Chapter V

Little Lord Fauntleroy

by Francis Hodgson Burnett

It was late in the afternoon when the carriage containing little
Lord Fauntleroy and Mr. Havisham drove up the long avenue which led
to the castle. The Earl had given orders that his grandson should
arrive in time to dine with him; and for some reason best known to
himself, he had also ordered that the child should be sent alone into
the room in which he intended to receive him. As the carriage rolled
up the avenue, Lord Fauntleroy sat leaning comfortably against the
luxurious cushions, and regarded the prospect with great interest.
He was, in fact, interested in everything he saw. He had been
interested in the carriage, with its large, splendid horses and their
glittering harness; he had been interested in the tall coachman and
footman, with their resplendent livery; and he had been especially
interested in the coronet on the panels, and had struck up an
acquaintance with the footman for the purpose of inquiring what it
meant.

When the carriage reached the great gates of the park, he looked
out of the window to get a good view of the huge stone lions
ornamenting the entrance. The gates were opened by a motherly,
rosy-looking woman, who came out of a pretty, ivy-covered lodge. Two
children ran out of the door of the house and stood looking with
round, wide-open eyes at the little boy in the carriage, who looked
at them also. Their mother stood courtesying and smiling, and the
children, on receiving a sign from her, made bobbing little
courtesies too.

"Does she know me?" asked Lord Fauntleroy. "I think she must
think she knows me." And he took off his black velvet cap to her and
smiled.

"How do you do?" he said brightly. "Good-afternoon!"

The woman seemed pleased, he thought. The smile broadened on
her rosy face and a kind look came into her blue eyes.

"God bless your lordship!" she said. "God bless your pretty
face! Good luck and happiness to your lordship! Welcome to you!"

Lord Fauntleroy waved his cap and nodded to her again as the
carriage rolled by her.

"I like that woman," he said. "She looks as if she liked boys.
I should like to come here and play with her children. I wonder if
she has enough to make up a company?"

Mr. Havisham did not tell him that he would scarcely be allowed
to make playmates of the gate-keeper's children. The lawyer thought
there was time enough for giving him that information.

The carriage rolled on and on between the great, beautiful trees
which grew on each side of the avenue and stretched their broad,
swaying branches in an arch across it. Cedric had never seen such
trees,--they were so grand and stately, and their branches grew so
low down on their huge trunks. He did not then know that Dorincourt
Castle was one of the most beautiful in all England; that its park
was one of the broadest and finest, and its trees and avenue almost
without rivals. But he did know that it was all very beautiful. He
liked the big, broad-branched trees, with the late afternoon sunlight
striking golden lances through them. He liked the perfect stillness
which rested on everything. He felt a great, strange pleasure in the
beauty of which he caught glimpses under and between the sweeping
boughs--the great, beautiful spaces of the park, with still other
trees standing sometimes stately and alone, and sometimes in groups.
Now and then they passed places where tall ferns grew in masses, and
again and again the ground was azure with the bluebells swaying in
the soft breeze. Several times he started up with a laugh of delight
as a rabbit leaped up from under the greenery and scudded away with a
twinkle of short white tail behind it. Once a covey of partridges
rose with a sudden whir and flew away, and then he shouted and
clapped his hands.

"It's a beautiful place, isn't it?" he said to Mr. Havisham. "I
never saw such a beautiful place. It's prettier even than Central
Park."

He was rather puzzled by the length of time they were on their
way.

"How far is it," he said, at length, "from the gate to the front
door?"

"It is between three and four miles," answered the lawyer.

"That's a long way for a person to live from his gate," remarked
his lordship.

Every few minutes he saw something new to wonder at and admire.
When he caught sight of the deer, some couched in the grass, some
standing with their pretty antlered heads turned with a half-startled
air toward the avenue as the carriage wheels disturbed them, he was
enchanted.

"Has there been a circus?" he cried; "or do they live here
always? Whose are they?"

"They live here," Mr. Havisham told him. "They belong to the
Earl, your grandfather."

It was not long after this that they saw the castle. It rose up
before them stately and beautiful and gray, the last rays of the sun
casting dazzling lights on its many windows. It had turrets and
battlements and towers; a great deal of ivy grew upon its walls; all
the broad, open space about it was laid out in terraces and lawns and
beds of brilliant flowers.

"It's the most beautiful place I ever saw!" said Cedric, his
round face flushing with pleasure. "It reminds any one of a king's
palace. I saw a picture of one once in a fairy-book."

He saw the great entrance-door thrown open and many servants
standing in two lines looking at him. He wondered why they were
standing there, and admired their liveries very much. He did not
know that they were there to do honor to the little boy to whom all
this splendor would one day belong,--the beautiful castle like the
fairy king's palace, the magnificent park, the grand old trees, the
dells full of ferns and bluebells where the hares and rabbits played,
the dappled, large-eyed deer couching in the deep grass. It was only
a couple of weeks since he had sat with Mr. Hobbs among the potatoes
and canned peaches, with his legs dangling from the high stool; it
would not have been possible for him to realize that he had very much
to do with all this grandeur. At the head of the line of servants
there stood an elderly woman in a rich, plain black silk gown; she
had gray hair and wore a cap. As he entered the hall she stood
nearer than the rest, and the child thought from the look in her eyes
that she was going to speak to him. Mr. Havisham, who held his hand,
paused a moment.

"This is Lord Fauntleroy, Mrs. Mellon," he said. "Lord
Fauntleroy, this is Mrs. Mellon, who is the housekeeper."

Cedric gave her his hand, his eyes lighting up.

"Was it you who sent the cat?" he said. "I'm much obliged to
you, ma'am."

Mrs. Mellon's handsome old face looked as pleased as the face of
the lodge-keeper's wife had done.

"I should know his lordship anywhere," she said to Mr. Havisham.
"He has the Captain's face and way. It's a great day, this,
sir."

Cedric wondered why it was a great day. He looked at Mrs.
Mellon curiously. It seemed to him for a moment as if there were
tears in her eyes, and yet it was evident she was not unhappy. She
smiled down on him.

"The cat left two beautiful kittens here," she said; "they shall
be sent up to your lordship's nursery."

Mr. Havisham said a few words to her in a low voice.

"In the library, sir," Mrs. Mellon replied. "His lordship is to
be taken there alone."

A few minutes later, the very tall footman in livery, who had
escorted Cedric to the library door, opened it and announced: "Lord
Fauntleroy, my lord," in quite a majestic tone. If he was only a
footman, he felt it was rather a grand occasion when the heir came
home to his own land and possessions, and was ushered into the
presence of the old Earl, whose place and title he was to take.

Cedric crossed the threshold into the room. It was a very large
and splendid room, with massive carven furniture in it, and shelves
upon shelves of books; the furniture was so dark, and the draperies
so heavy, the diamond-paned windows were so deep, and it seemed such
a distance from one end of it to the other, that, since the sun had
gone down, the effect of it all was rather gloomy. For a moment
Cedric thought there was nobody in the room, but soon he saw that by
the fire burning on the wide hearth there was a large easy-chair and
that in that chair some one was sitting--some one who did not at
first turn to look at him.

But he had attracted attention in one quarter at least. On the
floor, by the arm-chair, lay a dog, a huge tawny mastiff, with body
and limbs almost as big as a lion's; and this great creature rose
majestically and slowly, and marched toward the little fellow with a
heavy step.

Then the person in the chair spoke. "Dougal," he called, "come
back, sir."

But there was no more fear in little Lord Fauntleroy's heart
than there was unkindness--he had been a brave little fellow all his
life. He put his hand on the big dog's collar in the most natural
way in the world, and they strayed forward together, Dougal sniffing
as he went.

And then the Earl looked up. What Cedric saw was a large old
man with shaggy white hair and eyebrows, and a nose like an eagle's
beak between his deep, fierce eyes. What the Earl saw was a
graceful, childish figure in a black velvet suit, with a lace collar,
and with love-locks waving about the handsome, manly little face,
whose eyes met his with a look of innocent good-fellowship. If the
Castle was like the palace in a fairy story, it must be owned that
little Lord Fauntleroy was himself rather like a small copy of the
fairy prince, though he was not at all aware of the fact, and perhaps
was rather a sturdy young model of a fairy. But there was a sudden
glow of triumph and exultation in the fiery old Earl's heart as he
saw what a strong, beautiful boy this grandson was, and how
unhesitatingly he looked up as he stood with his hand on the big
dog's neck. It pleased the grim old nobleman that the child should
show no shyness or fear, either of the dog or of himself.

Cedric looked at him just as he had looked at the woman at the
lodge and at the housekeeper, and came quite close to him.

"Are you the Earl?" he said. "I'm your grandson, you know, that
Mr. Havisham brought. I'm Lord Fauntleroy."

He held out his hand because he thought it must be the polite
and proper thing to do even with earls. "I hope you are very well,"
he continued, with the utmost friendliness. "I'm very glad to see
you."

The Earl shook hands with him, with a curious gleam in his eyes;
just at first, he was so astonished that he scarcely knew what to
say. He stared at the picturesque little apparition from under his
shaggy brows, and took it all in from head to foot.

"Glad to see me, are you?" he said.

"Yes," answered Lord Fauntleroy, "very."

There was a chair near him, and he sat down on it; it was a
high-backed, rather tall chair, and his feet did not touch the floor
when he had settled himself in it, but he seemed to be quite
comfortable as he sat there, and regarded his august relative
intently but modestly.

"I've kept wondering what you would look like," he remarked. "I
used to lie in my berth in the ship and wonder if you would be
anything like my father."

"Am I?" asked the Earl.

"Well," Cedric replied, "I was very young when he died, and I
may not remember exactly how he looked, but I don't think you are
like him."

"You are disappointed, I suppose?" suggested his grandfather.

"Oh, no," responded Cedric politely. "Of course you would like
any one to look like your father; but of course you would enjoy the
way your grandfather looked, even if he wasn't like your father. You
know how it is yourself about admiring your relations."

The Earl leaned back in his chair and stared. He could not be
said to know how it was about admiring his relations. He had
employed most of his noble leisure in quarreling violently with them,
in turning them out of his house, and applying abusive epithets to
them; and they all hated him cordially.

"Any boy would love his grandfather," continued Lord Fauntleroy,
"especially one that had been as kind to him as you have been."

Another queer gleam came into the old nobleman's eyes.

"Oh!" he said, "I have been kind to you, have I?"

"Yes," answered Lord Fauntleroy brightly; "I'm ever so much
obliged to you about Bridget, and the apple-woman, and Dick."

"Bridget!" exclaimed the Earl. "Dick! The apple-woman!"

"Yes!" explained Cedric; "the ones you gave me all that money
for--the money you told Mr. Havisham to give me if I wanted it."

"Ha!" ejaculated his lordship. "That's it, is it? The money
you were to spend as you liked. What did you buy with it? I should
like to hear something about that."

He drew his shaggy eyebrows together and looked at the child
sharply. He was secretly curious to know in what way the lad had
indulged himself.

"Oh!" said Lord Fauntleroy, "perhaps you didn't know about Dick
and the apple-woman and Bridget. I forgot you lived such a long way
off from them. They were particular friends of mine. And you see
Michael had the fever----"

"Who's Michael?" asked the Earl.

"Michael is Bridget's husband, and they were in great trouble.
When a man is sick and can't work and has twelve children, you know
how it is. And Michael has always been a sober man. And Bridget
used to come to our house and cry. And the evening Mr. Havisham was
there, she was in the kitchen crying, because they had almost nothing
to eat and couldn't pay the rent; and I went in to see her, and Mr.
Havisham sent for me and he said you had given him some money for me.
And I ran as fast as I could into the kitchen and gave it to
Bridget; and that made it all right; and Bridget could scarcely
believe her eyes. That's why I'm so obliged to you."

"Oh!" said the Earl in his deep voice, "that was one of the
things you did for yourself, was it? What else?"

Dougal had been sitting by the tall chair; the great dog had
taken its place there when Cedric sat down. Several times it had
turned and looked up at the boy as if interested in the conversation.
Dougal was a solemn dog, who seemed to feel altogether too big to
take life's responsibilities lightly. The old Earl, who knew the dog
well, had watched it with secret interest. Dougal was not a dog
whose habit it was to make acquaintances rashly, and the Earl
wondered somewhat to see how quietly the brute sat under the touch of
the childish hand. And, just at this moment, the big dog gave little
Lord Fauntleroy one more look of dignified scrutiny, and deliberately
laid its huge, lion-like head on the boy's black-velvet knee.

The small hand went on stroking this new friend as Cedric
answered:

"Well, there was Dick," he said. "You'd like Dick, he's so
square."

This was an Americanism the Earl was not prepared for.

"What does that mean?" he inquired.

Lord Fauntleroy paused a moment to reflect. He was not very
sure himself what it meant. He had taken it for granted as meaning
something very creditable because Dick had been fond of using it.

"I think it means that he wouldn't cheat any one," he exclaimed;
"or hit a boy who was under his size, and that he blacks people's
boots very well and makes them shine as much as he can. He's a
perfessional bootblack."

"And he's one of your acquaintances, is he?" said the Earl.

"He is an old friend of mine," replied his grandson. "Not quite
as old as Mr. Hobbs, but quite old. He gave me a present just before
the ship sailed."

He put his hand into his pocket and drew forth a neatly folded
red object and opened it with an air of affectionate pride. It was
the red silk handkerchief with the large purple horse-shoes and heads
on it.

"He gave me this," said his young lordship. "I shall keep it
always. You can wear it round your neck or keep it in your pocket.
He bought it with the first money he earned after I bought Jake out
and gave him the new brushes. It's a keepsake. I put some poetry in
Mr. Hobbs's watch. It was, `When this you see, remember me.' When
this I see, I shall always remember Dick."

The sensations of the Right Honorable the Earl of Dorincourt
could scarcely be described. He was not an old nobleman who was very
easily bewildered, because he had seen a great deal of the world; but
here was something he found so novel that it almost took his lordly
breath away, and caused him some singular emotions. He had never
cared for children; he had been so occupied with his own pleasures
that he had never had time to care for them. His own sons had not
interested him when they were very young--though sometimes he
remembered having thought Cedric's father a handsome and strong
little fellow. He had been so selfish himself that he had missed the
pleasure of seeing unselfishness in others, and he had not known how
tender and faithful and affectionate a kind-hearted little child can
be, and how innocent and unconscious are its simple, generous
impulses. A boy had always seemed to him a most objectionable little
animal, selfish and greedy and boisterous when not under strict
restraint; his own two eldest sons had given their tutors constant
trouble and annoyance, and of the younger one he fancied he had heard
few complaints because the boy was of no particular importance. It
had never once occurred to him that he should like his grandson; he
had sent for the little Cedric because his pride impelled him to do
so. If the boy was to take his place in the future, he did not wish
his name to be made ridiculous by descending to an uneducated boor.
He had been convinced the boy would be a clownish fellow if he were
brought up in America. He had no feeling of affection for the lad;
his only hope was that he should find him decently well-featured, and
with a respectable share of sense; he had been so disappointed in his
other sons, and had been made so furious by Captain Errol's American
marriage, that he had never once thought that anything creditable
could come of it. When the footman had announced Lord Fauntleroy, he
had almost dreaded to look at the boy lest he should find him all
that he had feared. It was because of this feeling that he had
ordered that the child should be sent to him alone. His pride could
not endure that others should see his disappointment if he was to be
disappointed. His proud, stubborn old heart therefore had leaped
within him when the boy came forward with his graceful, easy
carriage, his fearless hand on the big dog's neck. Even in the
moments when he had hoped the most, the Earl had never hoped that his
grandson would look like that. It seemed almost too good to be true
that this should be the boy he had dreaded to see--the child of the
woman he so disliked--this little fellow with so much beauty and such
a brave, childish grace! The Earl's stern composure was quite shaken
by this startling surprise.

And then their talk began; and he was still more curiously
moved, and more and more puzzled. In the first place, he was so used
to seeing people rather afraid and embarrassed before him, that he
had expected nothing else but that his grandson would be timid or
shy. But Cedric was no more afraid of the Earl than he had been of
Dougal. He was not bold; he was only innocently friendly, and he was
not conscious that there could be any reason why he should be awkward
or afraid. The Earl could not help seeing that the little boy took
him for a friend and treated him as one, without having any doubt of
him at all. It was quite plain as the little fellow sat there in his
tall chair and talked in his friendly way that it had never occurred
to him that this large, fierce-looking old man could be anything but
kind to him, and rather pleased to see him there. And it was plain,
too, that, in his childish way, he wished to please and interest his
grandfather. Cross, and hard-hearted, and worldly as the old Earl
was, he could not help feeling a secret and novel pleasure in this
very confidence. After all, it was not disagreeable to meet some one
who did not distrust him or shrink from him, or seem to detect the
ugly part of his nature; some one who looked at him with clear,
unsuspecting eyes,--if it was only a little boy in a black velvet
suit.

So the old man leaned back in his chair, and led his young
companion on to telling him still more of himself, and with that odd
gleam in his eyes watched the little fellow as he talked. Lord
Fauntleroy was quite willing to answer all his questions and chatted
on in his genial little way quite composedly. He told him all about
Dick and Jake, and the apple-woman, and Mr. Hobbs; he described the
Republican Rally in all the glory of its banners and transparencies,
torches and rockets. In the course of the conversation, he reached
the Fourth of July and the Revolution, and was just becoming
enthusiastic, when he suddenly recollected something and stopped very
abruptly.

"What is the matter?" demanded his grandfather. "Why don't you
go on?"

Lord Fauntleroy moved rather uneasily in his chair. It was
evident to the Earl that he was embarrassed by the thought which had
just occurred to him.

"I was just thinking that perhaps you mightn't like it," he
replied. "Perhaps some one belonging to you might have been there.
I forgot you were an Englishman."

"You can go on," said my lord. "No one belonging to me was
there. You forgot you were an Englishman, too."

"Oh! no," said Cedric quickly. "I'm an American!"

"You are an Englishman," said the Earl grimly. "Your father was
an Englishman."

It amused him a little to say this, but it did not amuse Cedric.
The lad had never thought of such a development as this. He felt
himself grow quite hot up to the roots of his hair.

"I was born in America," he protested. "You have to be an
American if you are born in America. I beg your pardon," with
serious politeness and delicacy, "for contradicting you. Mr. Hobbs
told me, if there were another war, you know, I should have to--to be
an American."

The Earl gave a grim half laugh--it was short and grim, but it
was a laugh.

"You would, would you?" he said.

He hated America and Americans, but it amused him to see how
serious and interested this small patriot was. He thought that so
good an American might make a rather good Englishman when he was a
man.

They had not time to go very deep into the Revolution again--and
indeed Lord Fauntleroy felt some delicacy about returning to the
subject--before dinner was announced.

Cedric left his chair and went to his noble kinsman. He looked
down at his gouty foot.

"Would you like me to help you?" he said politely. "You could
lean on me, you know. Once when Mr. Hobbs hurt his foot with a
potato-barrel rolling on it, he used to lean on me."

The big footman almost periled his reputation and his situation
by smiling. He was an aristocratic footman who had always lived in
the best of noble families, and he had never smiled; indeed, he would
have felt himself a disgraced and vulgar footman if he had allowed
himself to be led by any circumstance whatever into such an
indiscretion as a smile. But he had a very narrow escape. He only
just saved himself by staring straight over the Earl's head at a very
ugly picture.

The Earl looked his valiant young relative over from head to
foot.

"Do you think you could do it?" he asked gruffly.

"I think I could," said Cedric. "I'm strong. I'm seven, you
know. You could lean on your stick on one side, and on me on the
other. Dick says I've a good deal of muscle for a boy that's only
seven."

He shut his hand and moved it upward to his shoulder, so that
the Earl might see the muscle Dick had kindly approved of, and his
face was so grave and earnest that the footman found it necessary to
look very hard indeed at the ugly picture.

"Well," said the Earl, "you may try."

Cedric gave him his stick and began to assist him to rise.
Usually, the footman did this, and was violently sworn at when his
lordship had an extra twinge of gout. The Earl was not a very polite
person as a rule, and many a time the huge footmen about him quaked
inside their imposing liveries.

But this evening he did not swear, though his gouty foot gave
him more twinges than one. He chose to try an experiment. He got up
slowly and put his hand on the small shoulder presented to him with
so much courage. Little Lord Fauntleroy made a careful step forward,
looking down at the gouty foot.

"Just lean on me," he said, with encouraging good cheer. "I'll
walk very slowly."

If the Earl had been supported by the footman he would have
rested less on his stick and more on his assistant's arm. And yet it
was part of his experiment to let his grandson feel his burden as no
light weight. It was quite a heavy weight indeed, and after a few
steps his young lordship's face grew quite hot, and his heart beat
rather fast, but he braced himself sturdily, remembering his muscle
and Dick's approval of it.

"Don't be afraid of leaning on me," he panted. "I'm all
right--if--if it isn't a very long way."

It was not really very far to the dining-room, but it seemed
rather a long way to Cedric, before they reached the chair at the
head of the table. The hand on his shoulder seemed to grow heavier
at every step, and his face grew redder and hotter, and his breath
shorter, but he never thought of giving up; he stiffened his childish
muscles, held his head erect, and encouraged the Earl as he limped
along.

"Does your foot hurt you very much when you stand on it?" he
asked. "Did you ever put it in hot water and mustard? Mr. Hobbs
used to put his in hot water. Arnica is a very nice thing, they tell
me."

The big dog stalked slowly beside them, and the big footman
followed; several times he looked very queer as he watched the little
figure making the very most of all its strength, and bearing its
burden with such good-will. The Earl, too, looked rather queer,
once, as he glanced sidewise down at the flushed little face. When
they entered the room where they were to dine, Cedric saw it was a
very large and imposing one, and that the footman who stood behind
the chair at the head of the table stared very hard as they came
in.

But they reached the chair at last. The hand was removed from
his shoulder, and the Earl was fairly seated.

Cedric took out Dick's handkerchief and wiped his forehead.

"It's a warm night, isn't it?" he said. "Perhaps you need a
fire because--because of your foot, but it seems just a little warm
to me."

His delicate consideration for his noble relative's feelings was
such that he did not wish to seem to intimate that any of his
surroundings were unnecessary.

"You have been doing some rather hard work," said the Earl.

"Oh, no!" said Lord Fauntleroy, "it wasn't exactly hard, but I
got a little warm. A person will get warm in summer time."

And he rubbed his damp curls rather vigorously with the gorgeous
handkerchief. His own chair was placed at the other end of the
table, opposite his grandfather's. It was a chair with arms, and
intended for a much larger individual than himself; indeed,
everything he had seen so far,--the great rooms, with their high
ceilings, the massive furniture, the big footman, the big dog, the
Earl himself,--were all of proportions calculated to make this little
lad feel that he was very small, indeed. But that did not trouble
him; he had never thought himself very large or important, and he was
quite willing to accommodate himself even to circumstances which
rather overpowered him.

Perhaps he had never looked so little a fellow as when seated
now in his great chair, at the end of the table. Notwithstanding his
solitary existence, the Earl chose to live in some state. He was
fond of his dinner, and he dined in a formal style. Cedric looked at
him across a glitter of splendid glass and plate, which to his
unaccustomed eyes seemed quite dazzling. A stranger looking on might
well have smiled at the picture,--the great stately room, the big
liveried servants, the bright lights, the glittering silver and
glass, the fierce-looking old nobleman at the head of the table and
the very small boy at the foot. Dinner was usually a very serious
matter with the Earl--and it was a very serious matter with the cook,
if his lordship was not pleased or had an indifferent appetite.
To-day, however, his appetite seemed a trifle better than usual,
perhaps because he had something to think of beside the flavor of the
entrees and the management of the gravies. His grandson gave him
something to think of. He kept looking at him across the table. He
did not say very much himself, but he managed to make the boy talk.
He had never imagined that he could be entertained by hearing a child
talk, but Lord Fauntleroy at once puzzled and amused him, and he kept
remembering how he had let the childish shoulder feel his weight just
for the sake of trying how far the boy's courage and endurance would
go, and it pleased him to know that his grandson had not quailed and
had not seemed to think even for a moment of giving up what he had
undertaken to do.

"You don't wear your coronet all the time?" remarked Lord
Fauntleroy respectfully.

"No," replied the Earl, with his grim smile; "it is not becoming
to me."

"Mr. Hobbs said you always wore it," said Cedric; "but after he
thought it over, he said he supposed you must sometimes take it off
to put your hat on."

"Yes," said the Earl, "I take it off occasionally."

And one of the footmen suddenly turned aside and gave a singular
little cough behind his hand.

Cedric finished his dinner first, and then he leaned back in his
chair and took a survey of the room.

"You must be very proud of your house," he said, "it's such a
beautiful house. I never saw anything so beautiful; but, of course,
as I'm only seven, I haven't seen much."

"And you think I must be proud of it, do you?" said the Earl.

"I should think any one would be proud of it," replied Lord
Fauntleroy. "I should be proud of it if it were my house.
Everything about it is beautiful. And the park, and those
trees,--how beautiful they are, and how the leaves rustle!"

Then he paused an instant and looked across the table rather
wistfully.

"It's a very big house for just two people to live in, isn't
it?" he said.

"It is quite large enough for two," answered the Earl. "Do you
find it too large?"

His little lordship hesitated a moment.

"I was only thinking," he said, "that if two people lived in it
who were not very good companions, they might feel lonely
sometimes."

"Do you think I shall make a good companion?" inquired the
Earl.

"Yes," replied Cedric, "I think you will. Mr. Hobbs and I were
great friends. He was the best friend I had except Dearest."

The Earl made a quick movement of his bushy eyebrows.

"Who is Dearest?"

"She is my mother," said Lord Fauntleroy, in a rather low, quiet
little voice.

Perhaps he was a trifle tired, as his bed-time was nearing, and
perhaps after the excitement of the last few days it was natural he
should be tired, so perhaps, too, the feeling of weariness brought to
him a vague sense of loneliness in the remembrance that to-night he
was not to sleep at home, watched over by the loving eyes of that
"best friend" of his. They had always been "best friends," this boy
and his young mother. He could not help thinking of her, and the
more he thought of her the less was he inclined to talk, and by the
time the dinner was at an end the Earl saw that there was a faint
shadow on his face. But Cedric bore himself with excellent courage,
and when they went back to the library, though the tall footman
walked on one side of his master, the Earl's hand rested on his
grandson's shoulder, though not so heavily as before.

When the footman left them alone, Cedric sat down upon the
hearth-rug near Dougal. For a few minutes he stroked the dog's ears
in silence and looked at the fire.

The Earl watched him. The boy's eyes looked wistful and
thoughtful, and once or twice he gave a little sigh. The Earl sat
still, and kept his eyes fixed on his grandson.

"Fauntleroy," he said at last, "what are you thinking of?"

Fauntleroy looked up with a manful effort at a smile.

"I was thinking about Dearest," he said; "and--and I think I'd
better get up and walk up and down the room."

He rose up, and put his hands in his small pockets, and began to
walk to and fro. His eyes were very bright, and his lips were
pressed together, but he kept his head up and walked firmly. Dougal
moved lazily and looked at him, and then stood up. He walked over to
the child, and began to follow him uneasily. Fauntleroy drew one
hand from his pocket and laid it on the dog's head.

"He's a very nice dog," he said. "He's my friend. He knows how
I feel."

"How do you feel?" asked the Earl.

It disturbed him to see the struggle the little fellow was
having with his first feeling of homesickness, but it pleased him to
see that he was making so brave an effort to bear it well. He liked
this childish courage.

"Come here," he said.

Fauntleroy went to him.

"I never was away from my own house before," said the boy, with
a troubled look in his brown eyes. "It makes a person feel a strange
feeling when he has to stay all night in another person's castle
instead of in his own house. But Dearest is not very far away from
me. She told me to remember that--and--and I'm seven--and I can look
at the picture she gave me."

He put his hand in his pocket, and brought out a small violet
velvet-covered case.

"This is it," he said. "You see, you press this spring and it
opens, and she is in there!"

He had come close to the Earl's chair, and, as he drew forth the
little case, he leaned against the arm of it, and against the old
man's arm, too, as confidingly as if children had always leaned
there.

"There she is," he said, as the case opened; and he looked up
with a smile.

The Earl knitted his brows; he did not wish to see the picture,
but he looked at it in spite of himself; and there looked up at him
from it such a pretty young face--a face so like the child's at his
side--that it quite startled him.

"I suppose you think you are very fond of her," he said.

"Yes," answered Lord Fauntleroy, in a gentle tone, and with
simple directness; "I do think so, and I think it's true. You see,
Mr. Hobbs was my friend, and Dick and Bridget and Mary and Michael,
they were my friends, too; but Dearest--well, she is my close friend,
and we always tell each other everything. My father left her to me
to take care of, and when I am a man I am going to work and earn
money for her."

"What do you think of doing?" inquired his grandfather.

His young lordship slipped down upon the hearth-rug, and sat
there with the picture still in his hand. He seemed to be reflecting
seriously, before he answered.

"I did think perhaps I might go into business with Mr. Hobbs,"
he said; "but I should like to be a President."

"We'll send you to the House of Lords instead," said his
grandfather.

"Well," remarked Lord Fauntleroy, "if I couldn't be a President,
and if that is a good business, I shouldn't mind. The grocery
business is dull sometimes."

Perhaps he was weighing the matter in his mind, for he sat very
quiet after this, and looked at the fire for some time.

The Earl did not speak again. He leaned back in his chair and
watched him. A great many strange new thoughts passed through the
old nobleman's mind. Dougal had stretched himself out and gone to
sleep with his head on his huge paws. There was a long silence.

In about half an hour's time Mr. Havisham was ushered in. The
great room was very still when he entered. The Earl was still
leaning back in his chair. He moved as Mr. Havisham approached, and
held up his hand in a gesture of warning--it seemed as if he had
scarcely intended to make the gesture--as if it were almost
involuntary. Dougal was still asleep, and close beside the great
dog, sleeping also, with his curly head upon his arm, lay little Lord
Fauntleroy.