"And why?\"\n\n\"Well,\" explained Cedric, \"there are so many things a person can do with\nmoney. You see, there's the apple-woman. If I were very rich I should\nbuy her a little tent to put her stall in, and a little stove, and then\nI should give her a dollar every morning it rained, so that she could\nafford to stay at home. And then--oh! I'd give her a shawl. And, you\nsee, her bones wouldn't feel so badly. Her bones are not like our bones;\nthey hurt her when she moves. It's very painful when your bones hurt\nyou. If I were rich enough to do all those things for her, I guess her\nbones would be all right.\"\n\n\"Ahem!\" said Mr. Havisham. \"And what else would you do if you were\nrich?\"\n\n\"Oh! I'd do a great many things. Of course I should buy Dearest all\nsorts of beautiful things, needle-books and fans and gold thimbles and\nrings, and an encyclopedia, and a carriage, so that she needn't have to\nwait for the street-cars. If she liked pink silk dresses, I should buy\nher some, but she likes black best. But I'd, take her to the big stores,\nand tell her to look 'round and choose for herself. And then Dick----\"\n\n\"Who is Dick?\" asked Mr. Havisham.\n\n\"Dick is a boot-black,\" said his young lordship, quite warming up in\nhis interest in plans so exciting. \"He is one of the nicest boot-blacks\nyou ever knew. He stands at the corner of a street down-town. I've\nknown him for years. Once when I was very little, I was walking out\nwith Dearest, and she bought me a beautiful ball that bounced, and I\nwas carrying it and it bounced into the middle of the street where the\ncarriages and horses were, and I was so disappointed, I began to cry--I\nwas very little. I had kilts on. And Dick was blacking a man's shoes,\nand he said 'Hello!' and he ran in between the horses and caught the\nball for me and wiped it off with his coat and gave it to me and said,\n'It's all right, young un.' So Dearest admired him very much, and so did\nI, and ever since then, when we go down-town, we talk to him. He says\n'Hello!' and I say 'Hello!' and then we talk a little, and he tells me\nhow trade is. It's been bad lately.\"\n\n\"And what would you like to do for him?\" inquired the lawyer, rubbing\nhis chin and smiling a queer smile.\n\n\"Well,\" said Lord Fauntleroy, settling himself in his chair with a\nbusiness air, \"I'd buy Jake out.\"\n\n\"And who is Jake?\" Mr. Havisham asked.\n\n\"He's Dick's partner, and he is the worst partner a fellow could have!\nDick says so. He isn't a credit to the business, and he isn't square. He\ncheats, and that makes Dick mad. It would make you mad, you know, if you\nwere blacking boots as hard as you could, and being square all the time,\nand your partner wasn't square at all. People like Dick, but they don't\nlike Jake, and so sometimes they don't come twice. So if I were rich,\nI'd buy Jake out and get Dick a 'boss' sign--he says a 'boss' sign goes\na long way; and I'd get him some new clothes and new brushes, and start\nhim out fair. He says all he wants is to start out fair.\"\n\nThere could have been nothing more confiding and innocent than the way\nin which his small lordship told his little story, quoting his friend\nDick's bits of slang in the most candid good faith. He seemed to feel\nnot a shade of a doubt that his elderly companion would be just as\ninterested as he was himself. And in truth Mr. Havisham was beginning\nto be greatly interested; but perhaps not quite so much in Dick and the\napple-woman as in this kind little lordling, whose curly head was so\nbusy, under its yellow thatch, with good-natured plans for his friends,\nand who seemed somehow to have forgotten himself altogether.\n\n\"Is there anything----\" he began. \"What would you get for yourself, if\nyou were rich?\"\n\n\"Lots of things!\" answered Lord Fauntleroy briskly; \"but first I'd give\nMary some money for Bridget--that's her sister, with twelve children,\nand a husband out of work. She comes here and cries, and Dearest gives\nher things in a basket, and then she cries again, and says: 'Blessin's\nbe on yez, for a beautiful lady.' And I think Mr. Hobbs would like a\ngold watch and chain to remember me by, and a meerschaum pipe. And then\nI'd like to get up a company.\"\n\n\"A company!\" exclaimed Mr. Havisham.\n\n\"Like a Republican rally,\" explained Cedric, becoming quite excited.\n\"I'd have torches and uniforms and things for all the boys and myself,\ntoo. And we'd march, you know, and drill. That's what I should like for\nmyself, if I were rich.\"\n\nThe door opened and Mrs. Errol came in.\n\n\"I am sorry to have been obliged to leave you so long,\" she said to Mr.\nHavisham; \"but a poor woman, who is in great trouble, came to see me.\"\n\n\"This young gentleman,\" said Mr. Havisham, \"has been telling me about\nsome of his friends, and what he would do for them if he were rich.\"\n\n\"Bridget is one of his friends,\" said Mrs. Errol; \"and it is Bridget\nto whom I have been talking in the kitchen. She is in great trouble now\nbecause her husband has rheumatic fever.\"\n\nCedric slipped down out of his big chair.\n\n\"I think I'll go and see her,\" he said, \"and ask her how he is. He's a\nnice man when he is well. I'm obliged to him because he once made me a\nsword out of wood. He's a very talented man.\"\n\nHe ran out of the room, and Mr. Havisham rose from his chair. He seemed\nto have something in his mind which he wished to speak of.\n\nHe hesitated a moment, and then said, looking down at Mrs. Errol:\n\n\"Before I left Dorincourt Castle, I had an interview with the Earl, in\nwhich he gave me some instructions. He is desirous that his grandson\nshould look forward with some pleasure to his future life in England,\nand also to his acquaintance with himself. He said that I must let his\nlordship know that the change in his life would bring him money and the\npleasures children enjoy; if he expressed any wishes, I was to gratify\nthem, and to tell him that his grand-father had given him what he\nwished. I am aware that the Earl did not expect anything quite like\nthis; but if it would give Lord Fauntleroy pleasure to assist this poor\nwoman, I should feel that the Earl would be displeased if he were not\ngratified.\"\n\nFor the second time, he did not repeat the Earl's exact words. His\nlordship had, indeed, said:\n\n\"Make the lad understand that I can give him anything he wants. Let him\nknow what it is to be the grandson of the Earl of Dorincourt. Buy him\neverything he takes a fancy to; let him have money in his pockets, and\ntell him his grandfather put it there.\"\n\nHis motives were far from being good, and if he had been dealing with a\nnature less affectionate and warm-hearted than little Lord Fauntleroy's,\ngreat harm might have been done. And Cedric's mother was too gentle to\nsuspect any harm. She thought that perhaps this meant that a lonely,\nunhappy old man, whose children were dead, wished to be kind to her\nlittle boy, and win his love and confidence. And it pleased her very\nmuch to think that Ceddie would be able to help Bridget. It made her\nhappier to know that the very first result of the strange fortune which\nhad befallen her little boy was that he could do kind things for those\nwho needed kindness. Quite a warm color bloomed on her pretty young\nface.\n\n\"Oh!\" she said, \"that was very kind of the Earl; Cedric will be so\nglad! He has always been fond of Bridget and Michael. They are quite\ndeserving. I have often wished I had been able to help them more.\nMichael is a hard-working man when he is well, but he has been ill a\nlong time and needs expensive medicines and warm clothing and nourishing\nfood. He and Bridget will not be wasteful of what is given them.\"\n\nMr. Havisham put his thin hand in his breast pocket and drew forth a\nlarge pocket-book. There was a queer look in his keen face. The truth\nwas, he was wondering what the Earl of Dorincourt would say when he was\ntold what was the first wish of his grandson that had been granted. He\nwondered what the cross, worldly, selfish old nobleman would think of\nit.\n\n\"I do not know that you have realized,\" he said, \"that the Earl of\nDorincourt is an exceedingly rich man. He can afford to gratify any\ncaprice. I think it would please him to know that Lord Fauntleroy had\nbeen indulged in any fancy. If you will call him back and allow me, I\nshall give him five pounds for these people.\"\n\n\"That would be twenty-five dollars!\" exclaimed Mrs. Errol. \"It will seem\nlike wealth to them. I can scarcely believe that it is true.\"\n\n\"It is quite true,\" said Mr. Havisham, with his dry smile. \"A great\nchange has taken place in your son's life, a great deal of power will\nlie in his hands.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" cried his mother. \"And he is such a little boy--a very little boy.\nHow can I teach him to use it well? It makes me half afraid. My pretty\nlittle Ceddie!\"\n\nThe lawyer slightly cleared his throat. It touched his worldly, hard old\nheart to see the tender, timid look in her brown eyes.\n\n\"I think, madam,\" he said, \"that if I may judge from my interview with\nLord Fauntleroy this morning, the next Earl of Dorincourt will think\nfor others as well as for his noble self. He is only a child yet, but I\nthink he may be trusted.\"\n\nThen his mother went for Cedric and brought him back into the parlor.\nMr. Havisham heard him talking before he entered the room.\n\n\"It's infam-natory rheumatism,\" he was saying, \"and that's a kind of\nrheumatism that's dreadful. And he thinks about the rent not being paid,\nand Bridget says that makes the inf'ammation worse. And Pat could get a\nplace in a store if he had some clothes.\"\n\nHis little face looked quite anxious when he came in. He was very sorry\nfor Bridget.\n\n\"Dearest said you wanted me,\" he said to Mr. Havisham. \"I've been\ntalking to Bridget.\"\n\nMr. Havisham looked down at him a moment. He felt a little awkward and\nundecided. As Cedric's mother had said, he was a very little boy.\n\n\"The Earl of Dorincourt----\" he began, and then he glanced involuntarily\nat Mrs. Errol.\n\nLittle Lord Fauntleroy's mother suddenly kneeled down by him and put\nboth her tender arms around his childish body.\n\n\"Ceddie,\" she said, \"the Earl is your grandpapa, your own papa's father.\nHe is very, very kind, and he loves you and wishes you to love him,\nbecause the sons who were his little boys are dead. He wishes you to be\nhappy and to make other people happy. He is very rich, and he wishes you\nto have everything you would like to have. He told Mr. Havisham so, and\ngave him a great deal of money for you. You can give some to Bridget\nnow; enough to pay her rent and buy Michael everything. Isn't that fine,\nCeddie? Isn't he good?\" And she kissed the child on his round cheek,\nwhere the bright color suddenly flashed up in his excited amazement.\n\nHe looked from his mother to Mr. Havisham.\n\n\"Can I have it now?\" he cried. \"Can I give it to her this minute? She's\njust going.\"\n\nMr. Havisham handed him the money. It was in fresh, clean greenbacks and\nmade a neat roll.\n\nCeddie flew out of the room with it.\n\n\"Bridget!\" they heard him shout, as he tore into the kitchen. \"Bridget,\nwait a minute! Here's some money. It's for you, and you can pay the\nrent. My grandpapa gave it to me. It's for you and Michael!\"\n\n\"Oh, Master Ceddie!\" cried Bridget, in an awe-stricken voice. \"It's\ntwinty-foive dollars is here. Where be's the misthress?\"\n\n\"I think I shall have to go and explain it to her,\" Mrs. Errol said.\n\nSo she, too, went out of the room and Mr. Havisham was left alone for\na while. He went to the window and stood looking out into the street\nreflectively. He was thinking of the old Earl of Dorincourt, sitting\nin his great, splendid, gloomy library at the castle, gouty and lonely,\nsurrounded by grandeur and luxury, but not really loved by any one,\nbecause in all his long life he had never really loved any one but\nhimself; he had been selfish and self-indulgent and arrogant and\npassionate; he had cared so much for the Earl of Dorincourt and his\npleasures that there had been no time for him to think of other people;\nall his wealth and power, all the benefits from his noble name and high\nrank, had seemed to him to be things only to be used to amuse and give\npleasure to the Earl of Dorincourt; and now that he was an old man, all\nthis excitement and self-indulgence had only brought him ill health and\nirritability and a dislike of the world, which certainly disliked him.\nIn spite of all his splendor, there was never a more unpopular old\nnobleman than the Earl of Dorincourt, and there could scarcely have been\na more lonely one. He could fill his castle with guests if he chose. He\ncould give great dinners and splendid hunting parties; but he knew that\nin secret the people who would accept his invitations were afraid of his\nfrowning old face and sarcastic, biting speeches. He had a cruel tongue\nand a bitter nature, and he took pleasure in sneering at people and\nmaking them feel uncomfortable, when he had the power to do so, because\nthey were sensitive or proud or timid.\n\nMr. Havisham knew his hard, fierce ways by heart, and he was thinking\nof him as he looked out of the window into the narrow, quiet street. And\nthere rose in his mind, in sharp contrast, the picture of the cheery,\nhandsome little fellow sitting in the big chair and telling his story of\nhis friends, Dick and the apple-woman, in his generous, innocent, honest\nway. And he thought of the immense income, the beautiful, majestic\nestates, the wealth, and power for good or evil, which in the course of\ntime would lie in the small, chubby hands little Lord Fauntleroy thrust\nso deep into his pockets.\n\n\"It will make a great difference,\" he said to himself. \"It will make a\ngreat difference.\"\n\nCedric and his mother came back soon after. Cedric was in high spirits.\nHe sat down in his own chair, between his mother and the lawyer, and\nfell into one of his quaint attitudes, with his hands on his knees. He\nwas glowing with enjoyment of Bridget's relief and rapture.\n\n\"She cried!\" he said. \"She said she was crying for joy! I never saw any\none cry for joy before. My grandpapa must be a very good man. I didn't\nknow he was so good a man. It's more--more agreeabler to be an earl than\nI thought it was. I'm almost glad--I'm almost QUITE glad I'm going to be\none.\"\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nCedric's good opinion of the advantages of being an earl increased\ngreatly during the next week. It seemed almost impossible for him to\nrealize that there was scarcely anything he might wish to do which he\ncould not do easily; in fact, I think it may be said that he did\nnot fully realize it at all. But at least he understood, after a few\nconversations with Mr. Havisham, that he could gratify all his nearest\nwishes, and he proceeded to gratify them with a simplicity and delight\nwhich caused Mr. Havisham much diversion. In the week before they sailed\nfor England he did many curious things. The lawyer long after remembered\nthe morning they went down-town together to pay a visit to Dick, and the\nafternoon they so amazed the apple-woman of ancient lineage by stopping\nbefore her stall and telling her she was to have a tent, and a stove,\nand a shawl, and a sum of money which seemed to her quite wonderful.\n\n\"For I have to go to England and be a lord,\" explained Cedric,\nsweet-temperedly. \"And I shouldn't like to have your bones on my mind\nevery time it rained. My own bones never hurt, so I think I don't know\nhow painful a person's bones can be, but I've sympathized with you a\ngreat deal, and I hope you'll be better.\"\n\n\"She's a very good apple-woman,\" he said to Mr. Havisham, as they walked\naway, leaving the proprietress of the stall almost gasping for breath,\nand not at all believing in her great fortune. \"Once, when I fell\ndown and cut my knee, she gave me an apple for nothing. I've always\nremembered her for it. You know you always remember people who are kind\nto you.\"\n\nIt had never occurred to his honest, simple little mind that there were\npeople who could forget kindnesses.\n\nThe interview with Dick was quite exciting. Dick had just been having\na great deal of trouble with Jake, and was in low spirits when they saw\nhim. His amazement when Cedric calmly announced that they had come to\ngive him what seemed a very great thing to him, and would set all his\ntroubles right, almost struck him dumb. Lord Fauntleroy's manner of\nannouncing the object of his visit was very simple and unceremonious.\nMr. Havisham was much impressed by its directness as he stood by and\nlistened. The statement that his old friend had become a lord, and was\nin danger of being an earl if he lived long enough, caused Dick to\nso open his eyes and mouth, and start, that his cap fell off. When he\npicked it up, he uttered a rather singular exclamation. Mr. Havisham\nthought it singular, but Cedric had heard it before.\n\n\"I soy!\" he said, \"what're yer givin' us?\" This plainly embarrassed his\nlordship a little, but he bore himself bravely.\n\n\"Everybody thinks it not true at first,\" he said. \"Mr. Hobbs thought\nI'd had a sunstroke. I didn't think I was going to like it myself, but I\nlike it better now I'm used to it. The one who is the Earl now, he's my\ngrandpapa; and he wants me to do anything I like. He's very kind, if\nhe IS an earl; and he sent me a lot of money by Mr. Havisham, and I've\nbrought some to you to buy Jake out.\"\n\nAnd the end of the matter was that Dick actually bought Jake out, and\nfound himself the possessor of the business and some new brushes and a\nmost astonishing sign and outfit. He could not believe in his good luck\nany more easily than the apple-woman of ancient lineage could believe\nin hers; he walked about like a boot-black in a dream; he stared at\nhis young benefactor and felt as if he might wake up at any moment. He\nscarcely seemed to realize anything until Cedric put out his hand to\nshake hands with him before going away.\n\n\"Well, good-bye,\" he said; and though he tried to speak steadily, there\nwas a little tremble in his voice and he winked his big brown eyes.\n\"And I hope trade'll be good. I'm sorry I'm going away to leave you, but\nperhaps I shall come back again when I'm an earl. And I wish you'd write\nto me, because we were always good friends. And if you write to me,\nhere's where you must send your letter.\" And he gave him a slip of\npaper. \"And my name isn't Cedric Errol any more; it's Lord Fauntleroy\nand--and good-bye, Dick.\"\n\nDick winked his eyes also, and yet they looked rather moist about the\nlashes. He was not an educated boot-black, and he would have found it\ndifficult to tell what he felt just then if he had tried; perhaps that\nwas why he didn't try, and only winked his eyes and swallowed a lump in\nhis throat.\n\n\"I wish ye wasn't goin' away,\" he said in a husky voice. Then he winked\nhis eyes again. Then he looked at Mr. Havisham, and touched his cap.\n\"Thanky, sir, fur bringin' him down here an' fur wot ye've done,\nHe's--he's a queer little feller,\" he added. \"I've allers thort a heap\nof him. He's such a game little feller, an'--an' such a queer little\nun.\"\n\nAnd when they turned away he stood and looked after them in a dazed\nkind of way, and there was still a mist in his eyes, and a lump in his\nthroat, as he watched the gallant little figure marching gayly along by\nthe side of its tall, rigid escort.\n\nUntil the day of his departure, his lordship spent as much time as\npossible with Mr. Hobbs in the store. Gloom had settled upon Mr. Hobbs;\nhe was much depressed in spirits. When his young friend brought to him\nin triumph the parting gift of a gold watch and chain, Mr. Hobbs found\nit difficult to acknowledge it properly. He laid the case on his stout\nknee, and blew his nose violently several times.\n\n\"There's something written on it,\" said Cedric,--\"inside the case.\nI told the man myself what to say. 'From his oldest friend, Lord\nFauntleroy, to Mr. Hobbs. When this you see, remember me.' I don't want\nyou to forget me.\"\n\nMr. Hobbs blew his nose very loudly again.\n\n\"I sha'n't forget you,\" he said, speaking a trifle huskily, as Dick had\nspoken; \"nor don't you go and forget me when you get among the British\narrystocracy.\"\n\n\"I shouldn't forget you, whoever I was among,\" answered his lordship.\n\"I've spent my happiest hours with you; at least, some of my happiest\nhours. I hope you'll come to see me sometime. I'm sure my grandpapa\nwould be very much pleased. Perhaps he'll write and ask you, when I tell\nhim about you. You--you wouldn't mind his being an earl, would you, I\nmean you wouldn't stay away just because he was one, if he invited you\nto come?\"\n\n\"I'd come to see you,\" replied Mr. Hobbs, graciously.\n\nSo it seemed to be agreed that if he received a pressing invitation from\nthe Earl to come and spend a few months at Dorincourt Castle, he was to\nlay aside his republican prejudices and pack his valise at once.\n\nAt last all the preparations were complete; the day came when the trunks\nwere taken to the steamer, and the hour arrived when the carriage stood\nat the door. Then a curious feeling of loneliness came upon the little\nboy. His mamma had been shut up in her room for some time; when she came\ndown the stairs, her eyes looked large and wet, and her sweet mouth was\ntrembling. Cedric went to her, and she bent down to him, and he put his\narms around her, and they kissed each other. He knew something made them\nboth sorry, though he scarcely knew what it was; but one tender little\nthought rose to his lips.\n\n\"We liked this little house, Dearest, didn't we?\" he said. \"We always\nwill like it, won't we?\"\n\n\"Yes--yes,\" she answered, in a low, sweet voice. \"Yes, darling.\"\n\nAnd then they went into the carriage and Cedric sat very close to her,\nand as she looked back out of the window, he looked at her and stroked\nher hand and held it close.\n\nAnd then, it seemed almost directly, they were on the steamer in the\nmidst of the wildest bustle and confusion; carriages were driving\ndown and leaving passengers; passengers were getting into a state of\nexcitement about baggage which had not arrived and threatened to be too\nlate; big trunks and cases were being bumped down and dragged about;\nsailors were uncoiling ropes and hurrying to and fro; officers were\ngiving orders; ladies and gentlemen and children and nurses were coming\non board,--some were laughing and looked gay, some were silent and sad,\nhere and there two or three were crying and touching their eyes with\ntheir handkerchiefs. Cedric found something to interest him on every\nside; he looked at the piles of rope, at the furled sails, at the tall,\ntall masts which seemed almost to touch the hot blue sky; he began to\nmake plans for conversing with the sailors and gaining some information\non the subject of pirates.\n\nIt was just at the very last, when he was standing leaning on the\nrailing of the upper deck and watching the final preparations, enjoying\nthe excitement and the shouts of the sailors and wharfmen, that his\nattention was called to a slight bustle in one of the groups not far\nfrom him. Some one was hurriedly forcing his way through this group and\ncoming toward him. It was a boy, with something red in his hand. It was\nDick. He came up to Cedric quite breathless.\n\n\"I've run all the way,\" he said. \"I've come down to see ye off. Trade's\nbeen prime! I bought this for ye out o' what I made yesterday. Ye kin\nwear it when ye get among the swells. I lost the paper when I was tryin'\nto get through them fellers downstairs. They didn't want to let me up.\nIt's a hankercher.\"\n\nHe poured it all forth as if in one sentence. A bell rang, and he made a\nleap away before Cedric had time to speak.\n\n\"Good-bye!\" he panted. \"Wear it when ye get among the swells.\" And he\ndarted off and was gone.\n\nA few seconds later they saw him struggle through the crowd on the lower\ndeck, and rush on shore just before the gang-plank was drawn in. He\nstood on the wharf and waved his cap.\n\nCedric held the handkerchief in his hand. It was of bright red silk\nornamented with purple horseshoes and horses' heads.\n\nThere was a great straining and creaking and confusion. The people on\nthe wharf began to shout to their friends, and the people on the steamer\nshouted back:\n\n\"Good-bye! Good-bye! Good-bye, old fellow!\" Every one seemed to be\nsaying, \"Don't forget us. Write when you get to Liverpool. Good-bye!\nGood-bye!\"\n\nLittle Lord Fauntleroy leaned forward and waved the red handkerchief.\n\n\"Good-bye, Dick!\" he shouted, lustily. \"Thank you! Good-bye, Dick!\"\n\nAnd the big steamer moved away, and the people cheered again, and\nCedric's mother drew the veil over her eyes, and on the shore there was\nleft great confusion; but Dick saw nothing save that bright, childish\nface and the bright hair that the sun shone on and the breeze lifted,\nand he heard nothing but the hearty childish voice calling \"Good-bye,\nDick!\" as little Lord Fauntleroy steamed slowly away from the home of\nhis birth to the unknown land of his ancestors.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nIt was during the voyage that Cedric's mother told him that his home was\nnot to be hers; and when he first understood it, his grief was so\ngreat that Mr. Havisham saw that the Earl had been wise in making the\narrangements that his mother should be quite near him, and see him\noften; for it was very plain he could not have borne the separation\notherwise. But his mother managed the little fellow so sweetly and\nlovingly, and made him feel that she would be so near him, that, after a\nwhile, he ceased to be oppressed by the fear of any real parting.\n\n\"My house is not far from the Castle, Ceddie,\" she repeated each time\nthe subject was referred to--\"a very little way from yours, and you can\nalways run in and see me every day, and you will have so many things\nto tell me! and we shall be so happy together! It is a beautiful place.\nYour papa has often told me about it. He loved it very much; and you\nwill love it too.\"\n\n\"I should love it better if you were there,\" his small lordship said,\nwith a heavy little sigh.\n\nHe could not but feel puzzled by so strange a state of affairs, which\ncould put his \"Dearest\" in one house and himself in another.\n\nThe fact was that Mrs. Errol had thought it better not to tell him why\nthis plan had been made.\n\n\"I should prefer he should not be told,\" she said to Mr. Havisham. \"He\nwould not really understand; he would only be shocked and hurt; and\nI feel sure that his feeling for the Earl will be a more natural and\naffectionate one if he does not know that his grandfather dislikes me so\nbitterly. He has never seen hatred or hardness, and it would be a great\nblow to him to find out that any one could hate me. He is so loving\nhimself, and I am so dear to him! It is better for him that he should\nnot be told until he is much older, and it is far better for the Earl.\nIt would make a barrier between them, even though Ceddie is such a\nchild.\"\n\nSo Cedric only knew that there was some mysterious reason for the\narrangement, some reason which he was not old enough to understand, but\nwhich would be explained when he was older. He was puzzled; but, after\nall, it was not the reason he cared about so much; and after many talks\nwith his mother, in which she comforted him and placed before him the\nbright side of the picture, the dark side of it gradually began to fade\nout, though now and then Mr. Havisham saw him sitting in some queer\nlittle old-fashioned attitude, watching the sea, with a very grave face,\nand more than once he heard an unchildish sigh rise to his lips.\n\n\"I don't like it,\" he said once as he was having one of his almost\nvenerable talks with the lawyer. \"You don't know how much I don't like\nit; but there are a great many troubles in this world, and you have\nto bear them. Mary says so, and I've heard Mr. Hobbs say it too. And\nDearest wants me to like to live with my grandpapa, because, you see,\nall his children are dead, and that's very mournful. It makes you\nsorry for a man, when all his children have died--and one was killed\nsuddenly.\"\n\nOne of the things which always delighted the people who made the\nacquaintance of his young lordship was the sage little air he wore\nat times when he gave himself up to conversation;--combined with his\noccasionally elderly remarks and the extreme innocence and seriousness\nof his round childish face, it was irresistible. He was such a handsome,\nblooming, curly-headed little fellow, that, when he sat down and nursed\nhis knee with his chubby hands, and conversed with much gravity, he was\na source of great entertainment to his hearers. Gradually Mr. Havisham\nhad begun to derive a great deal of private pleasure and amusement from\nhis society.\n\n\"And so you are going to try to like the Earl,\" he said.\n\n\"Yes,\" answered his lordship. \"He's my relation, and of course you have\nto like your relations; and besides, he's been very kind to me. When a\nperson does so many things for you, and wants you to have everything you\nwish for, of course you'd like him if he wasn't your relation; but when\nhe's your relation and does that, why, you're very fond of him.\"\n\n\"Do you think,\" suggested Mr. Havisham, \"that he will be fond of you?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Cedric, \"I think he will, because, you see, I'm his\nrelation, too, and I'm his boy's little boy besides, and, well, don't\nyou see--of course he must be fond of me now, or he wouldn't want me to\nhave everything that I like, and he wouldn't have sent you for me.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" remarked the lawyer, \"that's it, is it?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Cedric, \"that's it. Don't you think that's it, too? Of\ncourse a man would be fond of his grandson.\"\n\nThe people who had been seasick had no sooner recovered from their\nseasickness, and come on deck to recline in their steamer-chairs and\nenjoy themselves, than every one seemed to know the romantic story of\nlittle Lord Fauntleroy, and every one took an interest in the little\nfellow, who ran about the ship or walked with his mother or the tall,\nthin old lawyer, or talked to the sailors. Every one liked him; he\nmade friends everywhere. He was ever ready to make friends. When the\ngentlemen walked up and down the deck, and let him walk with them, he\nstepped out with a manly, sturdy little tramp, and answered all their\njokes with much gay enjoyment; when the ladies talked to him, there was\nalways laughter in the group of which he was the center; when he played\nwith the children, there was always magnificent fun on hand. Among the\nsailors he had the heartiest friends; he heard miraculous stories about\npirates and shipwrecks and desert islands; he learned to splice ropes\nand rig toy ships, and gained an amount of information concerning\n\"tops'ls\" and \"mains'ls,\" quite surprising. His conversation had,\nindeed, quite a nautical flavor at times, and on one occasion he raised\na shout of laughter in a group of ladies and gentlemen who were sitting\non deck, wrapped in shawls and overcoats, by saying sweetly, and with a\nvery engaging expression:\n\n\"Shiver my timbers, but it's a cold day!\"\n\nIt surprised him when they laughed. He had picked up this sea-faring\nremark from an \"elderly naval man\" of the name of Jerry, who told him\nstories in which it occurred frequently. To judge from his stories of\nhis own adventures, Jerry had made some two or three thousand voyages,\nand had been invariably shipwrecked on each occasion on an island\ndensely populated with bloodthirsty cannibals. Judging, also, by these\nsame exciting adventures, he had been partially roasted and eaten\nfrequently and had been scalped some fifteen or twenty times.\n\n\"That is why he is so bald,\" explained Lord Fauntleroy to his mamma.\n\"After you have been scalped several times the hair never grows again.\nJerry's never grew again after that last time, when the King of the\nParromachaweekins did it with the knife made out of the skull of the\nChief of the Wopslemumpkies. He says it was one of the most serious\ntimes he ever had. He was so frightened that his hair stood right\nstraight up when the king flourished his knife, and it never would lie\ndown, and the king wears it that way now, and it looks something like a\nhair-brush. I never heard anything like the asperiences Jerry has had! I\nshould so like to tell Mr. Hobbs about them!\"\n\nSometimes, when the weather was very disagreeable and people were\nkept below decks in the saloon, a party of his grown-up friends would\npersuade him to tell them some of these \"asperiences\" of Jerry's, and as\nhe sat relating them with great delight and fervor, there was certainly\nno more popular voyager on any ocean steamer crossing the Atlantic than\nlittle Lord Fauntleroy. He was always innocently and good-naturedly\nready to do his small best to add to the general entertainment, and\nthere was a charm in the very unconsciousness of his own childish\nimportance.\n\n\"Jerry's stories int'rust them very much,\" he said to his mamma. \"For my\npart--you must excuse me, Dearest--but sometimes I should have thought\nthey couldn't be all quite true, if they hadn't happened to Jerry\nhimself; but as they all happened to Jerry--well, it's very strange, you\nknow, and perhaps sometimes he may forget and be a little mistaken, as\nhe's been scalped so often. Being scalped a great many times might make\na person forgetful.\"\n\nIt was eleven days after he had said good-bye to his friend Dick before\nhe reached Liverpool; and it was on the night of the twelfth day that\nthe carriage in which he and his mother and Mr. Havisham had driven from\nthe station stopped before the gates of Court Lodge. They could not\nsee much of the house in the darkness. Cedric only saw that there was a\ndrive-way under great arching trees, and after the carriage had rolled\ndown this drive-way a short distance, he saw an open door and a stream\nof bright light coming through it.\n\nMary had come with them to attend her mistress, and she had reached the\nhouse before them. When Cedric jumped out of the carriage he saw one or\ntwo servants standing in the wide, bright hall, and Mary stood in the\ndoor-way.\n\nLord Fauntleroy sprang at her with a gay little shout.\n\n\"Did you get here, Mary?\" he said. \"Here's Mary, Dearest,\" and he kissed\nthe maid on her rough red cheek.\n\n\"I am glad you are here, Mary,\" Mrs. Errol said to her in a low voice.\n\"It is such a comfort to me to see you. It takes the strangeness away.\"\nAnd she held out her little hand, which Mary squeezed encouragingly. She\nknew how this first \"strangeness\" must feel to this little mother who\nhad left her own land and was about to give up her child.\n\nThe English servants looked with curiosity at both the boy and his\nmother. They had heard all sorts of rumors about them both; they knew\nhow angry the old Earl had been, and why Mrs. Errol was to live at the\nlodge and her little boy at the castle; they knew all about the great\nfortune he was to inherit, and about the savage old grandfather and his\ngout and his tempers.\n\n\"He'll have no easy time of it, poor little chap,\" they had said among\nthemselves.\n\nBut they did not know what sort of a little lord had come among\nthem; they did not quite understand the character of the next Earl of\nDorincourt.\n\nHe pulled off his overcoat quite as if he were used to doing things for\nhimself, and began to look about him. He looked about the broad hall, at\nthe pictures and stags' antlers and curious things that ornamented it.\nThey seemed curious to him because he had never seen such things before\nin a private house.\n\n\"Dearest,\" he said, \"this is a very pretty house, isn't it? I am glad\nyou are going to live here. It's quite a large house.\"\n\nIt was quite a large house compared to the one in the shabby New York\nstreet, and it was very pretty and cheerful. Mary led them upstairs to\na bright chintz-hung bedroom where a fire was burning, and a large\nsnow-white Persian cat was sleeping luxuriously on the white fur\nhearth-rug.\n\n\"It was the house-kaper up at the Castle, ma'am, sint her to yez,\"\nexplained Mary. \"It's herself is a kind-hearted lady an' has had\niverything done to prepar' fur yez. I seen her meself a few minnits, an'\nshe was fond av the Capt'in, ma'am, an' graivs fur him; and she said to\nsay the big cat slapin' on the rug moight make the room same homeloike\nto yez. She knowed Capt'in Errol whin he was a bye--an' a foine handsum'\nbye she ses he was, an' a foine young man wid a plisint word fur every\none, great an' shmall. An' ses I to her, ses I: 'He's lift a bye\nthat's loike him, ma'am, fur a foiner little felly niver sthipped in\nshoe-leather.\"'\n\nWhen they were ready, they went downstairs into another big bright room;\nits ceiling was low, and the furniture was heavy and beautifully carved,\nthe chairs were deep and had high massive backs, and there were queer\nshelves and cabinets with strange, pretty ornaments on them. There was\na great tiger-skin before the fire, and an arm-chair on each side of it.\nThe stately white cat had responded to Lord Fauntleroy's stroking and\nfollowed him downstairs, and when he threw himself down upon the rug,\nshe curled herself up grandly beside him as if she intended to make\nfriends. Cedric was so pleased that he put his head down by hers, and\nlay stroking her, not noticing what his mother and Mr. Havisham were\nsaying.\n\nThey were, indeed, speaking in a rather low tone. Mrs. Errol looked a\nlittle pale and agitated.\n\n\"He need not go to-night?\" she said. \"He will stay with me to-night?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Mr. Havisham in the same low tone; \"it will not be\nnecessary for him to go to-night. I myself will go to the Castle as soon\nas we have dined, and inform the Earl of our arrival.\"\n\nMrs. Errol glanced down at Cedric. He was lying in a graceful, careless\nattitude upon the black-and-yellow skin; the fire shone on his handsome,\nflushed little face, and on the tumbled, curly hair spread out on the\nrug; the big cat was purring in drowsy content,--she liked the caressing\ntouch of the kind little hand on her fur.\n\nMrs. Errol smiled faintly.\n\n\"His lordship does not know all that he is taking from me,\" she said\nrather sadly. Then she looked at the lawyer. \"Will you tell him, if you\nplease,\" she said, \"that I should rather not have the money?\"\n\n\"The money!\" Mr. Havisham exclaimed. \"You can not mean the income he\nproposed to settle upon you!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she answered, quite simply; \"I think I should rather not have\nit. I am obliged to accept the house, and I thank him for it, because it\nmakes it possible for me to be near my child; but I have a little money\nof my own,--enough to live simply upon,--and I should rather not take\nthe other. As he dislikes me so much, I should feel a little as if I\nwere selling Cedric to him. I am giving him up only because I love him\nenough to forget myself for his good, and because his father would wish\nit to be so.\"\n\nMr. Havisham rubbed his chin.\n\n\"This is very strange,\" he said. \"He will be very angry. He won't\nunderstand it.\"\n\n\"I think he will understand it after he thinks it over,\" she said. \"I do\nnot really need the money, and why should I accept luxuries from the\nman who hates me so much that he takes my little boy from me--his son's\nchild?\"\n\nMr. Havisham looked reflective for a few moments.\n\n\"I will deliver your message,\" he said afterward.\n\nAnd then the dinner was brought in and they sat down together, the big\ncat taking a seat on a chair near Cedric's and purring majestically\nthroughout the meal.\n\nWhen, later in the evening, Mr. Havisham presented himself at the\nCastle, he was taken at once to the Earl. He found him sitting by the\nfire in a luxurious easy-chair, his foot on a gout-stool. He looked\nat the lawyer sharply from under his shaggy eyebrows, but Mr. Havisham\ncould see that, in spite of his pretense at calmness, he was nervous and\nsecretly excited.\n\n\"Well,\" he said; \"well, Havisham, come back, have you? What's the news?\"\n\n\"Lord Fauntleroy and his mother are at Court Lodge,\" replied Mr.\nHavisham. \"They bore the voyage very well and are in excellent health.\"\n\nThe Earl made a half-impatient sound and moved his hand restlessly.\n\n\"Glad to hear it,\" he said brusquely. \"So far, so good. Make yourself\ncomfortable. Have a glass of wine and settle down. What else?\"\n\n\"His lordship remains with his mother to-night. To-morrow I will bring\nhim to the Castle.\"\n\nThe Earl's elbow was resting on the arm of his chair; he put his hand up\nand shielded his eyes with it.\n\n\"Well,\" he said; \"go on. You know I told you not to write to me about\nthe matter, and I know nothing whatever about it. What kind of a lad is\nhe? I don't care about the mother; what sort of a lad is he?\"\n\nMr. Havisham drank a little of the glass of port he had poured out for\nhimself, and sat holding it in his hand.\n\n\"It is rather difficult to judge of the character of a child of seven,\"\nhe said cautiously.\n\nThe Earl's prejudices were very intense. He looked up quickly and\nuttered a rough word.\n\n\"A fool, is he?\" he exclaimed. \"Or a clumsy cub? His American blood\ntells, does it?\"\n\n\"I do not think it has injured him, my lord,\" replied the lawyer in\nhis dry, deliberate fashion. \"I don't know much about children, but I\nthought him rather a fine lad.\"\n\nHis manner of speech was always deliberate and unenthusiastic, but he\nmade it a trifle more so than usual. He had a shrewd fancy that it\nwould be better that the Earl should judge for himself, and be quite\nunprepared for his first interview with his grandson.\n\n\"Healthy and well-grown?\" asked my lord.\n\n\"Apparently very healthy, and quite well-grown,\" replied the lawyer.\n\n\"Straight-limbed and well enough to look at?\" demanded the Earl.\n\nA very slight smile touched Mr. Havisham's thin lips. There rose up\nbefore his mind's eye the picture he had left at Court Lodge,--the\nbeautiful, graceful child's body lying upon the tiger-skin in careless\ncomfort--the bright, tumbled hair spread on the rug--the bright, rosy\nboy's face.\n\n\"Rather a handsome boy, I think, my lord, as boys go,\" he said, \"though\nI am scarcely a judge, perhaps. But you will find him somewhat different\nfrom most English children, I dare say.\"\n\n\"I haven't a doubt of that,\" snarled the Earl, a twinge of gout seizing\nhim. \"A lot of impudent little beggars, those American children; I've\nheard that often enough.\"\n\n\"It is not exactly impudence in his case,\" said Mr. Havisham. \"I can\nscarcely describe what the difference is. He has lived more with older\npeople than with children, and the difference seems to be a mixture of\nmaturity and childishness.\"\n\n\"American impudence!\" protested the Earl. \"I've heard of it before. They\ncall it precocity and freedom. Beastly, impudent bad manners; that's\nwhat it is!\"\n\nMr. Havisham drank some more port. He seldom argued with his lordly\npatron,--never when his lordly patron's noble leg was inflamed by gout.\nAt such times it was always better to leave him alone. So there was a\nsilence of a few moments. It was Mr. Havisham who broke it.\n\n\"I have a message to deliver from Mrs. Errol,\" he remarked.\n\n\"I don't want any of her messages!\" growled his lordship; \"the less I\nhear of her the better.\"\n\n\"This is a rather important one,\" explained the lawyer. \"She prefers not\nto accept the income you proposed to settle on her.\"\n\nThe Earl started visibly.\n\n\"What's that?\" he cried out. \"What's that?\"\n\nMr. Havisham repeated his words.\n\n\"She says it is not necessary, and that as the relations between you are\nnot friendly----\"\n\n\"Not friendly!\" ejaculated my lord savagely; \"I should say they were not\nfriendly! I hate to think of her! A mercenary, sharp-voiced American! I\ndon't wish to see her.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said Mr. Havisham, \"you can scarcely call her mercenary. She\nhas asked for nothing. She does not accept the money you offer her.\"\n\n\"All done for effect!\" snapped his noble lordship. \"She wants to wheedle\nme into seeing her. She thinks I shall admire her spirit. I don't admire\nit! It's only American independence! I won't have her living like a\nbeggar at my park gates. As she's the boy's mother, she has a position\nto keep up, and she shall keep it up. She shall have the money, whether\nshe likes it or not!\"\n\n\"She won't spend it,\" said Mr. Havisham.\n\n\"I don't care whether she spends it or not!\" blustered my lord. \"She\nshall have it sent to her. She sha'n't tell people that she has to live\nlike a pauper because I have done nothing for her! She wants to give the\nboy a bad opinion of me! I suppose she has poisoned his mind against me\nalready!\"\n\n\"No,\" said Mr. Havisham. \"I have another message, which will prove to\nyou that she has not done that.\"\n\n\"I don't want to hear it!\" panted the Earl, out of breath with anger and\nexcitement and gout.\n\nBut Mr. Havisham delivered it.\n\n\"She asks you not to let Lord Fauntleroy hear anything which would\nlead him to understand that you separate him from her because of your\nprejudice against her. He is very fond of her, and she is convinced that\nit would cause a barrier to exist between you. She says he would not\ncomprehend it, and it might make him fear you in some measure, or at\nleast cause him to feel less affection for you. She has told him that\nhe is too young to understand the reason, but shall hear it when he is\nolder. She wishes that there should be no shadow on your first meeting.\"\n\nThe Earl sank back into his chair. His deep-set fierce old eyes gleamed\nunder his beetling brows.\n\n\"Come, now!\" he said, still breathlessly. \"Come, now! You don't mean the\nmother hasn't told him?\"\n\n\"Not one word, my lord,\" replied the lawyer coolly. \"That I can\nassure you. The child is prepared to believe you the most amiable and\naffectionate of grandparents. Nothing--absolutely nothing has been said\nto him to give him the slightest doubt of your perfection. And as\nI carried out your commands in every detail, while in New York, he\ncertainly regards you as a wonder of generosity.\"\n\n\"He does, eh?\" said the Earl.\n\n\"I give you my word of honor,\" said Mr. Havisham, \"that Lord\nFauntleroy's impressions of you will depend entirely upon yourself. And\nif you will pardon the liberty I take in making the suggestion, I think\nyou will succeed better with him if you take the precaution not to speak\nslightingly of his mother.\"\n\n\"Pooh, pooh!\" said the Earl. \"The youngster is only seven years old!\"\n\n\"He has spent those seven years at his mother's side,\" returned Mr.\nHavisham; \"and she has all his affection.\"\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nIt was late in the afternoon when the carriage containing little Lord\nFauntleroy and Mr. Havisham drove up the long avenue which led to the\ncastle. The Earl had given orders that his grandson should arrive in\ntime to dine with him; and for some reason best known to himself, he had\nalso ordered that the child should be sent alone into the room in which\nhe intended to receive him. As the carriage rolled up the avenue, Lord\nFauntleroy sat leaning comfortably against the luxurious cushions, and\nregarded the prospect with great interest. He was, in fact, interested\nin everything he saw. He had been interested in the carriage, with\nits large, splendid horses and their glittering harness; he had been\ninterested in the tall coachman and footman, with their resplendent\nlivery; and he had been especially interested in the coronet on the\npanels, and had struck up an acquaintance with the footman for the\npurpose of inquiring what it meant.\n\nWhen the carriage reached the great gates of the park, he looked out of\nthe window to get a good view of the huge stone lions ornamenting the\nentrance. The gates were opened by a motherly, rosy-looking woman, who\ncame out of a pretty, ivy-covered lodge. Two children ran out of the\ndoor of the house and stood looking with round, wide-open eyes at the\nlittle boy in the carriage, who looked at them also. Their mother stood\ncourtesying and smiling, and the children, on receiving a sign from her,\nmade bobbing little courtesies too.\n\n\"Does she know me?\" asked Lord Fauntleroy. \"I think she must think she\nknows me.\" And he took off his black velvet cap to her and smiled.\n\n\"How do you do?\" he said brightly. \"Good-afternoon!\"\n\nThe woman seemed pleased, he thought. The smile broadened on her rosy\nface and a kind look came into her blue eyes.\n\n\"God bless your lordship!\" she said. \"God bless your pretty face! Good\nluck and happiness to your lordship! Welcome to you!\"\n\nLord Fauntleroy waved his cap and nodded to her again as the carriage\nrolled by her.\n\n\"I like that woman,\" he said. \"She looks as if she liked boys. I should\nlike to come here and play with her children. I wonder if she has enough\nto make up a company?\"\n\nMr. Havisham did not tell him that he would scarcely be allowed to make\nplaymates of the gate-keeper's children. The lawyer thought there was\ntime enough for giving him that information.\n\nThe carriage rolled on and on between the great, beautiful trees which\ngrew on each side of the avenue and stretched their broad, swaying\nbranches in an arch across it. Cedric had never seen such trees,--they\nwere so grand and stately, and their branches grew so low down on their\nhuge trunks. He did not then know that Dorincourt Castle was one of the\nmost beautiful in all England; that its park was one of the broadest and\nfinest, and its trees and avenue almost without rivals. But he did know\nthat it was all very beautiful. He liked the big, broad-branched trees,\nwith the late afternoon sunlight striking golden lances through them. He\nliked the perfect stillness which rested on everything. He felt a great,\nstrange pleasure in the beauty of which he caught glimpses under and\nbetween the sweeping boughs--the great, beautiful spaces of the park,\nwith still other trees standing sometimes stately and alone, and\nsometimes in groups. Now and then they passed places where tall ferns\ngrew in masses, and again and again the ground was azure with the\nbluebells swaying in the soft breeze. Several times he started up with\na laugh of delight as a rabbit leaped up from under the greenery and\nscudded away with a twinkle of short white tail behind it. Once a covey\nof partridges rose with a sudden whir and flew away, and then he shouted\nand clapped his hands.\n\n\"It's a beautiful place, isn't it?\" he said to Mr. Havisham. \"I never\nsaw such a beautiful place. It's prettier even than Central Park.\"\n\nHe was rather puzzled by the length of time they were on their way.\n\n\"How far is it,\" he said, at length, \"from the gate to the front door?\"\n\n\"It is between three and four miles,\" answered the lawyer.\n\n\"That's a long way for a person to live from his gate,\" remarked his\nlordship.\n\nEvery few minutes he saw something new to wonder at and admire. When he\ncaught sight of the deer, some couched in the grass, some standing with\ntheir pretty antlered heads turned with a half-startled air toward the\navenue as the carriage wheels disturbed them, he was enchanted.\n\n\"Has there been a circus?\" he cried; \"or do they live here always? Whose\nare they?\"\n\n\"They live here,\" Mr. Havisham told him. \"They belong to the Earl, your\ngrandfather.\"\n\nIt was not long after this that they saw the castle. It rose up before\nthem stately and beautiful and gray, the last rays of the sun casting\ndazzling lights on its many windows. It had turrets and battlements and\ntowers; a great deal of ivy grew upon its walls; all the broad, open\nspace about it was laid out in terraces and lawns and beds of brilliant\nflowers.\n\n\"It's the most beautiful place I ever saw!\" said Cedric, his round face\nflushing with pleasure. \"It reminds any one of a king's palace. I saw a\npicture of one once in a fairy-book.\"\n\nHe saw the great entrance-door thrown open and many servants standing in\ntwo lines looking at him. He wondered why they were standing there, and\nadmired their liveries very much. He did not know that they were there\nto do honor to the little boy to whom all this splendor would one\nday belong,--the beautiful castle like the fairy king's palace, the\nmagnificent park, the grand old trees, the dells full of ferns and\nbluebells where the hares and rabbits played, the dappled, large-eyed\ndeer couching in the deep grass. It was only a couple of weeks since he\nhad sat with Mr. Hobbs among the potatoes and canned peaches, with his\nlegs dangling from the high stool; it would not have been possible for\nhim to realize that he had very much to do with all this grandeur. At\nthe head of the line of servants there stood an elderly woman in a rich,\nplain black silk gown; she had gray hair and wore a cap. As he entered\nthe hall she stood nearer than the rest, and the child thought from the\nlook in her eyes that she was going to speak to him. Mr. Havisham, who\nheld his hand, paused a moment.\n\n\"This is Lord Fauntleroy, Mrs. Mellon,\" he said. \"Lord Fauntleroy, this\nis Mrs. Mellon, who is the housekeeper.\"\n\nCedric gave her his hand, his eyes lighting up.\n\n\"Was it you who sent the cat?\" he said. \"I'm much obliged to you,\nma'am.\"\n\nMrs. Mellon's handsome old face looked as pleased as the face of the\nlodge-keeper's wife had done.\n\n\"I should know his lordship anywhere,\" she said to Mr. Havisham. \"He has\nthe Captain's face and way. It's a great day, this, sir.\"\n\nCedric wondered why it was a great day. He looked at Mrs. Mellon\ncuriously. It seemed to him for a moment as if there were tears in her\neyes, and yet it was evident she was not unhappy. She smiled down on\nhim.\n\n\"The cat left two beautiful kittens here,\" she said; \"they shall be sent\nup to your lordship's nursery.\"\n\nMr. Havisham said a few words to her in a low voice.\n\n\"In the library, sir,\" Mrs. Mellon replied. \"His lordship is to be taken\nthere alone.\"\n\n\nA few minutes later, the very tall footman in livery, who had escorted\nCedric to the library door, opened it and announced: \"Lord Fauntleroy,\nmy lord,\" in quite a majestic tone. If he was only a footman, he felt it\nwas rather a grand occasion when the heir came home to his own land and\npossessions, and was ushered into the presence of the old Earl, whose\nplace and title he was to take.\n\nCedric crossed the threshold into the room. It was a very large and\nsplendid room, with massive carven furniture in it, and shelves upon\nshelves of books; the furniture was so dark, and the draperies so heavy,\nthe diamond-paned windows were so deep, and it seemed such a distance\nfrom one end of it to the other, that, since the sun had gone down, the\neffect of it all was rather gloomy. For a moment Cedric thought there\nwas nobody in the room, but soon he saw that by the fire burning on the\nwide hearth there was a large easy-chair and that in that chair some one\nwas sitting--some one who did not at first turn to look at him.\n\nBut he had attracted attention in one quarter at least. On the floor,\nby the arm-chair, lay a dog, a huge tawny mastiff, with body and limbs\nalmost as big as a lion's; and this great creature rose majestically and\nslowly, and marched toward the little fellow with a heavy step.\n\nThen the person in the chair spoke. \"Dougal,\" he called, \"come back,\nsir.\"\n\nBut there was no more fear in little Lord Fauntleroy's heart than there\nwas unkindness--he had been a brave little fellow all his life. He put\nhis hand on the big dog's collar in the most natural way in the world,\nand they strayed forward together, Dougal sniffing as he went.\n\nAnd then the Earl looked up. What Cedric saw was a large old man with\nshaggy white hair and eyebrows, and a nose like an eagle's beak between\nhis deep, fierce eyes. What the Earl saw was a graceful, childish figure\nin a black velvet suit, with a lace collar, and with love-locks waving\nabout the handsome, manly little face, whose eyes met his with a look of\ninnocent good-fellowship. If the Castle was like the palace in a fairy\nstory, it must be owned that little Lord Fauntleroy was himself rather\nlike a small copy of the fairy prince, though he was not at all aware\nof the fact, and perhaps was rather a sturdy young model of a fairy.\nBut there was a sudden glow of triumph and exultation in the fiery old\nEarl's heart as he saw what a strong, beautiful boy this grandson was,\nand how unhesitatingly he looked up as he stood with his hand on the big\ndog's neck. It pleased the grim old nobleman that the child should show\nno shyness or fear, either of the dog or of himself.\n\nCedric looked at him just as he had looked at the woman at the lodge and\nat the housekeeper, and came quite close to him.\n\n\"Are you the Earl?\" he said. \"I'm your grandson, you know, that Mr.\nHavisham brought. I'm Lord Fauntleroy.\"\n\nHe held out his hand because he thought it must be the polite and proper\nthing to do even with earls. \"I hope you are very well,\" he continued,\nwith the utmost friendliness. \"I'm very glad to see you.\"\n\nThe Earl shook hands with him, with a curious gleam in his eyes; just at\nfirst, he was so astonished that he scarcely knew what to say. He stared\nat the picturesque little apparition from under his shaggy brows, and\ntook it all in from head to foot.\n\n\"Glad to see me, are you?\" he said.\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Lord Fauntleroy, \"very.\"\n\nThere was a chair near him, and he sat down on it; it was a high-backed,\nrather tall chair, and his feet did not touch the floor when he had\nsettled himself in it, but he seemed to be quite comfortable as he sat\nthere, and regarded his august relative intently but modestly.\n\n\"I've kept wondering what you would look like,\" he remarked. \"I used to\nlie in my berth in the ship and wonder if you would be anything like my\nfather.\"\n\n\"Am I?\" asked the Earl.\n\n\"Well,\" Cedric replied, \"I was very young when he died, and I may not\nremember exactly how he looked, but I don't think you are like him.\"\n\n\"You are disappointed, I suppose?\" suggested his grandfather.\n\n\"Oh, no,\" responded Cedric politely. \"Of course you would like any one\nto look like your father; but of course you would enjoy the way your\ngrandfather looked, even if he wasn't like your father. You know how it\nis yourself about admiring your relations.\"\n\nThe Earl leaned back in his chair and stared. He could not be said to\nknow how it was about admiring his relations. He had employed most of\nhis noble leisure in quarreling violently with them, in turning them out\nof his house, and applying abusive epithets to them; and they all hated\nhim cordially.\n\n\"Any boy would love his grandfather,\" continued Lord Fauntleroy,\n\"especially one that had been as kind to him as you have been.\"\n\nAnother queer gleam came into the old nobleman's eyes.\n\n\"Oh!\" he said, \"I have been kind to you, have I?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Lord Fauntleroy brightly; \"I'm ever so much obliged to\nyou about Bridget, and the apple-woman, and Dick.\"\n\n\"Bridget!\" exclaimed the Earl. \"Dick! The apple-woman!\"\n\n\"Yes!\" explained Cedric; \"the ones you gave me all that money for--the\nmoney you told Mr. Havisham to give me if I wanted it.\"\n\n\"Ha!\" ejaculated his lordship. \"That's it, is it? The money you were\nto spend as you liked. What did you buy with it? I should like to hear\nsomething about that.\"\n\nHe drew his shaggy eyebrows together and looked at the child sharply. He\nwas secretly curious to know in what way the lad had indulged himself.\n\n\"Oh!\" said Lord Fauntleroy, \"perhaps you didn't know about Dick and the\napple-woman and Bridget. I forgot you lived such a long way off from\nthem. They were particular friends of mine. And you see Michael had the\nfever----\"\n\n\"Who's Michael?\" asked the Earl.\n\n\"Michael is Bridget's husband, and they were in great trouble. When a\nman is sick and can't work and has twelve children, you know how it is.\nAnd Michael has always been a sober man. And Bridget used to come to our\nhouse and cry. And the evening Mr. Havisham was there, she was in the\nkitchen crying, because they had almost nothing to eat and couldn't pay\nthe rent; and I went in to see her, and Mr. Havisham sent for me and he\nsaid you had given him some money for me. And I ran as fast as I could\ninto the kitchen and gave it to Bridget; and that made it all right; and\nBridget could scarcely believe her eyes. That's why I'm so obliged to\nyou.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the Earl in his deep voice, \"that was one of the things you\ndid for yourself, was it? What else?\"\n\nDougal had been sitting by the tall chair; the great dog had taken its\nplace there when Cedric sat down. Several times it had turned and looked\nup at the boy as if interested in the conversation. Dougal was a\nsolemn dog, who seemed to feel altogether too big to take life's\nresponsibilities lightly. The old Earl, who knew the dog well, had\nwatched it with secret interest. Dougal was not a dog whose habit it was\nto make acquaintances rashly, and the Earl wondered somewhat to see how\nquietly the brute sat under the touch of the childish hand. And, just\nat this moment, the big dog gave little Lord Fauntleroy one more look\nof dignified scrutiny, and deliberately laid its huge, lion-like head on\nthe boy's black-velvet knee.\n\nThe small hand went on stroking this new friend as Cedric answered:\n\n\"Well, there was Dick,\" he said. \"You'd like Dick, he's so square.\"\n\nThis was an Americanism the Earl was not prepared for.\n\n\"What does that mean?\" he inquired.\n\nLord Fauntleroy paused a moment to reflect. He was not very sure himself\nwhat it meant. He had taken it for granted as meaning something very\ncreditable because Dick had been fond of using it.\n\n\"I think it means that he wouldn't cheat any one,\" he exclaimed; \"or\nhit a boy who was under his size, and that he blacks people's boots\nvery well and makes them shine as much as he can. He's a perfessional\nbootblack.\"\n\n\"And he's one of your acquaintances, is he?\" said the Earl.\n\n\"He is an old friend of mine,\" replied his grandson. \"Not quite as old\nas Mr. Hobbs, but quite old. He gave me a present just before the ship\nsailed.\"\n\nHe put his hand into his pocket and drew forth a neatly folded red\nobject and opened it with an air of affectionate pride. It was the red\nsilk handkerchief with the large purple horse-shoes and heads on it.\n\n\"He gave me this,\" said his young lordship. \"I shall keep it always. You\ncan wear it round your neck or keep it in your pocket. He bought it with\nthe first money he earned after I bought Jake out and gave him the new\nbrushes. It's a keepsake. I put some poetry in Mr. Hobbs's watch. It\nwas, 'When this you see, remember me.' When this I see, I shall always\nremember Dick.\"\n\nThe sensations of the Right Honorable the Earl of Dorincourt could\nscarcely be described. He was not an old nobleman who was very easily\nbewildered, because he had seen a great deal of the world; but here was\nsomething he found so novel that it almost took his lordly breath away,\nand caused him some singular emotions. He had never cared for children;\nhe had been so occupied with his own pleasures that he had never had\ntime to care for them. His own sons had not interested him when they\nwere very young--though sometimes he remembered having thought Cedric's\nfather a handsome and strong little fellow. He had been so selfish\nhimself that he had missed the pleasure of seeing unselfishness in\nothers, and he had not known how tender and faithful and affectionate a\nkind-hearted little child can be, and how innocent and unconscious are\nits simple, generous impulses. A boy had always seemed to him a most\nobjectionable little animal, selfish and greedy and boisterous when not\nunder strict restraint; his own two eldest sons had given their tutors\nconstant trouble and annoyance, and of the younger one he fancied he had\nheard few complaints because the boy was of no particular importance. It\nhad never once occurred to him that he should like his grandson; he had\nsent for the little Cedric because his pride impelled him to do so. If\nthe boy was to take his place in the future, he did not wish his name\nto be made ridiculous by descending to an uneducated boor. He had been\nconvinced the boy would be a clownish fellow if he were brought up in\nAmerica. He had no feeling of affection for the lad; his only hope was\nthat he should find him decently well-featured, and with a respectable\nshare of sense; he had been so disappointed in his other sons, and had\nbeen made so furious by Captain Errol's American marriage, that he had\nnever once thought that anything creditable could come of it. When the\nfootman had announced Lord Fauntleroy, he had almost dreaded to look at\nthe boy lest he should find him all that he had feared. It was because\nof this feeling that he had ordered that the child should be sent to\nhim alone. His pride could not endure that others should see his\ndisappointment if he was to be disappointed. His proud, stubborn old\nheart therefore had leaped within him when the boy came forward with his\ngraceful, easy carriage, his fearless hand on the big dog's neck. Even\nin the moments when he had hoped the most, the Earl had never hoped that\nhis grandson would look like that. It seemed almost too good to be true\nthat this should be the boy he had dreaded to see--the child of the\nwoman he so disliked--this little fellow with so much beauty and such\na brave, childish grace! The Earl's stern composure was quite shaken by\nthis startling surprise.\n\nAnd then their talk began; and he was still more curiously moved, and\nmore and more puzzled. In the first place, he was so used to seeing\npeople rather afraid and embarrassed before him, that he had expected\nnothing else but that his grandson would be timid or shy. But Cedric was\nno more afraid of the Earl than he had been of Dougal. He was not bold;\nhe was only innocently friendly, and he was not conscious that there\ncould be any reason why he should be awkward or afraid. The Earl could\nnot help seeing that the little boy took him for a friend and treated\nhim as one, without having any doubt of him at all. It was quite plain\nas the little fellow sat there in his tall chair and talked in his\nfriendly way that it had never occurred to him that this large,\nfierce-looking old man could be anything but kind to him, and rather\npleased to see him there. And it was plain, too, that, in his childish\nway, he wished to please and interest his grandfather. Cross, and\nhard-hearted, and worldly as the old Earl was, he could not help feeling\na secret and novel pleasure in this very confidence. After all, it was\nnot disagreeable to meet some one who did not distrust him or shrink\nfrom him, or seem to detect the ugly part of his nature; some one who\nlooked at him with clear, unsuspecting eyes,--if it was only a little\nboy in a black velvet suit.\n\nSo the old man leaned back in his chair, and led his young companion\non to telling him still more of himself, and with that odd gleam in his\neyes watched the little fellow as he talked. Lord Fauntleroy was quite\nwilling to answer all his questions and chatted on in his genial little\nway quite composedly. He told him all about Dick and Jake, and the\napple-woman, and Mr. Hobbs; he described the Republican Rally in all\nthe glory of its banners and transparencies, torches and rockets. In\nthe course of the conversation, he reached the Fourth of July and\nthe Revolution, and was just becoming enthusiastic, when he suddenly\nrecollected something and stopped very abruptly.\n\n\"What is the matter?\" demanded his grandfather. \"Why don't you go on?\"\n\nLord Fauntleroy moved rather uneasily in his chair. It was evident to\nthe Earl that he was embarrassed by the thought which had just occurred\nto him.\n\n\"I was just thinking that perhaps you mightn't like it,\" he replied.\n\"Perhaps some one belonging to you might have been there. I forgot you\nwere an Englishman.\"\n\n\"You can go on,\" said my lord. \"No one belonging to me was there. You\nforgot you were an Englishman, too.\"\n\n\"Oh! no,\" said Cedric quickly. \"I'm an American!\"\n\n\"You are an Englishman,\" said the Earl grimly. \"Your father was an\nEnglishman.\"\n\nIt amused him a little to say this, but it did not amuse Cedric. The lad\nhad never thought of such a development as this. He felt himself grow\nquite hot up to the roots of his hair.\n\n\"I was born in America,\" he protested. \"You have to be an American if\nyou are born in America. I beg your pardon,\" with serious politeness\nand delicacy, \"for contradicting you. Mr. Hobbs told me, if there were\nanother war, you know, I should have to--to be an American.\"\n\nThe Earl gave a grim half laugh--it was short and grim, but it was a\nlaugh.\n\n\"You would, would you?\" he said.\n\nHe hated America and Americans, but it amused him to see how serious and\ninterested this small patriot was. He thought that so good an American\nmight make a rather good Englishman when he was a man.\n\nThey had not time to go very deep into the Revolution again--and\nindeed Lord Fauntleroy felt some delicacy about returning to the\nsubject--before dinner was announced.\n\nCedric left his chair and went to his noble kinsman. He looked down at\nhis gouty foot.\n\n\"Would you like me to help you?\" he said politely. \"You could lean on\nme, you know. Once when Mr. Hobbs hurt his foot with a potato-barrel\nrolling on it, he used to lean on me.\"\n\nThe big footman almost periled his reputation and his situation by\nsmiling. He was an aristocratic footman who had always lived in the best\nof noble families, and he had never smiled; indeed, he would have felt\nhimself a disgraced and vulgar footman if he had allowed himself to be\nled by any circumstance whatever into such an indiscretion as a smile.\nBut he had a very narrow escape. He only just saved himself by staring\nstraight over the Earl's head at a very ugly picture.\n\nThe Earl looked his valiant young relative over from head to foot.\n\n\"Do you think you could do it?\" he asked gruffly.\n\n\"I THINK I could,\" said Cedric. \"I'm strong. I'm seven, you know. You\ncould lean on your stick on one side, and on me on the other. Dick says\nI've a good deal of muscle for a boy that's only seven.\"\n\nHe shut his hand and moved it upward to his shoulder, so that the Earl\nmight see the muscle Dick had kindly approved of, and his face was so\ngrave and earnest that the footman found it necessary to look very hard\nindeed at the ugly picture.\n\n\"Well,\" said the Earl, \"you may try.\"\n\nCedric gave him his stick and began to assist him to rise. Usually, the\nfootman did this, and was violently sworn at when his lordship had an\nextra twinge of gout. The Earl was not a very polite person as a rule,\nand many a time the huge footmen about him quaked inside their imposing\nliveries.\n\nBut this evening he did not swear, though his gouty foot gave him more\ntwinges than one. He chose to try an experiment. He got up slowly\nand put his hand on the small shoulder presented to him with so much\ncourage. Little Lord Fauntleroy made a careful step forward, looking\ndown at the gouty foot.\n\n\"Just lean on me,\" he said, with encouraging good cheer. \"I'll walk very\nslowly.\"\n\nIf the Earl had been supported by the footman he would have rested less\non his stick and more on his assistant's arm. And yet it was part of his\nexperiment to let his grandson feel his burden as no light weight.\nIt was quite a heavy weight indeed, and after a few steps his young\nlordship's face grew quite hot, and his heart beat rather fast, but he\nbraced himself sturdily, remembering his muscle and Dick's approval of\nit.\n\n\"Don't be afraid of leaning on me,\" he panted. \"I'm all right--if--if it\nisn't a very long way.\"\n\nIt was not really very far to the dining-room, but it seemed rather a\nlong way to Cedric, before they reached the chair at the head of the\ntable. The hand on his shoulder seemed to grow heavier at every step,\nand his face grew redder and hotter, and his breath shorter, but he\nnever thought of giving up; he stiffened his childish muscles, held his\nhead erect, and encouraged the Earl as he limped along.\n\n\"Does your foot hurt you very much when you stand on it?\" he asked. \"Did\nyou ever put it in hot water and mustard? Mr. Hobbs used to put his in\nhot water. Arnica is a very nice thing, they tell me.\"\n\nThe big dog stalked slowly beside them, and the big footman followed;\nseveral times he looked very queer as he watched the little figure\nmaking the very most of all its strength, and bearing its burden with\nsuch good-will. The Earl, too, looked rather queer, once, as he glanced\nsidewise down at the flushed little face. When they entered the room\nwhere they were to dine, Cedric saw it was a very large and imposing\none, and that the footman who stood behind the chair at the head of the\ntable stared very hard as they came in.\n\nBut they reached the chair at last. The hand was removed from his\nshoulder, and the Earl was fairly seated.\n\nCedric took out Dick's handkerchief and wiped his forehead.\n\n\"It's a warm night, isn't it?\" he said. \"Perhaps you need a fire\nbecause--because of your foot, but it seems just a little warm to me.\"\n\nHis delicate consideration for his noble relative's feelings was such\nthat he did not wish to seem to intimate that any of his surroundings\nwere unnecessary.\n\n\"You have been doing some rather hard work,\" said the Earl.\n\n\"Oh, no!\" said Lord Fauntleroy, \"it wasn't exactly hard, but I got a\nlittle warm. A person will get warm in summer time.\"\n\nAnd he rubbed his damp curls rather vigorously with the gorgeous\nhandkerchief. His own chair was placed at the other end of the table,\nopposite his grandfather's. It was a chair with arms, and intended for\na much larger individual than himself; indeed, everything he had seen so\nfar,--the great rooms, with their high ceilings, the massive furniture,\nthe big footman, the big dog, the Earl himself,--were all of proportions\ncalculated to make this little lad feel that he was very small, indeed.\nBut that did not trouble him; he had never thought himself very large\nor important, and he was quite willing to accommodate himself even to\ncircumstances which rather overpowered him.\n\nPerhaps he had never looked so little a fellow as when seated now in\nhis great chair, at the end of the table. Notwithstanding his solitary\nexistence, the Earl chose to live in some state. He was fond of his\ndinner, and he dined in a formal style. Cedric looked at him across\na glitter of splendid glass and plate, which to his unaccustomed eyes\nseemed quite dazzling. A stranger looking on might well have smiled at\nthe picture,--the great stately room, the big liveried servants, the\nbright lights, the glittering silver and glass, the fierce-looking old\nnobleman at the head of the table and the very small boy at the foot.\nDinner was usually a very serious matter with the Earl--and it was a\nvery serious matter with the cook, if his lordship was not pleased or\nhad an indifferent appetite. To-day, however, his appetite seemed a\ntrifle better than usual, perhaps because he had something to think of\nbeside the flavor of the entrees and the management of the gravies. His\ngrandson gave him something to think of. He kept looking at him across\nthe table. He did not say very much himself, but he managed to make the\nboy talk. He had never imagined that he could be entertained by hearing\na child talk, but Lord Fauntleroy at once puzzled and amused him, and\nhe kept remembering how he had let the childish shoulder feel his weight\njust for the sake of trying how far the boy's courage and endurance\nwould go, and it pleased him to know that his grandson had not quailed\nand had not seemed to think even for a moment of giving up what he had\nundertaken to do.\n\n\"You don't wear your coronet all the time?\" remarked Lord Fauntleroy\nrespectfully.\n\n\"No,\" replied the Earl, with his grim smile; \"it is not becoming to me.\"\n\n\"Mr. Hobbs said you always wore it,\" said Cedric; \"but after he thought\nit over, he said he supposed you must sometimes take it off to put your\nhat on.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the Earl, \"I take it off occasionally.\"\n\nAnd one of the footmen suddenly turned aside and gave a singular little\ncough behind his hand.\n\nCedric finished his dinner first, and then he leaned back in his chair\nand took a survey of the room.\n\n\"You must be very proud of your house,\" he said, \"it's such a beautiful\nhouse. I never saw anything so beautiful; but, of course, as I'm only\nseven, I haven't seen much.\"\n\n\"And you think I must be proud of it, do you?\" said the Earl.\n\n\"I should think any one would be proud of it,\" replied Lord Fauntleroy.\n\"I should be proud of it if it were my house. Everything about it is\nbeautiful. And the park, and those trees,--how beautiful they are, and\nhow the leaves rustle!\"\n\nThen he paused an instant and looked across the table rather wistfully.\n\n\"It's a very big house for just two people to live in, isn't it?\" he\nsaid.\n\n\"It is quite large enough for two,\" answered the Earl. \"Do you find it\ntoo large?\"\n\nHis little lordship hesitated a moment.\n\n\"I was only thinking,\" he said, \"that if two people lived in it who were\nnot very good companions, they might feel lonely sometimes.\"\n\n\"Do you think I shall make a good companion?\" inquired the Earl.\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Cedric, \"I think you will. Mr. Hobbs and I were great\nfriends. He was the best friend I had except Dearest.\"\n\nThe Earl made a quick movement of his bushy eyebrows.\n\n\"Who is Dearest?\"\n\n\"She is my mother,\" said Lord Fauntleroy, in a rather low, quiet little\nvoice.\n\nPerhaps he was a trifle tired, as his bed-time was nearing, and perhaps\nafter the excitement of the last few days it was natural he should be\ntired, so perhaps, too, the feeling of weariness brought to him a vague\nsense of loneliness in the remembrance that to-night he was not to sleep\nat home, watched over by the loving eyes of that \"best friend\" of his.\nThey had always been \"best friends,\" this boy and his young mother. He\ncould not help thinking of her, and the more he thought of her the less\nwas he inclined to talk, and by the time the dinner was at an end the\nEarl saw that there was a faint shadow on his face. But Cedric bore\nhimself with excellent courage, and when they went back to the library,\nthough the tall footman walked on one side of his master, the Earl's\nhand rested on his grandson's shoulder, though not so heavily as before.\n\nWhen the footman left them alone, Cedric sat down upon the hearth-rug\nnear Dougal. For a few minutes he stroked the dog's ears in silence and\nlooked at the fire.\n\nThe Earl watched him. The boy's eyes looked wistful and thoughtful, and\nonce or twice he gave a little sigh. The Earl sat still, and kept his\neyes fixed on his grandson.\n\n\"Fauntleroy,\" he said at last, \"what are you thinking of?\"\n\nFauntleroy looked up with a manful effort at a smile.\n\n\"I was thinking about Dearest,\" he said; \"and--and I think I'd better\nget up and walk up and down the room.\"\n\nHe rose up, and put his hands in his small pockets, and began to walk to\nand fro. His eyes were very bright, and his lips were pressed together,\nbut he kept his head up and walked firmly. Dougal moved lazily and\nlooked at him, and then stood up. He walked over to the child, and began\nto follow him uneasily. Fauntleroy drew one hand from his pocket and\nlaid it on the dog's head.\n\n\"He's a very nice dog,\" he said. \"He's my friend. He knows how I feel.\"\n\n\"How do you feel?\" asked the Earl.\n\nIt disturbed him to see the struggle the little fellow was having with\nhis first feeling of homesickness, but it pleased him to see that he\nwas making so brave an effort to bear it well. He liked this childish\ncourage.\n\n\"Come here,\" he said.\n\nFauntleroy went to him.\n\n\"I never was away from my own house before,\" said the boy, with a\ntroubled look in his brown eyes. \"It makes a person feel a strange\nfeeling when he has to stay all night in another person's castle instead\nof in his own house. But Dearest is not very far away from me. She told\nme to remember that--and--and I'm seven--and I can look at the picture\nshe gave me.\"\n\nHe put his hand in his pocket, and brought out a small violet\nvelvet-covered case.\n\n\"This is it,\" he said. \"You see, you press this spring and it opens, and\nshe is in there!\"\n\nHe had come close to the Earl's chair, and, as he drew forth the little\ncase, he leaned against the arm of it, and against the old man's arm,\ntoo, as confidingly as if children had always leaned there.\n\n\"There she is,\" he said, as the case opened; and he looked up with a\nsmile.\n\nThe Earl knitted his brows; he did not wish to see the picture, but he\nlooked at it in spite of himself; and there looked up at him from it\nsuch a pretty young face--a face so like the child's at his side--that\nit quite startled him.\n\n\"I suppose you think you are very fond of her,\" he said.\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Lord Fauntleroy, in a gentle tone, and with simple\ndirectness; \"I do think so, and I think it's true. You see, Mr. Hobbs\nwas my friend, and Dick and Bridget and Mary and Michael, they were my\nfriends, too; but Dearest--well, she is my CLOSE friend, and we always\ntell each other everything. My father left her to me to take care of,\nand when I am a man I am going to work and earn money for her.\"\n\n\"What do you think of doing?\" inquired his grandfather.\n\nHis young lordship slipped down upon the hearth-rug, and sat there with\nthe picture still in his hand. He seemed to be reflecting seriously,\nbefore he answered.\n\n\"I did think perhaps I might go into business with Mr. Hobbs,\" he said;\n\"but I should LIKE to be a President.\"\n\n\"We'll send you to the House of Lords instead,\" said his grandfather.\n\n\"Well,\" remarked Lord Fauntleroy, \"if I COULDN'T be a President, and if\nthat is a good business, I shouldn't mind. The grocery business is dull\nsometimes.\"\n\nPerhaps he was weighing the matter in his mind, for he sat very quiet\nafter this, and looked at the fire for some time.\n\nThe Earl did not speak again. He leaned back in his chair and watched\nhim. A great many strange new thoughts passed through the old nobleman's\nmind. Dougal had stretched himself out and gone to sleep with his head\non his huge paws. There was a long silence.\n\n\nIn about half an hour's time Mr. Havisham was ushered in. The great room\nwas very still when he entered. The Earl was still leaning back in his\nchair. He moved as Mr. Havisham approached, and held up his hand in a\ngesture of warning--it seemed as if he had scarcely intended to make the\ngesture--as if it were almost involuntary. Dougal was still asleep, and\nclose beside the great dog, sleeping also, with his curly head upon his\narm, lay little Lord Fauntleroy.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nWhen Lord Fauntleroy wakened in the morning,--he had not wakened at all\nwhen he had been carried to bed the night before,--the first sounds he\nwas conscious of were the crackling of a wood fire and the murmur of\nvoices.\n\n\"You will be careful, Dawson, not to say anything about it,\" he heard\nsome one say. \"He does not know why she is not to be with him, and the\nreason is to be kept from him.\"\n\n\"If them's his lordship's orders, mem,\" another voice answered, \"they'll\nhave to be kep', I suppose. But, if you'll excuse the liberty, mem, as\nit's between ourselves, servant or no servant, all I have to say is,\nit's a cruel thing,--parting that poor, pretty, young widdered cre'tur'\nfrom her own flesh and blood, and him such a little beauty and a\nnobleman born. James and Thomas, mem, last night in the servants' hall,\nthey both of 'em say as they never see anythink in their two lives--nor\nyet no other gentleman in livery--like that little fellow's ways, as\ninnercent an' polite an' interested as if he'd been sitting there dining\nwith his best friend,--and the temper of a' angel, instead of one (if\nyou'll excuse me, mem), as it's well known, is enough to curdle your\nblood in your veins at times. And as to looks, mem, when we was rung\nfor, James and me, to go into the library and bring him upstairs, and\nJames lifted him up in his arms, what with his little innercent face\nall red and rosy, and his little head on James's shoulder and his hair\nhanging down, all curly an' shinin', a prettier, takiner sight you'd\nnever wish to see. An' it's my opinion, my lord wasn't blind to it\nneither, for he looked at him, and he says to James, 'See you don't wake\nhim!' he says.\"\n\nCedric moved on his pillow, and turned over, opening his eyes.\n\nThere were two women in the room. Everything was bright and cheerful\nwith gay-flowered chintz. There was a fire on the hearth, and the\nsunshine was streaming in through the ivy-entwined windows. Both women\ncame toward him, and he saw that one of them was Mrs. Mellon, the\nhousekeeper, and the other a comfortable, middle-aged woman, with a face\nas kind and good-humored as a face could be.\n\n\"Good-morning, my lord,\" said Mrs. Mellon. \"Did you sleep well?\"\n\nHis lordship rubbed his eyes and smiled.\n\n\"Good-morning,\" he said. \"I didn't know I was here.\"\n\n\"You were carried upstairs when you were asleep,\" said the housekeeper.\n\"This is your bedroom, and this is Dawson, who is to take care of you.\"\n\nFauntleroy sat up in bed and held out his hand to Dawson, as he had held\nit out to the Earl.\n\n\"How do you do, ma'am?\" he said. \"I'm much obliged to you for coming to\ntake care of me.\"\n\n\"You can call her Dawson, my lord,\" said the housekeeper with a smile.\n\"She is used to being called Dawson.\"\n\n\"MISS Dawson, or MRS. Dawson?\" inquired his lordship.\n\n\"Just Dawson, my lord,\" said Dawson herself, beaming all over. \"Neither\nMiss nor Missis, bless your little heart! Will you get up now, and let\nDawson dress you, and then have your breakfast in the nursery?\"\n\n\"I learned to dress myself many years ago, thank you,\" answered\nFauntleroy. \"Dearest taught me. 'Dearest' is my mamma. We had only Mary\nto do all the work,--washing and all,--and so of course it wouldn't do\nto give her so much trouble. I can take my bath, too, pretty well if\nyou'll just be kind enough to 'zamine the corners after I'm done.\"\n\nDawson and the housekeeper exchanged glances.\n\n\"Dawson will do anything you ask her to,\" said Mrs. Mellon.\n\n\"That I will, bless him,\" said Dawson, in her comforting, good-humored\nvoice. \"He shall dress himself if he likes, and I'll stand by, ready to\nhelp him if he wants me.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" responded Lord Fauntleroy; \"it's a little hard sometimes\nabout the buttons, you know, and then I have to ask somebody.\"\n\nHe thought Dawson a very kind woman, and before the bath and the\ndressing were finished they were excellent friends, and he had found out\na great deal about her. He had discovered that her husband had been a\nsoldier and had been killed in a real battle, and that her son was a\nsailor, and was away on a long cruise, and that he had seen pirates and\ncannibals and Chinese people and Turks, and that he brought home strange\nshells and pieces of coral which Dawson was ready to show at any moment,\nsome of them being in her trunk. All this was very interesting. He also\nfound out that she had taken care of little children all her life, and\nthat she had just come from a great house in another part of England,\nwhere she had been taking care of a beautiful little girl whose name was\nLady Gwyneth Vaughn.\n\n\"And she is a sort of relation of your lordship's,\" said Dawson. \"And\nperhaps sometime you may see her.\"\n\n\"Do you think I shall?\" said Fauntleroy. \"I should like that. I never\nknew any little girls, but I always like to look at them.\"\n\nWhen he went into the adjoining room to take his breakfast, and saw\nwhat a great room it was, and found there was another adjoining it which\nDawson told him was his also, the feeling that he was very small indeed\ncame over him again so strongly that he confided it to Dawson, as he sat\ndown to the table on which the pretty breakfast service was arranged.\n\n\"I am a very little boy,\" he said rather wistfully, \"to live in such a\nlarge castle, and have so many big rooms,--don't you think so?\"\n\n\"Oh! come!\" said Dawson, \"you feel just a little strange at first,\nthat's all; but you'll get over that very soon, and then you'll like it\nhere. It's such a beautiful place, you know.\"\n\n\"It's a very beautiful place, of course,\" said Fauntleroy, with a little\nsigh; \"but I should like it better if I didn't miss Dearest so. I always\nhad my breakfast with her in the morning, and put the sugar and cream in\nher tea for her, and handed her the toast. That made it very sociable,\nof course.\"\n\n\"Oh, well!\" answered Dawson, comfortingly, \"you know you can see her\nevery day, and there's no knowing how much you'll have to tell her.\nBless you! wait till you've walked about a bit and seen things,--the\ndogs, and the stables with all the horses in them. There's one of them I\nknow you'll like to see----\"\n\n\"Is there?\" exclaimed Fauntleroy; \"I'm very fond of horses. I was very\nfond of Jim. He was the horse that belonged to Mr. Hobbs' grocery wagon.\nHe was a beautiful horse when he wasn't balky.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Dawson, \"you just wait till you've seen what's in the\nstables. And, deary me, you haven't looked even into the very next room\nyet!\"\n\n\"What is there?\" asked Fauntleroy.\n\n\"Wait until you've had your breakfast, and then you shall see,\" said\nDawson.\n\nAt this he naturally began to grow curious, and he applied himself\nassiduously to his breakfast. It seemed to him that there must be\nsomething worth looking at, in the next room; Dawson had such a\nconsequential, mysterious air.\n\n\"Now, then,\" he said, slipping off his seat a few minutes later; \"I've\nhad enough. Can I go and look at it?\"\n\nDawson nodded and led the way, looking more mysterious and important\nthan ever. He began to be very much interested indeed.\n\nWhen she opened the door of the room, he stood upon the threshold and\nlooked about him in amazement. He did not speak; he only put his hands\nin his pockets and stood there flushing up to his forehead and looking\nin.\n\nHe flushed up because he was so surprised and, for the moment, excited.\nTo see such a place was enough to surprise any ordinary boy.\n\nThe room was a large one, too, as all the rooms seemed to be, and it\nappeared to him more beautiful than the rest, only in a different way.\nThe furniture was not so massive and antique as was that in the rooms\nhe had seen downstairs; the draperies and rugs and walls were brighter;\nthere were shelves full of books, and on the tables were numbers of\ntoys,--beautiful, ingenious things,--such as he had looked at with\nwonder and delight through the shop windows in New York.\n\n\"It looks like a boy's room,\" he said at last, catching his breath a\nlittle. \"Whom do they belong to?\"\n\n\"Go and look at them,\" said Dawson. \"They belong to you!\"\n\n\"To me!\" he cried; \"to me? Why do they belong to me? Who gave them to\nme?\" And he sprang forward with a gay little shout. It seemed almost\ntoo much to be believed. \"It was Grandpapa!\" he said, with his eyes as\nbright as stars. \"I know it was Grandpapa!\"\n\n\"Yes, it was his lordship,\" said Dawson; \"and if you will be a nice\nlittle gentleman, and not fret about things, and will enjoy yourself,\nand be happy all the day, he will give you anything you ask for.\"\n\nIt was a tremendously exciting morning. There were so many things to be\nexamined, so many experiments to be tried; each novelty was so absorbing\nthat he could scarcely turn from it to look at the next. And it was so\ncurious to know that all this had been prepared for himself alone; that,\neven before he had left New York, people had come down from London\nto arrange the rooms he was to occupy, and had provided the books and\nplaythings most likely to interest him.\n\n\"Did you ever know any one,\" he said to Dawson, \"who had such a kind\ngrandfather!\"\n\nDawson's face wore an uncertain expression for a moment. She had not\na very high opinion of his lordship the Earl. She had not been in the\nhouse many days, but she had been there long enough to hear the old\nnobleman's peculiarities discussed very freely in the servants' hall.\n\n\"An' of all the wicious, savage, hill-tempered hold fellows it was ever\nmy hill-luck to wear livery hunder,\" the tallest footman had said, \"he's\nthe wiolentest and wust by a long shot.\"\n\nAnd this particular footman, whose name was Thomas, had also repeated to\nhis companions below stairs some of the Earl's remarks to Mr. Havisham,\nwhen they had been discussing these very preparations.\n\n\"Give him his own way, and fill his rooms with toys,\" my lord had said.\n\"Give him what will amuse him, and he'll forget about his mother quickly\nenough. Amuse him, and fill his mind with other things, and we shall\nhave no trouble. That's boy nature.\"\n\nSo, perhaps, having had this truly amiable object in view, it did not\nplease him so very much to find it did not seem to be exactly this\nparticular boy's nature. The Earl had passed a bad night and had spent\nthe morning in his room; but at noon, after he had lunched, he sent for\nhis grandson.\n\nFauntleroy answered the summons at once. He came down the broad\nstaircase with a bounding step; the Earl heard him run across the hall,\nand then the door opened and he came in with red cheeks and sparkling\neyes.\n\n\"I was waiting for you to send for me,\" he said. \"I was ready a long\ntime ago. I'm EVER so much obliged to you for all those things! I'm EVER\nso much obliged to you! I have been playing with them all the morning.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the Earl, \"you like them, do you?\"\n\n\"I like them so much--well, I couldn't tell you how much!\" said\nFauntleroy, his face glowing with delight. \"There's one that's like\nbaseball, only you play it on a board with black and white pegs, and you\nkeep your score with some counters on a wire. I tried to teach Dawson,\nbut she couldn't quite understand it just at first--you see, she never\nplayed baseball, being a lady; and I'm afraid I wasn't very good at\nexplaining it to her. But you know all about it, don't you?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid I don't,\" replied the Earl. \"It's an American game, isn't\nit? Is it something like cricket?\"\n\n\"I never saw cricket,\" said Fauntleroy; \"but Mr. Hobbs took me several\ntimes to see baseball. It's a splendid game. You get so excited! Would\nyou like me to go and get my game and show it to you? Perhaps it would\namuse you and make you forget about your foot. Does your foot hurt you\nvery much this morning?\"\n\n\"More than I enjoy,\" was the answer.\n\n\"Then perhaps you couldn't forget it,\" said the little fellow anxiously.\n\"Perhaps it would bother you to be told about the game. Do you think it\nwould amuse you, or do you think it would bother you?\"\n\n\"Go and get it,\" said the Earl.\n\nIt certainly was a novel entertainment this,--making a companion of a\nchild who offered to teach him to play games,--but the very novelty of\nit amused him. There was a smile lurking about the Earl's mouth when\nCedric came back with the box containing the game, in his arms, and an\nexpression of the most eager interest on his face.\n\n\"May I pull that little table over here to your chair?\" he asked.\n\n\"Ring for Thomas,\" said the Earl. \"He will place it for you.\"\n\n\"Oh, I can do it myself,\" answered Fauntleroy. \"It's not very heavy.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" replied his grandfather. The lurking smile deepened on the\nold man's face as he watched the little fellow's preparations; there was\nsuch an absorbed interest in them. The small table was dragged forward\nand placed by his chair, and the game taken from its box and arranged\nupon it.\n\n\"It's very interesting when you once begin,\" said Fauntleroy. \"You see,\nthe black pegs can be your side and the white ones mine. They're men,\nyou know, and once round the field is a home run and counts one--and\nthese are the outs--and here is the first base and that's the second and\nthat's the third and that's the home base.\"\n\nHe entered into the details of explanation with the greatest animation.\nHe showed all the attitudes of pitcher and catcher and batter in the\nreal game, and gave a dramatic description of a wonderful \"hot ball\"\nhe had seen caught on the glorious occasion on which he had witnessed a\nmatch in company with Mr. Hobbs. His vigorous, graceful little body, his\neager gestures, his simple enjoyment of it all, were pleasant to behold.\n\nWhen at last the explanations and illustrations were at an end and the\ngame began in good earnest, the Earl still found himself entertained.\nHis young companion was wholly absorbed; he played with all his childish\nheart; his gay little laughs when he made a good throw, his enthusiasm\nover a \"home run,\" his impartial delight over his own good luck and his\nopponent's, would have given a flavor to any game.\n\nIf, a week before, any one had told the Earl of Dorincourt that on that\nparticular morning he would be forgetting his gout and his bad temper\nin a child's game, played with black and white wooden pegs, on a gayly\npainted board, with a curly-headed small boy for a companion, he would\nwithout doubt have made himself very unpleasant; and yet he certainly\nhad forgotten himself when the door opened and Thomas announced a\nvisitor.\n\nThe visitor in question, who was an elderly gentleman in black, and no\nless a person than the clergyman of the parish, was so startled by the\namazing scene which met his eye, that he almost fell back a pace, and\nran some risk of colliding with Thomas.\n\nThere was, in fact, no part of his duty that the Reverend Mr. Mordaunt\nfound so decidedly unpleasant as that part which compelled him to call\nupon his noble patron at the Castle. His noble patron, indeed, usually\nmade these visits as disagreeable as it lay in his lordly power to make\nthem. He abhorred churches and charities, and flew into violent rages\nwhen any of his tenantry took the liberty of being poor and ill and\nneeding assistance. When his gout was at its worst, he did not hesitate\nto announce that he would not be bored and irritated by being told\nstories of their miserable misfortunes; when his gout troubled him less\nand he was in a somewhat more humane frame of mind, he would perhaps\ngive the rector some money, after having bullied him in the most\npainful manner, and berated the whole parish for its shiftlessness and\nimbecility. But, whatsoever his mood, he never failed to make as many\nsarcastic and embarrassing speeches as possible, and to cause the\nReverend Mr. Mordaunt to wish it were proper and Christian-like to throw\nsomething heavy at him. During all the years in which Mr. Mordaunt\nhad been in charge of Dorincourt parish, the rector certainly did not\nremember having seen his lordship, of his own free will, do any one a\nkindness, or, under any circumstances whatever, show that he thought of\nany one but himself.\n\nHe had called to-day to speak to him of a specially pressing case, and\nas he had walked up the avenue, he had, for two reasons, dreaded his\nvisit more than usual. In the first place, he knew that his lordship\nhad for several days been suffering with the gout, and had been in\nso villainous a humor that rumors of it had even reached the\nvillage--carried there by one of the young women servants, to her\nsister, who kept a little shop and retailed darning-needles and cotton\nand peppermints and gossip, as a means of earning an honest living.\nWhat Mrs. Dibble did not know about the Castle and its inmates, and the\nfarm-houses and their inmates, and the village and its population, was\nreally not worth being talked about. And of course she knew everything\nabout the Castle, because her sister, Jane Shorts, was one of the upper\nhousemaids, and was very friendly and intimate with Thomas.\n\n\"And the way his lordship do go on!\" said Mrs. Dibble, over the counter,\n\"and the way he do use language, Mr. Thomas told Jane herself, no flesh\nand blood as is in livery could stand--for throw a plate of toast at Mr.\nThomas, hisself, he did, not more than two days since, and if it weren't\nfor other things being agreeable and the society below stairs most\ngenteel, warning would have been gave within a' hour!\"\n\nAnd the rector had heard all this, for somehow the Earl was a favorite\nblack sheep in the cottages and farm-houses, and his bad behavior gave\nmany a good woman something to talk about when she had company to tea.\n\nAnd the second reason was even worse, because it was a new one and had\nbeen talked about with the most excited interest.\n\nWho did not know of the old nobleman's fury when his handsome son the\nCaptain had married the American lady? Who did not know how cruelly he\nhad treated the Captain, and how the big, gay, sweet-smiling young man,\nwho was the only member of the grand family any one liked, had died in\na foreign land, poor and unforgiven? Who did not know how fiercely his\nlordship had hated the poor young creature who had been this son's wife,\nand how he had hated the thought of her child and never meant to see the\nboy--until his two sons died and left him without an heir? And then,\nwho did not know that he had looked forward without any affection or\npleasure to his grandson's coming, and that he had made up his mind that\nhe should find the boy a vulgar, awkward, pert American lad, more likely\nto disgrace his noble name than to honor it?\n\nThe proud, angry old man thought he had kept all his thoughts secret. He\ndid not suppose any one had dared to guess at, much less talk over what\nhe felt, and dreaded; but his servants watched him, and read his\nface and his ill-humors and fits of gloom, and discussed them in the\nservants' hall. And while he thought himself quite secure from the\ncommon herd, Thomas was telling Jane and the cook, and the butler, and\nthe housemaids and the other footmen that it was his opinion that \"the\nhold man was wuss than usual a-thinkin' hover the Capting's boy, an'\nhanticipatin' as he won't be no credit to the fambly. An' serve him\nright,\" added Thomas; \"hit's 'is hown fault. Wot can he iggspect from a\nchild brought up in pore circumstances in that there low Hamerica?\"\n\nAnd as the Reverend Mr. Mordaunt walked under the great trees, he\nremembered that this questionable little boy had arrived at the Castle\nonly the evening before, and that there were nine chances to one that\nhis lordship's worst fears were realized, and twenty-two chances to one\nthat if the poor little fellow had disappointed him, the Earl was even\nnow in a tearing rage, and ready to vent all his rancor on the first\nperson who called--which it appeared probable would be his reverend\nself.\n\nJudge then of his amazement when, as Thomas opened the library door, his\nears were greeted by a delighted ring of childish laughter.\n\n\"That's two out!\" shouted an excited, clear little voice. \"You see it's\ntwo out!\"\n\nAnd there was the Earl's chair, and the gout-stool, and his foot on\nit; and by him a small table and a game on it; and quite close to him,\nactually leaning against his arm and his ungouty knee, was a little boy\nwith face glowing, and eyes dancing with excitement. \"It's two out!\" the\nlittle stranger cried. \"You hadn't any luck that time, had you?\"--And\nthen they both recognized at once that some one had come in.\n\nThe Earl glanced around, knitting his shaggy eyebrows as he had a\ntrick of doing, and when he saw who it was, Mr. Mordaunt was still\nmore surprised to see that he looked even less disagreeable than usual\ninstead of more so. In fact, he looked almost as if he had forgotten for\nthe moment how disagreeable he was, and how unpleasant he really could\nmake himself when he tried.\n\n\"Ah!\" he said, in his harsh voice, but giving his hand rather\ngraciously. \"Good-morning, Mordaunt. I've found a new employment, you\nsee.\"\n\nHe put his other hand on Cedric's shoulder,--perhaps deep down in his\nheart there was a stir of gratified pride that it was such an heir he\nhad to present; there was a spark of something like pleasure in his eyes\nas he moved the boy slightly forward.\n\n\"This is the new Lord Fauntleroy,\" he said. \"Fauntleroy, this is Mr.\nMordaunt, the rector of the parish.\"\n\nFauntleroy looked up at the gentleman in the clerical garments, and gave\nhim his hand.\n\n\"I am very glad to make your acquaintance, sir,\" he said, remembering\nthe words he had heard Mr. Hobbs use on one or two occasions when he had\nbeen greeting a new customer with ceremony.\n\nCedric felt quite sure that one ought to be more than usually polite to\na minister.\n\nMr. Mordaunt held the small hand in his a moment as he looked down at\nthe child's face, smiling involuntarily. He liked the little fellow from\nthat instant--as in fact people always did like him. And it was not the\nboy's beauty and grace which most appealed to him; it was the simple,\nnatural kindliness in the little lad which made any words he uttered,\nhowever quaint and unexpected, sound pleasant and sincere. As the rector\nlooked at Cedric, he forgot to think of the Earl at all. Nothing in the\nworld is so strong as a kind heart, and somehow this kind little\nheart, though it was only the heart of a child, seemed to clear all the\natmosphere of the big gloomy room and make it brighter.\n\n\"I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Lord Fauntleroy,\" said the\nrector. \"You made a long journey to come to us. A great many people will\nbe glad to know you made it safely.\"\n\n\"It WAS a long way,\" answered Fauntleroy, \"but Dearest, my mother, was\nwith me and I wasn't lonely. Of course you are never lonely if your\nmother is with you; and the ship was beautiful.\"\n\n\"Take a chair, Mordaunt,\" said the Earl. Mr. Mordaunt sat down. He\nglanced from Fauntleroy to the Earl.\n\n\"Your lordship is greatly to be congratulated,\" he said warmly.\n\nBut the Earl plainly had no intention of showing his feelings on the\nsubject.\n\n\"He is like his father,\" he said rather gruffly. \"Let us hope he'll\nconduct himself more creditably.\" And then he added: \"Well, what is it\nthis morning, Mordaunt? Who is in trouble now?\"\n\nThis was not as bad as Mr. Mordaunt had expected, but he hesitated a\nsecond before he began.\n\n\"It is Higgins,\" he said; \"Higgins of Edge Farm. He has been very\nunfortunate. He was ill himself last autumn, and his children had\nscarlet fever. I can't say that he is a very good manager, but he has\nhad ill-luck, and of course he is behindhand in many ways. He is in\ntrouble about his rent now. Newick tells him if he doesn't pay it, he\nmust leave the place; and of course that would be a very serious matter.\nHis wife is ill, and he came to me yesterday to beg me to see about\nit, and ask you for time. He thinks if you would give him time he could\ncatch up again.\"\n\n\"They all think that,\" said the Earl, looking rather black.\n\nFauntleroy made a movement forward. He had been standing between his\ngrandfather and the visitor, listening with all his might. He had begun\nto be interested in Higgins at once. He wondered how many children there\nwere, and if the scarlet fever had hurt them very much. His eyes were\nwide open and were fixed upon Mr. Mordaunt with intent interest as that\ngentleman went on with the conversation.\n\n\"Higgins is a well-meaning man,\" said the rector, making an effort to\nstrengthen his plea.\n\n\"He is a bad enough tenant,\" replied his lordship. \"And he is always\nbehindhand, Newick tells me.\"\n\n\"He is in great trouble now,\" said the rector.\n\n\"He is very fond of his wife and children, and if the farm is taken\nfrom him they may literally starve. He can not give them the nourishing\nthings they need. Two of the children were left very low after the\nfever, and the doctor orders for them wine and luxuries that Higgins can\nnot afford.\"\n\nAt this Fauntleroy moved a step nearer.\n\n\"That was the way with Michael,\" he said.\n\nThe Earl slightly started.\n\n\"I forgot YOU!\" he said. \"I forgot we had a philanthropist in the room.\nWho was Michael?\" And the gleam of queer amusement came back into the\nold man's deep-set eyes.\n\n\"He was Bridget's husband, who had the fever,\" answered Fauntleroy; \"and\nhe couldn't pay the rent or buy wine and things. And you gave me that\nmoney to help him.\"\n\nThe Earl drew his brows together into a curious frown, which somehow was\nscarcely grim at all. He glanced across at Mr. Mordaunt.\n\n\"I don't know what sort of landed proprietor he will make,\" he said.\n\"I told Havisham the boy was to have what he wanted--anything he\nwanted--and what he wanted, it seems, was money to give to beggars.\"\n\n\"Oh! but they weren't beggars,\" said Fauntleroy eagerly. \"Michael was a\nsplendid bricklayer! They all worked.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the Earl, \"they were not beggars. They were splendid\nbricklayers, and bootblacks, and apple-women.\"\n\nHe bent his gaze on the boy for a few seconds in silence. The fact was\nthat a new thought was coming to him, and though, perhaps, it was not\nprompted by the noblest emotions, it was not a bad thought. \"Come here,\"\nhe said, at last.\n\nFauntleroy went and stood as near to him as possible without encroaching\non the gouty foot.\n\n\"What would YOU do in this case?\" his lordship asked.\n\nIt must be confessed that Mr. Mordaunt experienced for the moment a\ncurious sensation. Being a man of great thoughtfulness, and having spent\nso many years on the estate of Dorincourt, knowing the tenantry, rich\nand poor, the people of the village, honest and industrious, dishonest\nand lazy, he realized very strongly what power for good or evil would be\ngiven in the future to this one small boy standing there, his brown eyes\nwide open, his hands deep in his pockets; and the thought came to him\nalso that a great deal of power might, perhaps, through the caprice of\na proud, self-indulgent old man, be given to him now, and that if his\nyoung nature were not a simple and generous one, it might be the worst\nthing that could happen, not only for others, but for himself.\n\n\"And what would YOU do in such a case?\" demanded the Earl.\n\nFauntleroy drew a little nearer, and laid one hand on his knee, with the\nmost confiding air of good comradeship.\n\n\"If I were very rich,\" he said, \"and not only just a little boy, I\nshould let him stay, and give him the things for his children; but\nthen, I am only a boy.\" Then, after a second's pause, in which his face\nbrightened visibly, \"YOU can do anything, can't you?\" he said.\n\n\"Humph!\" said my lord, staring at him. \"That's your opinion, is it?\" And\nhe was not displeased either.\n\n\"I mean you can give any one anything,\" said Fauntleroy. \"Who's Newick?\"\n\n\"He is my agent,\" answered the Earl, \"and some of my tenants are not\nover-fond of him.\"\n\n\"Are you going to write him a letter now?\" inquired Fauntleroy. \"Shall I\nbring you the pen and ink? I can take the game off this table.\"\n\nIt plainly had not for an instant occurred to him that Newick would be\nallowed to do his worst.\n\nThe Earl paused a moment, still looking at him. \"Can you write?\" he\nasked.\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Cedric, \"but not very well.\"\n\n\"Move the things from the table,\" commanded my lord, \"and bring the pen\nand ink, and a sheet of paper from my desk.\"\n\nMr. Mordaunt's interest began to increase. Fauntleroy did as he was told\nvery deftly. In a few moments, the sheet of paper, the big inkstand, and\nthe pen were ready.\n\n\"There!\" he said gayly, \"now you can write it.\"\n\n\"You are to write it,\" said the Earl.\n\n\"I!\" exclaimed Fauntleroy, and a flush overspread his forehead. \"Will\nit do if I write it? I don't always spell quite right when I haven't a\ndictionary, and nobody tells me.\"\n\n\"It will do,\" answered the Earl. \"Higgins will not complain of the\nspelling. I'm not the philanthropist; you are. Dip your pen in the ink.\"\n\nFauntleroy took up the pen and dipped it in the ink-bottle, then he\narranged himself in position, leaning on the table.\n\n\"Now,\" he inquired, \"what must I say?\"\n\n\"You may say, 'Higgins is not to be interfered with, for the present,'\nand sign it, 'Fauntleroy,'\" said the Earl.\n\nFauntleroy dipped his pen in the ink again, and resting his arm, began\nto write. It was rather a slow and serious process, but he gave his\nwhole soul to it. After a while, however, the manuscript was complete,\nand he handed it to his grandfather with a smile slightly tinged with\nanxiety.\n\n\"Do you think it will do?\" he asked.\n\nThe Earl looked at it, and the corners of his mouth twitched a little.\n\n\"Yes,\" he answered; \"Higgins will find it entirely satisfactory.\" And he\nhanded it to Mr. Mordaunt.\n\nWhat Mr. Mordaunt found written was this:\n\n\n\"Dear mr. Newik if you pleas mr. higins is not to be intur feared with\nfor the present and oblige. Yours rispecferly,\n\n\"FAUNTLEROY.\"\n\n\n\"Mr. Hobbs always signed his letters that way,\" said Fauntleroy; \"and I\nthought I'd better say 'please.' Is that exactly the right way to spell\n'interfered'?\"\n\n\"It's not exactly the way it is spelled in the dictionary,\" answered the\nEarl.\n\n\"I was afraid of that,\" said Fauntleroy. \"I ought to have asked. You\nsee, that's the way with words of more than one syllable; you have to\nlook in the dictionary. It's always safest. I'll write it over again.\"\n\nAnd write it over again he did, making quite an imposing copy, and\ntaking precautions in the matter of spelling by consulting the Earl\nhimself.\n\n\"Spelling is a curious thing,\" he said. \"It's so often different\nfrom what you expect it to be. I used to think 'please' was spelled\np-l-e-e-s, but it isn't, you know; and you'd think 'dear' was spelled\nd-e-r-e, if you didn't inquire. Sometimes it almost discourages you.\"\n\nWhen Mr. Mordaunt went away, he took the letter with him, and he took\nsomething else with him also--namely, a pleasanter feeling and a more\nhopeful one than he had ever carried home with him down that avenue on\nany previous visit he had made at Dorincourt Castle.\n\nWhen he was gone, Fauntleroy, who had accompanied him to the door, went\nback to his grandfather.\n\n\"May I go to Dearest now?\" he asked. \"I think she will be waiting for\nme.\"\n\nThe Earl was silent a moment.\n\n\"There is something in the stable for you to see first,\" he said. \"Ring\nthe bell.\"\n\n\"If you please,\" said Fauntleroy, with his quick little flush. \"I'm very\nmuch obliged; but I think I'd better see it to-morrow. She will be\nexpecting me all the time.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" answered the Earl. \"We will order the carriage.\" Then he\nadded dryly, \"It's a pony.\"\n\nFauntleroy drew a long breath.\n\n\"A pony!\" he exclaimed. \"Whose pony is it?\"\n\n\"Yours,\" replied the Earl.\n\n\"Mine?\" cried the little fellow. \"Mine--like the things upstairs?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said his grandfather. \"Would you like to see it? Shall I order it\nto be brought around?\"\n\nFauntleroy's cheeks grew redder and redder.\n\n\"I never thought I should have a pony!\" he said. \"I never thought that!\nHow glad Dearest will be. You give me EVERYthing, don't you?\"\n\n\"Do you wish to see it?\" inquired the Earl.\n\nFauntleroy drew a long breath. \"I WANT to see it,\" he said. \"I want to\nsee it so much I can hardly wait. But I'm afraid there isn't time.\"\n\n\"You MUST go and see your mother this afternoon?\" asked the Earl. \"You\nthink you can't put it off?\"\n\n\"Why,\" said Fauntleroy, \"she has been thinking about me all the morning,\nand I have been thinking about her!\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the Earl. \"You have, have you? Ring the bell.\"\n\nAs they drove down the avenue, under the arching trees, he was rather\nsilent. But Fauntleroy was not. He talked about the pony. What color was\nit? How big was it? What was its name? What did it like to eat best? How\nold was it? How early in the morning might he get up and see it?\n\n\"Dearest will be so glad!\" he kept saying. \"She will be so much obliged\nto you for being so kind to me! She knows I always liked ponies so much,\nbut we never thought I should have one. There was a little boy on Fifth\nAvenue who had one, and he used to ride out every morning and we used to\ntake a walk past his house to see him.\"\n\nHe leaned back against the cushions and regarded the Earl with rapt\ninterest for a few minutes and in entire silence.\n\n\"I think you must be the best person in the world,\" he burst forth at\nlast. \"You are always doing good, aren't you?--and thinking about other\npeople. Dearest says that is the best kind of goodness; not to think\nabout yourself, but to think about other people. That is just the way\nyou are, isn't it?\"\n\nHis lordship was so dumfounded to find himself presented in such\nagreeable colors, that he did not know exactly what to say. He felt that\nhe needed time for reflection. To see each of his ugly, selfish motives\nchanged into a good and generous one by the simplicity of a child was a\nsingular experience.\n\nFauntleroy went on, still regarding him with admiring eyes--those great,\nclear, innocent eyes!\n\n\"You make so many people happy,\" he said. \"There's Michael and Bridget\nand their ten children, and the apple-woman, and Dick, and Mr.\nHobbs, and Mr. Higgins and Mrs. Higgins and their children, and Mr.\nMordaunt,--because of course he was glad,--and Dearest and me, about\nthe pony and all the other things. Do you know, I've counted it up on\nmy fingers and in my mind, and it's twenty-seven people you've been kind\nto. That's a good many--twenty-seven!\"\n\n\"And I was the person who was kind to them--was I?\" said the Earl.\n\n\"Why, yes, you know,\" answered Fauntleroy. \"You made them all happy.\nDo you know,\" with some delicate hesitation, \"that people are sometimes\nmistaken about earls when they don't know them. Mr. Hobbs was. I am\ngoing to write him, and tell him about it.\"\n\n\"What was Mr. Hobbs's opinion of earls?\" asked his lordship.\n\n\"Well, you see, the difficulty was,\" replied his young companion,\n\"that he didn't know any, and he'd only read about them in books. He\nthought--you mustn't mind it--that they were gory tyrants; and he said\nhe wouldn't have them hanging around his store. But if he'd known YOU,\nI'm sure he would have felt quite different. I shall tell him about\nyou.\"\n\n\"What shall you tell him?\"\n\n\"I shall tell him,\" said Fauntleroy, glowing with enthusiasm, \"that\nyou are the kindest man I ever heard of. And you are always thinking of\nother people, and making them happy and--and I hope when I grow up, I\nshall be just like you.\"\n\n\"Just like me!\" repeated his lordship, looking at the little kindling\nface. And a dull red crept up under his withered skin, and he suddenly\nturned his eyes away and looked out of the carriage window at the great\nbeech-trees, with the sun shining on their glossy, red-brown leaves.\n\n\"JUST like you,\" said Fauntleroy, adding modestly, \"if I can. Perhaps\nI'm not good enough, but I'm going to try.\"\n\nThe carriage rolled on down the stately avenue under the beautiful,\nbroad-branched trees, through the spaces of green shade and lanes of\ngolden sunlight. Fauntleroy saw again the lovely places where the ferns\ngrew high and the bluebells swayed in the breeze; he saw the deer,\nstanding or lying in the deep grass, turn their large, startled eyes as\nthe carriage passed, and caught glimpses of the brown rabbits as they\nscurried away. He heard the whir of the partridges and the calls and\nsongs of the birds, and it all seemed even more beautiful to him than\nbefore. All his heart was filled with pleasure and happiness in the\nbeauty that was on every side. But the old Earl saw and heard very\ndifferent things, though he was apparently looking out too. He saw\na long life, in which there had been neither generous deeds nor kind\nthoughts; he saw years in which a man who had been young and strong and\nrich and powerful had used his youth and strength and wealth and power\nonly to please himself and kill time as the days and years succeeded\neach other; he saw this man, when the time had been killed and old age\nhad come, solitary and without real friends in the midst of all his\nsplendid wealth; he saw people who disliked or feared him, and people\nwho would flatter and cringe to him, but no one who really cared whether\nhe lived or died, unless they had something to gain or lose by it. He\nlooked out on the broad acres which belonged to him, and he knew what\nFauntleroy did not--how far they extended, what wealth they represented,\nand how many people had homes on their soil. And he knew, too,--another\nthing Fauntleroy did not,--that in all those homes, humble or\nwell-to-do, there was probably not one person, however much he envied\nthe wealth and stately name and power, and however willing he would have\nbeen to possess them, who would for an instant have thought of calling\nthe noble owner \"good,\" or wishing, as this simple-souled little boy\nhad, to be like him.\n\nAnd it was not exactly pleasant to reflect upon, even for a cynical,\nworldly old man, who had been sufficient unto himself for seventy years\nand who had never deigned to care what opinion the world held of him so\nlong as it did not interfere with his comfort or entertainment. And the\nfact was, indeed, that he had never before condescended to reflect\nupon it at all; and he only did so now because a child had believed\nhim better than he was, and by wishing to follow in his illustrious\nfootsteps and imitate his example, had suggested to him the curious\nquestion whether he was exactly the person to take as a model.\n\nFauntleroy thought the Earl's foot must be hurting him, his brows\nknitted themselves together so, as he looked out at the park; and\nthinking this, the considerate little fellow tried not to disturb him,\nand enjoyed the trees and the ferns and the deer in silence.\n\nBut at last the carriage, having passed the gates and bowled through the\ngreen lanes for a short distance, stopped. They had reached Court Lodge;\nand Fauntleroy was out upon the ground almost before the big footman had\ntime to open the carriage door.\n\nThe Earl wakened from his reverie with a start.\n\n\"What!\" he said. \"Are we here?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Fauntleroy. \"Let me give you your stick. Just lean on me\nwhen you get out.\"\n\n\"I am not going to get out,\" replied his lordship brusquely.\n\n\"Not--not to see Dearest?\" exclaimed Fauntleroy with astonished face.\n\n\"'Dearest' will excuse me,\" said the Earl dryly. \"Go to her and tell her\nthat not even a new pony would keep you away.\"\n\n\"She will be disappointed,\" said Fauntleroy. \"She will want to see you\nvery much.\"\n\n\"I am afraid not,\" was the answer. \"The carriage will call for you as we\ncome back.--Tell Jeffries to drive on, Thomas.\"\n\nThomas closed the carriage door; and, after a puzzled look, Fauntleroy\nran up the drive. The Earl had the opportunity--as Mr. Havisham once\nhad--of seeing a pair of handsome, strong little legs flash over the\nground with astonishing rapidity. Evidently their owner had no intention\nof losing any time. The carriage rolled slowly away, but his lordship\ndid not at once lean back; he still looked out. Through a space in the\ntrees he could see the house door; it was wide open. The little figure\ndashed up the steps; another figure--a little figure, too, slender and\nyoung, in its black gown--ran to meet it. It seemed as if they flew\ntogether, as Fauntleroy leaped into his mother's arms, hanging about her\nneck and covering her sweet young face with kisses.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nOn the following Sunday morning, Mr. Mordaunt had a large congregation.\nIndeed, he could scarcely remember any Sunday on which the church had\nbeen so crowded. People appeared upon the scene who seldom did him the\nhonor of coming to hear his sermons.\n\nThere were even people from Hazelton, which was the next parish. There\nwere hearty, sunburned farmers, stout, comfortable, apple-cheeked\nwives in their best bonnets and most gorgeous shawls, and half a dozen\nchildren or so to each family. The doctor's wife was there, with her\nfour daughters. Mrs. Kimsey and Mr. Kimsey, who kept the druggist's\nshop, and made pills, and did up powders for everybody within ten\nmiles, sat in their pew; Mrs. Dibble in hers; Miss Smiff, the village\ndressmaker, and her friend Miss Perkins, the milliner, sat in theirs;\nthe doctor's young man was present, and the druggist's apprentice; in\nfact, almost every family on the county side was represented, in one way\nor another.\n\nIn the course of the preceding week, many wonderful stories had been\ntold of little Lord Fauntleroy. Mrs. Dibble had been kept so busy\nattending to customers who came in to buy a pennyworth of needles or\na ha'porth of tape and to hear what she had to relate, that the little\nshop bell over the door had nearly tinkled itself to death over the\ncoming and going. Mrs. Dibble knew exactly how his small lordship's\nrooms had been furnished for him, what expensive toys had been bought,\nhow there was a beautiful brown pony awaiting him, and a small groom to\nattend it, and a little dog-cart, with silver-mounted harness. And she\ncould tell, too, what all the servants had said when they had caught\nglimpses of the child on the night of his arrival; and how every female\nbelow stairs had said it was a shame, so it was, to part the poor pretty\ndear from his mother; and had all declared their hearts came into their\nmouths when he went alone into the library to see his grandfather, for\n\"there was no knowing how he'd be treated, and his lordship's temper was\nenough to fluster them with old heads on their shoulders, let alone a\nchild.\"\n\n\"But if you'll believe me, Mrs. Jennifer, mum,\" Mrs. Dibble had said,\n\"fear that child does not know--so Mr. Thomas hisself says; an' set an'\nsmile he did, an' talked to his lordship as if they'd been friends ever\nsince his first hour. An' the Earl so took aback, Mr. Thomas says, that\nhe couldn't do nothing but listen and stare from under his eyebrows. An'\nit's Mr. Thomas's opinion, Mrs. Bates, mum, that bad as he is, he was\npleased in his secret soul, an' proud, too; for a handsomer little\nfellow, or with better manners, though so old-fashioned, Mr. Thomas says\nhe'd never wish to see.\"\n\nAnd then there had come the story of Higgins. The Reverend Mr. Mordaunt\nhad told it at his own dinner table, and the servants who had heard it\nhad told it in the kitchen, and from there it had spread like wildfire.\n\nAnd on market-day, when Higgins had appeared in town, he had been\nquestioned on every side, and Newick had been questioned too, and in\nresponse had shown to two or three people the note signed \"Fauntleroy.\"\n\nAnd so the farmers' wives had found plenty to talk of over their tea and\ntheir shopping, and they had done the subject full justice and made the\nmost of it. And on Sunday they had either walked to church or had\nbeen driven in their gigs by their husbands, who were perhaps a trifle\ncurious themselves about the new little lord who was to be in time the\nowner of the soil.\n\nIt was by no means the Earl's habit to attend church, but he chose to\nappear on this first Sunday--it was his whim to present himself in the\nhuge family pew, with Fauntleroy at his side.\n\nThere were many loiterers in the churchyard, and many lingerers in the\nlane that morning. There were groups at the gates and in the porch, and\nthere had been much discussion as to whether my lord would really appear\nor not. When this discussion was at its height, one good woman suddenly\nuttered an exclamation.\n\n\"Eh,\" she said, \"that must be the mother, pretty young thing.\" All who\nheard turned and looked at the slender figure in black coming up the\npath. The veil was thrown back from her face and they could see how fair\nand sweet it was, and how the bright hair curled as softly as a child's\nunder the little widow's cap.\n\nShe was not thinking of the people about; she was thinking of Cedric,\nand of his visits to her, and his joy over his new pony, on which he had\nactually ridden to her door the day before, sitting very straight\nand looking very proud and happy. But soon she could not help being\nattracted by the fact that she was being looked at and that her arrival\nhad created some sort of sensation. She first noticed it because an old\nwoman in a red cloak made a bobbing courtesy to her, and then another\ndid the same thing and said, \"God bless you, my lady!\" and one man\nafter another took off his hat as she passed. For a moment she did not\nunderstand, and then she realized that it was because she was little\nLord Fauntleroy's mother that they did so, and she flushed rather shyly\nand smiled and bowed too, and said, \"Thank you,\" in a gentle voice to\nthe old woman who had blessed her. To a person who had always lived in\na bustling, crowded American city this simple deference was very novel,\nand at first just a little embarrassing; but after all, she could not\nhelp liking and being touched by the friendly warm-heartedness of which\nit seemed to speak. She had scarcely passed through the stone porch into\nthe church before the great event of the day happened. The carriage from\nthe Castle, with its handsome horses and tall liveried servants, bowled\naround the corner and down the green lane.\n\n\"Here they come!\" went from one looker-on to another.\n\nAnd then the carriage drew up, and Thomas stepped down and opened the\ndoor, and a little boy, dressed in black velvet, and with a splendid mop\nof bright waving hair, jumped out.\n\nEvery man, woman, and child looked curiously upon him.\n\n\"He's the Captain over again!\" said those of the on-lookers who\nremembered his father. \"He's the Captain's self, to the life!\"\n\nHe stood there in the sunlight looking up at the Earl, as Thomas helped\nthat nobleman out, with the most affectionate interest that could be\nimagined. The instant he could help, he put out his hand and offered his\nshoulder as if he had been seven feet high. It was plain enough to every\none that however it might be with other people, the Earl of Dorincourt\nstruck no terror into the breast of his grandson.\n\n\"Just lean on me,\" they heard him say. \"How glad the people are to see\nyou, and how well they all seem to know you!\"\n\n\"Take off your cap, Fauntleroy,\" said the Earl. \"They are bowing to\nyou.\"\n\n\"To me!\" cried Fauntleroy, whipping off his cap in a moment, baring his\nbright head to the crowd and turning shining, puzzled eyes on them as he\ntried to bow to every one at once.\n\n\"God bless your lordship!\" said the courtesying, red-cloaked old woman\nwho had spoken to his mother; \"long life to you!\"\n\n\"Thank you, ma'am,\" said Fauntleroy. And then they went into the church,\nand were looked at there, on their way up the aisle to the square,\nred-cushioned and curtained pew. When Fauntleroy was fairly seated,\nhe made two discoveries which pleased him: the first that, across the\nchurch where he could look at her, his mother sat and smiled at him; the\nsecond, that at one end of the pew, against the wall, knelt two quaint\nfigures carven in stone, facing each other as they kneeled on either\nside of a pillar supporting two stone missals, their pointed hands\nfolded as if in prayer, their dress very antique and strange. On the\ntablet by them was written something of which he could only read the\ncurious words:\n\n\"Here lyeth ye bodye of Gregorye Arthure Fyrst Earle of Dorincourt\nAllsoe of Alisone Hildegarde hys wyfe.\"\n\n\"May I whisper?\" inquired his lordship, devoured by curiosity.\n\n\"What is it?\" said his grandfather.\n\n\"Who are they?\"\n\n\"Some of your ancestors,\" answered the Earl, \"who lived a few hundred\nyears ago.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" said Lord Fauntleroy, regarding them with respect, \"perhaps\nI got my spelling from them.\" And then he proceeded to find his place in\nthe church service. When the music began, he stood up and looked across\nat his mother, smiling. He was very fond of music, and his mother and\nhe often sang together, so he joined in with the rest, his pure, sweet,\nhigh voice rising as clear as the song of a bird. He quite forgot\nhimself in his pleasure in it. The Earl forgot himself a little too, as\nhe sat in his curtain-shielded corner of the pew and watched the boy.\nCedric stood with the big psalter open in his hands, singing with all\nhis childish might, his face a little uplifted, happily; and as he sang,\na long ray of sunshine crept in and, slanting through a golden pane of a\nstained glass window, brightened the falling hair about his young head.\nHis mother, as she looked at him across the church, felt a thrill pass\nthrough her heart, and a prayer rose in it too,--a prayer that the pure,\nsimple happiness of his childish soul might last, and that the strange,\ngreat fortune which had fallen to him might bring no wrong or evil with\nit. There were many soft, anxious thoughts in her tender heart in those\nnew days.\n\n\"Oh, Ceddie!\" she had said to him the evening before, as she hung over\nhim in saying good-night, before he went away; \"oh, Ceddie, dear, I wish\nfor your sake I was very clever and could say a great many wise things!\nBut only be good, dear, only be brave, only be kind and true always, and\nthen you will never hurt any one, so long as you live, and you may help\nmany, and the big world may be better because my little child was born.\nAnd that is best of all, Ceddie,--it is better than everything else,\nthat the world should be a little better because a man has lived--even\never so little better, dearest.\"\n\nAnd on his return to the Castle, Fauntleroy had repeated her words to\nhis grandfather.\n\n\"And I thought about you when she said that,\" he ended; \"and I told her\nthat was the way the world was because you had lived, and I was going to\ntry if I could be like you.\"\n\n\"And what did she say to that?\" asked his lordship, a trifle uneasily.\n\n\"She said that was right, and we must always look for good in people and\ntry to be like it.\"\n\nPerhaps it was this the old man remembered as he glanced through the\ndivided folds of the red curtain of his pew. Many times he looked over\nthe people's heads to where his son's wife sat alone, and he saw the\nfair face the unforgiven dead had loved, and the eyes which were so like\nthose of the child at his side; but what his thoughts were, and whether\nthey were hard and bitter, or softened a little, it would have been hard\nto discover.\n\nAs they came out of church, many of those who had attended the service\nstood waiting to see them pass. As they neared the gate, a man who stood\nwith his hat in his hand made a step forward and then hesitated. He was\na middle-aged farmer, with a careworn face.\n\n\"Well, Higgins,\" said the Earl.\n\nFauntleroy turned quickly to look at him.\n\n\"Oh!\" he exclaimed, \"is it Mr. Higgins?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered the Earl dryly; \"and I suppose he came to take a look at\nhis new landlord.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" said the man, his sunburned face reddening. \"Mr. Newick\ntold me his young lordship was kind enough to speak for me, and I\nthought I'd like to say a word of thanks, if I might be allowed.\"\n\nPerhaps he felt some wonder when he saw what a little fellow it was who\nhad innocently done so much for him, and who stood there looking up just\nas one of his own less fortunate children might have done--apparently\nnot realizing his own importance in the least.\n\n\"I've a great deal to thank your lordship for,\" he said; \"a great deal.\nI----\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said Fauntleroy; \"I only wrote the letter. It was my grandfather\nwho did it. But you know how he is about always being good to everybody.\nIs Mrs. Higgins well now?\"\n\nHiggins looked a trifle taken aback. He also was somewhat startled at\nhearing his noble landlord presented in the character of a benevolent\nbeing, full of engaging qualities.\n\n\"I--well, yes, your lordship,\" he stammered, \"the missus is better since\nthe trouble was took off her mind. It was worrying broke her down.\"\n\n\"I'm glad of that,\" said Fauntleroy. \"My grandfather was very sorry\nabout your children having the scarlet fever, and so was I. He has had\nchildren himself. I'm his son's little boy, you know.\"\n\nHiggins was on the verge of being panic-stricken. He felt it would be\nthe safer and more discreet plan not to look at the Earl, as it had been\nwell known that his fatherly affection for his sons had been such that\nhe had seen them about twice a year, and that when they had been ill,\nhe had promptly departed for London, because he would not be bored with\ndoctors and nurses. It was a little trying, therefore, to his lordship's\nnerves to be told, while he looked on, his eyes gleaming from under his\nshaggy eyebrows, that he felt an interest in scarlet fever.\n\n\"You see, Higgins,\" broke in the Earl with a fine grim smile, \"you\npeople have been mistaken in me. Lord Fauntleroy understands me. When\nyou want reliable information on the subject of my character, apply to\nhim. Get into the carriage, Fauntleroy.\"\n\nAnd Fauntleroy jumped in, and the carriage rolled away down the green\nlane, and even when it turned the corner into the high road, the Earl\nwas still grimly smiling.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nLord Dorincourt had occasion to wear his grim smile many a time as\nthe days passed by. Indeed, as his acquaintance with his grandson\nprogressed, he wore the smile so often that there were moments when\nit almost lost its grimness. There is no denying that before Lord\nFauntleroy had appeared on the scene, the old man had been growing very\ntired of his loneliness and his gout and his seventy years. After so\nlong a life of excitement and amusement, it was not agreeable to sit\nalone even in the most splendid room, with one foot on a gout-stool,\nand with no other diversion than flying into a rage, and shouting at\na frightened footman who hated the sight of him. The old Earl was too\nclever a man not to know perfectly well that his servants detested\nhim, and that even if he had visitors, they did not come for love of\nhim--though some found a sort of amusement in his sharp, sarcastic talk,\nwhich spared no one. So long as he had been strong and well, he had gone\nfrom one place to another, pretending to amuse himself, though he had\nnot really enjoyed it; and when his health began to fail, he felt tired\nof everything and shut himself up at Dorincourt, with his gout and his\nnewspapers and his books. But he could not read all the time, and he\nbecame more and more \"bored,\" as he called it. He hated the long nights\nand days, and he grew more and more savage and irritable. And then\nFauntleroy came; and when the Earl saw him, fortunately for the little\nfellow, the secret pride of the grandfather was gratified at the outset.\nIf Cedric had been a less handsome little fellow, the old man might have\ntaken so strong a dislike to him that he would not have given himself\nthe chance to see his grandson's finer qualities. But he chose to\nthink that Cedric's beauty and fearless spirit were the results of the\nDorincourt blood and a credit to the Dorincourt rank. And then when\nhe heard the lad talk, and saw what a well-bred little fellow he was,\nnotwithstanding his boyish ignorance of all that his new position meant,\nthe old Earl liked his grandson more, and actually began to find himself\nrather entertained. It had amused him to give into those childish hands\nthe power to bestow a benefit on poor Higgins. My lord cared nothing\nfor poor Higgins, but it pleased him a little to think that his grandson\nwould be talked about by the country people and would begin to be\npopular with the tenantry, even in his childhood. Then it had gratified\nhim to drive to church with Cedric and to see the excitement and\ninterest caused by the arrival. He knew how the people would speak of\nthe beauty of the little lad; of his fine, strong, straight body; of\nhis erect bearing, his handsome face, and his bright hair, and how they\nwould say (as the Earl had heard one woman exclaim to another) that the\nboy was \"every inch a lord.\" My lord of Dorincourt was an arrogant old\nman, proud of his name, proud of his rank, and therefore proud to show\nthe world that at last the House of Dorincourt had an heir who was\nworthy of the position he was to fill.\n\nThe morning the new pony had been tried, the Earl had been so pleased\nthat he had almost forgotten his gout. When the groom had brought out\nthe pretty creature, which arched its brown, glossy neck and tossed its\nfine head in the sun, the Earl had sat at the open window of the library\nand had looked on while Fauntleroy took his first riding lesson. He\nwondered if the boy would show signs of timidity. It was not a very\nsmall pony, and he had often seen children lose courage in making their\nfirst essay at riding.\n\nFauntleroy mounted in great delight. He had never been on a pony before,\nand he was in the highest spirits. Wilkins, the groom, led the animal by\nthe bridle up and down before the library window.\n\n\"He's a well plucked un, he is,\" Wilkins remarked in the stable\nafterward with many grins. \"It weren't no trouble to put HIM up. An' a\nold un wouldn't ha' sat any straighter when he WERE up. He ses--ses\nhe to me, 'Wilkins,' he ses, 'am I sitting up straight? They sit up\nstraight at the circus,' ses he. An' I ses, 'As straight as a arrer,\nyour lordship!'--an' he laughs, as pleased as could be, an' he ses,\n'That's right,' he ses, 'you tell me if I don't sit up straight,\nWilkins!'\"\n\nBut sitting up straight and being led at a walk were not altogether and\ncompletely satisfactory. After a few minutes, Fauntleroy spoke to his\ngrandfather--watching him from the window:\n\n\"Can't I go by myself?\" he asked; \"and can't I go faster? The boy on\nFifth Avenue used to trot and canter!\"\n\n\"Do you think you could trot and canter?\" said the Earl.\n\n\"I should like to try,\" answered Fauntleroy.\n\nHis lordship made a sign to Wilkins, who at the signal brought up his\nown horse and mounted it and took Fauntleroy's pony by the leading-rein.\n\n\"Now,\" said the Earl, \"let him trot.\"\n\nThe next few minutes were rather exciting to the small equestrian. He\nfound that trotting was not so easy as walking, and the faster the pony\ntrotted, the less easy it was.\n\n\"It j-jolts a g-goo-good deal--do-doesn't it?\" he said to Wilkins.\n\"D-does it j-jolt y-you?\"\n\n\"No, my lord,\" answered Wilkins. \"You'll get used to it in time. Rise in\nyour stirrups.\"\n\n\"I'm ri-rising all the t-time,\" said Fauntleroy.\n\nHe was both rising and falling rather uncomfortably and with many shakes\nand bounces. He was out of breath and his face grew red, but he held on\nwith all his might, and sat as straight as he could. The Earl could\nsee that from his window. When the riders came back within speaking\ndistance, after they had been hidden by the trees a few minutes,\nFauntleroy's hat was off, his cheeks were like poppies, and his lips\nwere set, but he was still trotting manfully.\n\n\"Stop a minute!\" said his grandfather. \"Where's your hat?\"\n\nWilkins touched his. \"It fell off, your lordship,\" he said, with evident\nenjoyment. \"Wouldn't let me stop to pick it up, my lord.\"\n\n\"Not much afraid, is he?\" asked the Earl dryly.\n\n\"Him, your lordship!\" exclaimed Wilkins. \"I shouldn't say as he knowed\nwhat it meant. I've taught young gen'lemen to ride afore, an' I never\nsee one stick on more determinder.\"\n\n\"Tired?\" said the Earl to Fauntleroy. \"Want to get off?\"\n\n\"It jolts you more than you think it will,\" admitted his young lordship\nfrankly. \"And it tires you a little, too; but I don't want to get off.\nI want to learn how. As soon as I've got my breath I want to go back for\nthe hat.\"\n\nThe cleverest person in the world, if he had undertaken to teach\nFauntleroy how to please the old man who watched him, could not have\ntaught him anything which would have succeeded better. As the pony\ntrotted off again toward the avenue, a faint color crept up in the\nfierce old face, and the eyes, under the shaggy brows, gleamed with a\npleasure such as his lordship had scarcely expected to know again. And\nhe sat and watched quite eagerly until the sound of the horses' hoofs\nreturned. When they did come, which was after some time, they came at a\nfaster pace. Fauntleroy's hat was still off; Wilkins was carrying it for\nhim; his cheeks were redder than before, and his hair was flying about\nhis ears, but he came at quite a brisk canter.\n\n\"There!\" he panted, as they drew up, \"I c-cantered. I didn't do it as\nwell as the boy on Fifth Avenue, but I did it, and I staid on!\"\n\nHe and Wilkins and the pony were close friends after that. Scarcely a\nday passed in which the country people did not see them out together,\ncantering gayly on the highroad or through the green lanes. The children\nin the cottages would run to the door to look at the proud little brown\npony with the gallant little figure sitting so straight in the saddle,\nand the young lord would snatch off his cap and swing it at them, and\nshout, \"Hullo! Good-morning!\" in a very unlordly manner, though with\ngreat heartiness. Sometimes he would stop and talk with the children,\nand once Wilkins came back to the castle with a story of how Fauntleroy\nhad insisted on dismounting near the village school, so that a boy who\nwas lame and tired might ride home on his pony.\n\n\"An' I'm blessed,\" said Wilkins, in telling the story at the\nstables,--\"I'm blessed if he'd hear of anything else! He wouldn't let\nme get down, because he said the boy mightn't feel comfortable on a big\nhorse. An' ses he, 'Wilkins,' ses he, 'that boy's lame and I'm not,\nand I want to talk to him, too.' And up the lad has to get, and my lord\ntrudges alongside of him with his hands in his pockets, and his cap on\nthe back of his head, a-whistling and talking as easy as you please!\nAnd when we come to the cottage, an' the boy's mother come out all in a\ntaking to see what's up, he whips off his cap an' ses he, 'I've brought\nyour son home, ma'am,' ses he, 'because his leg hurt him, and I don't\nthink that stick is enough for him to lean on; and I'm going to ask my\ngrandfather to have a pair of crutches made for him.' An' I'm blessed if\nthe woman wasn't struck all of a heap, as well she might be! I thought I\nshould 'a' hex-plodid, myself!\"\n\nWhen the Earl heard the story he was not angry, as Wilkins had been\nhalf afraid that he would be; on the contrary, he laughed outright, and\ncalled Fauntleroy up to him, and made him tell all about the matter from\nbeginning to end, and then he laughed again. And actually, a few days\nlater, the Dorincourt carriage stopped in the green lane before the\ncottage where the lame boy lived, and Fauntleroy jumped out and\nwalked up to the door, carrying a pair of strong, light, new crutches\nshouldered like a gun, and presented them to Mrs. Hartle (the lame boy's\nname was Hartle) with these words: \"My grandfather's compliments, and if\nyou please, these are for your boy, and we hope he will get better.\"\n\n\"I said your compliments,\" he explained to the Earl when he returned to\nthe carriage. \"You didn't tell me to, but I thought perhaps you forgot.\nThat was right, wasn't it?\"\n\nAnd the Earl laughed again, and did not say it was not. In fact, the two\nwere becoming more intimate every day, and every day Fauntleroy's faith\nin his lordship's benevolence and virtue increased. He had no doubt\nwhatever that his grandfather was the most amiable and generous of\nelderly gentlemen. Certainly, he himself found his wishes gratified\nalmost before they were uttered; and such gifts and pleasures were\nlavished upon him, that he was sometimes almost bewildered by his own\npossessions. Apparently, he was to have everything he wanted, and to\ndo everything he wished to do. And though this would certainly not have\nbeen a very wise plan to pursue with all small boys, his young lordship\nbore it amazingly well. Perhaps, notwithstanding his sweet nature, he\nmight have been somewhat spoiled by it, if it had not been for the\nhours he spent with his mother at Court Lodge. That \"best friend\" of his\nwatched over him ever closely and tenderly. The two had many long talks\ntogether, and he never went back to the Castle with her kisses on his\ncheeks without carrying in his heart some simple, pure words worth\nremembering.\n\nThere was one thing, it is true, which puzzled the little fellow very\nmuch. He thought over the mystery of it much oftener than any one\nsupposed; even his mother did not know how often he pondered on it; the\nEarl for a long time never suspected that he did so at all. But, being\nquick to observe, the little boy could not help wondering why it was\nthat his mother and grandfather never seemed to meet. He had noticed\nthat they never did meet. When the Dorincourt carriage stopped at\nCourt Lodge, the Earl never alighted, and on the rare occasions of his\nlordship's going to church, Fauntleroy was always left to speak to his\nmother in the porch alone, or perhaps to go home with her. And\nyet, every day, fruit and flowers were sent to Court Lodge from the\nhot-houses at the Castle. But the one virtuous action of the Earl's\nwhich had set him upon the pinnacle of perfection in Cedric's eyes, was\nwhat he had done soon after that first Sunday when Mrs. Errol had walked\nhome from church unattended. About a week later, when Cedric was going\none day to visit his mother, he found at the door, instead of the large\ncarriage and prancing pair, a pretty little brougham and a handsome bay\nhorse.\n\n\"That is a present from you to your mother,\" the Earl said abruptly.\n\"She can not go walking about the country. She needs a carriage. The man\nwho drives will take charge of it. It is a present from YOU.\"\n\nFauntleroy's delight could but feebly express itself. He could scarcely\ncontain himself until he reached the lodge. His mother was gathering\nroses in the garden. He flung himself out of the little brougham and\nflew to her.\n\n\"Dearest!\" he cried, \"could you believe it? This is yours! He says it is\na present from me. It is your own carriage to drive everywhere in!\"\n\nHe was so happy that she did not know what to say. She could not have\nborne to spoil his pleasure by refusing to accept the gift even though\nit came from the man who chose to consider himself her enemy. She was\nobliged to step into the carriage, roses and all, and let herself be\ntaken to drive, while Fauntleroy told her stories of his grandfather's\ngoodness and amiability. They were such innocent stories that sometimes\nshe could not help laughing a little, and then she would draw her little\nboy closer to her side and kiss him, feeling glad that he could see only\ngood in the old man, who had so few friends.\n\nThe very next day after that, Fauntleroy wrote to Mr. Hobbs. He wrote\nquite a long letter, and after the first copy was written, he brought it\nto his grandfather to be inspected.\n\n\"Because,\" he said, \"it's so uncertain about the spelling. And if you'll\ntell me the mistakes, I'll write it out again.\"\n\nThis was what he had written:\n\n\n\"My dear mr hobbs i want to tell you about my granfarther he is the best\nearl you ever new it is a mistake about earls being tirents he is not a\ntirent at all i wish you new him you would be good friends i am sure\nyou would he has the gout in his foot and is a grate sufrer but he is\nso pashent i love him more every day becaus no one could help loving an\nearl like that who is kind to every one in this world i wish you\ncould talk to him he knows everything in the world you can ask him any\nquestion but he has never plaid base ball he has given me a pony and a\ncart and my mamma a bewtifle cariage and I have three rooms and toys of\nall kinds it would serprise you you would like the castle and the park\nit is such a large castle you could lose yourself wilkins tells me\nwilkins is my groom he says there is a dungon under the castle it is\nso pretty everything in the park would serprise you there are such big\ntrees and there are deers and rabbits and games flying about in the\ncover my granfarther is very rich but he is not proud and orty as you\nthought earls always were i like to be with him the people are so polite\nand kind they take of their hats to you and the women make curtsies and\nsometimes say god bless you i can ride now but at first it shook me when\ni troted my granfarther let a poor man stay on his farm when he could\nnot pay his rent and mrs mellon went to take wine and things to his sick\nchildren i should like to see you and i wish dearest could live at the\ncastle but i am very happy when i dont miss her too much and i love my\ngranfarther every one does plees write soon\n\n\"your afechshnet old frend\n\n\"Cedric Errol\n\n\"p s no one is in the dungon my granfarfher never had any one langwishin\nin there.\n\n\"p s he is such a good earl he reminds me of you he is a unerversle\nfavrit\"\n\n\n\"Do you miss your mother very much?\" asked the Earl when he had finished\nreading this.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Fauntleroy, \"I miss her all the time.\"\n\nHe went and stood before the Earl and put his hand on his knee, looking\nup at him.\n\n\"YOU don't miss her, do you?\" he said.\n\n\"I don't know her,\" answered his lordship rather crustily.\n\n\"I know that,\" said Fauntleroy, \"and that's what makes me wonder. She\ntold me not to ask you any questions, and--and I won't, but sometimes I\ncan't help thinking, you know, and it makes me all puzzled. But I'm not\ngoing to ask any questions. And when I miss her very much, I go and\nlook out of my window to where I see her light shine for me every night\nthrough an open place in the trees. It is a long way off, but she puts\nit in her window as soon as it is dark, and I can see it twinkle far\naway, and I know what it says.\"\n\n\"What does it say?\" asked my lord.\n\n\"It says, 'Good-night, God keep you all the night!'--just what she used\nto say when we were together. Every night she used to say that to me,\nand every morning she said, 'God bless you all the day!' So you see I am\nquite safe all the time----\"\n\n\"Quite, I have no doubt,\" said his lordship dryly. And he drew down his\nbeetling eyebrows and looked at the little boy so fixedly and so long\nthat Fauntleroy wondered what he could be thinking of.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nThe fact was, his lordship the Earl of Dorincourt thought in those\ndays, of many things of which he had never thought before, and all his\nthoughts were in one way or another connected with his grandson. His\npride was the strongest part of his nature, and the boy gratified it at\nevery point. Through this pride he began to find a new interest in life.\nHe began to take pleasure in showing his heir to the world. The world\nhad known of his disappointment in his sons; so there was an agreeable\ntouch of triumph in exhibiting this new Lord Fauntleroy, who could\ndisappoint no one. He wished the child to appreciate his own power and\nto understand the splendor of his position; he wished that others should\nrealize it too. He made plans for his future.\n\nSometimes in secret he actually found himself wishing that his own past\nlife had been a better one, and that there had been less in it that this\npure, childish heart would shrink from if it knew the truth. It was not\nagreeable to think how the beautiful, innocent face would look if its\nowner should be made by any chance to understand that his grandfather\nhad been called for many a year \"the wicked Earl of Dorincourt.\" The\nthought even made him feel a trifle nervous. He did not wish the boy\nto find it out. Sometimes in this new interest he forgot his gout,\nand after a while his doctor was surprised to find his noble patient's\nhealth growing better than he had expected it ever would be again.\nPerhaps the Earl grew better because the time did not pass so slowly for\nhim, and he had something to think of beside his pains and infirmities.\n\nOne fine morning, people were amazed to see little Lord Fauntleroy\nriding his pony with another companion than Wilkins. This new companion\nrode a tall, powerful gray horse, and was no other than the Earl\nhimself. It was, in fact, Fauntleroy who had suggested this plan. As he\nhad been on the point of mounting his pony, he had said rather wistfully\nto his grandfather:\n\n\"I wish you were going with me. When I go away I feel lonely because\nyou are left all by yourself in such a big castle. I wish you could ride\ntoo.\"\n\nAnd the greatest excitement had been aroused in the stables a few\nminutes later by the arrival of an order that Selim was to be saddled\nfor the Earl. After that, Selim was saddled almost every day; and the\npeople became accustomed to the sight of the tall gray horse carrying\nthe tall gray old man, with his handsome, fierce, eagle face, by the\nside of the brown pony which bore little Lord Fauntleroy. And in their\nrides together through the green lanes and pretty country roads, the two\nriders became more intimate than ever. And gradually the old man heard\na great deal about \"Dearest\" and her life. As Fauntleroy trotted by the\nbig horse he chatted gayly. There could not well have been a brighter\nlittle comrade, his nature was so happy. It was he who talked the most.\nThe Earl often was silent, listening and watching the joyous, glowing\nface. Sometimes he would tell his young companion to set the pony off at\na gallop, and when the little fellow dashed off, sitting so straight and\nfearless, he would watch him with a gleam of pride and pleasure in his\neyes; and when, after such a dash, Fauntleroy came back waving his cap\nwith a laughing shout, he always felt that he and his grandfather were\nvery good friends indeed.\n\nOne thing that the Earl discovered was that his son's wife did not lead\nan idle life. It was not long before he learned that the poor people\nknew her very well indeed. When there was sickness or sorrow or poverty\nin any house, the little brougham often stood before the door.\n\n\"Do you know,\" said Fauntleroy once, \"they all say, 'God bless you!'\nwhen they see her, and the children are glad. There are some who go to\nher house to be taught to sew. She says she feels so rich now that she\nwants to help the poor ones.\"\n\nIt had not displeased the Earl to find that the mother of his heir had a\nbeautiful young face and looked as much like a lady as if she had been\na duchess; and in one way it did not displease him to know that she was\npopular and beloved by the poor. And yet he was often conscious of a\nhard, jealous pang when he saw how she filled her child's heart and how\nthe boy clung to her as his best beloved. The old man would have desired\nto stand first himself and have no rival.\n\nThat same morning he drew up his horse on an elevated point of the moor\nover which they rode, and made a gesture with his whip, over the broad,\nbeautiful landscape spread before them.\n\n\"Do you know that all that land belongs to me?\" he said to Fauntleroy.\n\n\"Does it?\" answered Fauntleroy. \"How much it is to belong to one person,\nand how beautiful!\"\n\n\"Do you know that some day it will all belong to you--that and a great\ndeal more?\"\n\n\"To me!\" exclaimed Fauntleroy in rather an awe-stricken voice. \"When?\"\n\n\"When I am dead,\" his grandfather answered.\n\n\"Then I don't want it,\" said Fauntleroy; \"I want you to live always.\"\n\n\"That's kind,\" answered the Earl in his dry way; \"nevertheless, some day\nit will all be yours--some day you will be the Earl of Dorincourt.\"\n\nLittle Lord Fauntleroy sat very still in his saddle for a few moments.\nHe looked over the broad moors, the green farms, the beautiful copses,\nthe cottages in the lanes, the pretty village, and over the trees to\nwhere the turrets of the great castle rose, gray and stately. Then he\ngave a queer little sigh.\n\n\"What are you thinking of?\" asked the Earl.\n\n\"I am thinking,\" replied Fauntleroy, \"what a little boy I am! and of\nwhat Dearest said to me.\"\n\n\"What was it?\" inquired the Earl.\n\n\"She said that perhaps it was not so easy to be very rich; that if any\none had so many things always, one might sometimes forget that every\none else was not so fortunate, and that one who is rich should always\nbe careful and try to remember. I was talking to her about how good you\nwere, and she said that was such a good thing, because an earl had\nso much power, and if he cared only about his own pleasure and never\nthought about the people who lived on his lands, they might have trouble\nthat he could help--and there were so many people, and it would be such\na hard thing. And I was just looking at all those houses, and thinking\nhow I should have to find out about the people, when I was an earl. How\ndid you find out about them?\"\n\nAs his lordship's knowledge of his tenantry consisted in finding out\nwhich of them paid their rent promptly, and in turning out those who\ndid not, this was rather a hard question. \"Newick finds out for me,\"\nhe said, and he pulled his great gray mustache, and looked at his small\nquestioner rather uneasily. \"We will go home now,\" he added; \"and when\nyou are an earl, see to it that you are a better earl than I have been!\"\n\nHe was very silent as they rode home. He felt it to be almost incredible\nthat he who had never really loved any one in his life, should find\nhimself growing so fond of this little fellow,--as without doubt he\nwas. At first he had only been pleased and proud of Cedric's beauty and\nbravery, but there was something more than pride in his feeling now. He\nlaughed a grim, dry laugh all to himself sometimes, when he thought how\nhe liked to have the boy near him, how he liked to hear his voice, and\nhow in secret he really wished to be liked and thought well of by his\nsmall grandson.\n\n\"I'm an old fellow in my dotage, and I have nothing else to think of,\"\nhe would say to himself; and yet he knew it was not that altogether.\nAnd if he had allowed himself to admit the truth, he would perhaps have\nfound himself obliged to own that the very things which attracted him,\nin spite of himself, were the qualities he had never possessed--the\nfrank, true, kindly nature, the affectionate trustfulness which could\nnever think evil.\n\nIt was only about a week after that ride when, after a visit to his\nmother, Fauntleroy came into the library with a troubled, thoughtful\nface. He sat down in that high-backed chair in which he had sat on the\nevening of his arrival, and for a while he looked at the embers on the\nhearth. The Earl watched him in silence, wondering what was coming. It\nwas evident that Cedric had something on his mind. At last he looked up.\n\"Does Newick know all about the people?\" he asked.\n\n\"It is his business to know about them,\" said his lordship. \"Been\nneglecting it--has he?\"\n\nContradictory as it may seem, there was nothing which entertained and\nedified him more than the little fellow's interest in his tenantry. He\nhad never taken any interest in them himself, but it pleased him well\nenough that, with all his childish habits of thought and in the midst\nof all his childish amusements and high spirits, there should be such a\nquaint seriousness working in the curly head.\n\n\"There is a place,\" said Fauntleroy, looking up at him with wide-open,\nhorror-stricken eye--\"Dearest has seen it; it is at the other end of the\nvillage. The houses are close together, and almost falling down; you\ncan scarcely breathe; and the people are so poor, and everything is\ndreadful! Often they have fever, and the children die; and it makes them\nwicked to live like that, and be so poor and miserable! It is worse than\nMichael and Bridget! The rain comes in at the roof! Dearest went to see\na poor woman who lived there. She would not let me come near her until\nshe had changed all her things. The tears ran down her cheeks when she\ntold me about it!\"\n\nThe tears had come into his own eyes, but he smiled through them.\n\n\"I told her you didn't know, and I would tell you,\" he said. He jumped\ndown and came and leaned against the Earl's chair. \"You can make it all\nright,\" he said, \"just as you made it all right for Higgins. You always\nmake it all right for everybody. I told her you would, and that Newick\nmust have forgotten to tell you.\"\n\nThe Earl looked down at the hand on his knee. Newick had not forgotten\nto tell him; in fact, Newick had spoken to him more than once of the\ndesperate condition of the end of the village known as Earl's Court.\nHe knew all about the tumble-down, miserable cottages, and the bad\ndrainage, and the damp walls and broken windows and leaking roofs,\nand all about the poverty, the fever, and the misery. Mr. Mordaunt\nhad painted it all to him in the strongest words he could use, and his\nlordship had used violent language in response; and, when his gout had\nbeen at the worst, he said that the sooner the people of Earl's Court\ndied and were buried by the parish the better it would be,--and there\nwas an end of the matter. And yet, as he looked at the small hand on his\nknee, and from the small hand to the honest, earnest, frank-eyed face,\nhe was actually a little ashamed both of Earl's Court and himself.\n\n\"What!\" he said; \"you want to make a builder of model cottages of me,\ndo you?\" And he positively put his own hand upon the childish one and\nstroked it.\n\n\"Those must be pulled down,\" said Fauntleroy, with great eagerness.\n\"Dearest says so. Let us--let us go and have them pulled down to-morrow.\nThe people will be so glad when they see you! They'll know you have come\nto help them!\" And his eyes shone like stars in his glowing face.\n\nThe Earl rose from his chair and put his hand on the child's shoulder.\n\"Let us go out and take our walk on the terrace,\" he said, with a short\nlaugh; \"and we can talk it over.\"\n\nAnd though he laughed two or three times again, as they walked to and\nfro on the broad stone terrace, where they walked together almost\nevery fine evening, he seemed to be thinking of something which did\nnot displease him, and still he kept his hand on his small companion's\nshoulder.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nThe truth was that Mrs. Errol had found a great many sad things in the\ncourse of her work among the poor of the little village that appeared so\npicturesque when it was seen from the moor-sides. Everything was not as\npicturesque, when seen near by, as it looked from a distance. She had\nfound idleness and poverty and ignorance where there should have been\ncomfort and industry. And she had discovered, after a while, that\nErleboro was considered to be the worst village in that part of the\ncountry. Mr. Mordaunt had told her a great many of his difficulties\nand discouragements, and she had found out a great deal by herself. The\nagents who had managed the property had always been chosen to please the\nEarl, and had cared nothing for the degradation and wretchedness of the\npoor tenants. Many things, therefore, had been neglected which should\nhave been attended to, and matters had gone from bad to worse.\n\nAs to Earl's Court, it was a disgrace, with its dilapidated houses and\nmiserable, careless, sickly people. When first Mrs. Errol went to the\nplace, it made her shudder. Such ugliness and slovenliness and want\nseemed worse in a country place than in a city. It seemed as if there it\nmight be helped. And as she looked at the squalid, uncared-for children\ngrowing up in the midst of vice and brutal indifference, she thought\nof her own little boy spending his days in the great, splendid castle,\nguarded and served like a young prince, having no wish ungratified, and\nknowing nothing but luxury and ease and beauty. And a bold thought came\nin her wise little mother-heart. Gradually she had begun to see, as had\nothers, that it had been her boy's good fortune to please the Earl very\nmuch, and that he would scarcely be likely to be denied anything for\nwhich he expressed a desire.\n\n\"The Earl would give him anything,\" she said to Mr. Mordaunt. \"He would\nindulge his every whim. Why should not that indulgence be used for the\ngood of others? It is for me to see that this shall come to pass.\"\n\nShe knew she could trust the kind, childish heart; so she told the\nlittle fellow the story of Earl's Court, feeling sure that he would\nspeak of it to his grandfather, and hoping that some good results would\nfollow.\n\nAnd strange as it appeared to every one, good results did follow.\n\nThe fact was that the strongest power to influence the Earl was his\ngrandson's perfect confidence in him--the fact that Cedric always\nbelieved that his grandfather was going to do what was right and\ngenerous. He could not quite make up his mind to let him discover that\nhe had no inclination to be generous at all, and that he wanted his\nown way on all occasions, whether it was right or wrong. It was such\na novelty to be regarded with admiration as a benefactor of the entire\nhuman race, and the soul of nobility, that he did not enjoy the idea of\nlooking into the affectionate brown eyes, and saying: \"I am a violent,\nselfish old rascal; I never did a generous thing in my life, and I don't\ncare about Earl's Court or the poor people\"--or something which would\namount to the same thing. He actually had learned to be fond enough\nof that small boy with the mop of yellow love-locks, to feel that he\nhimself would prefer to be guilty of an amiable action now and then.\nAnd so--though he laughed at himself--after some reflection, he sent for\nNewick, and had quite a long interview with him on the subject of the\nCourt, and it was decided that the wretched hovels should be pulled down\nand new houses should be built.\n\n\"It is Lord Fauntleroy who insists on it,\" he said dryly; \"he thinks it\nwill improve the property. You can tell the tenants that it's his\nidea.\" And he looked down at his small lordship, who was lying on the\nhearth-rug playing with Dougal. The great dog was the lad's constant\ncompanion, and followed him about everywhere, stalking solemnly after\nhim when he walked, and trotting majestically behind when he rode or\ndrove.\n\nOf course, both the country people and the town people heard of the\nproposed improvement. At first, many of them would not believe it; but\nwhen a small army of workmen arrived and commenced pulling down the\ncrazy, squalid cottages, people began to understand that little Lord\nFauntleroy had done them a good turn again, and that through his\ninnocent interference the scandal of Earl's Court had at last been\nremoved. If he had only known how they talked about him and praised him\neverywhere, and prophesied great things for him when he grew up, how\nastonished he would have been! But he never suspected it. He lived his\nsimple, happy, child life,--frolicking about in the park; chasing the\nrabbits to their burrows; lying under the trees on the grass, or on\nthe rug in the library, reading wonderful books and talking to the Earl\nabout them, and then telling the stories again to his mother; writing\nlong letters to Dick and Mr. Hobbs, who responded in characteristic\nfashion; riding out at his grandfather's side, or with Wilkins as\nescort. As they rode through the market town, he used to see the people\nturn and look, and he noticed that as they lifted their hats their\nfaces often brightened very much; but he thought it was all because his\ngrandfather was with him.\n\n\"They are so fond of you,\" he once said, looking up at his lordship with\na bright smile. \"Do you see how glad they are when they see you? I hope\nthey will some day be as fond of me. It must be nice to have EVERYbody\nlike you.\" And he felt quite proud to be the grandson of so greatly\nadmired and beloved an individual.\n\nWhen the cottages were being built, the lad and his grandfather used to\nride over to Earl's Court together to look at them, and Fauntleroy\nwas full of interest. He would dismount from his pony and go and make\nacquaintance with the workmen, asking them questions about building and\nbricklaying, and telling them things about America. After two or three\nsuch conversations, he was able to enlighten the Earl on the subject of\nbrick-making, as they rode home.\n\n\"I always like to know about things like those,\" he said, \"because you\nnever know what you are coming to.\"\n\nWhen he left them, the workmen used to talk him over among themselves,\nand laugh at his odd, innocent speeches; but they liked him, and\nliked to see him stand among them, talking away, with his hands in his\npockets, his hat pushed back on his curls, and his small face full\nof eagerness. \"He's a rare un,\" they used to say. \"An' a noice little\noutspoken chap, too. Not much o' th' bad stock in him.\" And they would\ngo home and tell their wives about him, and the women would tell each\nother, and so it came about that almost every one talked of, or knew\nsome story of, little Lord Fauntleroy; and gradually almost every\none knew that the \"wicked Earl\" had found something he cared for at\nlast--something which had touched and even warmed his hard, bitter old\nheart.\n\nBut no one knew quite how much it had been warmed, and how day by day\nthe old man found himself caring more and more for the child, who was\nthe only creature that had ever trusted him. He found himself looking\nforward to the time when Cedric would be a young man, strong and\nbeautiful, with life all before him, but having still that kind heart\nand the power to make friends everywhere, and the Earl wondered what the\nlad would do, and how he would use his gifts. Often as he watched the\nlittle fellow lying upon the hearth, conning some big book, the light\nshining on the bright young head, his old eyes would gleam and his cheek\nwould flush.\n\n\"The boy can do anything,\" he would say to himself, \"anything!\"\n\nHe never spoke to any one else of his feeling for Cedric; when he spoke\nof him to others it was always with the same grim smile. But Fauntleroy\nsoon knew that his grandfather loved him and always liked him to be\nnear--near to his chair if they were in the library, opposite to him at\ntable, or by his side when he rode or drove or took his evening walk on\nthe broad terrace.\n\n\"Do you remember,\" Cedric said once, looking up from his book as he lay\non the rug, \"do you remember what I said to you that first night about\nour being good companions? I don't think any people could be better\ncompanions than we are, do you?\"\n\n\"We are pretty good companions, I should say,\" replied his lordship.\n\"Come here.\"\n\nFauntleroy scrambled up and went to him.\n\n\"Is there anything you want,\" the Earl asked; \"anything you have not?\"\n\nThe little fellow's brown eyes fixed themselves on his grandfather with\na rather wistful look.\n\n\"Only one thing,\" he answered.\n\n\"What is that?\" inquired the Earl.\n\nFauntleroy was silent a second. He had not thought matters over to\nhimself so long for nothing.\n\n\"What is it?\" my lord repeated.\n\nFauntleroy answered.\n\n\"It is Dearest,\" he said.\n\nThe old Earl winced a little.\n\n\"But you see her almost every day,\" he said. \"Is not that enough?\"\n\n\"I used to see her all the time,\" said Fauntleroy. \"She used to kiss me\nwhen I went to sleep at night, and in the morning she was always there,\nand we could tell each other things without waiting.\"\n\nThe old eyes and the young ones looked into each other through a moment\nof silence. Then the Earl knitted his brows.\n\n\"Do you NEVER forget about your mother?\" he said.\n\n\"No,\" answered Fauntleroy, \"never; and she never forgets about me.\nI shouldn't forget about YOU, you know, if I didn't live with you. I\nshould think about you all the more.\"\n\n\"Upon my word,\" said the Earl, after looking at him a moment longer, \"I\nbelieve you would!\"\n\nThe jealous pang that came when the boy spoke so of his mother seemed\neven stronger than it had been before; it was stronger because of this\nold man's increasing affection for the boy.\n\nBut it was not long before he had other pangs, so much harder to face\nthat he almost forgot, for the time, he had ever hated his son's wife at\nall. And in a strange and startling way it happened. One evening, just\nbefore the Earl's Court cottages were completed, there was a grand\ndinner party at Dorincourt. There had not been such a party at the\nCastle for a long time. A few days before it took place, Sir Harry\nLorridaile and Lady Lorridaile, who was the Earl's only sister, actually\ncame for a visit--a thing which caused the greatest excitement in the\nvillage and set Mrs. Dibble's shop-bell tinkling madly again, because\nit was well known that Lady Lorridaile had only been to Dorincourt once\nsince her marriage, thirty-five years before. She was a handsome old\nlady with white curls and dimpled, peachy cheeks, and she was as good\nas gold, but she had never approved of her brother any more than did the\nrest of the world, and having a strong will of her own and not being\nat all afraid to speak her mind frankly, she had, after several lively\nquarrels with his lordship, seen very little of him since her young\ndays.\n\nShe had heard a great deal of him that was not pleasant through the\nyears in which they had been separated. She had heard about his neglect\nof his wife, and of the poor lady's death; and of his indifference to\nhis children; and of the two weak, vicious, unprepossessing elder boys\nwho had been no credit to him or to any one else. Those two elder\nsons, Bevis and Maurice, she had never seen; but once there had come to\nLorridaile Park a tall, stalwart, beautiful young fellow about eighteen\nyears old, who had told her that he was her nephew Cedric Errol, and\nthat he had come to see her because he was passing near the place and\nwished to look at his Aunt Constantia of whom he had heard his mother\nspeak. Lady Lorridaile's kind heart had warmed through and through at\nthe sight of the young man, and she had made him stay with her a week,\nand petted him, and made much of him and admired him immensely. He was\nso sweet-tempered, light-hearted, spirited a lad, that when he went\naway, she had hoped to see him often again; but she never did, because\nthe Earl had been in a bad humor when he went back to Dorincourt,\nand had forbidden him ever to go to Lorridaile Park again. But Lady\nLorridaile had always remembered him tenderly, and though she feared he\nhad made a rash marriage in America, she had been very angry when she\nheard how he had been cast off by his father and that no one really knew\nwhere or how he lived. At last there came a rumor of his death, and then\nBevis had been thrown from his horse and killed, and Maurice had died in\nRome of the fever; and soon after came the story of the American child\nwho was to be found and brought home as Lord Fauntleroy.\n\n\"Probably to be ruined as the others were,\" she said to her husband,\n\"unless his mother is good enough and has a will of her own to help her\nto take care of him.\"\n\nBut when she heard that Cedric's mother had been parted from him she was\nalmost too indignant for words.\n\n\"It is disgraceful, Harry!\" she said. \"Fancy a child of that age being\ntaken from his mother, and made the companion of a man like my brother!\nHe will either be brutal to the boy or indulge him until he is a little\nmonster. If I thought it would do any good to write----\"\n\n\"It wouldn't, Constantia,\" said Sir Harry.\n\n\"I know it wouldn't,\" she answered. \"I know his lordship the Earl of\nDorincourt too well;--but it is outrageous.\"\n\nNot only the poor people and farmers heard about little Lord Fauntleroy;\nothers knew him. He was talked about so much and there were so many\nstories of him--of his beauty, his sweet temper, his popularity, and\nhis growing influence over the Earl, his grandfather--that rumors of him\nreached the gentry at their country places and he was heard of in\nmore than one county of England. People talked about him at the dinner\ntables, ladies pitied his young mother, and wondered if the boy were as\nhandsome as he was said to be, and men who knew the Earl and his habits\nlaughed heartily at the stories of the little fellow's belief in his\nlordship's amiability. Sir Thomas Asshe of Asshawe Hall, being in\nErleboro one day, met the Earl and his grandson riding together, and\nstopped to shake hands with my lord and congratulate him on his change\nof looks and on his recovery from the gout. \"And, d' ye know,\" he said,\nwhen he spoke of the incident afterward, \"the old man looked as proud as\na turkey-cock; and upon my word I don't wonder, for a handsomer, finer\nlad than his grandson I never saw! As straight as a dart, and sat his\npony like a young trooper!\"\n\nAnd so by degrees Lady Lorridaile, too, heard of the child; she heard\nabout Higgins and the lame boy, and the cottages at Earl's Court, and a\nscore of other things,--and she began to wish to see the little fellow.\nAnd just as she was wondering how it might be brought about, to her\nutter astonishment, she received a letter from her brother inviting her\nto come with her husband to Dorincourt.\n\n\"It seems incredible!\" she exclaimed. \"I have heard it said that the\nchild has worked miracles, and I begin to believe it. They say my\nbrother adores the boy and can scarcely endure to have him out of sight.\nAnd he is so proud of him! Actually, I believe he wants to show him to\nus.\" And she accepted the invitation at once.\n\nWhen she reached Dorincourt Castle with Sir Harry, it was late in the\nafternoon, and she went to her room at once before seeing her brother.\nHaving dressed for dinner, she entered the drawing-room. The Earl was\nthere standing near the fire and looking very tall and imposing; and at\nhis side stood a little boy in black velvet, and a large Vandyke collar\nof rich lace--a little fellow whose round bright face was so handsome,\nand who turned upon her such beautiful, candid brown eyes, that she\nalmost uttered an exclamation of pleasure and surprise at the sight.\n\nAs she shook hands with the Earl, she called him by the name she had not\nused since her girlhood.\n\n\"What, Molyneux!\" she said, \"is this the child?\"\n\n\"Yes, Constantia,\" answered the Earl, \"this is the boy. Fauntleroy, this\nis your grand-aunt, Lady Lorridaile.\"\n\n\"How do you do, Grand-Aunt?\" said Fauntleroy.\n\nLady Lorridaile put her hand on his shoulders, and after looking down\ninto his upraised face a few seconds, kissed him warmly.\n\n\"I am your Aunt Constantia,\" she said, \"and I loved your poor papa, and\nyou are very like him.\"\n\n\"It makes me glad when I am told I am like him,\" answered Fauntleroy,\n\"because it seems as if every one liked him,--just like Dearest,\neszackly,--Aunt Constantia\" (adding the two words after a second's\npause).\n\nLady Lorridaile was delighted. She bent and kissed him again, and from\nthat moment they were warm friends.\n\n\"Well, Molyneux,\" she said aside to the Earl afterward, \"it could not\npossibly be better than this!\"\n\n\"I think not,\" answered his lordship dryly. \"He is a fine little\nfellow. We are great friends. He believes me to be the most charming\nand sweet-tempered of philanthropists. I will confess to you,\nConstantia,--as you would find it out if I did not,--that I am in some\nslight danger of becoming rather an old fool about him.\"\n\n\"What does his mother think of you?\" asked Lady Lorridaile, with her\nusual straightforwardness.\n\n\"I have not asked her,\" answered the Earl, slightly scowling.\n\n\"Well,\" said Lady Lorridaile, \"I will be frank with you at the outset,\nMolyneux, and tell you I don't approve of your course, and that it is my\nintention to call on Mrs. Errol as soon as possible; so if you wish to\nquarrel with me, you had better mention it at once. What I hear of the\nyoung creature makes me quite sure that her child owes her everything.\nWe were told even at Lorridaile Park that your poorer tenants adore her\nalready.\"\n\n\"They adore HIM,\" said the Earl, nodding toward Fauntleroy. \"As to Mrs.\nErrol, you'll find her a pretty little woman. I'm rather in debt to her\nfor giving some of her beauty to the boy, and you can go to see her if\nyou like. All I ask is that she will remain at Court Lodge and that you\nwill not ask me to go and see her,\" and he scowled a little again.\n\n\"But he doesn't hate her as much as he used to, that is plain enough to\nme,\" her ladyship said to Sir Harry afterward. \"And he is a changed man\nin a measure, and, incredible as it may seem, Harry, it is my opinion\nthat he is being made into a human being, through nothing more nor less\nthan his affection for that innocent, affectionate little fellow. Why,\nthe child actually loves him--leans on his chair and against his knee.\nHis own children would as soon have thought of nestling up to a tiger.\"\n\nThe very next day she went to call upon Mrs. Errol. When she returned,\nshe said to her brother:\n\n\"Molyneux, she is the loveliest little woman I ever saw! She has a voice\nlike a silver bell, and you may thank her for making the boy what he is.\nShe has given him more than her beauty, and you make a great mistake in\nnot persuading her to come and take charge of you. I shall invite her to\nLorridaile.\"\n\n\"She'll not leave the boy,\" replied the Earl.\n\n\"I must have the boy too,\" said Lady Lorridaile, laughing.\n\nBut she knew Fauntleroy would not be given up to her, and each day she\nsaw more clearly how closely those two had grown to each other, and\nhow all the proud, grim old man's ambition and hope and love centered\nthemselves in the child, and how the warm, innocent nature returned his\naffection with most perfect trust and good faith.\n\nShe knew, too, that the prime reason for the great dinner party was the\nEarl's secret desire to show the world his grandson and heir, and to let\npeople see that the boy who had been so much spoken of and described was\neven a finer little specimen of boyhood than rumor had made him.\n\n\"Bevis and Maurice were such a bitter humiliation to him,\" she said to\nher husband. \"Every one knew it. He actually hated them. His pride\nhas full sway here.\" Perhaps there was not one person who accepted the\ninvitation without feeling some curiosity about little Lord Fauntleroy,\nand wondering if he would be on view.\n\nAnd when the time came he was on view.\n\n\"The lad has good manners,\" said the Earl. \"He will be in no one's\nway. Children are usually idiots or bores,--mine were both,--but he can\nactually answer when he's spoken to, and be silent when he is not. He is\nnever offensive.\"\n\nBut he was not allowed to be silent very long. Every one had something\nto say to him. The fact was they wished to make him talk. The ladies\npetted him and asked him questions, and the men asked him questions too,\nand joked with him, as the men on the steamer had done when he crossed\nthe Atlantic. Fauntleroy did not quite understand why they laughed so\nsometimes when he answered them, but he was so used to seeing people\namused when he was quite serious, that he did not mind. He thought the\nwhole evening delightful. The magnificent rooms were so brilliant with\nlights, there were so many flowers, the gentlemen seemed so gay, and\nthe ladies wore such beautiful, wonderful dresses, and such sparkling\nornaments in their hair and on their necks. There was one young lady\nwho, he heard them say, had just come down from London, where she had\nspent the \"season\"; and she was so charming that he could not keep his\neyes from her. She was a rather tall young lady with a proud little\nhead, and very soft dark hair, and large eyes the color of purple\npansies, and the color on her cheeks and lips was like that of a rose.\nShe was dressed in a beautiful white dress, and had pearls around her\nthroat. There was one strange thing about this young lady. So many\ngentlemen stood near her, and seemed anxious to please her, that\nFauntleroy thought she must be something like a princess. He was so much\ninterested in her that without knowing it he drew nearer and nearer to\nher, and at last she turned and spoke to him.\n\n\"Come here, Lord Fauntleroy,\" she said, smiling; \"and tell me why you\nlook at me so.\"\n\n\"I was thinking how beautiful you are,\" his young lordship replied.\n\nThen all the gentlemen laughed outright, and the young lady laughed a\nlittle too, and the rose color in her cheeks brightened.\n\n\"Ah, Fauntleroy,\" said one of the gentlemen who had laughed most\nheartily, \"make the most of your time! When you are older you will not\nhave the courage to say that.\"\n\n\"But nobody could help saying it,\" said Fauntleroy sweetly. \"Could you\nhelp it? Don't YOU think she is pretty, too?\"\n\n\"We are not allowed to say what we think,\" said the gentleman, while the\nrest laughed more than ever.\n\nBut the beautiful young lady--her name was Miss Vivian Herbert--put out\nher hand and drew Cedric to her side, looking prettier than before, if\npossible.\n\n\"Lord Fauntleroy shall say what he thinks,\" she said; \"and I am much\nobliged to him. I am sure he thinks what he says.\" And she kissed him on\nhis cheek.\n\n\"I think you are prettier than any one I ever saw,\" said Fauntleroy,\nlooking at her with innocent, admiring eyes, \"except Dearest. Of course,\nI couldn't think any one QUITE as pretty as Dearest. I think she is the\nprettiest person in the world.\"\n\n\"I am sure she is,\" said Miss Vivian Herbert. And she laughed and kissed\nhis cheek again.\n\nShe kept him by her side a great part of the evening, and the group\nof which they were the center was very gay. He did not know how it\nhappened, but before long he was telling them all about America, and\nthe Republican Rally, and Mr. Hobbs and Dick, and in the end he\nproudly produced from his pocket Dick's parting gift,--the red silk\nhandkerchief.\n\n\"I put it in my pocket to-night because it was a party,\" he said. \"I\nthought Dick would like me to wear it at a party.\"\n\nAnd queer as the big, flaming, spotted thing was, there was a serious,\naffectionate look in his eyes, which prevented his audience from\nlaughing very much.\n\n\"You see, I like it,\" he said, \"because Dick is my friend.\"\n\nBut though he was talked to so much, as the Earl had said, he was in no\none's way. He could be quiet and listen when others talked, and so no\none found him tiresome. A slight smile crossed more than one face when\nseveral times he went and stood near his grandfather's chair, or sat on\na stool close to him, watching him and absorbing every word he uttered\nwith the most charmed interest. Once he stood so near the chair's arm\nthat his cheek touched the Earl's shoulder, and his lordship, detecting\nthe general smile, smiled a little himself. He knew what the lookers-on\nwere thinking, and he felt some secret amusement in their seeing what\ngood friends he was with this youngster, who might have been expected to\nshare the popular opinion of him.\n\nMr. Havisham had been expected to arrive in the afternoon, but, strange\nto say, he was late. Such a thing had really never been known to happen\nbefore during all the years in which he had been a visitor at Dorincourt\nCastle. He was so late that the guests were on the point of rising to\ngo in to dinner when he arrived. When he approached his host, the Earl\nregarded him with amazement. He looked as if he had been hurried or\nagitated; his dry, keen old face was actually pale.\n\n\"I was detained,\" he said, in a low voice to the Earl, \"by--an\nextraordinary event.\"\n\nIt was as unlike the methodic old lawyer to be agitated by anything as\nit was to be late, but it was evident that he had been disturbed. At\ndinner he ate scarcely anything, and two or three times, when he was\nspoken to, he started as if his thoughts were far away. At dessert,\nwhen Fauntleroy came in, he looked at him more than once, nervously\nand uneasily. Fauntleroy noted the look and wondered at it. He and Mr.\nHavisham were on friendly terms, and they usually exchanged smiles. The\nlawyer seemed to have forgotten to smile that evening.\n\nThe fact was, he forgot everything but the strange and painful news he\nknew he must tell the Earl before the night was over--the strange news\nwhich he knew would be so terrible a shock, and which would change the\nface of everything. As he looked about at the splendid rooms and the\nbrilliant company,--at the people gathered together, he knew, more that\nthey might see the bright-haired little fellow near the Earl's chair\nthan for any other reason,--as he looked at the proud old man and at\nlittle Lord Fauntleroy smiling at his side, he really felt quite shaken,\nnotwithstanding that he was a hardened old lawyer. What a blow it was\nthat he must deal them!\n\nHe did not exactly know how the long, superb dinner ended. He sat\nthrough it as if he were in a dream, and several times he saw the Earl\nglance at him in surprise.\n\nBut it was over at last, and the gentlemen joined the ladies in the\ndrawing-room. They found Fauntleroy sitting on the sofa with Miss Vivian\nHerbert,--the great beauty of the last London season; they had been\nlooking at some pictures, and he was thanking his companion as the door\nopened.\n\n\"I'm ever so much obliged to you for being so kind to me!\" he was\nsaying; \"I never was at a party before, and I've enjoyed myself so\nmuch!\"\n\nHe had enjoyed himself so much that when the gentlemen gathered about\nMiss Herbert again and began to talk to her, as he listened and tried\nto understand their laughing speeches, his eyelids began to droop. They\ndrooped until they covered his eyes two or three times, and then the\nsound of Miss Herbert's low, pretty laugh would bring him back, and he\nwould open them again for about two seconds. He was quite sure he was\nnot going to sleep, but there was a large, yellow satin cushion behind\nhim and his head sank against it, and after a while his eyelids drooped\nfor the last time. They did not even quite open when, as it seemed a\nlong time after, some one kissed him lightly on the cheek. It was Miss\nVivian Herbert, who was going away, and she spoke to him softly.\n\n\"Good-night, little Lord Fauntleroy,\" she said. \"Sleep well.\"\n\nAnd in the morning he did not know that he had tried to open his eyes\nand had murmured sleepily, \"Good-night--I'm so--glad--I saw you--you are\nso--pretty----\"\n\nHe only had a very faint recollection of hearing the gentlemen laugh\nagain and of wondering why they did it.\n\nNo sooner had the last guest left the room, than Mr. Havisham turned\nfrom his place by the fire, and stepped nearer the sofa, where he stood\nlooking down at the sleeping occupant. Little Lord Fauntleroy was taking\nhis ease luxuriously. One leg crossed the other and swung over the edge\nof the sofa; one arm was flung easily above his head; the warm flush\nof healthful, happy, childish sleep was on his quiet face; his waving\ntangle of bright hair strayed over the yellow satin cushion. He made a\npicture well worth looking at.\n\nAs Mr. Havisham looked at it, he put his hand up and rubbed his shaven\nchin, with a harassed countenance.\n\n\"Well, Havisham,\" said the Earl's harsh voice behind him. \"What is it?\nIt is evident something has happened. What was the extraordinary event,\nif I may ask?\"\n\nMr. Havisham turned from the sofa, still rubbing his chin.\n\n\"It was bad news,\" he answered, \"distressing news, my lord--the worst of\nnews. I am sorry to be the bearer of it.\"\n\nThe Earl had been uneasy for some time during the evening, as he glanced\nat Mr. Havisham, and when he was uneasy he was always ill-tempered.\n\n\"Why do you look so at the boy!\" he exclaimed irritably. \"You have been\nlooking at him all the evening as if--See here now, why should you look\nat the boy, Havisham, and hang over him like some bird of ill-omen! What\nhas your news to do with Lord Fauntleroy?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said Mr. Havisham, \"I will waste no words. My news has\neverything to do with Lord Fauntleroy. And if we are to believe it--it\nis not Lord Fauntleroy who lies sleeping before us, but only the son of\nCaptain Errol. And the present Lord Fauntleroy is the son of your son\nBevis, and is at this moment in a lodging-house in London.\"\n\nThe Earl clutched the arms of his chair with both his hands until the\nveins stood out upon them; the veins stood out on his forehead too; his\nfierce old face was almost livid.\n\n\"What do you mean!\" he cried out. \"You are mad! Whose lie is this?\"\n\n\"If it is a lie,\" answered Mr. Havisham, \"it is painfully like the\ntruth. A woman came to my chambers this morning. She said your son\nBevis married her six years ago in London. She showed me her marriage\ncertificate. They quarrelled a year after the marriage, and he paid her\nto keep away from him. She has a son five years old. She is an American\nof the lower classes,--an ignorant person,--and until lately she did not\nfully understand what her son could claim. She consulted a lawyer and\nfound out that the boy was really Lord Fauntleroy and the heir to the\nearldom of Dorincourt; and she, of course, insists on his claims being\nacknowledged.\"\n\nThere was a movement of the curly head on the yellow satin cushion. A\nsoft, long, sleepy sigh came from the parted lips, and the little boy\nstirred in his sleep, but not at all restlessly or uneasily. Not at all\nas if his slumber were disturbed by the fact that he was being proved\na small impostor and that he was not Lord Fauntleroy at all and never\nwould be the Earl of Dorincourt. He only turned his rosy face more on\nits side, as if to enable the old man who stared at it so solemnly to\nsee it better.\n\nThe handsome, grim old face was ghastly. A bitter smile fixed itself\nupon it.\n\n\"I should refuse to believe a word of it,\" he said, \"if it were not such\na low, scoundrelly piece of business that it becomes quite possible in\nconnection with the name of my son Bevis. It is quite like Bevis. He was\nalways a disgrace to us. Always a weak, untruthful, vicious young brute\nwith low tastes--my son and heir, Bevis, Lord Fauntleroy. The woman is\nan ignorant, vulgar person, you say?\"\n\n\"I am obliged to admit that she can scarcely spell her own name,\"\nanswered the lawyer. \"She is absolutely uneducated and openly mercenary.\nShe cares for nothing but the money. She is very handsome in a coarse\nway, but----\"\n\nThe fastidious old lawyer ceased speaking and gave a sort of shudder.\n\nThe veins on the old Earl's forehead stood out like purple cords.\n\nSomething else stood out upon it too--cold drops of moisture. He took\nout his handkerchief and swept them away. His smile grew even more\nbitter.\n\n\"And I,\" he said, \"I objected to--to the other woman, the mother of\nthis child\" (pointing to the sleeping form on the sofa); \"I refused to\nrecognize her. And yet she could spell her own name. I suppose this is\nretribution.\"\n\nSuddenly he sprang up from his chair and began to walk up and down the\nroom. Fierce and terrible words poured forth from his lips. His rage and\nhatred and cruel disappointment shook him as a storm shakes a tree. His\nviolence was something dreadful to see, and yet Mr. Havisham noticed\nthat at the very worst of his wrath he never seemed to forget the little\nsleeping figure on the yellow satin cushion, and that he never once\nspoke loud enough to awaken it.\n\n\"I might have known it,\" he said. \"They were a disgrace to me from their\nfirst hour! I hated them both; and they hated me! Bevis was the worse of\nthe two. I will not believe this yet, though! I will contend against it\nto the last. But it is like Bevis--it is like him!\"\n\nAnd then he raged again and asked questions about the woman, about her\nproofs, and pacing the room, turned first white and then purple in his\nrepressed fury.\n\nWhen at last he had learned all there was to be told, and knew the\nworst, Mr. Havisham looked at him with a feeling of anxiety. He looked\nbroken and haggard and changed. His rages had always been bad for\nhim, but this one had been worse than the rest because there had been\nsomething more than rage in it.\n\nHe came slowly back to the sofa, at last, and stood near it.\n\n\"If any one had told me I could be fond of a child,\" he said, his harsh\nvoice low and unsteady, \"I should not have believed them. I always\ndetested children--my own more than the rest. I am fond of this one; he\nis fond of me\" (with a bitter smile). \"I am not popular; I never was.\nBut he is fond of me. He never was afraid of me--he always trusted me.\nHe would have filled my place better than I have filled it. I know that.\nHe would have been an honor to the name.\"\n\nHe bent down and stood a minute or so looking at the happy, sleeping\nface. His shaggy eyebrows were knitted fiercely, and yet somehow he did\nnot seem fierce at all. He put up his hand, pushed the bright hair back\nfrom the forehead, and then turned away and rang the bell.\n\nWhen the largest footman appeared, he pointed to the sofa.\n\n\"Take\"--he said, and then his voice changed a little--\"take Lord\nFauntleroy to his room.\"\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nWhen Mr. Hobbs's young friend left him to go to Dorincourt Castle and\nbecome Lord Fauntleroy, and the grocery-man had time to realize that the\nAtlantic Ocean lay between himself and the small companion who had spent\nso many agreeable hours in his society, he really began to feel very\nlonely indeed. The fact was, Mr. Hobbs was not a clever man nor even a\nbright one; he was, indeed, rather a slow and heavy person, and he had\nnever made many acquaintances. He was not mentally energetic enough\nto know how to amuse himself, and in truth he never did anything of an\nentertaining nature but read the newspapers and add up his accounts. It\nwas not very easy for him to add up his accounts, and sometimes it took\nhim a long time to bring them out right; and in the old days, little\nLord Fauntleroy, who had learned how to add up quite nicely with his\nfingers and a slate and pencil, had sometimes even gone to the length\nof trying to help him; and, then too, he had been so good a listener and\nhad taken such an interest in what the newspaper said, and he and Mr.\nHobbs had held such long conversations about the Revolution and the\nBritish and the elections and the Republican party, that it was no\nwonder his going left a blank in the grocery store. At first it seemed\nto Mr. Hobbs that Cedric was not really far away, and would come back\nagain; that some day he would look up from his paper and see the little\nlad standing in the door-way, in his white suit and red stockings, and\nwith his straw hat on the back of his head, and would hear him say in\nhis cheerful little voice: \"Hello, Mr. Hobbs! This is a hot day--isn't\nit?\" But as the days passed on and this did not happen, Mr. Hobbs felt\nvery dull and uneasy. He did not even enjoy his newspaper as much as he\nused to. He would put the paper down on his knee after reading it, and\nsit and stare at the high stool for a long time. There were some marks\non the long legs which made him feel quite dejected and melancholy. They\nwere marks made by the heels of the next Earl of Dorincourt, when he\nkicked and talked at the same time. It seems that even youthful earls\nkick the legs of things they sit on;--noble blood and lofty lineage do\nnot prevent it. After looking at those marks, Mr. Hobbs would take\nout his gold watch and open it and stare at the inscription: \"From\nhis oldest friend, Lord Fauntleroy, to Mr. Hobbs. When this you see,\nremember me.\" And after staring at it awhile, he would shut it up with a\nloud snap, and sigh and get up and go and stand in the door-way--between\nthe box of potatoes and the barrel of apples--and look up the street.\nAt night, when the store was closed, he would light his pipe and walk\nslowly along the pavement until he reached the house where Cedric had\nlived, on which there was a sign that read, \"This House to Let\"; and he\nwould stop near it and look up and shake his head, and puff at his pipe\nvery hard, and after a while walk mournfully back again.\n\nThis went on for two or three weeks before any new idea came to him.\nBeing slow and ponderous, it always took him a long time to reach a\nnew idea. As a rule, he did not like new ideas, but preferred old ones.\nAfter two or three weeks, however, during which, instead of getting\nbetter, matters really grew worse, a novel plan slowly and deliberately\ndawned upon him. He would go to see Dick. He smoked a great many pipes\nbefore he arrived at the conclusion, but finally he did arrive at it. He\nwould go to see Dick. He knew all about Dick. Cedric had told him, and\nhis idea was that perhaps Dick might be some comfort to him in the way\nof talking things over.\n\nSo one day when Dick was very hard at work blacking a customer's boots,\na short, stout man with a heavy face and a bald head stopped on the\npavement and stared for two or three minutes at the bootblack's sign,\nwhich read:\n\n\"PROFESSOR DICK TIPTON CAN'T BE BEAT.\"\n\n\nHe stared at it so long that Dick began to take a lively interest in\nhim, and when he had put the finishing touch to his customer's boots, he\nsaid:\n\n\"Want a shine, sir?\"\n\nThe stout man came forward deliberately and put his foot on the rest.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said.\n\nThen when Dick fell to work, the stout man looked from Dick to the sign\nand from the sign to Dick.\n\n\"Where did you get that?\" he asked.\n\n\"From a friend o' mine,\" said Dick,--\"a little feller. He guv' me the\nwhole outfit. He was the best little feller ye ever saw. He's in England\nnow. Gone to be one o' them lords.\"\n\n\"Lord--Lord--\" asked Mr. Hobbs, with ponderous slowness, \"Lord\nFauntleroy--Goin' to be Earl of Dorincourt?\"\n\nDick almost dropped his brush.\n\n\"Why, boss!\" he exclaimed, \"d' ye know him yerself?\"\n\n\"I've known him,\" answered Mr. Hobbs, wiping his warm forehead, \"ever\nsince he was born. We was lifetime acquaintances--that's what WE was.\"\n\nIt really made him feel quite agitated to speak of it. He pulled the\nsplendid gold watch out of his pocket and opened it, and showed the\ninside of the case to Dick.\n\n\"'When this you see, remember me,'\" he read. \"That was his parting\nkeepsake to me. 'I don't want you to forget me'--those was his words--I'd\nha' remembered him,\" he went on, shaking his head, \"if he hadn't given\nme a thing an' I hadn't seen hide nor hair on him again. He was a\ncompanion as ANY man would remember.\"\n\n\"He was the nicest little feller I ever see,\" said Dick. \"An' as to\nsand--I never seen so much sand to a little feller. I thought a heap\no' him, I did,--an' we was friends, too--we was sort o' chums from the\nfust, that little young un an' me. I grabbed his ball from under a stage\nfur him, an' he never forgot it; an' he'd come down here, he would,\nwith his mother or his nuss and he'd holler: 'Hello, Dick!' at me,\nas friendly as if he was six feet high, when he warn't knee high to a\ngrasshopper, and was dressed in gal's clo'es. He was a gay little chap,\nand when you was down on your luck, it did you good to talk to him.\"\n\n\"That's so,\" said Mr. Hobbs. \"It was a pity to make a earl out of HIM.\nHe would have SHONE in the grocery business--or dry goods either; he\nwould have SHONE!\" And he shook his head with deeper regret than ever.\n\nIt proved that they had so much to say to each other that it was not\npossible to say it all at one time, and so it was agreed that the next\nnight Dick should make a visit to the store and keep Mr. Hobbs company.\nThe plan pleased Dick well enough. He had been a street waif nearly\nall his life, but he had never been a bad boy, and he had always had a\nprivate yearning for a more respectable kind of existence. Since he had\nbeen in business for himself, he had made enough money to enable him to\nsleep under a roof instead of out in the streets, and he had begun to\nhope he might reach even a higher plane, in time. So, to be invited to\ncall on a stout, respectable man who owned a corner store, and even had\na horse and wagon, seemed to him quite an event.\n\n\"Do you know anything about earls and castles?\" Mr. Hobbs inquired. \"I'd\nlike to know more of the particklars.\"\n\n\"There's a story about some on 'em in the Penny Story Gazette,\" said\nDick. \"It's called the 'Crime of a Coronet; or, The Revenge of the\nCountess May.' It's a boss thing, too. Some of us boys 're takin' it to\nread.\"\n\n\"Bring it up when you come,\" said Mr. Hobbs, \"an' I'll pay for it. Bring\nall you can find that have any earls in 'em. If there aren't earls,\nmarkises'll do, or dooks--though HE never made mention of any dooks or\nmarkises. We did go over coronets a little, but I never happened to see\nany. I guess they don't keep 'em 'round here.\"\n\n\"Tiffany 'd have 'em if anybody did,\" said Dick, \"but I don't know as\nI'd know one if I saw it.\"\n\nMr. Hobbs did not explain that he would not have known one if he saw it.\nHe merely shook his head ponderously.\n\n\"I s'pose there is very little call for 'em,\" he said, and that ended\nthe matter.\n\nThis was the beginning of quite a substantial friendship. When Dick went\nup to the store, Mr. Hobbs received him with great hospitality. He gave\nhim a chair tilted against the door, near a barrel of apples, and after\nhis young visitor was seated, he made a jerk at them with the hand in\nwhich he held his pipe, saying:\n\n\"Help yerself.\"\n\nThen he looked at the story papers, and after that they read and\ndiscussed the British aristocracy; and Mr. Hobbs smoked his pipe very\nhard and shook his head a great deal. He shook it most when he pointed\nout the high stool with the marks on its legs.\n\n\"There's his very kicks,\" he said impressively; \"his very kicks. I sit\nand look at 'em by the hour. This is a world of ups an' it's a world of\ndowns. Why, he'd set there, an' eat crackers out of a box, an' apples\nout of a barrel, an' pitch his cores into the street; an' now he's a\nlord a-livin' in a castle. Them's a lord's kicks; they'll be a earl's\nkicks some day. Sometimes I says to myself, says I, 'Well, I'll be\njiggered!'\"\n\nHe seemed to derive a great deal of comfort from his reflections and\nDick's visit. Before Dick went home, they had a supper in the small\nback-room; they had crackers and cheese and sardines, and other canned\nthings out of the store, and Mr. Hobbs solemnly opened two bottles of\nginger ale, and pouring out two glasses, proposed a toast.\n\n\"Here's to HIM!\" he said, lifting his glass, \"an' may he teach 'em a\nlesson--earls an' markises an' dooks an' all!\"\n\nAfter that night, the two saw each other often, and Mr. Hobbs was much\nmore comfortable and less desolate. They read the Penny Story Gazette,\nand many other interesting things, and gained a knowledge of the habits\nof the nobility and gentry which would have surprised those despised\nclasses if they had realized it. One day Mr. Hobbs made a pilgrimage\nto a book store down town, for the express purpose of adding to their\nlibrary. He went to the clerk and leaned over the counter to speak to\nhim.\n\n\"I want,\" he said, \"a book about earls.\"\n\n\"What!\" exclaimed the clerk.\n\n\"A book,\" repeated the grocery-man, \"about earls.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid,\" said the clerk, looking rather queer, \"that we haven't\nwhat you want.\"\n\n\"Haven't?\" said Mr. Hobbs, anxiously. \"Well, say markises then--or\ndooks.\"\n\n\"I know of no such book,\" answered the clerk.\n\nMr. Hobbs was much disturbed. He looked down on the floor,--then he\nlooked up.\n\n\"None about female earls?\" he inquired.\n\n\"I'm afraid not,\" said the clerk with a smile.\n\n\"Well,\" exclaimed Mr. Hobbs, \"I'll be jiggered!\"\n\nHe was just going out of the store, when the clerk called him back and\nasked him if a story in which the nobility were chief characters would\ndo. Mr. Hobbs said it would--if he could not get an entire volume\ndevoted to earls. So the clerk sold him a book called \"The Tower of\nLondon,\" written by Mr. Harrison Ainsworth, and he carried it home.\n\nWhen Dick came they began to read it. It was a very wonderful and\nexciting book, and the scene was laid in the reign of the famous English\nqueen who is called by some people Bloody Mary. And as Mr. Hobbs heard\nof Queen Mary's deeds and the habit she had of chopping people's heads\noff, putting them to the torture, and burning them alive, he became very\nmuch excited. He took his pipe out of his mouth and stared at Dick, and\nat last he was obliged to mop the perspiration from his brow with his\nred pocket handkerchief.\n\n\"Why, he ain't safe!\" he said. \"He ain't safe! If the women folks can\nsit up on their thrones an' give the word for things like that to be\ndone, who's to know what's happening to him this very minute? He's no\nmore safe than nothing! Just let a woman like that get mad, an' no one's\nsafe!\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Dick, though he looked rather anxious himself; \"ye see\nthis 'ere un isn't the one that's bossin' things now. I know her name's\nVictory, an' this un here in the book, her name's Mary.\"\n\n\"So it is,\" said Mr. Hobbs, still mopping his forehead; \"so it is. An'\nthe newspapers are not sayin' anything about any racks, thumb-screws,\nor stake-burnin's,--but still it doesn't seem as if 't was safe for him\nover there with those queer folks. Why, they tell me they don't keep the\nFourth o' July!\"\n\nHe was privately uneasy for several days; and it was not until he\nreceived Fauntleroy's letter and had read it several times, both to\nhimself and to Dick, and had also read the letter Dick got about the\nsame time, that he became composed again.\n\nBut they both found great pleasure in their letters. They read and\nre-read them, and talked them over and enjoyed every word of them. And\nthey spent days over the answers they sent and read them over almost as\noften as the letters they had received.\n\nIt was rather a labor for Dick to write his. All his knowledge of\nreading and writing he had gained during a few months, when he had lived\nwith his elder brother, and had gone to a night-school; but, being a\nsharp boy, he had made the most of that brief education, and had spelled\nout things in newspapers since then, and practiced writing with bits of\nchalk on pavements or walls or fences. He told Mr. Hobbs all about his\nlife and about his elder brother, who had been rather good to him after\ntheir mother died, when Dick was quite a little fellow. Their father had\ndied some time before. The brother's name was Ben, and he had taken\ncare of Dick as well as he could, until the boy was old enough to sell\nnewspapers and run errands. They had lived together, and as he grew\nolder Ben had managed to get along until he had quite a decent place in\na store.\n\n\"And then,\" exclaimed Dick with disgust, \"blest if he didn't go an'\nmarry a gal! Just went and got spoony an' hadn't any more sense left!\nMarried her, an' set up housekeepin' in two back rooms. An' a hefty un\nshe was,--a regular tiger-cat. She'd tear things to pieces when she got\nmad,--and she was mad ALL the time. Had a baby just like her,--yell day\n'n' night! An' if I didn't have to 'tend it! an' when it screamed, she'd\nfire things at me. She fired a plate at me one day, an' hit the baby--\ncut its chin. Doctor said he'd carry the mark till he died. A nice\nmother she was! Crackey! but didn't we have a time--Ben 'n' mehself 'n'\nthe young un. She was mad at Ben because he didn't make money faster;\n'n' at last he went out West with a man to set up a cattle ranch. An'\nhadn't been gone a week 'fore one night, I got home from sellin' my\npapers, 'n' the rooms wus locked up 'n' empty, 'n' the woman o' the\nhouse, she told me Minna 'd gone--shown a clean pair o' heels. Some un\nelse said she'd gone across the water to be nuss to a lady as had a\nlittle baby, too. Never heard a word of her since--nuther has Ben. If\nI'd ha' bin him, I wouldn't ha' fretted a bit--'n' I guess he didn't.\nBut he thought a heap o' her at the start. Tell you, he was spoons on\nher. She was a daisy-lookin' gal, too, when she was dressed up 'n' not\nmad. She'd big black eyes 'n' black hair down to her knees; she'd make\nit into a rope as big as your arm, and twist it 'round 'n' 'round her\nhead; 'n' I tell you her eyes 'd snap! Folks used to say she was part\n_I_tali-un--said her mother or father 'd come from there, 'n' it made\nher queer. I tell ye, she was one of 'em--she was!\"\n\nHe often told Mr. Hobbs stories of her and of his brother Ben, who,\nsince his going out West, had written once or twice to Dick.\n\nBen's luck had not been good, and he had wandered from place to place;\nbut at last he had settled on a ranch in California, where he was at\nwork at the time when Dick became acquainted with Mr. Hobbs.\n\n\"That gal,\" said Dick one day, \"she took all the grit out o' him. I\ncouldn't help feelin' sorry for him sometimes.\"\n\nThey were sitting in the store door-way together, and Mr. Hobbs was\nfilling his pipe.\n\n\"He oughtn't to 've married,\" he said solemnly, as he rose to get a\nmatch. \"Women--I never could see any use in 'em myself.\"\n\nAs he took the match from its box, he stopped and looked down on the\ncounter.\n\n\"Why!\" he said, \"if here isn't a letter! I didn't see it before. The\npostman must have laid it down when I wasn't noticin', or the newspaper\nslipped over it.\"\n\nHe picked it up and looked at it carefully.\n\n\"It's from HIM!\" he exclaimed. \"That's the very one it's from!\"\n\nHe forgot his pipe altogether. He went back to his chair quite excited\nand took his pocket-knife and opened the envelope.\n\n\"I wonder what news there is this time,\" he said.\n\nAnd then he unfolded the letter and read as follows:\n\n\"DORINCOURT CASTLE\" My dear Mr. Hobbs\n\n\"I write this in a great hury becaus i have something curous to tell you\ni know you will be very mutch suprised my dear frend when i tel you. It\nis all a mistake and i am not a lord and i shall not have to be an earl\nthere is a lady whitch was marid to my uncle bevis who is dead and she\nhas a little boy and he is lord fauntleroy becaus that is the way it is\nin England the earls eldest sons little boy is the earl if every\nbody else is dead i mean if his farther and grandfarther are dead my\ngrandfarther is not dead but my uncle bevis is and so his boy is lord\nFauntleroy and i am not becaus my papa was the youngest son and my name\nis Cedric Errol like it was when i was in New York and all the things\nwill belong to the other boy i thought at first i should have to give\nhim my pony and cart but my grandfarther says i need not my grandfarther\nis very sorry and i think he does not like the lady but preaps he thinks\ndearest and i are sorry because i shall not be an earl i would like to\nbe an earl now better than i thout i would at first becaus this is a\nbeautifle castle and i like every body so and when you are rich you can\ndo so many things i am not rich now becaus when your papa is only the\nyoungest son he is not very rich i am going to learn to work so that\ni can take care of dearest i have been asking Wilkins about grooming\nhorses preaps i might be a groom or a coachman. The lady brought her\nlittle boy to the castle and my grandfarther and Mr. Havisham talked to\nher i think she was angry she talked loud and my grandfarther was angry\ntoo i never saw him angry before i wish it did not make them all mad i\nthort i would tell you and Dick right away becaus you would be intrusted\nso no more at present with love from\n\n\"your old frend\n\n\"CEDRIC ERROL (Not lord Fauntleroy).\"\n\n\nMr. Hobbs fell back in his chair, the letter dropped on his knee, his\npen-knife slipped to the floor, and so did the envelope.\n\n\"Well!\" he ejaculated, \"I am jiggered!\"\n\nHe was so dumfounded that he actually changed his exclamation. It had\nalways been his habit to say, \"I WILL be jiggered,\" but this time he\nsaid, \"I AM jiggered.\" Perhaps he really WAS jiggered. There is no\nknowing.\n\n\"Well,\" said Dick, \"the whole thing's bust up, hasn't it?\"\n\n\"Bust!\" said Mr. Hobbs. \"It's my opinion it's a put-up job o' the\nBritish ristycrats to rob him of his rights because he's an American.\nThey've had a spite agin us ever since the Revolution, an' they're\ntakin' it out on him. I told you he wasn't safe, an' see what's\nhappened! Like as not, the whole gover'ment's got together to rob him of\nhis lawful ownin's.\"\n\nHe was very much agitated. He had not approved of the change in his\nyoung friend's circumstances at first, but lately he had become more\nreconciled to it, and after the receipt of Cedric's letter he had\nperhaps even felt some secret pride in his young friend's magnificence.\nHe might not have a good opinion of earls, but he knew that even in\nAmerica money was considered rather an agreeable thing, and if all the\nwealth and grandeur were to go with the title, it must be rather hard to\nlose it.\n\n\"They're trying to rob him!\" he said, \"that's what they're doing, and\nfolks that have money ought to look after him.\"\n\nAnd he kept Dick with him until quite a late hour to talk it over, and\nwhen that young man left, he went with him to the corner of the street;\nand on his way back he stopped opposite the empty house for some time,\nstaring at the \"To Let,\" and smoking his pipe, in much disturbance of\nmind.\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nA very few days after the dinner party at the Castle, almost everybody\nin England who read the newspapers at all knew the romantic story of\nwhat had happened at Dorincourt. It made a very interesting story when\nit was told with all the details. There was the little American boy who\nhad been brought to England to be Lord Fauntleroy, and who was said to\nbe so fine and handsome a little fellow, and to have already made people\nfond of him; there was the old Earl, his grandfather, who was so proud\nof his heir; there was the pretty young mother who had never been\nforgiven for marrying Captain Errol; and there was the strange marriage\nof Bevis, the dead Lord Fauntleroy, and the strange wife, of whom no one\nknew anything, suddenly appearing with her son, and saying that he was\nthe real Lord Fauntleroy and must have his rights. All these things were\ntalked about and written about, and caused a tremendous sensation. And\nthen there came the rumor that the Earl of Dorincourt was not satisfied\nwith the turn affairs had taken, and would perhaps contest the claim by\nlaw, and the matter might end with a wonderful trial.\n\nThere never had been such excitement before in the county in which\nErleboro was situated. On market-days, people stood in groups and talked\nand wondered what would be done; the farmers' wives invited one another\nto tea that they might tell one another all they had heard and all\nthey thought and all they thought other people thought. They related\nwonderful anecdotes about the Earl's rage and his determination not to\nacknowledge the new Lord Fauntleroy, and his hatred of the woman who was\nthe claimant's mother. But, of course, it was Mrs. Dibble who could tell\nthe most, and who was more in demand than ever.\n\n\"An' a bad lookout it is,\" she said. \"An' if you were to ask me, ma'am,\nI should say as it was a judgment on him for the way he's treated that\nsweet young cre'tur' as he parted from her child,--for he's got that\nfond of him an' that set on him an' that proud of him as he's a'most\ndrove mad by what's happened. An' what's more, this new one's no lady,\nas his little lordship's ma is. She's a bold-faced, black-eyed thing,\nas Mr. Thomas says no gentleman in livery 'u'd bemean hisself to be gave\norders by; and let her come into the house, he says, an' he goes out of\nit. An' the boy don't no more compare with the other one than nothin'\nyou could mention. An' mercy knows what's goin' to come of it all, an'\nwhere it's to end, an' you might have knocked me down with a feather\nwhen Jane brought the news.\"\n\nIn fact there was excitement everywhere at the Castle: in the library,\nwhere the Earl and Mr. Havisham sat and talked; in the servants' hall,\nwhere Mr. Thomas and the butler and the other men and women servants\ngossiped and exclaimed at all times of the day; and in the stables,\nwhere Wilkins went about his work in a quite depressed state of\nmind, and groomed the brown pony more beautifully than ever, and said\nmournfully to the coachman that he \"never taught a young gen'leman to\nride as took to it more nat'ral, or was a better-plucked one than he\nwas. He was a one as it were some pleasure to ride behind.\"\n\nBut in the midst of all the disturbance there was one person who was\nquite calm and untroubled. That person was the little Lord Fauntleroy\nwho was said not to be Lord Fauntleroy at all. When first the state of\naffairs had been explained to him, he had felt some little anxiousness\nand perplexity, it is true, but its foundation was not in baffled\nambition.\n\nWhile the Earl told him what had happened, he had sat on a stool holding\non to his knee, as he so often did when he was listening to anything\ninteresting; and by the time the story was finished he looked quite\nsober.\n\n\"It makes me feel very queer,\" he said; \"it makes me feel--queer!\"\n\nThe Earl looked at the boy in silence. It made him feel queer,\ntoo--queerer than he had ever felt in his whole life. And he felt more\nqueer still when he saw that there was a troubled expression on the\nsmall face which was usually so happy.\n\n\"Will they take Dearest's house from her--and her carriage?\" Cedric\nasked in a rather unsteady, anxious little voice.\n\n\"NO!\" said the Earl decidedly--in quite a loud voice, in fact. \"They can\ntake nothing from her.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said Cedric, with evident relief. \"Can't they?\"\n\nThen he looked up at his grandfather, and there was a wistful shade in\nhis eyes, and they looked very big and soft.\n\n\"That other boy,\" he said rather tremulously--\"he will have to--to be\nyour boy now--as I was--won't he?\"\n\n\"NO!\" answered the Earl--and he said it so fiercely and loudly that\nCedric quite jumped.\n\n\"No?\" he exclaimed, in wonderment. \"Won't he? I thought----\"\n\nHe stood up from his stool quite suddenly.\n\n\"Shall I be your boy, even if I'm not going to be an earl?\" he said.\n\"Shall I be your boy, just as I was before?\" And his flushed little face\nwas all alight with eagerness.\n\nHow the old Earl did look at him from head to foot, to be sure! How his\ngreat shaggy brows did draw themselves together, and how queerly his\ndeep eyes shone under them--how very queerly!\n\n\"My boy!\" he said--and, if you'll believe it, his very voice was queer,\nalmost shaky and a little broken and hoarse, not at all what you\nwould expect an Earl's voice to be, though he spoke more decidedly and\nperemptorily even than before,--\"Yes, you'll be my boy as long as I\nlive; and, by George, sometimes I feel as if you were the only boy I had\never had.\"\n\nCedric's face turned red to the roots of his hair; it turned red with\nrelief and pleasure. He put both his hands deep into his pockets and\nlooked squarely into his noble relative's eyes.\n\n\"Do you?\" he said. \"Well, then, I don't care about the earl part at all.\nI don't care whether I'm an earl or not. I thought--you see, I thought\nthe one that was going to be the Earl would have to be your boy, too,\nand--and I couldn't be. That was what made me feel so queer.\"\n\nThe Earl put his hand on his shoulder and drew him nearer.\n\n\"They shall take nothing from you that I can hold for you,\" he said,\ndrawing his breath hard. \"I won't believe yet that they can take\nanything from you. You were made for the place, and--well, you may\nfill it still. But whatever comes, you shall have all that I can give\nyou--all!\"\n\nIt scarcely seemed as if he were speaking to a child, there was such\ndetermination in his face and voice; it was more as if he were making a\npromise to himself--and perhaps he was.\n\nHe had never before known how deep a hold upon him his fondness for the\nboy and his pride in him had taken. He had never seen his strength and\ngood qualities and beauty as he seemed to see them now. To his obstinate\nnature it seemed impossible--more than impossible--to give up what he\nhad so set his heart upon. And he had determined that he would not give\nit up without a fierce struggle.\n\nWithin a few days after she had seen Mr. Havisham, the woman who claimed\nto be Lady Fauntleroy presented herself at the Castle, and brought her\nchild with her. She was sent away. The Earl would not see her, she was\ntold by the footman at the door; his lawyer would attend to her case.\nIt was Thomas who gave the message, and who expressed his opinion of her\nfreely afterward, in the servants' hall. He \"hoped,\" he said, \"as he had\nwore livery in 'igh famblies long enough to know a lady when he see one,\nan' if that was a lady he was no judge o' females.\"\n\n\"The one at the Lodge,\" added Thomas loftily, \"'Merican or no 'Merican,\nshe's one o' the right sort, as any gentleman 'u'd reckinize with all a\nheye. I remarked it myself to Henery when fust we called there.\"\n\nThe woman drove away; the look on her handsome, common face half\nfrightened, half fierce. Mr. Havisham had noticed, during his interviews\nwith her, that though she had a passionate temper, and a coarse,\ninsolent manner, she was neither so clever nor so bold as she meant to\nbe; she seemed sometimes to be almost overwhelmed by the position in\nwhich she had placed herself. It was as if she had not expected to meet\nwith such opposition.\n\n\"She is evidently,\" the lawyer said to Mrs. Errol, \"a person from the\nlower walks of life. She is uneducated and untrained in everything, and\nquite unused to meeting people like ourselves on any terms of equality.\nShe does not know what to do. Her visit to the Castle quite cowed her.\nShe was infuriated, but she was cowed. The Earl would not receive her,\nbut I advised him to go with me to the Dorincourt Arms, where she is\nstaying. When she saw him enter the room, she turned white, though she\nflew into a rage at once, and threatened and demanded in one breath.\"\n\nThe fact was that the Earl had stalked into the room and stood, looking\nlike a venerable aristocratic giant, staring at the woman from under his\nbeetling brows, and not condescending a word. He simply stared at her,\ntaking her in from head to foot as if she were some repulsive curiosity.\nHe let her talk and demand until she was tired, without himself uttering\na word, and then he said:\n\n\"You say you are my eldest son's wife. If that is true, and if the proof\nyou offer is too much for us, the law is on your side. In that case,\nyour boy is Lord Fauntleroy. The matter will be sifted to the bottom,\nyou may rest assured. If your claims are proved, you will be provided\nfor. I want to see nothing of either you or the child so long as I live.\nThe place will unfortunately have enough of you after my death. You\nare exactly the kind of person I should have expected my son Bevis to\nchoose.\"\n\nAnd then he turned his back upon her and stalked out of the room as he\nhad stalked into it.\n\nNot many days after that, a visitor was announced to Mrs. Errol, who was\nwriting in her little morning room. The maid, who brought the message,\nlooked rather excited; her eyes were quite round with amazement, in\nfact, and being young and inexperienced, she regarded her mistress with\nnervous sympathy.\n\n\"It's the Earl hisself, ma'am!\" she said in tremulous awe.\n\nWhen Mrs. Errol entered the drawing-room, a very tall, majestic-looking\nold man was standing on the tiger-skin rug. He had a handsome, grim old\nface, with an aquiline profile, a long white mustache, and an obstinate\nlook.\n\n\"Mrs. Errol, I believe?\" he said.\n\n\"Mrs. Errol,\" she answered.\n\n\"I am the Earl of Dorincourt,\" he said.\n\nHe paused a moment, almost unconsciously, to look into her uplifted\neyes. They were so like the big, affectionate, childish eyes he had seen\nuplifted to his own so often every day during the last few months, that\nthey gave him a quite curious sensation.\n\n\"The boy is very like you,\" he said abruptly.\n\n\"It has been often said so, my lord,\" she replied, \"but I have been glad\nto think him like his father also.\"\n\nAs Lady Lorridaile had told him, her voice was very sweet, and her\nmanner was very simple and dignified. She did not seem in the least\ntroubled by his sudden coming.\n\n\"Yes,\" said the Earl, \"he is like--my son--too.\" He put his hand up to\nhis big white mustache and pulled it fiercely. \"Do you know,\" he said,\n\"why I have come here?\"\n\n\"I have seen Mr. Havisham,\" Mrs. Errol began, \"and he has told me of the\nclaims which have been made----\"\n\n\"I have come to tell you,\" said the Earl, \"that they will be\ninvestigated and contested, if a contest can be made. I have come to\ntell you that the boy shall be defended with all the power of the law.\nHis rights----\"\n\nThe soft voice interrupted him.\n\n\"He must have nothing that is NOT his by right, even if the law can give\nit to him,\" she said.\n\n\"Unfortunately the law can not,\" said the Earl. \"If it could, it should.\nThis outrageous woman and her child----\"\n\n\"Perhaps she cares for him as much as I care for Cedric, my lord,\" said\nlittle Mrs. Errol. \"And if she was your eldest son's wife, her son is\nLord Fauntleroy, and mine is not.\"\n\nShe was no more afraid of him than Cedric had been, and she looked at\nhim just as Cedric would have looked, and he, having been an old tyrant\nall his life, was privately pleased by it. People so seldom dared to\ndiffer from him that there was an entertaining novelty in it.\n\n\"I suppose,\" he said, scowling slightly, \"that you would much prefer\nthat he should not be the Earl of Dorincourt.\"\n\nHer fair young face flushed.\n\n\"It is a very magnificent thing to be the Earl of Dorincourt, my lord,\"\nshe said. \"I know that, but I care most that he should be what his\nfather was--brave and just and true always.\"\n\n\"In striking contrast to what his grandfather was, eh?\" said his\nlordship sardonically.\n\n\"I have not had the pleasure of knowing his grandfather,\" replied Mrs.\nErrol, \"but I know my little boy believes----\" She stopped short a\nmoment, looking quietly into his face, and then she added, \"I know that\nCedric loves you.\"\n\n\"Would he have loved me,\" said the Earl dryly, \"if you had told him why\nI did not receive you at the Castle?\"\n\n\"No,\" answered Mrs. Errol, \"I think not. That was why I did not wish him\nto know.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said my lord brusquely, \"there are few women who would not have\ntold him.\"\n\nHe suddenly began to walk up and down the room, pulling his great\nmustache more violently than ever.\n\n\"Yes, he is fond of me,\" he said, \"and I am fond of him. I can't say I\never was fond of anything before. I am fond of him. He pleased me from\nthe first. I am an old man, and was tired of my life. He has given me\nsomething to live for. I am proud of him. I was satisfied to think of\nhis taking his place some day as the head of the family.\"\n\nHe came back and stood before Mrs. Errol.\n\n\"I am miserable,\" he said. \"Miserable!\"\n\nHe looked as if he was. Even his pride could not keep his voice steady\nor his hands from shaking. For a moment it almost seemed as if his deep,\nfierce eyes had tears in them. \"Perhaps it is because I am miserable\nthat I have come to you,\" he said, quite glaring down at her. \"I used\nto hate you; I have been jealous of you. This wretched, disgraceful\nbusiness has changed that. After seeing that repulsive woman who calls\nherself the wife of my son Bevis, I actually felt it would be a relief\nto look at you. I have been an obstinate old fool, and I suppose I have\ntreated you badly. You are like the boy, and the boy is the first object\nin my life. I am miserable, and I came to you merely because you are\nlike the boy, and he cares for you, and I care for him. Treat me as well\nas you can, for the boy's sake.\"\n\nHe said it all in his harsh voice, and almost roughly, but somehow he\nseemed so broken down for the time that Mrs. Errol was touched to the\nheart. She got up and moved an arm-chair a little forward.\n\n\"I wish you would sit down,\" she said in a soft, pretty, sympathetic\nway. \"You have been so much troubled that you are very tired, and you\nneed all your strength.\"\n\nIt was just as new to him to be spoken to and cared for in that gentle,\nsimple way as it was to be contradicted. He was reminded of \"the boy\"\nagain, and he actually did as she asked him. Perhaps his disappointment\nand wretchedness were good discipline for him; if he had not been\nwretched he might have continued to hate her, but just at present he\nfound her a little soothing. Almost anything would have seemed pleasant\nby contrast with Lady Fauntleroy; and this one had so sweet a face and\nvoice, and a pretty dignity when she spoke or moved. Very soon, through\nthe quiet magic of these influences, he began to feel less gloomy, and\nthen he talked still more.\n\n\"Whatever happens,\" he said, \"the boy shall be provided for. He shall be\ntaken care of, now and in the future.\"\n\nBefore he went away, he glanced around the room.\n\n\"Do you like the house?\" he demanded.\n\n\"Very much,\" she answered.\n\n\"This is a cheerful room,\" he said. \"May I come here again and talk this\nmatter over?\"\n\n\"As often as you wish, my lord,\" she replied.\n\nAnd then he went out to his carriage and drove away, Thomas and Henry\nalmost stricken dumb upon the box at the turn affairs had taken.\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nOF course, as soon as the story of Lord Fauntleroy and the difficulties\nof the Earl of Dorincourt were discussed in the English newspapers, they\nwere discussed in the American newspapers. The story was too interesting\nto be passed over lightly, and it was talked of a great deal. There were\nso many versions of it that it would have been an edifying thing to buy\nall the papers and compare them. Mr. Hobbs read so much about it that he\nbecame quite bewildered. One paper described his young friend Cedric as\nan infant in arms,--another as a young man at Oxford, winning all the\nhonors, and distinguishing himself by writing Greek poems; one said he\nwas engaged to a young lady of great beauty, who was the daughter of a\nduke; another said he had just been married; the only thing, in fact,\nwhich was NOT said was that he was a little boy between seven and eight,\nwith handsome legs and curly hair. One said he was no relation to\nthe Earl of Dorincourt at all, but was a small impostor who had sold\nnewspapers and slept in the streets of New York before his mother\nimposed upon the family lawyer, who came to America to look for the\nEarl's heir. Then came the descriptions of the new Lord Fauntleroy and\nhis mother. Sometimes she was a gypsy, sometimes an actress, sometimes a\nbeautiful Spaniard; but it was always agreed that the Earl of Dorincourt\nwas her deadly enemy, and would not acknowledge her son as his heir\nif he could help it, and as there seemed to be some slight flaw in the\npapers she had produced, it was expected that there would be a long\ntrial, which would be far more interesting than anything ever carried\ninto court before. Mr. Hobbs used to read the papers until his head was\nin a whirl, and in the evening he and Dick would talk it all over. They\nfound out what an important personage an Earl of Dorincourt was, and\nwhat a magnificent income he possessed, and how many estates he owned,\nand how stately and beautiful was the Castle in which he lived; and the\nmore they learned, the more excited they became.\n\n\"Seems like somethin' orter be done,\" said Mr. Hobbs. \"Things like them\norter be held on to--earls or no earls.\"\n\nBut there really was nothing they could do but each write a letter to\nCedric, containing assurances of their friendship and sympathy. They\nwrote those letters as soon as they could after receiving the news; and\nafter having written them, they handed them over to each other to be\nread.\n\nThis is what Mr. Hobbs read in Dick's letter:\n\n\n\"DERE FREND: i got ure letter an Mr. Hobbs got his an we are sory u are\ndown on ure luck an we say hold on as longs u kin an dont let no one git\nahed of u. There is a lot of ole theves wil make al they kin of u ef u\ndont kepe ure i skined. But this is mosly to say that ive not forgot\nwot u did fur me an if there aint no better way cum over here an go in\npardners with me. Biznes is fine an ile see no harm cums to u Enny\nbig feler that trise to cum it over u wil hafter setle it fust with\nPerfessor Dick Tipton. So no more at present\n\n\"DICK.\"\n\n\nAnd this was what Dick read in Mr. Hobbs's letter:\n\n\n\"DEAR SIR: Yrs received and wd say things looks bad. I believe its a put\nup job and them thats done it ought to be looked after sharp. And what\nI write to say is two things. Im going to look this thing up. Keep quiet\nand Ill see a lawyer and do all I can And if the worst happens and them\nearls is too many for us theres a partnership in the grocery business\nready for you when yure old enough and a home and a friend in\n\n\"Yrs truly,\n\n\"SILAS HOBBS.\"\n\n\n\"Well,\" said Mr. Hobbs, \"he's pervided for between us, if he aint a\nearl.\"\n\n\"So he is,\" said Dick. \"I'd ha' stood by him. Blest if I didn't like\nthat little feller fust-rate.\"\n\nThe very next morning, one of Dick's customers was rather surprised.\nHe was a young lawyer just beginning practice--as poor as a very young\nlawyer can possibly be, but a bright, energetic young fellow, with sharp\nwit and a good temper. He had a shabby office near Dick's stand, and\nevery morning Dick blacked his boots for him, and quite often they were\nnot exactly water-tight, but he always had a friendly word or a joke for\nDick.\n\nThat particular morning, when he put his foot on the rest, he had an\nillustrated paper in his hand--an enterprising paper, with pictures in\nit of conspicuous people and things. He had just finished looking it\nover, and when the last boot was polished, he handed it over to the boy.\n\n\"Here's a paper for you, Dick,\" he said; \"you can look it over when you\ndrop in at Delmonico's for your breakfast. Picture of an English\ncastle in it, and an English earl's daughter-in-law. Fine young woman,\ntoo,--lots of hair,--though she seems to be raising rather a row. You\nought to become familiar with the nobility and gentry, Dick. Begin on\nthe Right Honorable the Earl of Dorincourt and Lady Fauntleroy. Hello! I\nsay, what's the matter?\"\n\nThe pictures he spoke of were on the front page, and Dick was staring at\none of them with his eyes and mouth open, and his sharp face almost pale\nwith excitement.\n\n\"What's to pay, Dick?\" said the young man. \"What has paralyzed you?\"\n\nDick really did look as if something tremendous had happened. He pointed\nto the picture, under which was written:\n\n\"Mother of Claimant (Lady Fauntleroy).\"\n\nIt was the picture of a handsome woman, with large eyes and heavy braids\nof black hair wound around her head.\n\n\"Her!\" said Dick. \"My, I know her better 'n I know you!\"\n\nThe young man began to laugh.\n\n\"Where did you meet her, Dick?\" he said. \"At Newport? Or when you ran\nover to Paris the last time?\"\n\nDick actually forgot to grin. He began to gather his brushes and things\ntogether, as if he had something to do which would put an end to his\nbusiness for the present.\n\n\"Never mind,\" he said. \"I know her! An I've struck work for this\nmornin'.\"\n\nAnd in less than five minutes from that time he was tearing through the\nstreets on his way to Mr. Hobbs and the corner store.\n\nMr. Hobbs could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses when he\nlooked across the counter and saw Dick rush in with the paper in his\nhand. The boy was out of breath with running; so much out of breath,\nin fact, that he could scarcely speak as he threw the paper down on the\ncounter.\n\n\"Hello!\" exclaimed Mr. Hobbs. \"Hello! What you got there?\"\n\n\"Look at it!\" panted Dick. \"Look at that woman in the picture! That's\nwhat you look at! SHE aint no 'ristocrat, SHE aint!\" with withering\nscorn. \"She's no lord's wife. You may eat me, if it aint Minna--MINNA!\nI'd know her anywheres, an' so 'd Ben. Jest ax him.\"\n\nMr. Hobbs dropped into his seat.\n\n\"I knowed it was a put-up job,\" he said. \"I knowed it; and they done it\non account o' him bein' a 'Merican!\"\n\n\"Done it!\" cried Dick, with disgust. \"SHE done it, that's who done it.\nShe was allers up to her tricks; an' I'll tell yer wot come to me,\nthe minnit I saw her pictur. There was one o' them papers we saw had\na letter in it that said somethin' 'bout her boy, an' it said he had a\nscar on his chin. Put them two together--her 'n' that there scar!\nWhy, that there boy o' hers aint no more a lord than I am! It's BEN'S\nboy,--the little chap she hit when she let fly that plate at me.\"\n\nProfessor Dick Tipton had always been a sharp boy, and earning his\nliving in the streets of a big city had made him still sharper. He had\nlearned to keep his eyes open and his wits about him, and it must be\nconfessed he enjoyed immensely the excitement and impatience of that\nmoment. If little Lord Fauntleroy could only have looked into the store\nthat morning, he would certainly have been interested, even if all the\ndiscussion and plans had been intended to decide the fate of some other\nboy than himself.\n\nMr. Hobbs was almost overwhelmed by his sense of responsibility, and\nDick was all alive and full of energy. He began to write a letter to\nBen, and he cut out the picture and inclosed it to him, and Mr. Hobbs\nwrote a letter to Cedric and one to the Earl. They were in the midst of\nthis letter-writing when a new idea came to Dick.\n\n\"Say,\" he said, \"the feller that give me the paper, he's a lawyer. Let's\nax him what we'd better do. Lawyers knows it all.\"\n\nMr. Hobbs was immensely impressed by this suggestion and Dick's business\ncapacity.\n\n\"That's so!\" he replied. \"This here calls for lawyers.\"\n\nAnd leaving the store in the care of a substitute, he struggled into his\ncoat and marched down-town with Dick, and the two presented themselves\nwith their romantic story in Mr. Harrison's office, much to that young\nman's astonishment.\n\nIf he had not been a very young lawyer, with a very enterprising mind\nand a great deal of spare time on his hands, he might not have been so\nreadily interested in what they had to say, for it all certainly sounded\nvery wild and queer; but he chanced to want something to do very much,\nand he chanced to know Dick, and Dick chanced to say his say in a very\nsharp, telling sort of way.\n\n\"And,\" said Mr. Hobbs, \"say what your time's worth a' hour and look into\nthis thing thorough, and I'LL pay the damage,--Silas Hobbs, corner of\nBlank street, Vegetables and Fancy Groceries.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Mr. Harrison, \"it will be a big thing if it turns out\nall right, and it will be almost as big a thing for me as for Lord\nFauntleroy; and, at any rate, no harm can be done by investigating.\nIt appears there has been some dubiousness about the child. The woman\ncontradicted herself in some of her statements about his age, and\naroused suspicion. The first persons to be written to are Dick's brother\nand the Earl of Dorincourt's family lawyer.\"\n\nAnd actually, before the sun went down, two letters had been written and\nsent in two different directions--one speeding out of New York harbor on\na mail steamer on its way to England, and the other on a train carrying\nletters and passengers bound for California. And the first was addressed\nto T. Havisham, Esq., and the second to Benjamin Tipton.\n\nAnd after the store was closed that evening, Mr. Hobbs and Dick sat in\nthe back-room and talked together until midnight.\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nIt is astonishing how short a time it takes for very wonderful things to\nhappen. It had taken only a few minutes, apparently, to change all the\nfortunes of the little boy dangling his red legs from the high stool\nin Mr. Hobbs's store, and to transform him from a small boy, living the\nsimplest life in a quiet street, into an English nobleman, the heir\nto an earldom and magnificent wealth. It had taken only a few minutes,\napparently, to change him from an English nobleman into a penniless\nlittle impostor, with no right to any of the splendors he had been\nenjoying. And, surprising as it may appear, it did not take nearly so\nlong a time as one might have expected, to alter the face of everything\nagain and to give back to him all that he had been in danger of losing.\n\nIt took the less time because, after all, the woman who had called\nherself Lady Fauntleroy was not nearly so clever as she was wicked; and\nwhen she had been closely pressed by Mr. Havisham's questions about her\nmarriage and her boy, she had made one or two blunders which had caused\nsuspicion to be awakened; and then she had lost her presence of mind and\nher temper, and in her excitement and anger had betrayed herself still\nfurther. All the mistakes she made were about her child. There seemed\nno doubt that she had been married to Bevis, Lord Fauntleroy, and had\nquarreled with him and had been paid to keep away from him; but Mr.\nHavisham found out that her story of the boy's being born in a certain\npart of London was false; and just when they all were in the midst of\nthe commotion caused by this discovery, there came the letter from the\nyoung lawyer in New York, and Mr. Hobbs's letters also.\n\nWhat an evening it was when those letters arrived, and when Mr. Havisham\nand the Earl sat and talked their plans over in the library!\n\n\"After my first three meetings with her,\" said Mr. Havisham, \"I began\nto suspect her strongly. It appeared to me that the child was older\nthan she said he was, and she made a slip in speaking of the date of\nhis birth and then tried to patch the matter up. The story these letters\nbring fits in with several of my suspicions. Our best plan will be\nto cable at once for these two Tiptons,--say nothing about them to\nher,--and suddenly confront her with them when she is not expecting it.\nShe is only a very clumsy plotter, after all. My opinion is that she\nwill be frightened out of her wits, and will betray herself on the\nspot.\"\n\nAnd that was what actually happened. She was told nothing, and Mr.\nHavisham kept her from suspecting anything by continuing to have\ninterviews with her, in which he assured her he was investigating her\nstatements; and she really began to feel so secure that her spirits rose\nimmensely and she began to be as insolent as might have been expected.\n\nBut one fine morning, as she sat in her sitting-room at the inn called\n\"The Dorincourt Arms,\" making some very fine plans for herself, Mr.\nHavisham was announced; and when he entered, he was followed by no less\nthan three persons--one was a sharp-faced boy and one was a big young\nman and the third was the Earl of Dorincourt.\n\nShe sprang to her feet and actually uttered a cry of terror. It broke\nfrom her before she had time to check it. She had thought of these\nnew-comers as being thousands of miles away, when she had ever thought\nof them at all, which she had scarcely done for years. She had never\nexpected to see them again. It must be confessed that Dick grinned a\nlittle when he saw her.\n\n\"Hello, Minna!\" he said.\n\nThe big young man--who was Ben--stood still a minute and looked at her.\n\n\"Do you know her?\" Mr. Havisham asked, glancing from one to the other.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Ben. \"I know her and she knows me.\" And he turned his back\non her and went and stood looking out of the window, as if the sight of\nher was hateful to him, as indeed it was. Then the woman, seeing herself\nso baffled and exposed, lost all control over herself and flew into\nsuch a rage as Ben and Dick had often seen her in before. Dick grinned\na trifle more as he watched her and heard the names she called them all\nand the violent threats she made, but Ben did not turn to look at her.\n\n\"I can swear to her in any court,\" he said to Mr. Havisham, \"and I can\nbring a dozen others who will. Her father is a respectable sort of man,\nthough he's low down in the world. Her mother was just like herself.\nShe's dead, but he's alive, and he's honest enough to be ashamed of her.\nHe'll tell you who she is, and whether she married me or not.\"\n\nThen he clenched his hand suddenly and turned on her.\n\n\"Where's the child?\" he demanded. \"He's going with me! He is done with\nyou, and so am I!\"\n\nAnd just as he finished saying the words, the door leading into the\nbedroom opened a little, and the boy, probably attracted by the sound of\nthe loud voices, looked in. He was not a handsome boy, but he had rather\na nice face, and he was quite like Ben, his father, as any one could\nsee, and there was the three-cornered scar on his chin.\n\nBen walked up to him and took his hand, and his own was trembling.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, \"I could swear to him, too. Tom,\" he said to the little\nfellow, \"I'm your father; I've come to take you away. Where's your hat?\"\n\nThe boy pointed to where it lay on a chair. It evidently rather pleased\nhim to hear that he was going away. He had been so accustomed to queer\nexperiences that it did not surprise him to be told by a stranger that\nhe was his father. He objected so much to the woman who had come a few\nmonths before to the place where he had lived since his babyhood, and\nwho had suddenly announced that she was his mother, that he was quite\nready for a change. Ben took up the hat and marched to the door.\n\n\"If you want me again,\" he said to Mr. Havisham, \"you know where to find\nme.\"\n\nHe walked out of the room, holding the child's hand and not looking at\nthe woman once. She was fairly raving with fury, and the Earl was calmly\ngazing at her through his eyeglasses, which he had quietly placed upon\nhis aristocratic, eagle nose.\n\n\"Come, come, my young woman,\" said Mr. Havisham. \"This won't do at all.\nIf you don't want to be locked up, you really must behave yourself.\"\n\nAnd there was something so very business-like in his tones that,\nprobably feeling that the safest thing she could do would be to get out\nof the way, she gave him one savage look and dashed past him into the\nnext room and slammed the door.\n\n\"We shall have no more trouble with her,\" said Mr. Havisham.\n\nAnd he was right; for that very night she left the Dorincourt Arms and\ntook the train to London, and was seen no more.\n\n\nWhen the Earl left the room after the interview, he went at once to his\ncarriage.\n\n\"To Court Lodge,\" he said to Thomas.\n\n\"To Court Lodge,\" said Thomas to the coachman as he mounted the box;\n\"an' you may depend on it, things are taking a uniggspected turn.\"\n\nWhen the carriage stopped at Court Lodge, Cedric was in the drawing-room\nwith his mother.\n\nThe Earl came in without being announced. He looked an inch or so\ntaller, and a great many years younger. His deep eyes flashed.\n\n\"Where,\" he said, \"is Lord Fauntleroy?\"\n\nMrs. Errol came forward, a flush rising to her cheek.\n\n\"Is it Lord Fauntleroy?\" she asked. \"Is it, indeed!\"\n\nThe Earl put out his hand and grasped hers.\n\n\"Yes,\" he answered, \"it is.\"\n\nThen he put his other hand on Cedric's shoulder.\n\n\"Fauntleroy,\" he said in his unceremonious, authoritative way, \"ask your\nmother when she will come to us at the Castle.\"\n\nFauntleroy flung his arms around his mother's neck.\n\n\"To live with us!\" he cried. \"To live with us always!\"\n\nThe Earl looked at Mrs. Errol, and Mrs. Errol looked at the Earl.\n\nHis lordship was entirely in earnest. He had made up his mind to waste\nno time in arranging this matter. He had begun to think it would suit\nhim to make friends with his heir's mother.\n\n\"Are you quite sure you want me?\" said Mrs. Errol, with her soft, pretty\nsmile.\n\n\"Quite sure,\" he said bluntly. \"We have always wanted you, but we were\nnot exactly aware of it. We hope you will come.\"\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\nBen took his boy and went back to his cattle ranch in California, and\nhe returned under very comfortable circumstances. Just before his going,\nMr. Havisham had an interview with him in which the lawyer told him that\nthe Earl of Dorincourt wished to do something for the boy who might have\nturned out to be Lord Fauntleroy, and so he had decided that it would\nbe a good plan to invest in a cattle ranch of his own, and put Ben in\ncharge of it on terms which would make it pay him very well, and which\nwould lay a foundation for his son's future. And so when Ben went away,\nhe went as the prospective master of a ranch which would be almost as\ngood as his own, and might easily become his own in time, as indeed it\ndid in the course of a few years; and Tom, the boy, grew up on it into\na fine young man and was devotedly fond of his father; and they were so\nsuccessful and happy that Ben used to say that Tom made up to him for\nall the troubles he had ever had.\n\nBut Dick and Mr. Hobbs--who had actually come over with the others to\nsee that things were properly looked after--did not return for some\ntime. It had been decided at the outset that the Earl would provide for\nDick, and would see that he received a solid education; and Mr. Hobbs\nhad decided that as he himself had left a reliable substitute in charge\nof his store, he could afford to wait to see the festivities which were\nto celebrate Lord Fauntleroy's eighth birthday. All the tenantry were\ninvited, and there were to be feasting and dancing and games in the\npark, and bonfires and fire-works in the evening.\n\n\"Just like the Fourth of July!\" said Lord Fauntleroy. \"It seems a pity\nmy birthday wasn't on the Fourth, doesn't it? For then we could keep\nthem both together.\"\n\nIt must be confessed that at first the Earl and Mr. Hobbs were not as\nintimate as it might have been hoped they would become, in the interests\nof the British aristocracy. The fact was that the Earl had known very\nfew grocery-men, and Mr. Hobbs had not had many very close acquaintances\nwho were earls; and so in their rare interviews conversation did\nnot flourish. It must also be owned that Mr. Hobbs had been rather\noverwhelmed by the splendors Fauntleroy felt it his duty to show him.\n\nThe entrance gate and the stone lions and the avenue impressed Mr.\nHobbs somewhat at the beginning, and when he saw the Castle, and the\nflower-gardens, and the hot-houses, and the terraces, and the peacocks,\nand the dungeon, and the armor, and the great staircase, and the\nstables, and the liveried servants, he really was quite bewildered. But\nit was the picture gallery which seemed to be the finishing stroke.\n\n\"Somethin' in the manner of a museum?\" he said to Fauntleroy, when he\nwas led into the great, beautiful room.\n\n\"N--no--!\" said Fauntleroy, rather doubtfully. \"I don't THINK it's a\nmuseum. My grandfather says these are my ancestors.\"\n\n\"Your aunt's sisters!\" ejaculated Mr. Hobbs. \"ALL of 'em? Your\ngreat-uncle, he MUST have had a family! Did he raise 'em all?\"\n\nAnd he sank into a seat and looked around him with quite an agitated\ncountenance, until with the greatest difficulty Lord Fauntleroy managed\nto explain that the walls were not lined entirely with the portraits of\nthe progeny of his great-uncle.\n\nHe found it necessary, in fact, to call in the assistance of Mrs.\nMellon, who knew all about the pictures, and could tell who painted them\nand when, and who added romantic stories of the lords and ladies who\nwere the originals. When Mr. Hobbs once understood, and had heard some\nof these stories, he was very much fascinated and liked the picture\ngallery almost better than anything else; and he would often walk over\nfrom the village, where he staid at the Dorincourt Arms, and would spend\nhalf an hour or so wandering about the gallery, staring at the painted\nladies and gentlemen, who also stared at him, and shaking his head\nnearly all the time.\n\n\"And they was all earls!\" he would say, \"er pretty nigh it! An' HE'S\ngoin' to be one of 'em, an' own it all!\"\n\nPrivately he was not nearly so much disgusted with earls and their mode\nof life as he had expected to be, and it is to be doubted whether his\nstrictly republican principles were not shaken a little by a closer\nacquaintance with castles and ancestors and all the rest of it. At any\nrate, one day he uttered a very remarkable and unexpected sentiment:\n\n\"I wouldn't have minded bein' one of 'em myself!\" he said--which was\nreally a great concession.\n\nWhat a grand day it was when little Lord Fauntleroy's birthday arrived,\nand how his young lordship enjoyed it! How beautiful the park looked,\nfilled with the thronging people dressed in their gayest and best, and\nwith the flags flying from the tents and the top of the Castle! Nobody\nhad staid away who could possibly come, because everybody was really\nglad that little Lord Fauntleroy was to be little Lord Fauntleroy still,\nand some day was to be the master of everything. Every one wanted to\nhave a look at him, and at his pretty, kind mother, who had made so many\nfriends. And positively every one liked the Earl rather better, and felt\nmore amiably toward him because the little boy loved and trusted him so,\nand because, also, he had now made friends with and behaved respectfully\nto his heir's mother. It was said that he was even beginning to be\nfond of her, too, and that between his young lordship and his young\nlordship's mother, the Earl might be changed in time into quite a\nwell-behaved old nobleman, and everybody might be happier and better\noff.\n\nWhat scores and scores of people there were under the trees, and in\nthe tents, and on the lawns! Farmers and farmers' wives in their Sunday\nsuits and bonnets and shawls; girls and their sweethearts; children\nfrolicking and chasing about; and old dames in red cloaks gossiping\ntogether. At the Castle, there were ladies and gentlemen who had come to\nsee the fun, and to congratulate the Earl, and to meet Mrs. Errol.\nLady Lorredaile and Sir Harry were there, and Sir Thomas Asshe and his\ndaughters, and Mr. Havisham, of course, and then beautiful Miss Vivian\nHerbert, with the loveliest white gown and lace parasol, and a circle\nof gentlemen to take care of her--though she evidently liked Fauntleroy\nbetter than all of them put together. And when he saw her and ran to her\nand put his arm around her neck, she put her arms around him, too, and\nkissed him as warmly as if he had been her own favorite little brother,\nand she said:\n\n\"Dear little Lord Fauntleroy! dear little boy! I am so glad! I am so\nglad!\"\n\nAnd afterward she walked about the grounds with him, and let him show\nher everything. And when he took her to where Mr. Hobbs and Dick were,\nand said to her, \"This is my old, old friend Mr. Hobbs, Miss Herbert,\nand this is my other old friend Dick. I told them how pretty you were,\nand I told them they should see you if you came to my birthday,\"--she\nshook hands with them both, and stood and talked to them in her\nprettiest way, asking them about America and their voyage and their life\nsince they had been in England; while Fauntleroy stood by, looking up at\nher with adoring eyes, and his cheeks quite flushed with delight because\nhe saw that Mr. Hobbs and Dick liked her so much.\n\n\"Well,\" said Dick solemnly, afterward, \"she's the daisiest gal I\never saw! She's--well, she's just a daisy, that's what she is, 'n' no\nmistake!\"\n\nEverybody looked after her as she passed, and every one looked after\nlittle Lord Fauntleroy. And the sun shone and the flags fluttered and\nthe games were played and the dances danced, and as the gayeties went\non and the joyous afternoon passed, his little lordship was simply\nradiantly happy.\n\nThe whole world seemed beautiful to him.\n\nThere was some one else who was happy, too,--an old man, who, though he\nhad been rich and noble all his life, had not often been very honestly\nhappy. Perhaps, indeed, I shall tell you that I think it was because he\nwas rather better than he had been that he was rather happier. He had\nnot, indeed, suddenly become as good as Fauntleroy thought him; but, at\nleast, he had begun to love something, and he had several times found\na sort of pleasure in doing the kind things which the innocent, kind\nlittle heart of a child had suggested,--and that was a beginning. And\nevery day he had been more pleased with his son's wife. It was true, as\nthe people said, that he was beginning to like her too. He liked to\nhear her sweet voice and to see her sweet face; and as he sat in his\narm-chair, he used to watch her and listen as she talked to her boy; and\nhe heard loving, gentle words which were new to him, and he began to see\nwhy the little fellow who had lived in a New York side street and known\ngrocery-men and made friends with boot-blacks, was still so well-bred\nand manly a little fellow that he made no one ashamed of him, even when\nfortune changed him into the heir to an English earldom, living in an\nEnglish castle.\n\nIt was really a very simple thing, after all,--it was only that he had\nlived near a kind and gentle heart, and had been taught to think kind\nthoughts always and to care for others. It is a very little thing,\nperhaps, but it is the best thing of all. He knew nothing of earls and\ncastles; he was quite ignorant of all grand and splendid things; but he\nwas always lovable because he was simple and loving. To be so is like\nbeing born a king.\n\nAs the old Earl of Dorincourt looked at him that day, moving about the\npark among the people, talking to those he knew and making his ready\nlittle bow when any one greeted him, entertaining his friends Dick and\nMr. Hobbs, or standing near his mother or Miss Herbert listening to\ntheir conversation, the old nobleman was very well satisfied with him.\nAnd he had never been better satisfied than he was when they went down\nto the biggest tent, where the more important tenants of the Dorincourt\nestate were sitting down to the grand collation of the day.\n\nThey were drinking toasts; and, after they had drunk the health of the\nEarl, with much more enthusiasm than his name had ever been greeted with\nbefore, they proposed the health of \"Little Lord Fauntleroy.\" And if\nthere had ever been any doubt at all as to whether his lordship was\npopular or not, it would have been settled that instant. Such a clamor of\nvoices, and such a rattle of glasses and applause! They had begun to\nlike him so much, those warm-hearted people, that they forgot to feel\nany restraint before the ladies and gentlemen from the castle, who\nhad come to see them. They made quite a decent uproar, and one or two\nmotherly women looked tenderly at the little fellow where he stood, with\nhis mother on one side and the Earl on the other, and grew quite moist\nabout the eyes, and said to one another:\n\n\"God bless him, the pretty little dear!\"\n\nLittle Lord Fauntleroy was delighted. He stood and smiled, and made\nbows, and flushed rosy red with pleasure up to the roots of his bright\nhair.\n\n\"Is it because they like me, Dearest?\" he said to his mother. \"Is it,\nDearest? I'm so glad!\"\n\nAnd then the Earl put his hand on the child's shoulder and said to him:\n\n\"Fauntleroy, say to them that you thank them for their kindness.\"\n\nFauntleroy gave a glance up at him and then at his mother.\n\n\"Must I?\" he asked just a trifle shyly, and she smiled, and so did Miss\nHerbert, and they both nodded. And so he made a little step forward,\nand everybody looked at him--such a beautiful, innocent little fellow he\nwas, too, with his brave, trustful face!--and he spoke as loudly as he\ncould, his childish voice ringing out quite clear and strong.\n\n\"I'm ever so much obliged to you!\" he said, \"and--I hope you'll enjoy my\nbirthday--because I've enjoyed it so much--and--I'm very glad I'm going\nto be an earl; I didn't think at first I should like it, but now I\ndo--and I love this place so, and I think it is beautiful--and--and--and\nwhen I am an earl, I am going to try to be as good as my grandfather.\"\n\nAnd amid the shouts and clamor of applause, he stepped back with a\nlittle sigh of relief, and put his hand into the Earl's and stood close\nto him, smiling and leaning against his side.\n\n\nAnd that would be the very end of my story; but I must add one curious\npiece of information, which is that Mr. Hobbs became so fascinated\nwith high life and was so reluctant to leave his young friend that he\nactually sold his corner store in New York, and settled in the English\nvillage of Erlesboro, where he opened a shop which was patronized by the\nCastle and consequently was a great success. And though he and the\nEarl never became very intimate, if you will believe me, that man Hobbs\nbecame in time more aristocratic than his lordship himself, and he read\nthe Court news every morning, and followed all the doings of the House\nof Lords! And about ten years after, when Dick, who had finished his\neducation and was going to visit his brother in California, asked the\ngood grocer if he did not wish to return to America, he shook his head\nseriously.\n\n\"Not to live there,\" he said. \"Not to live there; I want to be near HIM,\nan' sort o' look after him. It's a good enough country for them that's\nyoung an' stirrin'--but there's faults in it. There's not an auntsister\namong 'em--nor an earl!\""