Chapter XIII

Little Lord Fauntleroy

by Francis Hodgson Burnett

Of course, as soon as the story of Lord Fauntleroy and the
difficulties of the Earl of Dorincourt were discussed in the English
newspapers, they were discussed in the American newspapers. The
story was too interesting to be passed over lightly, and it was
talked of a great deal. There were so many versions of it that it
would have been an edifying thing to buy all the papers and compare
them. Mr. Hobbs read so much about it that he became quite
bewildered. One paper described his young friend Cedric as an infant
in arms,--another as a young man at Oxford, winning all the honors,
and distinguishing himself by writing Greek poems; one said he was
engaged to a young lady of great beauty, who was the daughter of a
duke; another said he had just been married; the only thing, in fact,
which was not said was that he was a little boy between seven and
eight, with handsome legs and curly hair. One said he was no
relation to the Earl of Dorincourt at all, but was a small impostor
who had sold newspapers and slept in the streets of New York before
his mother imposed upon the family lawyer, who came to America to
look for the Earl's heir. Then came the descriptions of the new Lord
Fauntleroy and his mother. Sometimes she was a gypsy, sometimes an
actress, sometimes a beautiful Spaniard; but it was always agreed
that the Earl of Dorincourt was her deadly enemy, and would not
acknowledge her son as his heir if he could help it, and as there
seemed to be some slight flaw in the papers she had produced, it was
expected that there would be a long trial, which would be far more
interesting than anything ever carried into court before. Mr. Hobbs
used to read the papers until his head was in a whirl, and in the
evening he and Dick would talk it all over. They found out what an
important personage an Earl of Dorincourt was, and what a magnificent
income he possessed, and how many estates he owned, and how stately
and beautiful was the Castle in which he lived; and the more they
learned, the more excited they became.

"Seems like somethin' orter be done," said Mr. Hobbs. "Things
like them orter be held on to--earls or no earls."

But there really was nothing they could do but each write a
letter to Cedric, containing assurances of their friendship and
sympathy. They wrote those letters as soon as they could after
receiving the news; and after having written them, they handed them
over to each other to be read.

This is what Mr. Hobbs read in Dick's letter:

"Dere Frend: i got ure letter an Mr. Hobbs got his an we are
sory u are down on ure luck an we say hold on as longs u kin an dont
let no one git ahed of u. There is a lot of ole theves wil make al
they kin of u ef u dont kepe ure i skined. But this is mosly to say
that ive not forgot wot u did fur me an if there aint no better way
cum over here an go in pardners with me. Biznes is fine an ile see
no harm cums to u Enny big feler that trise to cum it over u wil
hafter setle it fust with Perfessor Dick Tipton
So no more at
present
"Dick."

And this was what Dick read in Mr. Hobbs's letter:

"Dear Sir: Yrs received and wd say things looks bad. I believe
its a put up job and them thats done it ought to be looked after
sharp. And what I write to say is two things. Im going to look this
thing up. Keep quiet and Ill see a lawyer and do all I can And if
the worst happens and them earls is too many for us theres a
partnership in the grocery business ready for you when yure old
enough and a home and a friend i
"Yrs truly,
"Silas
Hobbs."

"Well," said Mr. Hobbs, "he's pervided for between us, if he
aint a earl."

"So he is," said Dick. "I'd ha' stood by him. Blest if I
didn't like that little feller fust-rate."

The very next morning, one of Dick's customers was rather
surprised. He was a young lawyer just beginning practice--as poor as
a very young lawyer can possibly be, but a bright, energetic young
fellow, with sharp wit and a good temper. He had a shabby office
near Dick's stand, and every morning Dick blacked his boots for him,
and quite often they were not exactly water-tight, but he always had
a friendly word or a joke for Dick.

That particular morning, when he put his foot on the rest, he
had an illustrated paper in his hand--an enterprising paper, with
pictures in it of conspicuous people and things. He had just
finished looking it over, and when the last boot was polished, he
handed it over to the boy.

"Here's a paper for you, Dick," he said; "you can look it over
when you drop in at Delmonico's for your breakfast. Picture of an
English castle in it, and an English earl's daughter-in-law. Fine
young woman, too,--lots of hair,--though she seems to be raising
rather a row. You ought to become familiar with the nobility and
gentry, Dick. Begin on the Right Honorable the Earl of Dorincourt
and Lady Fauntleroy. Hello! I say, what's the matter?"

The pictures he spoke of were on the front page, and Dick was
staring at one of them with his eyes and mouth open, and his sharp
face almost pale with excitement.

"What's to pay, Dick?" said the young man. "What has paralyzed
you?"

Dick really did look as if something tremendous had happened.
He pointed to the picture, under which was written:

"Mother of Claimant (Lady Fauntleroy)."

It was the picture of a handsome woman, with large eyes and
heavy braids of black hair wound around her head.

"Her!" said Dick. "My, I know her better 'n I know you!"

The young man began to laugh.

"Where did you meet her, Dick?" he said. "At Newport? Or when
you ran over to Paris the last time?"

Dick actually forgot to grin. He began to gather his brushes
and things together, as if he had something to do which would put an
end to his business for the present.

"Never mind," he said. "I know her! An I've struck work for
this mornin'."

And in less than five minutes from that time he was tearing
through the streets on his way to Mr. Hobbs and the corner store.

Mr. Hobbs could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses when
he looked across the counter and saw Dick rush in with the paper in
his hand. The boy was out of breath with running; so much out of
breath, in fact, that he could scarcely speak as he threw the paper
down on the counter.

"Hello!" exclaimed Mr. Hobbs. "Hello! What you got there?"

"Look at it!" panted Dick. "Look at that woman in the picture!
That's what you look at! She aint no 'ristocrat, she aint!" with
withering scorn. "She's no lord's wife. You may eat me, if it aint
Minna--Minna! I'd know her anywheres, an' so 'd Ben. Jest ax
him."

Mr. Hobbs dropped into his seat.

"I knowed it was a put-up job," he said. "I knowed it; and they
done it on account o' him bein' a 'Merican!"

"Done it!" cried Dick, with disgust. "She done it, that's who
done it. She was allers up to her tricks; an' I'll tell yer wot come
to me, the minnit I saw her pictur. There was one o' them papers we
saw had a letter in it that said somethin' 'bout her boy, an' it said
he had a scar on his chin. Put them two together--her 'n' that there
scar! Why, that there boy o' hers aint no more a lord than I am!
It's Ben's boy,--the little chap she hit when she let fly that plate
at me."

Professor Dick Tipton had always been a sharp boy, and earning
his living in the streets of a big city had made him still sharper.
He had learned to keep his eyes open and his wits about him, and it
must be confessed he enjoyed immensely the excitement and impatience
of that moment. If little Lord Fauntleroy could only have looked
into the store that morning, he would certainly have been interested,
even if all the discussion and plans had been intended to decide the
fate of some other boy than himself.

Mr. Hobbs was almost overwhelmed by his sense of responsibility,
and Dick was all alive and full of energy. He began to write a
letter to Ben, and he cut out the picture and inclosed it to him, and
Mr. Hobbs wrote a letter to Cedric and one to the Earl. They were in
the midst of this letter-writing when a new idea came to Dick.

"Say," he said, "the feller that give me the paper, he's a
lawyer. Let's ax him what we'd better do. Lawyers knows it all."

Mr. Hobbs was immensely impressed by this suggestion and Dick's
business capacity.

"That's so!" he replied. "This here calls for lawyers."

And leaving the store in the care of a substitute, he struggled
into his coat and marched down-town with Dick, and the two presented
themselves with their romantic story in Mr. Harrison's office, much
to that young man's astonishment.

If he had not been a very young lawyer, with a very enterprising
mind and a great deal of spare time on his hands, he might not have
been so readily interested in what they had to say, for it all
certainly sounded very wild and queer; but he chanced to want
something to do very much, and he chanced to know Dick, and Dick
chanced to say his say in a very sharp, telling sort of way.

"And," said Mr. Hobbs, "say what your time's worth a' hour and
look into this thing thorough, and I'll pay the damage,--Silas Hobbs,
corner of Blank street, Vegetables and Fancy Groceries."

"Well," said Mr. Harrison, "it will be a big thing if it turns
out all right, and it will be almost as big a thing for me as for
Lord Fauntleroy; and, at any rate, no harm can be done by
investigating. It appears there has been some dubiousness about the
child. The woman contradicted herself in some of her statements
about his age, and aroused suspicion. The first persons to be
written to are Dick's brother and the Earl of Dorincourt's family
lawyer."

And actually, before the sun went down, two letters had been
written and sent in two different directions--one speeding out of New
York harbor on a mail steamer on its way to England, and the other on
a train carrying letters and passengers bound for California. And
the first was addressed to T. Havisham, Esq., and the second to
Benjamin Tipton.

And after the store was closed that evening, Mr. Hobbs and Dick
sat in the back-room and talked together until midnight.