Little Lord Fauntleroy

by Frances Hodgson Burnett

  VI

  When Lord Fauntleroy wakened in the morning,--he had not wakened at allwhen he had been carried to bed the night before,--the first sounds hewas conscious of were the crackling of a wood fire and the murmur ofvoices.

  "You will be careful, Dawson, not to say anything about it," he heardsome one say. "He does not know why she is not to be with him, and thereason is to be kept from him."

  "If them's his lordship's orders, mem," another voice answered, "they'llhave to be kep', I suppose. But, if you'll excuse the liberty, mem, asit's between ourselves, servant or no servant, all I have to say is,it's a cruel thing,--parting that poor, pretty, young widdered cre'tur'from her own flesh and blood, and him such a little beauty and anobleman born. James and Thomas, mem, last night in the servants' hall,they both of 'em say as they never see anythink in their two lives--noryet no other gentleman in livery--like that little fellow's ways, asinnercent an' polite an' interested as if he'd been sitting there diningwith his best friend,--and the temper of a' angel, instead of one (ifyou'll excuse me, mem), as it's well known, is enough to curdle yourblood in your veins at times. And as to looks, mem, when we was rungfor, James and me, to go into the library and bring him upstairs, andJames lifted him up in his arms, what with his little innercent faceall red and rosy, and his little head on James's shoulder and his hairhanging down, all curly an' shinin', a prettier, takiner sight you'dnever wish to see. An' it's my opinion, my lord wasn't blind to itneither, for he looked at him, and he says to James, 'See you don't wakehim!' he says."

  Cedric moved on his pillow, and turned over, opening his eyes.

  There were two women in the room. Everything was bright and cheerfulwith gay-flowered chintz. There was a fire on the hearth, and thesunshine was streaming in through the ivy-entwined windows. Both womencame toward him, and he saw that one of them was Mrs. Mellon, thehousekeeper, and the other a comfortable, middle-aged woman, with a faceas kind and good-humored as a face could be.

  "Good-morning, my lord," said Mrs. Mellon. "Did you sleep well?"

  His lordship rubbed his eyes and smiled.

  "Good-morning," he said. "I didn't know I was here."

  "You were carried upstairs when you were asleep," said the housekeeper."This is your bedroom, and this is Dawson, who is to take care of you."

  Fauntleroy sat up in bed and held out his hand to Dawson, as he had heldit out to the Earl.

  "How do you do, ma'am?" he said. "I'm much obliged to you for coming totake care of me."

  "You can call her Dawson, my lord," said the housekeeper with a smile."She is used to being called Dawson."

  "MISS Dawson, or MRS. Dawson?" inquired his lordship.

  "Just Dawson, my lord," said Dawson herself, beaming all over. "NeitherMiss nor Missis, bless your little heart! Will you get up now, and letDawson dress you, and then have your breakfast in the nursery?"

  "I learned to dress myself many years ago, thank you," answeredFauntleroy. "Dearest taught me. 'Dearest' is my mamma. We had only Maryto do all the work,--washing and all,--and so of course it wouldn't doto give her so much trouble. I can take my bath, too, pretty well ifyou'll just be kind enough to 'zamine the corners after I'm done."

  Dawson and the housekeeper exchanged glances.

  "Dawson will do anything you ask her to," said Mrs. Mellon.

  "That I will, bless him," said Dawson, in her comforting, good-humoredvoice. "He shall dress himself if he likes, and I'll stand by, ready tohelp him if he wants me."

  "Thank you," responded Lord Fauntleroy; "it's a little hard sometimesabout the buttons, you know, and then I have to ask somebody."

  He thought Dawson a very kind woman, and before the bath and thedressing were finished they were excellent friends, and he had found outa great deal about her. He had discovered that her husband had been asoldier and had been killed in a real battle, and that her son was asailor, and was away on a long cruise, and that he had seen pirates andcannibals and Chinese people and Turks, and that he brought home strangeshells and pieces of coral which Dawson was ready to show at any moment,some of them being in her trunk. All this was very interesting. He alsofound out that she had taken care of little children all her life, andthat she had just come from a great house in another part of England,where she had been taking care of a beautiful little girl whose name wasLady Gwyneth Vaughn.

  "And she is a sort of relation of your lordship's," said Dawson. "Andperhaps sometime you may see her."

  "Do you think I shall?" said Fauntleroy. "I should like that. I neverknew any little girls, but I always like to look at them."

  When he went into the adjoining room to take his breakfast, and sawwhat a great room it was, and found there was another adjoining it whichDawson told him was his also, the feeling that he was very small indeedcame over him again so strongly that he confided it to Dawson, as he satdown to the table on which the pretty breakfast service was arranged.

  "I am a very little boy," he said rather wistfully, "to live in such alarge castle, and have so many big rooms,--don't you think so?"

  "Oh! come!" said Dawson, "you feel just a little strange at first,that's all; but you'll get over that very soon, and then you'll like ithere. It's such a beautiful place, you know."

  "It's a very beautiful place, of course," said Fauntleroy, with a littlesigh; "but I should like it better if I didn't miss Dearest so. I alwayshad my breakfast with her in the morning, and put the sugar and cream inher tea for her, and handed her the toast. That made it very sociable,of course."

  "Oh, well!" answered Dawson, comfortingly, "you know you can see herevery day, and there's no knowing how much you'll have to tell her.Bless you! wait till you've walked about a bit and seen things,--thedogs, and the stables with all the horses in them. There's one of them Iknow you'll like to see----"

  "Is there?" exclaimed Fauntleroy; "I'm very fond of horses. I was veryfond of Jim. He was the horse that belonged to Mr. Hobbs' grocery wagon.He was a beautiful horse when he wasn't balky."

  "Well," said Dawson, "you just wait till you've seen what's in thestables. And, deary me, you haven't looked even into the very next roomyet!"

  "What is there?" asked Fauntleroy.

  "Wait until you've had your breakfast, and then you shall see," saidDawson.

  At this he naturally began to grow curious, and he applied himselfassiduously to his breakfast. It seemed to him that there must besomething worth looking at, in the next room; Dawson had such aconsequential, mysterious air.

  "Now, then," he said, slipping off his seat a few minutes later; "I'vehad enough. Can I go and look at it?"

  Dawson nodded and led the way, looking more mysterious and importantthan ever. He began to be very much interested indeed.

  When she opened the door of the room, he stood upon the threshold andlooked about him in amazement. He did not speak; he only put his handsin his pockets and stood there flushing up to his forehead and lookingin.

  He flushed up because he was so surprised and, for the moment, excited.To see such a place was enough to surprise any ordinary boy.

  The room was a large one, too, as all the rooms seemed to be, and itappeared to him more beautiful than the rest, only in a different way.The furniture was not so massive and antique as was that in the roomshe had seen downstairs; the draperies and rugs and walls were brighter;there were shelves full of books, and on the tables were numbers oftoys,--beautiful, ingenious things,--such as he had looked at withwonder and delight through the shop windows in New York.

  "It looks like a boy's room," he said at last, catching his breath alittle. "Whom do they belong to?"

  "Go and look at them," said Dawson. "They belong to you!"

  "To me!" he cried; "to me? Why do they belong to me? Who gave them tome?" And he sprang forward with a gay little shout. It seemed almosttoo much to be believed. "It was Grandpapa!" he said, with his eyes asbright as stars. "I know it was Grandpapa!"

  "Yes, it was his lordship," said Dawson; "and if you will be a nicelittle gentleman, and
not fret about things, and will enjoy yourself,and be happy all the day, he will give you anything you ask for."

  It was a tremendously exciting morning. There were so many things to beexamined, so many experiments to be tried; each novelty was so absorbingthat he could scarcely turn from it to look at the next. And it was socurious to know that all this had been prepared for himself alone; that,even before he had left New York, people had come down from Londonto arrange the rooms he was to occupy, and had provided the books andplaythings most likely to interest him.

  "Did you ever know any one," he said to Dawson, "who had such a kindgrandfather!"

  Dawson's face wore an uncertain expression for a moment. She had nota very high opinion of his lordship the Earl. She had not been in thehouse many days, but she had been there long enough to hear the oldnobleman's peculiarities discussed very freely in the servants' hall.

  "An' of all the wicious, savage, hill-tempered hold fellows it was evermy hill-luck to wear livery hunder," the tallest footman had said, "he'sthe wiolentest and wust by a long shot."

  And this particular footman, whose name was Thomas, had also repeated tohis companions below stairs some of the Earl's remarks to Mr. Havisham,when they had been discussing these very preparations.

  "Give him his own way, and fill his rooms with toys," my lord had said."Give him what will amuse him, and he'll forget about his mother quicklyenough. Amuse him, and fill his mind with other things, and we shallhave no trouble. That's boy nature."

  So, perhaps, having had this truly amiable object in view, it did notplease him so very much to find it did not seem to be exactly thisparticular boy's nature. The Earl had passed a bad night and had spentthe morning in his room; but at noon, after he had lunched, he sent forhis grandson.

  Fauntleroy answered the summons at once. He came down the broadstaircase with a bounding step; the Earl heard him run across the hall,and then the door opened and he came in with red cheeks and sparklingeyes.

  "I was waiting for you to send for me," he said. "I was ready a longtime ago. I'm EVER so much obliged to you for all those things! I'm EVERso much obliged to you! I have been playing with them all the morning."

  "Oh!" said the Earl, "you like them, do you?"

  "I like them so much--well, I couldn't tell you how much!" saidFauntleroy, his face glowing with delight. "There's one that's likebaseball, only you play it on a board with black and white pegs, and youkeep your score with some counters on a wire. I tried to teach Dawson,but she couldn't quite understand it just at first--you see, she neverplayed baseball, being a lady; and I'm afraid I wasn't very good atexplaining it to her. But you know all about it, don't you?"

  "I'm afraid I don't," replied the Earl. "It's an American game, isn'tit? Is it something like cricket?"

  "I never saw cricket," said Fauntleroy; "but Mr. Hobbs took me severaltimes to see baseball. It's a splendid game. You get so excited! Wouldyou like me to go and get my game and show it to you? Perhaps it wouldamuse you and make you forget about your foot. Does your foot hurt youvery much this morning?"

  "More than I enjoy," was the answer.

  "Then perhaps you couldn't forget it," said the little fellow anxiously."Perhaps it would bother you to be told about the game. Do you think itwould amuse you, or do you think it would bother you?"

  "Go and get it," said the Earl.

  It certainly was a novel entertainment this,--making a companion of achild who offered to teach him to play games,--but the very novelty ofit amused him. There was a smile lurking about the Earl's mouth whenCedric came back with the box containing the game, in his arms, and anexpression of the most eager interest on his face.

  "May I pull that little table over here to your chair?" he asked.

  "Ring for Thomas," said the Earl. "He will place it for you."

  "Oh, I can do it myself," answered Fauntleroy. "It's not very heavy."

  "Very well," replied his grandfather. The lurking smile deepened on theold man's face as he watched the little fellow's preparations; there wassuch an absorbed interest in them. The small table was dragged forwardand placed by his chair, and the game taken from its box and arrangedupon it.

  "It's very interesting when you once begin," said Fauntleroy. "You see,the black pegs can be your side and the white ones mine. They're men,you know, and once round the field is a home run and counts one--andthese are the outs--and here is the first base and that's the second andthat's the third and that's the home base."

  He entered into the details of explanation with the greatest animation.He showed all the attitudes of pitcher and catcher and batter in thereal game, and gave a dramatic description of a wonderful "hot ball"he had seen caught on the glorious occasion on which he had witnessed amatch in company with Mr. Hobbs. His vigorous, graceful little body, hiseager gestures, his simple enjoyment of it all, were pleasant to behold.

  When at last the explanations and illustrations were at an end and thegame began in good earnest, the Earl still found himself entertained.His young companion was wholly absorbed; he played with all his childishheart; his gay little laughs when he made a good throw, his enthusiasmover a "home run," his impartial delight over his own good luck and hisopponent's, would have given a flavor to any game.

  If, a week before, any one had told the Earl of Dorincourt that on thatparticular morning he would be forgetting his gout and his bad temperin a child's game, played with black and white wooden pegs, on a gaylypainted board, with a curly-headed small boy for a companion, he wouldwithout doubt have made himself very unpleasant; and yet he certainlyhad forgotten himself when the door opened and Thomas announced avisitor.

  The visitor in question, who was an elderly gentleman in black, and noless a person than the clergyman of the parish, was so startled by theamazing scene which met his eye, that he almost fell back a pace, andran some risk of colliding with Thomas.

  There was, in fact, no part of his duty that the Reverend Mr. Mordauntfound so decidedly unpleasant as that part which compelled him to callupon his noble patron at the Castle. His noble patron, indeed, usuallymade these visits as disagreeable as it lay in his lordly power to makethem. He abhorred churches and charities, and flew into violent rageswhen any of his tenantry took the liberty of being poor and ill andneeding assistance. When his gout was at its worst, he did not hesitateto announce that he would not be bored and irritated by being toldstories of their miserable misfortunes; when his gout troubled him lessand he was in a somewhat more humane frame of mind, he would perhapsgive the rector some money, after having bullied him in the mostpainful manner, and berated the whole parish for its shiftlessness andimbecility. But, whatsoever his mood, he never failed to make as manysarcastic and embarrassing speeches as possible, and to cause theReverend Mr. Mordaunt to wish it were proper and Christian-like to throwsomething heavy at him. During all the years in which Mr. Mordaunthad been in charge of Dorincourt parish, the rector certainly did notremember having seen his lordship, of his own free will, do any one akindness, or, under any circumstances whatever, show that he thought ofany one but himself.

  He had called to-day to speak to him of a specially pressing case, andas he had walked up the avenue, he had, for two reasons, dreaded hisvisit more than usual. In the first place, he knew that his lordshiphad for several days been suffering with the gout, and had been inso villainous a humor that rumors of it had even reached thevillage--carried there by one of the young women servants, to hersister, who kept a little shop and retailed darning-needles and cottonand peppermints and gossip, as a means of earning an honest living.What Mrs. Dibble did not know about the Castle and its inmates, and thefarm-houses and their inmates, and the village and its population, wasreally not worth being talked about. And of course she knew everythingabout the Castle, because her sister, Jane Shorts, was one of the upperhousemaids, and was very friendly and intimate with Thomas.

  "And the way his lordship do go on!" said Mrs. Dibble, over the counter,"and the way he do use language, Mr. Thomas told Jane herself, no flesh
and blood as is in livery could stand--for throw a plate of toast at Mr.Thomas, hisself, he did, not more than two days since, and if it weren'tfor other things being agreeable and the society below stairs mostgenteel, warning would have been gave within a' hour!"

  And the rector had heard all this, for somehow the Earl was a favoriteblack sheep in the cottages and farm-houses, and his bad behavior gavemany a good woman something to talk about when she had company to tea.

  And the second reason was even worse, because it was a new one and hadbeen talked about with the most excited interest.

  Who did not know of the old nobleman's fury when his handsome son theCaptain had married the American lady? Who did not know how cruelly hehad treated the Captain, and how the big, gay, sweet-smiling young man,who was the only member of the grand family any one liked, had died ina foreign land, poor and unforgiven? Who did not know how fiercely hislordship had hated the poor young creature who had been this son's wife,and how he had hated the thought of her child and never meant to see theboy--until his two sons died and left him without an heir? And then,who did not know that he had looked forward without any affection orpleasure to his grandson's coming, and that he had made up his mind thathe should find the boy a vulgar, awkward, pert American lad, more likelyto disgrace his noble name than to honor it?

  The proud, angry old man thought he had kept all his thoughts secret. Hedid not suppose any one had dared to guess at, much less talk over whathe felt, and dreaded; but his servants watched him, and read hisface and his ill-humors and fits of gloom, and discussed them in theservants' hall. And while he thought himself quite secure from thecommon herd, Thomas was telling Jane and the cook, and the butler, andthe housemaids and the other footmen that it was his opinion that "thehold man was wuss than usual a-thinkin' hover the Capting's boy, an'hanticipatin' as he won't be no credit to the fambly. An' serve himright," added Thomas; "hit's 'is hown fault. Wot can he iggspect from achild brought up in pore circumstances in that there low Hamerica?"

  And as the Reverend Mr. Mordaunt walked under the great trees, heremembered that this questionable little boy had arrived at the Castleonly the evening before, and that there were nine chances to one thathis lordship's worst fears were realized, and twenty-two chances to onethat if the poor little fellow had disappointed him, the Earl was evennow in a tearing rage, and ready to vent all his rancor on the firstperson who called--which it appeared probable would be his reverendself.

  Judge then of his amazement when, as Thomas opened the library door, hisears were greeted by a delighted ring of childish laughter.

  "That's two out!" shouted an excited, clear little voice. "You see it'stwo out!"

  And there was the Earl's chair, and the gout-stool, and his foot onit; and by him a small table and a game on it; and quite close to him,actually leaning against his arm and his ungouty knee, was a little boywith face glowing, and eyes dancing with excitement. "It's two out!" thelittle stranger cried. "You hadn't any luck that time, had you?"--Andthen they both recognized at once that some one had come in.

  The Earl glanced around, knitting his shaggy eyebrows as he had atrick of doing, and when he saw who it was, Mr. Mordaunt was stillmore surprised to see that he looked even less disagreeable than usualinstead of more so. In fact, he looked almost as if he had forgotten forthe moment how disagreeable he was, and how unpleasant he really couldmake himself when he tried.

  "Ah!" he said, in his harsh voice, but giving his hand rathergraciously. "Good-morning, Mordaunt. I've found a new employment, yousee."

  He put his other hand on Cedric's shoulder,--perhaps deep down in hisheart there was a stir of gratified pride that it was such an heir hehad to present; there was a spark of something like pleasure in his eyesas he moved the boy slightly forward.

  "This is the new Lord Fauntleroy," he said. "Fauntleroy, this is Mr.Mordaunt, the rector of the parish."

  Fauntleroy looked up at the gentleman in the clerical garments, and gavehim his hand.

  "I am very glad to make your acquaintance, sir," he said, rememberingthe words he had heard Mr. Hobbs use on one or two occasions when he hadbeen greeting a new customer with ceremony.

  Cedric felt quite sure that one ought to be more than usually polite toa minister.

  Mr. Mordaunt held the small hand in his a moment as he looked down atthe child's face, smiling involuntarily. He liked the little fellow fromthat instant--as in fact people always did like him. And it was not theboy's beauty and grace which most appealed to him; it was the simple,natural kindliness in the little lad which made any words he uttered,however quaint and unexpected, sound pleasant and sincere. As the rectorlooked at Cedric, he forgot to think of the Earl at all. Nothing in theworld is so strong as a kind heart, and somehow this kind littleheart, though it was only the heart of a child, seemed to clear all theatmosphere of the big gloomy room and make it brighter.

  "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Lord Fauntleroy," said therector. "You made a long journey to come to us. A great many people willbe glad to know you made it safely."

  "It WAS a long way," answered Fauntleroy, "but Dearest, my mother, waswith me and I wasn't lonely. Of course you are never lonely if yourmother is with you; and the ship was beautiful."

  "Take a chair, Mordaunt," said the Earl. Mr. Mordaunt sat down. Heglanced from Fauntleroy to the Earl.

  "Your lordship is greatly to be congratulated," he said warmly.

  But the Earl plainly had no intention of showing his feelings on thesubject.

  "He is like his father," he said rather gruffly. "Let us hope he'llconduct himself more creditably." And then he added: "Well, what is itthis morning, Mordaunt? Who is in trouble now?"

  This was not as bad as Mr. Mordaunt had expected, but he hesitated asecond before he began.

  "It is Higgins," he said; "Higgins of Edge Farm. He has been veryunfortunate. He was ill himself last autumn, and his children hadscarlet fever. I can't say that he is a very good manager, but he hashad ill-luck, and of course he is behindhand in many ways. He is introuble about his rent now. Newick tells him if he doesn't pay it, hemust leave the place; and of course that would be a very serious matter.His wife is ill, and he came to me yesterday to beg me to see aboutit, and ask you for time. He thinks if you would give him time he couldcatch up again."

  "They all think that," said the Earl, looking rather black.

  Fauntleroy made a movement forward. He had been standing between hisgrandfather and the visitor, listening with all his might. He had begunto be interested in Higgins at once. He wondered how many children therewere, and if the scarlet fever had hurt them very much. His eyes werewide open and were fixed upon Mr. Mordaunt with intent interest as thatgentleman went on with the conversation.

  "Higgins is a well-meaning man," said the rector, making an effort tostrengthen his plea.

  "He is a bad enough tenant," replied his lordship. "And he is alwaysbehindhand, Newick tells me."

  "He is in great trouble now," said the rector.

  "He is very fond of his wife and children, and if the farm is takenfrom him they may literally starve. He can not give them the nourishingthings they need. Two of the children were left very low after thefever, and the doctor orders for them wine and luxuries that Higgins cannot afford."

  At this Fauntleroy moved a step nearer.

  "That was the way with Michael," he said.

  The Earl slightly started.

  "I forgot YOU!" he said. "I forgot we had a philanthropist in the room.Who was Michael?" And the gleam of queer amusement came back into theold man's deep-set eyes.

  "He was Bridget's husband, who had the fever," answered Fauntleroy; "andhe couldn't pay the rent or buy wine and things. And you gave me thatmoney to help him."

  The Earl drew his brows together into a curious frown, which somehow wasscarcely grim at all. He glanced across at Mr. Mordaunt.

  "I don't know what sort of landed proprietor he will make," he said."I told Havisham the boy was to have what he wanted--anything hew
anted--and what he wanted, it seems, was money to give to beggars."

  "Oh! but they weren't beggars," said Fauntleroy eagerly. "Michael was asplendid bricklayer! They all worked."

  "Oh!" said the Earl, "they were not beggars. They were splendidbricklayers, and bootblacks, and apple-women."

  He bent his gaze on the boy for a few seconds in silence. The fact wasthat a new thought was coming to him, and though, perhaps, it was notprompted by the noblest emotions, it was not a bad thought. "Come here,"he said, at last.

  Fauntleroy went and stood as near to him as possible without encroachingon the gouty foot.

  "What would YOU do in this case?" his lordship asked.

  It must be confessed that Mr. Mordaunt experienced for the moment acurious sensation. Being a man of great thoughtfulness, and having spentso many years on the estate of Dorincourt, knowing the tenantry, richand poor, the people of the village, honest and industrious, dishonestand lazy, he realized very strongly what power for good or evil would begiven in the future to this one small boy standing there, his brown eyeswide open, his hands deep in his pockets; and the thought came to himalso that a great deal of power might, perhaps, through the caprice ofa proud, self-indulgent old man, be given to him now, and that if hisyoung nature were not a simple and generous one, it might be the worstthing that could happen, not only for others, but for himself.

  "And what would YOU do in such a case?" demanded the Earl.

  Fauntleroy drew a little nearer, and laid one hand on his knee, with themost confiding air of good comradeship.

  "If I were very rich," he said, "and not only just a little boy, Ishould let him stay, and give him the things for his children; butthen, I am only a boy." Then, after a second's pause, in which his facebrightened visibly, "YOU can do anything, can't you?" he said.

  "Humph!" said my lord, staring at him. "That's your opinion, is it?" Andhe was not displeased either.

  "I mean you can give any one anything," said Fauntleroy. "Who's Newick?"

  "He is my agent," answered the Earl, "and some of my tenants are notover-fond of him."

  "Are you going to write him a letter now?" inquired Fauntleroy. "Shall Ibring you the pen and ink? I can take the game off this table."

  It plainly had not for an instant occurred to him that Newick would beallowed to do his worst.

  The Earl paused a moment, still looking at him. "Can you write?" heasked.

  "Yes," answered Cedric, "but not very well."

  "Move the things from the table," commanded my lord, "and bring the penand ink, and a sheet of paper from my desk."

  Mr. Mordaunt's interest began to increase. Fauntleroy did as he was toldvery deftly. In a few moments, the sheet of paper, the big inkstand, andthe pen were ready.

  "There!" he said gayly, "now you can write it."

  "You are to write it," said the Earl.

  "I!" exclaimed Fauntleroy, and a flush overspread his forehead. "Willit do if I write it? I don't always spell quite right when I haven't adictionary, and nobody tells me."

  "It will do," answered the Earl. "Higgins will not complain of thespelling. I'm not the philanthropist; you are. Dip your pen in the ink."

  Fauntleroy took up the pen and dipped it in the ink-bottle, then hearranged himself in position, leaning on the table.

  "Now," he inquired, "what must I say?"

  "You may say, 'Higgins is not to be interfered with, for the present,'and sign it, 'Fauntleroy,'" said the Earl.

  Fauntleroy dipped his pen in the ink again, and resting his arm, beganto write. It was rather a slow and serious process, but he gave hiswhole soul to it. After a while, however, the manuscript was complete,and he handed it to his grandfather with a smile slightly tinged withanxiety.

  "Do you think it will do?" he asked.

  The Earl looked at it, and the corners of his mouth twitched a little.

  "Yes," he answered; "Higgins will find it entirely satisfactory." And hehanded it to Mr. Mordaunt.

  What Mr. Mordaunt found written was this:

  "Dear mr. Newik if you pleas mr. higins is not to be intur feared withfor the present and oblige. Yours rispecferly,

  "FAUNTLEROY."

  "Mr. Hobbs always signed his letters that way," said Fauntleroy; "and Ithought I'd better say 'please.' Is that exactly the right way to spell'interfered'?"

  "It's not exactly the way it is spelled in the dictionary," answered theEarl.

  "I was afraid of that," said Fauntleroy. "I ought to have asked. Yousee, that's the way with words of more than one syllable; you have tolook in the dictionary. It's always safest. I'll write it over again."

  And write it over again he did, making quite an imposing copy, andtaking precautions in the matter of spelling by consulting the Earlhimself.

  "Spelling is a curious thing," he said. "It's so often differentfrom what you expect it to be. I used to think 'please' was spelledp-l-e-e-s, but it isn't, you know; and you'd think 'dear' was spelledd-e-r-e, if you didn't inquire. Sometimes it almost discourages you."

  When Mr. Mordaunt went away, he took the letter with him, and he tooksomething else with him also--namely, a pleasanter feeling and a morehopeful one than he had ever carried home with him down that avenue onany previous visit he had made at Dorincourt Castle.

  When he was gone, Fauntleroy, who had accompanied him to the door, wentback to his grandfather.

  "May I go to Dearest now?" he asked. "I think she will be waiting forme."

  The Earl was silent a moment.

  "There is something in the stable for you to see first," he said. "Ringthe bell."

  "If you please," said Fauntleroy, with his quick little flush. "I'm verymuch obliged; but I think I'd better see it to-morrow. She will beexpecting me all the time."

  "Very well," answered the Earl. "We will order the carriage." Then headded dryly, "It's a pony."

  Fauntleroy drew a long breath.

  "A pony!" he exclaimed. "Whose pony is it?"

  "Yours," replied the Earl.

  "Mine?" cried the little fellow. "Mine--like the things upstairs?"

  "Yes," said his grandfather. "Would you like to see it? Shall I order itto be brought around?"

  Fauntleroy's cheeks grew redder and redder.

  "I never thought I should have a pony!" he said. "I never thought that!How glad Dearest will be. You give me EVERYthing, don't you?"

  "Do you wish to see it?" inquired the Earl.

  Fauntleroy drew a long breath. "I WANT to see it," he said. "I want tosee it so much I can hardly wait. But I'm afraid there isn't time."

  "You MUST go and see your mother this afternoon?" asked the Earl. "Youthink you can't put it off?"

  "Why," said Fauntleroy, "she has been thinking about me all the morning,and I have been thinking about her!"

  "Oh!" said the Earl. "You have, have you? Ring the bell."

  As they drove down the avenue, under the arching trees, he was rathersilent. But Fauntleroy was not. He talked about the pony. What color wasit? How big was it? What was its name? What did it like to eat best? Howold was it? How early in the morning might he get up and see it?

  "Dearest will be so glad!" he kept saying. "She will be so much obligedto you for being so kind to me! She knows I always liked ponies so much,but we never thought I should have one. There was a little boy on FifthAvenue who had one, and he used to ride out every morning and we used totake a walk past his house to see him."

  He leaned back against the cushions and regarded the Earl with raptinterest for a few minutes and in entire silence.

  "I think you must be the best person in the world," he burst forth atlast. "You are always doing good, aren't you?--and thinking about otherpeople. Dearest says that is the best kind of goodness; not to thinkabout yourself, but to think about other people. That is just the wayyou are, isn't it?"

  His lordship was so dumfounded to find himself presented in suchagreeable colors, that he did not know exactly what to say. He felt thathe needed time for reflection. To see each of his
ugly, selfish motiveschanged into a good and generous one by the simplicity of a child was asingular experience.

  Fauntleroy went on, still regarding him with admiring eyes--those great,clear, innocent eyes!

  "You make so many people happy," he said. "There's Michael and Bridgetand their ten children, and the apple-woman, and Dick, and Mr.Hobbs, and Mr. Higgins and Mrs. Higgins and their children, and Mr.Mordaunt,--because of course he was glad,--and Dearest and me, aboutthe pony and all the other things. Do you know, I've counted it up onmy fingers and in my mind, and it's twenty-seven people you've been kindto. That's a good many--twenty-seven!"

  "And I was the person who was kind to them--was I?" said the Earl.

  "Why, yes, you know," answered Fauntleroy. "You made them all happy.Do you know," with some delicate hesitation, "that people are sometimesmistaken about earls when they don't know them. Mr. Hobbs was. I amgoing to write him, and tell him about it."

  "What was Mr. Hobbs's opinion of earls?" asked his lordship.

  "Well, you see, the difficulty was," replied his young companion,"that he didn't know any, and he'd only read about them in books. Hethought--you mustn't mind it--that they were gory tyrants; and he saidhe wouldn't have them hanging around his store. But if he'd known YOU,I'm sure he would have felt quite different. I shall tell him aboutyou."

  "What shall you tell him?"

  "I shall tell him," said Fauntleroy, glowing with enthusiasm, "thatyou are the kindest man I ever heard of. And you are always thinking ofother people, and making them happy and--and I hope when I grow up, Ishall be just like you."

  "Just like me!" repeated his lordship, looking at the little kindlingface. And a dull red crept up under his withered skin, and he suddenlyturned his eyes away and looked out of the carriage window at the greatbeech-trees, with the sun shining on their glossy, red-brown leaves.

  "JUST like you," said Fauntleroy, adding modestly, "if I can. PerhapsI'm not good enough, but I'm going to try."

  The carriage rolled on down the stately avenue under the beautiful,broad-branched trees, through the spaces of green shade and lanes ofgolden sunlight. Fauntleroy saw again the lovely places where the fernsgrew high and the bluebells swayed in the breeze; he saw the deer,standing or lying in the deep grass, turn their large, startled eyes asthe carriage passed, and caught glimpses of the brown rabbits as theyscurried away. He heard the whir of the partridges and the calls andsongs of the birds, and it all seemed even more beautiful to him thanbefore. All his heart was filled with pleasure and happiness in thebeauty that was on every side. But the old Earl saw and heard verydifferent things, though he was apparently looking out too. He sawa long life, in which there had been neither generous deeds nor kindthoughts; he saw years in which a man who had been young and strong andrich and powerful had used his youth and strength and wealth and poweronly to please himself and kill time as the days and years succeededeach other; he saw this man, when the time had been killed and old agehad come, solitary and without real friends in the midst of all hissplendid wealth; he saw people who disliked or feared him, and peoplewho would flatter and cringe to him, but no one who really cared whetherhe lived or died, unless they had something to gain or lose by it. Helooked out on the broad acres which belonged to him, and he knew whatFauntleroy did not--how far they extended, what wealth they represented,and how many people had homes on their soil. And he knew, too,--anotherthing Fauntleroy did not,--that in all those homes, humble orwell-to-do, there was probably not one person, however much he enviedthe wealth and stately name and power, and however willing he would havebeen to possess them, who would for an instant have thought of callingthe noble owner "good," or wishing, as this simple-souled little boyhad, to be like him.

  And it was not exactly pleasant to reflect upon, even for a cynical,worldly old man, who had been sufficient unto himself for seventy yearsand who had never deigned to care what opinion the world held of him solong as it did not interfere with his comfort or entertainment. And thefact was, indeed, that he had never before condescended to reflectupon it at all; and he only did so now because a child had believedhim better than he was, and by wishing to follow in his illustriousfootsteps and imitate his example, had suggested to him the curiousquestion whether he was exactly the person to take as a model.

  Fauntleroy thought the Earl's foot must be hurting him, his browsknitted themselves together so, as he looked out at the park; andthinking this, the considerate little fellow tried not to disturb him,and enjoyed the trees and the ferns and the deer in silence.

  But at last the carriage, having passed the gates and bowled through thegreen lanes for a short distance, stopped. They had reached Court Lodge;and Fauntleroy was out upon the ground almost before the big footman hadtime to open the carriage door.

  The Earl wakened from his reverie with a start.

  "What!" he said. "Are we here?"

  "Yes," said Fauntleroy. "Let me give you your stick. Just lean on mewhen you get out."

  "I am not going to get out," replied his lordship brusquely.

  "Not--not to see Dearest?" exclaimed Fauntleroy with astonished face.

  "'Dearest' will excuse me," said the Earl dryly. "Go to her and tell herthat not even a new pony would keep you away."

  "She will be disappointed," said Fauntleroy. "She will want to see youvery much."

  "I am afraid not," was the answer. "The carriage will call for you as wecome back.--Tell Jeffries to drive on, Thomas."

  Thomas closed the carriage door; and, after a puzzled look, Fauntleroyran up the drive. The Earl had the opportunity--as Mr. Havisham oncehad--of seeing a pair of handsome, strong little legs flash over theground with astonishing rapidity. Evidently their owner had no intentionof losing any time. The carriage rolled slowly away, but his lordshipdid not at once lean back; he still looked out. Through a space in thetrees he could see the house door; it was wide open. The little figuredashed up the steps; another figure--a little figure, too, slender andyoung, in its black gown--ran to meet it. It seemed as if they flewtogether, as Fauntleroy leaped into his mother's arms, hanging about herneck and covering her sweet young face with kisses.